University of Virginia Library

Fragment VII (Group B2)

THE SHIPMAN'S TALE
Heere bigynneth the Shipmannes Tale.

A marchant whilom dwelled at Seint-Denys,
That riche was, for which men helde hym wys.
A wyf he hadde of excellent beautee;
And compaignable and revelous was she,
Which is a thyng that causeth more dispence
Than worth is al the chiere and reverence
That men hem doon at festes and at daunces.
Swiche salutaciouns and contenaunces
Passen as dooth a shadwe upon the wal;
But wo is hym that payen moot for al!
The sely housbonde, algate he moot paye,
He moot us clothe, and he moot us arraye,
Al for his owene worshipe richely,
In which array we daunce jolily.
And if that he noght may, par aventure,
Or ellis list no swich dispence endure,
But thynketh it is wasted and ylost,
Thanne moot another payen for oure cost,
Or lene us gold, and that is perilous.
This noble marchaunt heeld a worthy hous,
For which he hadde alday so greet repair
For his largesse, and for his wyf was fair,
That wonder is; but herkneth to my tale.
Amonges alle his gestes, grete and smale,
Ther was a monk, a fair man and a boold
I trowe a thritty wynter he was oold
That evere in oon was drawynge to that place.
This yonge monk, that was so fair of face,
Aqueynted was so with the goode man,
Sith that hir firste knoweliche bigan,
That in his hous as famulier was he
As it is possible any freend to be.
And for as muchel as this goode man,
And eek this monk of which that I bigan,
Were bothe two yborn in o village,
The monk hym claymeth as for cosynage,
And he agayn; he seith nat ones nay,
But was as glad therof as fowel of day,
For to his herte it was a greet plesaunce.
Thus been they knyt with eterne alliaunce,
And ech of hem gan oother for t'assure
Of bretherhede whil that hir lyf may dure.
Free was daun John, and manly of dispence,
As in that hous, and ful of diligence
To doon plesaunce, and also greet costage.
He noght forgat to yeve the leeste page
In al that hous; but after hir degree,
He yaf the lord, and sitthe al his meynee,
Whan that he cam, som manere honest thyng,
For which they were as glad of his comyng
As fowel is fayn whan that the sonne up riseth.
Na moore of this as now, for it suffiseth.
But so bifel, this marchant on a day
Shoop hym to make redy his array
Toward the toun of Brugges for to fare,
To byen there a porcioun of ware;
For which he hath to Parys sent anon
A messager, and preyed hath daun John
That he sholde come to Seint-Denys to pleye
With hym and with his wyf a day or tweye,
Er he to Brugges wente, in alle wise.
This noble monk, of which I yow devyse,
Hath of his abbot, as hym list, licence,
By cause he was a man of heigh prudence

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And eek an officer, out for to ryde,
To seen hir graunges and hire bernes wyde,
And unto Seint-Denys he comth anon.
Who was so welcome as my lord daun John,
Oure deere cosyn, ful of curteisye?
With hym broghte he a jubbe of malvesye,
And eek another ful of fyn vernage,
And volatyl, as ay was his usage.
And thus I lete hem ete and drynke and pleye,
This marchant and this monk, a day or tweye.
The thridde day, this marchant up ariseth,
And on his nedes sadly hym avyseth,
And up into his countour-hous gooth he
To rekene with hymself, wel may be,
Of thilke yeer how that it with hym stood,
And how that he despended hadde his good,
And if that he encressed were or noon.
His bookes and his bagges many oon
He leith biforn hym on his countyng-bord.
Ful riche was his tresor and his hord,
For which ful faste his countour-dore he shette;
And eek he nolde that no man sholde hym lette
Of his acountes, for the meene tyme;
And thus he sit til it was passed pryme.
Daun John was rysen in the morwe also,
And in the gardyn walketh to and fro,
And hath his thynges seyd ful curteisly.
This goode wyf cam walkynge pryvely
Into the gardyn, there he walketh softe,
And hym saleweth, as she hath doon ofte.
A mayde child cam in hire compaignye,
Which as hir list she may governe and gye,
For yet under the yerde was the mayde.
"O deere cosyn myn, daun John," she sayde,
"What eyleth yow so rathe for to ryse?"
"Nece," quod he, "it oghte ynough suffise
Fyve houres for to slepe upon a nyght,
But it were for an old appalled wight,
As been thise wedded men, that lye and dare
As in a fourme sit a wery hare,
Were al forstraught with houndes grete and smale.
But deere nece, why be ye so pale?
I trowe, certes, that oure goode man
Hath yow laboured sith the nyght bigan
That yow were nede to resten hastily."
And with that word he lough ful murily,
And of his owene thought he wax al reed.
This faire wyf gan for to shake hir heed
And seyde thus, "Ye, God woot al," quod she.
"Nay, cosyn myn, it stant nat so with me;
For, by that God that yaf me soule and lyf,
In al the reawme of France is ther no wyf
That lasse lust hath to that sory pley.
For I may synge "allas and weylawey
That I was born," but to no wight," quod she,
"Dar I nat telle how that it stant with me.
Wherfore I thynke out of this land to wende,
Or elles of myself to make an ende,
So ful am I of drede and eek of care."
This monk bigan upon this wyf to stare,
And seyde, "Allas, my nece, God forbede
That ye, for any sorwe or any drede,
Fordo youreself; but telleth me youre grief.
Paraventure I may, in youre meschief,
Conseille or helpe; and therfore telleth me
Al youre anoy, for it shal been secree.
For on my portehors I make an ooth
That nevere in my lyf, for lief ne looth,
Ne shal I of no conseil yow biwreye."
"The same agayn to yow," quod she, "I seye.
By God and by this portehors I swere,
Though men me wolde al into pieces tere,
Ne shal I nevere, for to goon to helle,
Biwreye a word of thyng that ye me telle,
Nat for no cosynage ne alliance,
But verraily for love and affiance."
Thus been they sworn, and heerupon they kiste,
And ech of hem tolde oother what hem liste.
"Cosyn," quod she, "if that I hadde a space,
As I have noon, and namely in this place,
Thanne wolde I telle a legende of my lyf,

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What I have suffred sith I was a wyf
With myn housbonde, al be he youre cosyn."
"Nay," quod this monk, "by God and Seint Martyn,
He is na moore cosyn unto me
Than is this leef that hangeth on the tree!
I clepe hym so, by Seint Denys of Fraunce,
To have the moore cause of aqueyntaunce
Of yow, which I have loved specially
Aboven alle wommen, sikerly.
This swere I yow on my professioun.
Telleth youre grief, lest that he come adoun;
And hasteth yow, and gooth youre wey anon."
"My deere love," quod she, "O my daun John,
Ful lief were me this conseil for to hyde,
But out it moot; I may namoore abyde.
Myn housbonde is to me the worste man
That evere was sith that the world bigan.
But sith I am a wyf, it sit nat me
To tellen no wight of oure privetee,
Neither abedde ne in noon oother place;
God shilde I sholde it tellen, for his grace!
A wyf ne shal nat seyn of hir housbonde
But al honour, as I kan understonde;
Save unto yow thus muche I tellen shal:
As helpe me God, he is noght worth at al
In no degree the value of a flye.
But yet me greveth moost his nygardye.
And wel ye woot that wommen naturelly
Desiren thynges sixe as wel as I:
They wolde that hir housbondes sholde be
Hardy and wise, and riche, and therto free,
And buxom unto his wyf and fressh abedde.
But by that ilke Lord that for us bledde,
For his honour, myself for to arraye,
A Sonday next I moste nedes paye
An hundred frankes, or ellis I am lorn.
Yet were me levere that I were unborn
Than me were doon a sclaundre or vileynye;
And if myn housbonde eek it myghte espye,
I nere but lost; and therfore I yow preye,
Lene me this somme, or ellis moot I deye.
Daun John, I seye, lene me thise hundred frankes.
Pardee, I wol nat faille yow my thankes,
If that yow list to doon that I yow praye.
For at a certeyn day I wol yow paye,
And doon to yow what plesance and service
That I may doon, right as yow list devise.
And but I do, God take on me vengeance
As foul as evere hadde Genylon of France."
This gentil monk answerde in this manere:
"Now trewely, myn owene lady deere,
I have," quod he, "on yow so greet a routhe
That I yow swere, and plighte yow my trouthe,
That whan youre housbonde is to Flaundres fare,
I wol delyvere yow out of this care;
For I wol brynge yow an hundred frankes."
And with that word he caughte hire by the flankes,
And hire embraceth harde, and kiste hire ofte.
"Gooth now youre wey," quod he, "al stille and softe,
And lat us dyne as soone as that ye may;
For by my chilyndre it is pryme of day.
Gooth now, and beeth as trewe as I shal be."
"Now elles God forbede, sire," quod she;
And forth she gooth as jolif as a pye,
And bad the cookes that they sholde hem hye,
So that men myghte dyne, and that anon.
Up to hir housbonde is this wyf ygon,
And knokketh at his countour boldely.
"Quy la?" quod he. "Peter! it am I,"
Quod she; "What, sire, how longe wol ye faste?
How longe tyme wol ye rekene and caste
Youre sommes, and youre bookes, and youre thynges?
The devel have part on alle swiche rekenynges!
Ye have ynough, pardee, of Goddes sonde;
Com doun to-day, and lat youre bagges stonde.
Ne be ye nat ashamed that daun John
Shal fasting al this day alenge goon?
What, lat us heere a messe, and go we dyne."
"Wyf," quod this man, "litel kanstow devyne
The curious bisynesse that we have.

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For of us chapmen, also God me save,
And by that lord that clepid is Seint Yve,
Scarsly amonges twelve tweye shul thryve
Continuelly, lastynge unto oure age.
We may wel make chiere and good visage,
And dryve forth the world as it may be,
And kepen oure estaat in pryvetee,
Til we be deed, or elles that we pleye
A pilgrymage, or goon out of the weye.
And therfore have I greet necessitee
Upon this queynte world t'avyse me,
For everemoore we moote stonde in drede
Of hap and fortune in oure chapmanhede.
"To Flaundres wol I go to-morwe at day,
And come agayn, as soone as evere I may.
For which, my deere wyf, I thee biseke,
As be to every wight buxom and meke,
And for to kepe oure good be curious,
And honestly governe wel oure hous.
Thou hast ynough, in every maner wise,
That to a thrifty houshold may suffise.
Thee lakketh noon array ne no vitaille;
Of silver in thy purs shaltow nat faille."
And with that word his countour-dore he shette,
And doun he gooth, no lenger wolde he lette.
But hastily a messe was ther seyd,
And spedily the tables were yleyd,
And to the dyner faste they hem spedde,
And richely this monk the chapman fedde.
At after-dyner daun John sobrely
This chapman took apart, and prively
He seyde hym thus: "Cosyn, it standeth so,
That wel I se to Brugges wol ye go.
God and Seint Austyn spede yow and gyde!
I prey yow, cosyn, wisely that ye ryde.
Governeth yow also of youre diete
Atemprely, and namely in this hete.
Bitwix us two nedeth no strange fare;
Farewel, cosyn; God shilde yow fro care!
And if that any thyng by day or nyght,
If it lye in my power and my myght,
That ye me wol comande in any wyse,
It shal be doon right as ye wol devyse.
"O thyng, er that ye goon, if it may be,
I wolde prey yow: for to lene me
An hundred frankes, for a wyke or tweye,
For certein beestes that I moste beye,
To stoore with a place that is oures.
God helpe me so, I wolde it were youres!
I shal nat faille surely of my day,
Nat for a thousand frankes, a mile way.
But lat this thyng be secree, I yow preye,
For yet to-nyght thise beestes moot I beye.
And fare now wel, myn owene cosyn deere;
Graunt mercy of youre cost and of youre cheere."
This noble marchant gentilly anon
Answerde and seyde, "O cosyn myn, daun John,
Now sikerly this is a smal requeste.
My gold is youres, whan that it yow leste,
And nat oonly my gold, but my chaffare.
Take what yow list; God shilde that ye spare.
"But o thyng is, ye knowe it wel ynogh
Of chapmen, that hir moneie is hir plogh.
We may creaunce whil we have a name,
But goldlees for to be, it is no game.
Paye it agayn whan it lith in youre ese;
After my myght ful fayn wolde I yow plese."
Thise hundred frankes he fette forth anon,
And prively he took hem to daun John.
No wight in al this world wiste of this loone
Savynge this marchant and daun John allone.
They drynke, and speke, and rome a while and pleye,
Til that daun John rideth to his abbeye.
The morwe cam, and forth this marchant rideth
To Flaundres-ward; his prentys wel hym gydeth
Til he came into Brugges murily.
Now gooth this marchant faste and bisily
Aboute his nede, and byeth and creaunceth.
He neither pleyeth at the dees ne daunceth,

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But as a marchaunt, shortly for to telle,
He let his lyf, and there I lete hym dwelle.
The Sonday next the marchant was agon,
To Seint-Denys ycomen is daun John,
With crowne and berd al fressh and newe yshave.
In al the hous ther nas so litel a knave,
Ne no wight elles, that he nas ful fayn
That my lord daun John was come agayn.
And shortly to the point right for to gon,
This faire wyf acorded with daun John
That for thise hundred frankes he sholde al nyght
Have hire in his armes bolt upright;
And this acord parfourned was in dede.
In myrthe al nyght a bisy lyf they lede
Til it was day, that daun John wente his way,
And bad the meynee "Farewel, have good day!"
For noon of hem, ne no wight in the toun,
Hath of daun John right no suspecioun.
And forth he rydeth hoom to his abbeye,
Or where hym list; namoore of hym I seye.
This marchant, whan that ended was the faire,
To Seint-Denys he gan for to repaire,
And with his wyf he maketh feeste and cheere,
And telleth hire that chaffare is so deere
That nedes moste he make a chevyssaunce,
For he was bounden in a reconyssaunce
To paye twenty thousand sheeld anon.
For which this marchant is to Parys gon
To borwe of certeine freendes that he hadde
A certeyn frankes; and somme with him he ladde.
And whan that he was come into the toun,
For greet chiertee and greet affeccioun,
Unto daun John he first gooth hym to pleye;
Nat for to axe or borwe of hym moneye,
But for to wite and seen of his welfare,
And for to tellen hym of his chaffare,
As freendes doon whan they been met yfeere.
Daun John hym maketh feeste and murye cheere,
And he hym tolde agayn, ful specially,
How he hadde wel yboght and graciously,
Thanked be God, al hool his marchandise,
Save that he moste, in alle maner wise,
Maken a chevyssaunce, as for his beste,
And thanne he sholde been in joye and reste.
Daun John answerde, "Certes, I am fayn
That ye in heele ar comen hom agayn.
And if that I were riche, as have I blisse,
Of twenty thousand sheeld sholde ye nat mysse,
For ye so kyndely this oother day
Lente me gold; and as I kan and may,
I thanke yow, by God and by Seint Jame!
But nathelees, I took unto oure dame,
Youre wyf at hom, the same gold ageyn
Upon youre bench; she woot it wel, certeyn,
By certeyn tokenes that I kan hire telle.
Now, by youre leve, I may no lenger dwelle;
Oure abbot wole out of this toun anon,
And in his compaignye moot I goon.
Grete wel oure dame, myn owene nece sweete,
And fare wel, deere cosyn, til we meete!"
This marchant, which that was ful war and wys,
Creanced hath, and payd eek in Parys
To certeyn Lumbardes, redy in hir hond,
The somme of gold, and gat of hem his bond;
And hoom he gooth, murie as a papejay,
For wel he knew he stood in swich array
That nedes moste he wynne in that viage
A thousand frankes aboven al his costage.
His wyf ful redy mette hym atte gate,
As she was wont of oold usage algate,
And al that nyght in myrthe they bisette;
For he was riche and cleerly out of dette.
Whan it was day, this marchant gan embrace
His wyf al newe, and kiste hire on hir face,
And up he gooth and maketh it ful tough.

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"Namoore," quod she, "by God, ye have ynough!"
And wantownly agayn with hym she pleyde
Til atte laste thus this marchant seyde:
"By God," quod he, "I am a litel wrooth
With yow, my wyf, although it be me looth.
And woot ye why? By God, as that I gesse
That ye han maad a manere straungenesse
Bitwixen me and my cosyn daun John.
Ye sholde han warned me, er I had gon,
That he yow hadde an hundred frankes payed
By redy token; and heeld hym yvele apayed,
For that I to hym spak of chevyssaunce;
Me semed so, as by his contenaunce.
But nathelees, by God, oure hevene kyng,
I thoughte nat to axen hym no thyng.
I prey thee, wyf, ne do namoore so;
Telle me alwey, er that I fro thee go,
If any dettour hath in myn absence
Ypayed thee, lest thurgh thy necligence
I myghte hym axe a thing that he hath payed."
This wyf was nat afered nor affrayed,
But boldely she seyde, and that anon,
"Marie, I deffie the false monk, daun John!
I kepe nat of his tokenes never a deel;
He took me certeyn gold, that woot I weel—
What! Yvel thedam on his monkes snowte!
For, God it woot, I wende, withouten doute,
That he hadde yeve it me bycause of yow
To doon therwith myn honour and my prow,
For cosynage, and eek for beele cheere
That he hath had ful ofte tymes heere.
But sith I se I stonde in this disjoynt,
I wol answere yow shortly to the poynt.
Ye han mo slakkere dettours than am I!
For I wol paye yow wel and redily
Fro day to day, and if so be I faille,
I am youre wyf; score it upon my taille,
And I shal paye as soone as ever I may.
For by my trouthe, I have on myn array,
And nat on wast, bistowed every deel;
And for I have bistowed it so weel
For youre honour, for Goddes sake, I seye,
As be nat wrooth, but lat us laughe and pleye.
Ye shal my joly body have to wedde;
By God, I wol nat paye yow but abedde!
Forgyve it me, myn owene spouse deere;
Turne hiderward, and maketh bettre cheere."
This marchant saugh ther was no remedie,
And for to chide it nere but folie,
Sith that the thyng may nat amended be.
"Now wyf," he seyde, "and I foryeve it thee;
But, by thy lyf, ne be namoore so large.
Keep bet thy good, this yeve I thee in charge."
Thus endeth my tale, and God us sende
Taillynge ynough unto oure lyves ende. Amen
Heere endeth the Shipmannes Tale.

Bihoold the murie wordes of the Hoost to the Shipman and to the lady Prioresse.

"Wel seyd, by corpus dominus," quod oure Hoost,
"Now longe moote thou saille by the cost,
Sire gentil maister, gentil maryneer!
God yeve the monk a thousand last quade yeer!
A ha! Felawes, beth ware of swich a jape!
The monk putte in the mannes hood an ape,
And in his wyves eek, by Seint Austyn!
Draweth no monkes moore unto youre in.
"But now passe over, and lat us seke aboute,
Who shal now telle first of al this route
Another tale;" and with that word he sayde,
As curteisly as it had been a mayde,
"My lady Prioresse, by youre leve,
So that I wiste I sholde yow nat greve,
I wolde demen that ye tellen sholde
A tale next, if so were that ye wolde.
Now wol ye vouche sauf, my lady deere?"
"Gladly," quod she, and seyde as ye shal heere.

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HE PROLOGUE OF THE PRIORESS'S TALE
The Prologe of the Prioresses Tale.

Domine dominus noster.


O Lord, oure Lord, thy name how merveillous
Is in this large world ysprad—quod she—
For noght oonly thy laude precious
Parfourned is by men of dignitee,
But by the mouth of children thy bountee
Parfourned is, for on the brest soukynge
Somtyme shewen they thyn heriynge.
Wherfore in laude, as I best kan or may,
Of thee and of the white lylye flour
Which that the bar, and is a mayde alway,
To telle a storie I wol do my labour;
Nat that I may encressen hir honour,
For she hirself is honour and the roote
Of bountee, next hir Sone, and soules boote.
O mooder Mayde, O mayde Mooder free!
O bussh unbrent, brennynge in Moyses sighte,
That ravyshedest doun fro the Deitee,
Thurgh thyn humblesse, the Goost that in th'alighte,
Of whos vertu, whan he thyn herte lighte,
Conceyved was the Fadres sapience,
Help me to telle it in thy reverence!
Lady, thy bountee, thy magnificence,
Thy vertu and thy grete humylitee
Ther may no tonge expresse in no science;
For somtyme, Lady, er men praye to thee,
Thou goost biforn of thy benyngnytee,
And getest us the lyght, of thy preyere,
To gyden us unto thy Sone so deere.
My konnyng is so wayk, O blisful Queene,
For to declare thy grete worthynesse
That I ne may the weighte nat susteene;
But as a child of twelf month oold, or lesse,
That kan unnethes any word expresse,
Right so fare I, and therfore I yow preye,
Gydeth my song that I shal of yow seye.
Explicit.

THE PRIORESS'S TALE
Heere bigynneth the Prioresses Tale.

Ther was in Asye, in a greet citee,
Amonges Cristene folk a Jewerye,
Sustened by a lord of that contree
For foule usure and lucre of vileynye,
Hateful to Crist and to his compaignye;
And thurgh the strete men myghte ride or wende,
For it was free and open at eyther ende.
A litel scole of Cristen folk ther stood
Doun at the ferther ende, in which ther were

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Children an heep, ycomen of Cristen blood,
That lerned in that scole yeer by yere
Swich manere doctrine as men used there,
This is to seyn, to syngen and to rede,
As smale children doon in hire childhede.
Among thise children was a wydwes sone,
A litel clergeon, seven yeer of age,
That day by day to scole was his wone,
And eek also, where as he saugh th'ymage
Of Cristes mooder, hadde he in usage,
As hym was taught, to knele adoun and seye
His Ave Marie, as he goth by the weye.
Thus hath this wydwe hir litel sone ytaught
Oure blisful lady, Cristes mooder deere,
To worshipe ay, and he forgat it naught,
For sely child wol alday soone leere.
But ay, whan I remembre on this mateere,
Seint Nicholas stant evere in my presence,
For he so yong to Crist dide reverence.
This litel child, his litel book lernynge,
As he sat in the scole at his prymer,
He Alma redemptoris herde synge,
As children lerned hire antiphoner;
And as he dorste, he drough hym ner and ner,
And herkned ay the wordes and the noote,
Til he the firste vers koude al by rote.
Noght wiste he what this Latyn was to seye,
For he so yong and tendre was of age.
But on a day his felawe gan he preye
T'expounden hym this song in his langage,
Or telle hym why this song was in usage;
This preyde he hym to construe and declare
Ful often tyme upon his knowes bare.
His felawe, which that elder was than he,
Answerde hym thus: "This song, I have herd seye,
Was maked of our blisful Lady free,
Hire to salue, and eek hire for to preye
To been oure help and socour whan we deye.
I kan namoore expounde in this mateere.
I lerne song; I kan but smal grammeere."
"And is this song maked in reverence
Of Cristes mooder?" seyde this innocent.
"Now, certes, I wol do my diligence
To konne it al er Cristemasse be went.
Though that I for my prymer shal be shent
And shal be beten thries in an houre,
I wol it konne Oure Lady for to honoure!"
His felawe taughte hym homward prively,
Fro day to day, til he koude it by rote,
And thanne he song it wel and boldely,
Fro word to word, acordynge with the note.
Twies a day it passed thurgh his throte,
To scoleward and homward whan he wente;
On Cristes mooder set was his entente.
As I have seyd, thurghout the Juerie
This litel child, as he cam to and fro,
Ful murily than wolde he synge and crie
O Alma redemptoris everemo.
The swetnesse his herte perced so
Of Cristes mooder that, to hire to preye,
He kan nat stynte of syngyng by the weye.
Oure firste foo, the serpent Sathanas,
That hath in Jues herte his waspes nest,
Up swal, and seide, "O Hebrayk peple, allas!
Is this to yow a thyng that is honest,
That swich a boy shal walken as hym lest
In youre despit, and synge of swich sentence,
Which is agayn youre lawes reverence?"
Fro thennes forth the Jues han conspired
This innocent out of this world to chace.
An homycide therto han they hyred,
That in an aleye hadde a privee place;
And as the child gan forby for to pace,
This cursed Jew hym hente, and heeld hym faste,
And kitte his throte, and in a pit hym caste.

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I seye that in a wardrobe they hym threwe
Where as thise Jewes purgen hire entraille.
O cursed folk of Herodes al newe,
What may youre yvel entente yow availle?
Mordre wol out, certeyn, it wol nat faille,
And namely ther th'onour of God shal sprede;
The blood out crieth on youre cursed dede.
O\011martir, sowded to virginitee,
Now maystow syngen, folwynge evere in oon
The white Lamb celestial—quod she—
Of which the grete evaungelist, Seint John,
In Pathmos wroot, which seith that they that goon
Biforn this Lamb and synge a song al newe,
That nevere, flesshly, wommen they ne knewe.
This poure wydwe awaiteth al that nyght
After hir litel child, but he cam noght;
For which, as soone as it was dayes lyght,
With face pale of drede and bisy thoght,
She hath at scole and elleswhere hym soght,
Til finally she gan so fer espie
That he last seyn was in the Juerie.
With moodres pitee in hir brest enclosed,
She gooth, as she were half out of hir mynde,
To every place where she hath supposed
By liklihede hir litel child to fynde;
And evere on Cristes mooder meeke and kynde
She cride, and atte laste thus she wroghte:
Among the cursed Jues she hym soghte.
She frayneth and she preyeth pitously
To every Jew that dwelte in thilke place,
To telle hire if hir child wente oght forby.
They seyde "nay"; but Jhesu of his grace
Yaf in hir thoght inwith a litel space
That in that place after hir sone she cryde,
Where he was casten in a pit bisyde.
O grete God, that parfournest thy laude
By mouth of innocentz, lo, heere thy myght!
This gemme of chastite, this emeraude,
And eek of martirdom the ruby bright,
Ther he with throte ykorven lay upright,
He Alma redemptoris gan to synge
So loude that al the place gan to rynge.
The Cristene folk that thurgh the strete wente
In coomen for to wondre upon this thyng,
And hastily they for the provost sente;
He cam anon withouten tariyng,
And herieth Crist that is of hevene kyng,
And eek his mooder, honour of mankynde,
And after that the Jewes leet he bynde.
This child with pitous lamentacioun
Up taken was, syngynge his song alway,
And with honour of greet processioun
They carien hym unto the nexte abbay.
His mooder swownynge by his beere lay;
Unnethe myghte the peple that was theere
This newe Rachel brynge fro his beere.
With torment and with shameful deeth echon,
This provost dooth thise Jewes for to sterve
That of this mordre wiste, and that anon.
He nolde no swich cursednesse observe.
"Yvele shal have that yvele wol deserve";
Therfore with wilde hors he dide hem drawe,
And after that he heng hem by the lawe.
Upon this beere ay lith this innocent
Biforn the chief auter, whil the masse laste;
And after that, the abbot with his covent
Han sped hem for to burien hym ful faste;
And whan they hooly water on hym caste,
Yet spak this child, whan spreynd was hooly water,
And song O Alma redemptoris mater!
This abbot, which that was an hooly man,
As monkes been—or elles oghte be—
This yonge child to conjure he bigan,

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And seyde, "O deere child, I halse thee,
In vertu of the hooly Trinitee,
Tel me what is thy cause for to synge,
Sith that thy throte is kut to my semynge?"
"My throte is kut unto my nekke boon,"
Seyde this child, "and as by wey of kynde
I sholde have dyed, ye, longe tyme agon.
But Jesu Crist, as ye in bookes fynde,
Wil that his glorie laste and be in mynde,
And for the worship of his Mooder deere
Yet may I synge O Alma loude and cleere.
"This welle of mercy, Cristes mooder sweete,
I loved alwey, as after my konnynge;
And whan that I my lyf sholde forlete,
To me she cam, and bad me for to synge
This anthem verraily in my deyynge,
As ye han herd, and whan that I hadde songe,
Me thoughte she leyde a greyn upon my tonge.
"Wherfore I synge, and synge moot certeyn,
In honour of that blisful Mayden free
Til fro my tonge of taken is the greyn;
And after that thus seyde she to me:
"My litel child, now wol I fecche thee,
Whan that the greyn is fro thy tonge ytake.
Be nat agast; I wol thee nat forsake.""
This hooly monk, this abbot, hym meene I,
His tonge out caughte, and took awey the greyn,
And he yaf up the goost ful softely.
And whan this abbot hadde this wonder seyn,
His salte teeris trikled doun as reyn,
And gruf he fil al plat upon the grounde,
And stille he lay as he had ben ybounde.
The covent eek lay on the pavement
Wepynge, and herying Cristes mooder deere,
And after that they ryse, and forth been went,
And tooken awey this martir from his beere;
And in a tombe of marbul stones cleere
Enclosen they his litel body sweete.
Ther he is now, God leve us for to meete!
O yonge Hugh of Lyncoln, slayn also
With cursed Jewes, as it is notable,
For it is but a litel while ago,
Preye eek for us, we synful folk unstable,
That of his mercy God so merciable
On us his grete mercy multiplie,
For reverence of his mooder Marie. Amen
Heere is ended the Prioresses Tale.

PROLOGUE TO SIR THOPAS
Bihoold the murye wordes of the Hoost to Chaucer.

Whan seyd was al this miracle, every man
As sobre was that wonder was to se,
Til that oure Hooste japen tho bigan,
And thanne at erst he looked upon me,
And seyde thus: "What man artow?" quod he;
"Thou lookest as thou woldest fynde an hare,
For evere upon the ground I se thee stare.
"Approche neer, and looke up murily.
Now war yow, sires, and lat this man have place!
He in the waast is shape as wel as I;

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This were a popet in an arm t'enbrace
For any womman, smal and fair of face.
He semeth elvyssh by his contenaunce,
For unto no wight dooth he daliaunce.
"Sey now somwhat, syn oother folk han sayd;
Telle us a tale of myrthe,and that anon."
"Hooste," quod I, "ne beth nat yvele apayd,
For oother tale certes kan I noon,
But of a rym I Ierned longe agoon."
"Ye, that is good," quod he; "now shul we heere
Som deyntee thyng, me thynketh by his cheere."

SIR THOPAS
Heere bigynneth Chaucers Tale of Thopas.

The First Fit

Listeth, lordes, in good entent,
And I wol telle verrayment
Of myrthe and of solas,
Al of a knyght was fair and gent
In bataille and in tourneyment;
His name was sire Thopas.
Yborn he was in fer contree,
In Flaundres, al biyonde the see,
At Poperyng, in the place.
His fader was a man ful free,
And lord he was of that contree,
As it was Goddes grace.
Sire Thopas wax a doghty swayn;
 Whit was his face as payndemayn ,
His lippes rede as rose;
His rode is lyk scarlet in grayn,
And I yow telle in good certayn
He hadde a semely nose.
His heer, his berd was lyk saffroun,
That to his girdel raughte adoun;
His shoon of cordewane.
Of Brugges were his hosen broun,
His robe was of syklatoun,
That coste many a jane.
He koude hunte at wilde deer,
And ride an haukyng for river
With grey goshauk on honde;
Therto he was a good archeer;
Of wrastlyng was ther noon his peer,
Ther any ram shal stonde.
Ful many a mayde, bright in hour,
They moorne for hym paramour,
Whan hem were bet to slepe;
But he was chaast and no lechour,
And sweete as is the brembul flour
That bereth the rede hepe.
And so bifel upon a day,
For sothe, as I yow telle may,
Sire Thopas wolde out ride.
He worth upon his steede gray,

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And in his hand a launcegay,
A long swerd by his side.
He priketh thurgh a fair forest,
Therinne is many a wilde best,
Ye, bothe bukke and hare;
And as he priketh north and est,
I telle it yow, hym hadde almest
Bitid a sory care.
Ther spryngen herbes grete and smale,
The lycorys and the cetewale,
And many a clowe-gylofre;
And notemuge to putte in ale,
Wheither it be moyste or stale,
Or for to leye in cofre.
The briddes synge, it is no nay,
The sparhauk and the papejay,
That joye it was to heere;
The thrustelcok made eek hit lay,
The wodedowve upon the spray
She sang ful loude and cleere.
Sire Thopas fil in love-longynge,
Al whan he herde the thrustel synge,
And pryked as he were wood.
His faire steede in his prikynge
So swatte that men myghte him wrynge;
His sydes were al blood.
Sire Thopas eek so wery was
For prikyng on the softe gras,
So fiers was his corage,
That doun he leyde him in that plas
To make his steede som solas,
And yaf hym good forage.
"O Seinte Marie, benedicite!
What eyleth this love at me
To bynde me so soore?
Me dremed al this nyght, pardee,
An elf-queene shal my lemman be
And slepe under my goore.
"An elf-queene wol I love, ywis,
For in this world no womman is
Worthy to be my make
In towne;
Alle othere wommen I forsake,
And to an elf-queene I me take
By dale and eek by downe!"
Into his sadel he clamb anon,
And priketh over stile and stoon
An elf-queene for t'espye,
Til he so longe hath riden and goon
That he foond, in a pryve woon,
The contree of Fairye
So wilde;
For in that contree was ther noon
That to him durste ride or goon,
Neither wyf ne childe;
Til that ther cam a greet geaunt,
His name was sire Olifaunt,
A perilous man of dede.
He seyde, "Child, by Termagaunt,
But if thou prike out of myn haunt,
Anon I sle thy steede
With mace.
Heere is the queene of Fayerye,
With harpe and pipe and symphonye,
Dwellynge in this place."
The child seyde, "Also moote I thee,
Tomorwe wol I meete with thee,
Whan I have myn armoure;
And yet I hope, par ma fay,
That thou shalt with this launcegay
Abyen it ful sowre.
Thy mawe
Shal I percen, if I may,
Er it be fully pryme of day,
For heere thow shalt be slawe."

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Sire Thopas drow abak ful faste;
This geant at hym stones caste
Out of a fel staf-slynge.
But faire escapeth child Thopas,
And al it was thurgh Goddes gras,
And thurgh his fair berynge.

[The Second Fit]

Yet listeth, lordes, to my tale
Murier than the nightyngale,
For now I wol yow rowne
How sir Thopas, with sydes smale,
Prikyng over hill and dale,
Is comen agayn to towne.
His myrie men comanded he
To make hym bothe game and glee,
For nedes moste he fighte
With a geaunt with hevedes three,
For paramour and jolitee
Of oon that shoon ful brighte.
"Do come," he seyde, "my mynstrales,
And geestours for to tellen tales,
Anon in myn armynge,
Of romances that been roiales,
Of popes and of cardinales,
And eek of love-likynge."
They fette hym first the sweete wyn,
And mede eek in a matelyn,
And roial spicerye
Of gyngebreed that was ful fyn,
And lycorys, and eek comyn,
With sugre that is trye.
He dide next his white leere
Of cloth of lake fyn and cleere,
A breech and eek a sherte;
And next his sherte an aketoun,
And over that an haubergeoun
For percynge of his herte;
And over that a fyn hawberk,
Was al ywroght of Jewes werk,
Ful strong it was of plate;
And over that his cote-armour
As whit as is a lilye flour,
In which he wol debate.
His sheeld was al of gold so reed,
And therinne was a bores heed,
A charbocle bisyde;
And there he swoor on ale and breed
How that the geaunt shal be deed,
Bityde what bityde!
His jambeux were of quyrboilly,
His swerdes shethe of yvory,
His helm of latoun bright;
His sadel was of rewel boon,
His brydel as the sonne shoon,
Or as the moone light.
His spere was of fyn ciprees,
That bodeth werre, and nothyng pees,
The heed ful sharpe ygrounde;
His steede was al dappull gray,
It gooth an ambil in the way
Ful softely and rounde
In londe.
Loo, lordes myne, heere is a fit!
If ye wol any moore of it,
To telle it wol I fonde.

The [Third] Fit

Now holde youre mouth, par charitee,
Bothe knyght and lady free,

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And herkneth to my spelle;
Of bataille and of chivalry,
And of ladyes love-drury
Anon I wol yow telle.
Men speken of romances of prys,
Of Horn child and of Ypotys,
Of Beves and sir Gy,
Of sir Lybeux and Pleyndamour—
But sir Thopas, he bereth the flour
Of roial chivalry!
His goode steede al he bistrood,
And forth upon his wey he glood
As sparcle out of the bronde;
Upon his creest he bar a tour,
And therinne stiked a lilie flour—
God shilde his cors fro shonde!
And for he was a knyght auntrous,
He nolde slepen in noon hous,
But liggen in his hoode;
His brighte helm was his wonger,
And by hym baiteth his dextrer
Of herbes fyne and goode.
Hymself drank water of the well,
As dide the knyght sire Percyvell
So worly under wede,
Til on a day—

Heere the Hoost stynteth Chaucer of his Tale of Thopas.

"Namoore of this, for Goddes dignitee,"
Quod oure Hooste, "for thou makest me
So wery of thy verray lewednesse
That, also wisly God my soule blesse,
Myne eres aken of thy drasty speche.
Now swich a rym the devel I biteche!
This may wel be rym dogerel," quod he.
"Why so?" quod I, "why wiltow lette me
Moore of my tale than another man,
Syn that it is the beste rym I kan?"
"By God," quod he, "for pleynly, at a word,
Thy drasty rymyng is nat worth a toord!
Thou doost noght elles but despendest tyme.
Sire, at o word, thou shalt no lenger ryme.
Lat se wher thou kanst tellen aught in geeste,
Or telle in prose somwhat, at the leeste,
In which ther be som murthe or som doctryne."
"Gladly," quod I, "by Goddes sweete pyne!
I wol yow telle a litel thyng in prose
That oghte liken yow, as I suppose,
Or elles, certes, ye been to daungerous.
It is a moral tale vertuous,
Al be it told somtyme in sondry wyse
Of sondry folk, as I shal yow devyse.
"As thus: ye woot that every Evaungelist
That telleth us the peyne of Jhesu Grist
Ne seith nat alle thyng as his felawe dooth;
But nathelees hir sentence is al sooth,
And alle acorden as in hire sentence,
Al be ther in hir tellyng difference.
For somme of hem seyn moore, and somme seyn lesse,
Whan they his pitous passioun expresse—
I meene of Mark, Mathew, Luc, and John—
But doutelees hit sentence is al oon.
Therfore, lordynges alle, I yow biseche,
If that yow thynke I varie as in my speche,
As thus, though that I telle somwhat moore
Of proverbes than ye han herd bifoore
Comprehended in this litel tretys heere,
To enforce with th'effect of my mateere;
And though I nat the same wordes seye
As ye han herd, yet to yow alle I preye
Blameth me nat; for, as in my sentence,

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Shul ye nowher fynden difference
Fro the sentence of this tretys lyte
After the which this murye tale I write.
And therfore herkneth what that I shal seye,
And lat me tellen al my tale, I preye."
Explicit

THE TALE OF MELIBEE
Heere bigynneth Chaucers Tale of Melibee.

A yong man called Melibeus, myghty and riche, bigat upon his wyf, that called was Prudence, a doghter which that called was Sophie.


Upon a day bifel that he for his desport is went into the feeldes hym to pleye.
His wyf and eek his doghter hath he left inwith his hous, of which the dores weren faste yshette.
Thre of his olde foes han it espyed, and setten laddres to the walles of his hous, and by wyndowes been entred,
and betten his wyf, and wounded his doghter with fyve mortal woundes in fyve sondry places—
this is toseyn, in hir feet, in hire handes, in hir erys, in hir nose, and in hire mouth—and leften hire for deed, and wenten awey.


Whan Melibeus retourned was into his hous, and saugh al this meschief, he, lyk a mad man rentynge his clothes, gan to wepe and crie.


Prudence, his wyf, as ferforth as she dorste, bisoghte hym of his wepyng for to stynte,
but nat forthy he gan to crie and wepen evere lenger the moore.


This noble wyf Prudence remembred hire upon the sentence of Ovide, in his book that cleped is the Remedie of Love, where as he seith,
"He is a fool that destourbeth the mooder to wepen in the deeth of hire child til she have wept hir fille as for a certein tyme,
and thanne shal man doon his diligence with amyable wordes hire to reconforte, and preyen hire of hir wepyng for to stynte."
For which resoun this noble wyf Prudence suffred hir housbonde for to wepe and crie as for a certein space,
and whan she saugh hir tyme, she seyde hym in this wise: "Allas, my lord," quod she, "why make ye youreself for to be lyk a fool?
For sothe it aperteneth nat to a wys man to maken swich a sorwe.
Youre doghter, with the grace of God, shal warisshe and escape.
And, al were it so that she right now were deed, ye ne oughte nat, as for hir deeth, youreself to destroye.
Senek seith: "The wise man shal nat take to greet disconfort for the deeth of his children,
but, certes, he sholde suffren it in pacience as wel as he abideth the deeth of his owene propre persone.'


This Melibeus answerde anon and seyde, "What man," quod he, "sholde of his wepyng stente that hath so greet a cause for to wepe?
Jhesu Crist, oure Lord, hymself wepte for the deeth of Lazarus hys freend."


Prudence answerde: "Certes, wel I woot attempree wepyng is no thyng deffended to hym that sorweful is, amonges folk in sorwe, but it is rather graunted hym to wepe.
The Apostle Paul unto the Romayns writeth, "Man shal rejoyse with hem that maken joye and wepen with swich folk as wepen."
But though attempree wepyng be ygraunted, outrageous wepyng certes is deffended. Mesure of wepyng sholde be considered after the loore that techeth us Senek:
"Whan that thy frend is deed," quod he, "lat nat thyne eyen to moyste been of teeris, ne to muche drye; although the teeris come to thyne eyen, lat hem nat falle;
and whan thou hast forgoon thy freend, do diligence to gete


218

another freend; and this is moore wysdom than for to wepe for thy freend which that thou hast lorn, for therinne is no boote."
And therfore, if ye governe yow by sapience, put awey sorwe out of youre herte.
Remembre yow that Jhesus Syrak seith, "A man that is joyous and glad in herte, it hym conserveth florissynge in his age; but soothly sorweful herte maketh his bones drye."
He seith eek thus, that sorwe in herte sleeth ful many a man.
Salomon seith that right as motthes in the shepes flees anoyeth to the clothes, and the smale wormes to the tree, right so anoyeth sorwe to the herte.
Wherfore us oghte, as wel in the deeth of oure children as in the los of oure othere goodes temporels, have pacience.
Remembre yow upon the pacient Job. Whan he hadde lost his children and his temporeel substance, and in his body endured and receyved ful many a grevous tribulacion, yet seyde he thus:
"Oure Lord hath yeve it me; oure Lord hath biraft it me; right as oure Lord hath wold, right so it is doon; blessed be the name of oure Lord!'


To thise forseide thynges answerde Melibeus unto his wyf Prudence: "Alle thy wordes," quod he, "been sothe and therto profitable, but trewely myn herte is troubled with this sorwe so grevously that I noot what to doone."


"Lat calle," quod Prudence, "thy trewe freendes alle and thy lynage whiche that been wise. Telleth youre cas, and herkneth what they seye in conseillyng, and yow governe after hire sentence.
Salomon seith, "Werk alle thy thynges by conseil, and thou shalt never repente.'


Thanne, by the conseil of his wyf Prudence, this Melibeus leet callen a greet congregacion of folk,
as surgiens, phisiciens, olde folk and yonge, and somme of his olde enemys reconsiled as by hir semblaunt to his love and into his grace;
and therwithal ther coomen somme of his neighebores that diden hym reverence moore for drede than for love, as it happeth ofte.
Ther coomen also ful many subtille flatereres and wise advocatz lerned in the lawe.


And whan this folk togidre assembled weren, this Melibeus in sorweful wise shewed hem his cas.
And by the manere of his speche it semed that in herte he baar a crueel ire, redy to doon vengeaunce upon his foes, and sodeynly desired that the werre sholde bigynne;
but nathelees, yet axed he hire conseil upon this matiere.
A surgien, by licence and assent of swiche as weren wise, up roos and to Melibeus seyde as ye may heere:


"Sire," quod he, "as to us surgiens aperteneth that we do to every wight the beste that we kan, where as we been withholde, and to oure pacientz that we do no damage,
wherfore it happeth many tyme and ofte that whan twey men han everich wounded oother, oon same surgien heeleth hem bothe;
wherfore unto oure art it is nat pertinent to norice werre ne parties to supporte.
But certes, as to the warisshynge of youre doghter, al be it so that she perilously be wounded, we shullen do so ententif bisynesse fro day to nyght that with the grace of God she shal be hool and sound as soone as is possible."


Almoost right in the same wise the phisiciens answerden, save that they seyden a fewe woordes moore:
that right as maladies been cured by hir contraries, right so shul men warisshe werre by vengeaunce.


His neighebores ful of envye, his feyned freendes that semeden reconsiled, and his flattreres
maden semblant of wepyng, and empeireden and agreggeden muchel of this matiere in preisynge greetly Melibee of myght, of power, of richesse, and of freendes, despisynge the power of his adversaries,
and seiden outrely that he anon sholde wreken hym on his foes and bigynne werre.


Up roos thanne an advocat that was wys, by leve and by conseil of othere that were wise, and seide:
"Lordynges, the nede for which we been assembled in this place is a ful hevy thyng and an heigh matiere,
by cause of the wrong and of the wikkednesse that hath be doon, and eek by resoun of the grete damages that in tyme comynge been possible to fallen for this same cause,
and eek by resoun of the grete richesse and power of the parties bothe,
for the whiche resouns it were a


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ful greet peril to erren in this matiere. Wherfore, Melibeus, this is oure sentence: we conseille yow aboven alle thyng that right anon thou do thy diligence in kepynge of thy propre persone in swich a wise that thou ne wante noon espie ne wacche thy persone for to save.
And after that, we conseille that in thyn hous thou sette sufficeant garnisoun so that they may as wel thy body as thyn hous defende.
But certes, for to moeve werre, ne sodeynly for to doon vengeaunce, we may nat demen in so litel tyme that it were profitable.
Wherfore we axen leyser and espace to have deliberacion in this cas to deme.
For the commune proverbe seith thus: "He that soone deemeth, soone shal repente."
And eek men seyn that thilke juge is wys that soone understondeth a matiere and juggeth by leyser;
for al be it so that alle tariyng be anoyful, algates it is nat to repreve in yevynge of juggement ne in vengeance takyng, whan it is sufficeant and resonable.
And that shewed oure Lord Jhesu Crist by ensample, for whan that the womman that was taken in avowtrie was broght in his presence to knowen what sholde be doon with hire persone, al be it so that he wiste wel hymself what that he wolde answere, yet ne wolde he nat answere sodeynly, but he wolde have deliberacion, and in the ground he wroot twies.
And by thise causes we axen deliberacioun, and we shal thanne, by the grace of God, conseille thee thyng that shal be profitable."


Up stirten thanne the yonge folk atones, and the mooste partie of that compaignye han scorned this olde wise man, and bigonnen to make noyse, and seyden that
right so as whil that iren is hoot men sholden smyte, right so men sholde wreken hir wronges whil that they been fresshe and newe; and with loud voys they criden "Werre! Werre!"


Up roos tho oon of thise olde wise, and with his hand made contenaunce that men sholde holden hem stille and yeven hym audience.
"Lordynges," quod he, "ther is ful many a man that crieth "Werre, werre!" that woot ful litel what werre amounteth.
Werre at his bigynnyng hath so greet an entryng and so large that every wight may entre whan hym liketh and lightly fynde werre;
but certes what ende that shal therof bifalle, it is nat light to knowe.
For soothly, whan that werre is ones bigonne, ther is ful many a child unborn of his mooder that shal sterve yong by cause of thilke werre, or elles lyve in sorwe and dye in wrecchednesse.
And therfore, er that any werre bigynne, men moste have greet conseil and greet deliberacion."
And whan this olde man wende to enforcen his tale by resons, wel ny alle atones bigonne they to rise for to breken his tale, and beden hym ful ofte his wordes for to abregge.
For soothly, he that precheth to hem that listen nat heeren his wordes, his sermon hem anoieth.
For Jhesus Syrak seith that "musik in wepynge is a noyous thyng"; this is to seyn: as muche availleth to speken bifore folk to which his speche anoyeth as it is to synge biforn hym that wepeth.
And whan this wise man saugh that hym wanted audience, al shamefast he sette hym doun agayn.
For Salomon seith: "Ther as thou ne mayst have noon audience, enforce thee nat to speke."
"I see wel," quod this wise man, "that the commune proverbe is sooth, that "good conseil wanteth whan it is moost nede.'


Yet hadde this Melibeus in his conseil many folk that prively in his eere conseilled hym certeyn thyng, and conseilled hym the contrarie in general audience.


Whan Melibeus hadde herd that the gretteste partie of his conseil weren accorded that he sholde maken werre, anoon he consented to hir conseillyng and fully affermed hire sentence.
Thanne dame Prudence, whan that she saugh how that hir housbonde shoop hym for to wreken hym on his foes and to bigynne werre, she in ful humble wise, whan she saugh hir tyme, seide to hym thise wordes:
"My lord," quod she, "I yow biseche, as hertely as I dar and kan, ne haste yow nat to faste and, for alle gerdons, as yeveth me audience.
For Piers Alfonce seith,


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"Whoso that dooth to thee oother good or harm, haste thee nat to quiten it, for in this wise thy freend wole abyde and thyn enemy shal the lenger lyve in drede."
The proverbe seith, "He hasteth wel that wisely kan abyde," and "in wikked haste is no profit.'


This Melibee answerde unto his wyf Prudence: "I purpose nat," quod he, "to werke by thy conseil, for many causes and resouns. For certes, every wight wolde holde me thanne a fool;
this is to seyn, if I, for thy conseillyng, wolde chaungen thynges that been ordeyned and affermed by so manye wyse.
Secoundely, I seye that alle wommen been wikke, and noon good of hem alle. For "of a thousand men," seith Salomon, "I foond o good man, but certes, of alle wommen, good womman foond I nevere."
And also, certes, if I governed me by thy conseil, it sholde seme that I hadde yeve to thee over me the maistrie, and God forbede that it so weere!
For Jhesus Syrak seith that "if the wyf have maistrie, she is contrarious to hir housbonde."
And Salomon seith: "Nevere in thy lyf to thy wyf, ne to thy child, ne to thy freend ne yeve no power over thyself, for bettre it were that thy children aske of thy persone thynges that hem nedeth than thou see thyself in the handes of thy children."
And also if I wolde werke by thy conseillyng, certes, my conseil moste som tyme be secree, til it were tyme that it moste be knowe, and this ne may noght be.
[Car il est escript, la genglerie des femmes ne puet riens celler fors ce qu'elle ne scet.
Apres, le philosophre dit, en mauvais conseil les femmes vainquent les hommes, et par ces raisons je ne dois point user de ton conseil.]
"


Whanne dame Prudence, ful debonairly and with greet pacience, hadde herd al that hir housbonde liked for to seye, thanne axed she of hym licence for to speke, and seyde in this wise:
"My lord," quod she, "as to youre firste resoun, certes it may lightly been answered. For I seye that it is no folie to chaunge conseil whan the thyng is chaunged, or elles whan the thyng semeth ootherweyes than it was biforn.
And mooreover, I seye that though ye han sworn and bihight to perfourne youre emprise, and nathelees ye weyve to perfourne thilke same emprise by juste cause, men sholde nat seyn therfore that ye were a liere ne forsworn.
For the book seith that "the wise man maketh no lesyng whan he turneth his corage to the bettre."
And al be it so that youre emprise be establissed and ordeyned by greet multitude of folk, yet thar ye nat accomplice thilke ordinaunce but yow like.
For the trouthe of thynges and the profit been rather founden in fewe folk that been wise and ful of resoun than by greet multitude of folk ther every man crieth and clatereth what that hym liketh. Soothly swich multitude is nat honest.
And as to the seconde resoun, where as ye seyn that alle wommen been wikke; save youre grace, certes ye despisen alle wommen in this wyse, and "he that al despiseth, al displeseth," as seith the book.
And Senec seith that "whoso wole have sapience shal no man dispreyse, but he shal gladly techen the science that he kan withouten presumpcion or pride;
and swiche thynges as he noght ne kan, he shal nat been ashamed to lerne hem, and enquere of lasse folk than hymself."
And, sire, that ther hath been many a good womman may lightly be preved.
For certes, sire, oure Lord Jhesu Crist wolde nevere have descended to be born of a womman, if alle wommen hadden been wikke.
And after that, for the grete bountee that is in wommen, oure Lord Jhesu Crist, whan he was risen fro deeth to lyve, appeered rather to a womman than to his Apostles.
And though that Salomon seith that he ne foond nevere womman good, it folweth nat therfore that alle wommen ben wikke.
For though that he ne foond no good womman, certes, many another man hath founden many a womman ful good and trewe.
Or elles, per aventure, the entente of Salomon was this: that, as in sovereyn bounte, he foond no womman—
his is to seyn, that ther is no wight that hath sovereyn bountee save God allone, as he hymself recordeth in hys Evaungelie.
For ther nys no creature so good


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that hym ne wanteth somwhat of the perfeccioun of God, that is his makere.
Youre thridde reson is this: ye seyn that if ye governe yow by my conseil, it sholde seme that ye hadde yeve me the maistrie and the lordshipe over youre persone.
Sire, save youre grace, it is nat so. For if it so were that no man sholde be conseilled but oonly of hem that hadden lordshipe and maistrie of his persone, men wolden nat be conseilled so ofte.
For soothly thilke man that asketh conseil of a purpos, yet hath he free choys wheither he wole werke by that conseil or noon.
And as to youre fourthe resoun, ther ye seyn that the janglerie of wommen kan hyde thynges that they wot noght, as who seith that a womman kan nat hyde that she woot;
sire, thise wordes been understonde of wommen that been jangleresses and wikked;
of whiche wommen men seyn that thre thynges dryven a man out of his hous—that is to seyn, smoke, droppyng of reyn, and wikked wyves;
and of swiche wommen seith Salomon that "it were bettre dwelle in desert than with a womman that is riotous."
And sire, by youre leve, that am nat I,
for ye han ful ofte assayed my grete silence and my grete pacience, and eek how wel that I kan hyde and hele thynges that men oghte secreely to hyde.
And soothly, as to youre fifthe resoun, where as ye seyn that in wikked conseil wommen venquisshe men, God woot, thilke resoun stant heere in no stede.
For understoond now, ye asken conseil to do wikkednesse;
and if ye wole werken wikkednesse, and youre wif restreyneth thilke wikked purpos, and overcometh yow by reson and by good conseil,
certes youre wyf oghte rather to be preised than yblamed.
Thus sholde ye understonde the philosophre that seith, "In wikked conseil wommen venquisshen hir housbondes."
And ther as ye blamen alle wommen and hir resouns, I shal shewe yow by manye ensamples that many a womman hath ben ful good, and yet been, and hir conseils ful hoolsome and profitable.
Eek som men han seyd that the conseillynge of wommen is outher to deere or elles to litel of pris.
But al be it so that ful many a womman is badde and hir conseil vile and noght worth, yet han men founde ful many a good womman, and ful discret and wis in conseillynge.
Loo, Jacob by good conseil of his mooder Rebekka wan the benysoun of Ysaak his fader and the lordshipe over alle his bretheren.
Judith by hire good conseil delivered the citee of Bethulie, in which she dwelled, out of the handes of Olofernus, that hadde it biseged and wolde have al destroyed it.
Abygail delivered Nabal hir housbonde fro David the kyng, that wolde have slayn hym, and apaysed the ire of the kyng by hir wit and by hir good conseillyng.
Hester by hir good conseil enhaunced greetly the peple of God in the regne of Assuerus the kyng.
And the same bountee in good conseillyng of many a good womman may men telle.
And mooreover, whan oure Lord hadde creat Adam, oure forme fader, he seyde in this wise:
"It is nat good to been a man alloone; make we to hym an helpe semblable to hymself."
Heere may ye se that if that wommen were nat goode, and hir conseils goode and profitable,
oure Lord God of hevene wolde nevere han wroght hem, ne called hem help of man, but rather confusioun of man.
And ther seyde oones a clerk in two vers, "What is bettre than gold? Jaspre. What is bettre than jaspre? Wisedoom.
And what is better than wisedoom? Womman. And what is bettre than a good womman? Nothyng."
And, sire, by manye of othre resons may ye seen that manye wommen been goode, and hir conseils goode and profitable.
And therfore, sire, if ye wol triste to my conseil, I shal restoore yow youre doghter hool and sound.
And eek I wol do to yow so muche that ye shul have honour in this cause."


Whan Melibee hadde herd the wordes of his wyf Prudence, he seyde thus:
"I se wel that the word of Salomon is sooth. He seith that "wordes that been spoken discreetly by ordinaunce been honycombes, for they yeven swetnesse to the soule and hoolsomnesse to the body."
And, wyf, by cause of thy sweete wordes, and eek for I have assayed and preved


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thy grete sapience and thy grete trouthe, I wol governe me by thy conseil in alle thyng."


"Now, sire," quod dame Prudence, "and syn ye vouche sauf to been governed by my conseil, I wol enforme yow how ye shull governe yourself in chesynge of youre conseillours.
Ye shul first in alle youre werkes mekely biseken to the heighe God that he wol be youre conseillour;
and shapeth yow to swich entente that he yeve yow conseil and confort, as taughte Thobie his sone:
"At alle tymes thou shalt blesse God, and praye hym to dresse thy weyes, and looke that alle thy conseils been in hym for everemoore."
Seint Jame eek seith: "If any of yow have nede of sapience, axe it of God."
And afterward thanne shul ye taken conseil in youreself, and examyne wel youre thoghtes of swich thyng as yow thynketh that is best for youre profit.
And thanne shul ye dryve fro youre herte thre thynges that been contrariouse to good conseil;
that is to seyn, ire, coveitise, and hastifnesse.


"First, he that axeth conseil of hymself, certes he moste been withouten ire, for manye causes.
The firste is this: he that hath greet ire and wratthe in hymself, he weneth alwey that he may do thyng that he may nat do.
And secoundely, he that is irous and wrooth, he ne may nat wel deme;
and he that may nat wel deme, may nat wel conseille.
The thridde is this, that he that is irous and wrooth, as seith Senec, ne may nat speke but blameful thynges,
and with his viciouse wordes he stireth oother folk to angre and to ire.
And eek, sire, ye moste dryve coveitise out of youre herte.
For the Apostle seith that coveitise is roote of alle harmes.
And trust wel that a coveitous man ne kan noght deme ne thynke, but oonly to fulfille the ende of his coveitise;
and certes, that ne may nevere been accompliced, for evere the moore habundaunce that he hath of richesse, the moore he desireth.
And, sire, ye moste also dryve out of youre herte hastifnesse; for certes,
ye ne may nat deeme for the beste by a sodeyn thought that falleth in youre herte, but ye moste avyse yow on it ful ofte.
For, as ye herde her biforn, the commune proverbe is this, that "he that soone deemeth, soone repenteth."
Sire, ye ne be nat alwey in lyk disposicioun;
for certes, somthyng that somtyme semeth to yow that it is good for to do, another tyme it semeth to yow the contrarie.


"Whan ye han taken conseil in youreself and han deemed by good deliberacion swich thyng as you semeth best,
thanne rede I yow that ye kepe it secree.
Biwrey nat youre conseil to no persone, but if so be that ye wenen sikerly that thurgh youre biwreyyng youre condicioun shal be to yow the moore profitable.
For Jhesus Syrak seith, "Neither to thy foo ne to thy frend discovere nat thy secree ne thy folie,
for they wol yeve yow audience and lookynge and supportacioun in thy presence and scorne thee in thyn absence."
Another clerk seith that "scarsly shaltou fynden any persone that may kepe conseil secrely."
The book seith, "Whil that thou kepest thy conseil in thyn herte, thou kepest it in thy prisoun,
and whan thou biwreyest thy conseil to any wight, he holdeth thee in his snare."
And therfore yow is bettre to hyde youre conseil in youre herte than praye him to whom ye han biwreyed youre conseil that he wole kepen it cloos and stille.
For Seneca seith: "If so be that thou ne mayst nat thyn owene conseil hyde, how darstou prayen any oother wight thy conseil secrely to kepe?"
But nathelees, if thou wene sikerly that the biwreiyng of thy conseil to a persone wol make thy condicion to stonden in the bettre plyt, thanne shaltou tellen hym thy conseil in this wise.
First thou shalt make no semblant wheither thee were levere pees or werre, or this or that, ne shewe hym nat thy wille and thyn entente.
For trust wel that comunli thise conseillours been flatereres,
namely the conseillours of grete lordes,
for they enforcen hem alwey rather to speken plesante wordes, enclynynge to the lordes lust, than wordes that been trewe or profitable.
And therfore men seyn that the riche man hath seeld good conseil, but if he have it of hymself.


"And after that thou shalt considere thy freendes and thyne enemys.
And as touchynge thy freendes, thou shalt considere which of hem been moost feithful and moost wise


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and eldest and most approved in conseillyng;
and of hem shalt thou aske thy conseil, as the caas requireth.
I seye that first ye shul clepe to youre conseil youre freendes that been trewe.
For Salomon seith that "right as the herte of a man deliteth in savour that is soote, right so the conseil of trewe freendes yeveth swetnesse to the soule."
He seith also, "Ther may no thyng be likned to the trewe freend,
for certes gold ne silver hen nat so muche worth as the goode wyl of a trewe freend."
And eek he seith that a trewe freend is a strong deffense; who so that it fyndeth, certes he fyndeth a greet tresour."
Thanne shul ye eek considere if that youre trewe freendes been discrete and wise. For the book seith, "Axe alwey thy conseil of hem that been wise."
And by this same resoun shul ye clepen to youre conseil of youre freendes that been of age, swiche as han seyn and been expert in manye thynges and been approved in conseillynges.
For the book seith that "in olde men is the sapience, and in longe tyme the prudence."
And Tullius seith that grete thynges ne been nat ay accompliced by strengthe, ne by delivernesse of body, but by good conseil, by auctoritee of persones, and by science; the whiche thre thynges ne been nat fieble by age, but certes they enforcen and encreescen day by day."
And hanne shul ye kepe this for a general reule: First shul ye clepen to youre conseil a fewe of youre freendes that been especiale;
for Salomon seith, "Manye freendes have thou, but among a thousand chese thee oon to be thy conseillour."
For al be it so that thou first ne telle thy conseil but to a fewe, thou mayst afterward telle it to mo folk if it be nede.
But looke alwey that thy conseillours have thilke thre condiciouns that I have seyd bifore—that is to seyn, that they be trewe, wise, and of oold experience.
And werke nat alwey in every nede by oon counseillour allone; for somtyme bihooveth it to been conseilled by manye.
For Salomon seith, "Salvacion of thynges is where as ther been manye conseillours."


"Now, sith that I have toold yow of which folk ye sholde been counseilled, now wol I teche yow which conseil ye oghte to eschewe.
First, ye shul eschue the conseillyng of fooles; for Salomon seith, "Taak no conseil of a fool, for he ne kan noght conseille but after his owene lust and his affeccioun."
The book seith that "the propretee of a fool is this: he troweth lightly harm of every wight, and lightly troweth alle bountee in hymself."
Thou shalt eek eschue the conseillyng of alle flatereres, swiche as enforcen hem rather to preise youre persone by flaterye than for to telle yow the soothfastnesse of thynges.
Wherfore Tullius seith, "Amonges alle the pestilences that been in freendshipe the gretteste is flaterie." And therfore is it moore nede that thou eschue and drede flatereres than any oother peple.
The book seith, "Thou shalt rather drede and flee fro the sweete wordes of flaterynge preiseres than fro the egre wordes of thy freend that seith thee thy sothes."
Salomon seith that "the wordes of a flaterere is a snare to cacche with innocentz."
He seith also that "he that speketh to his freend wordes of swetnesse and of plesaunce setteth a net biforn his feet to cacche hym."
And therfore seith Tullius, "Enclyne nat thyne eres to flatereres, ne taak no conseil of the wordes of flaterye."
And Caton seith, "Avyse thee wel, and eschue the wordes of swetnesse and of plesaunce."
And eek thou shalt eschue the conseillyng of thyne olde enemys that been reconsiled.
The book seith that "no wight retourneth saufly into the grace of his olde enemy."
And Isope seith, "Ne trust nat to hem to whiche thou hast had som tyme werre or enemytee, ne telle hem nat thy conseil."
And Seneca telleth the cause why: "It may nat be," seith he, "that where greet fyr hath longe tyme endured, that ther ne dwelleth som vapour of warmnesse."
And therfore seith Salomon, "In thyn olde foo trust nevere."
For sikerly, though thyn enemy be reconsiled, and maketh thee chiere of humylitee, and lowteth to thee with his heed, ne trust hym nevere.
For certes he maketh thilke feyned humilitee moore for his profit than for any love of thy persone, by cause that he deemeth to have victorie over thy persone by swich feyned contenance, the which victorie he myghte nat have by strif or werre.
And Peter Alfonce seith, "Make no felawshipe with thyne olde enemys, for if thou


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do hem bountee, they wol perverten it into wikkednesse."
And eek thou most eschue the conseillyng of hem that been thy servantz and beren thee greet reverence, for peraventure they seyn it moore for drede than for love.
And therfore seith a philosophre in this wise: "Ther is no wight parfitly trewe to hym that he to soore dredeth."
And Tullius seith, "Ther nys no myght so greet of any emperour that longe may endure, but if he have moore love of the peple than drede."
Thou shalt also eschue the conseiling of folk that been dronkelewe, for they ne kan no conseil hyde.
For Salomon seith, "Ther is no privetee ther as regneth dronkenesse."
Ye shul also han in suspect the conseillyng of swich folk as conseille yow o thyng prively and conseille yow the contrarie openly.
For Cassidorie seith that "it is a manere sleighte to hyndre, whan he sheweth to doon o thyng openly and werketh prively the contrarie."
Thou shalt also have in suspect the conseillyng of wikked folk. For the book seith, "The conseillyng of wikked folk is alwey ful of fraude."
And David seith, "Blisful is that man that hath nat folwed the conseilyng of shrewes."
Thou shalt also eschue the conseillyng of yong folk, for hir conseil is nat rype.


"Now, sire, sith I have shewed yow of which folk ye shul take youre conseil and of which folk ye shul folwe the conseil,
now wol I teche yow how ye shal examyne youre conseil, after the doctrine of Tullius.
In the examynynge thanne of youre conseillour ye shul considere manye thynges.
Alderfirst thou shalt considere that in thilke thyng that thou purposest, and upon what thyng thou wolt have conseil, that verray trouthe be seyd and conserved; this is to seyn, telle trewely thy tale.
For he that seith fals may nat wel be conseilled in that cas of which he lieth.
And after this thou shalt considere the thynges that acorden to that thou purposest for to do by thy conseillours, if resoun accorde therto,
and eek if thy myght may atteine therto, and if the moore part and the bettre part of thy conseillours acorde therto, or noon.
Thanne shaltou considere what thyng shal folwe of that conseillyng, as hate, pees, werre, grace, profit, or damage, and manye othere thynges.
And in alle thise thynges thou shalt chese the beste and weyve alle othere thynges.
Thanne shaltow considere of what roote is engendred the matiere of thy conseil and what fruyt it may conceyve and engendre.
Thou shalt eek considere alle thise causes, fro whennes they been sprongen.
And whan ye han examyned youre conseil, as I have seyd, and which partie is the bettre and moore profitable, and han approved it by manye wise folk and olde,
thanne shaltou considere if thou mayst parfourne it and maken of it a good ende.
For certes resoun wol nat that any man sholde bigynne a thyng but if he myghte parfourne it as hym oghte;
ne no wight sholde take upon hym so hevy a charge that he myghte nat bere it.
For the proverbe seith, "He that to muche embraceth, distreyneth litel."
And Catoun seith, "Assay to do swich thyng as thou hast power to doon, lest that the charge oppresse thee so soore that thee bihoveth to weyve thyng that thou hast bigonne."
And if so be that thou be in doute wheither thou mayst parfourne a thing or noon, chese rather to suffre than bigynne.
And Piers Alphonce seith, "If thou hast myght to doon a thyng of which thou most repente, it is bettre "nay" than "ye".
This is to seyn, that thee is bettre holde thy tonge stille than for to speke.
Thanne may ye innderstonde by strenger resons that if thou hast power to parfourne a werk of which thou shalt repente, thanne is it bettre that thou suffre than bigynne.
Wel seyn they that defenden every wight to assaye a thyng of which he is in doute wheither he may parfourne it or noon.
And after, whan ye han examyned youre conseil, as I have seyd biforn, and knowen wel that ye may parfourne youre emprise, conferme it thanne sadly til it be at an ende.


"Now is it resoun and tyme that I shewe yow whanne and wherfore that ye may chaunge youre counseil withouten youre repreve.
Soothly, a man may chaungen his purpos and his conseil if the cause cesseth, or whan a newe caas bitydeth.
For the lawe seith that "upon


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thynges that newely bityden bihoveth newe conseil."
And Senec seith, "If thy connseil is comen to the eeris of thyn enemy, chaunge thy conseil."
Thou mayst also chaunge thy conseil if so be that thou fynde that by errour, or by oother cause, harm or damage may bityde.
Also if thy conseil be dishonest, or ellis cometh of dishonest cause, chaunge thy conseil.
For the lawes seyn that "alle bihestes that been dishoneste been of no value";
and eek if so be that it be inpossible, or may nat goodly be parfourned or kept.


"And take this for a general reule, that every conseil that is affermed so strongly that it may nat be chaunged for no condicioun that may bityde, I seye that thilke conseil is wikked."


This Melibeus, whanne he hadde herd the doctrine of his wyf dame Prudence, answerde in this wyse:
"Dame," quod he, "as yet into this tyme ye han wel and covenably taught me as in general how I shal governe me in the chesynge and in the withholdynge of my conseillours.
But now wolde I fayn that ye wolde condescende in especial
and telle me how liketh yow, or what semeth yow, by oure conseillours that we han chosen in oure present nede."


"My lord," quod she, "I biseke yow in al humblesse that ye wol nat wilfully replie agayn my resouns, ne distempre youre herte, thogh I speke thyng that yow displese.
For God woot that, as in myn entente, I speke it for youre beste, for youre honour, and for youre profite eke.
And soothly, I hope that youre benyngnytee wol taken it in pacience.
Trusteth me wel," quod she, "that youre conseil as in this caas ne sholde nat, as to speke properly, be called a conseillyng, but a mocioun or a moevyng of folye,
in which conseil ye han erred in many a sondry wise.


"First and forward, ye han erred in th'assemblynge of youre conseillours.
For ye sholde first have cleped a fewe folk to youre conseil, and after ye myghte han shewed it to mo folk, if it hadde been nede.
But certes, ye han sodeynly cleped to youre conseil a greet multitude of peple, ful chargeant and ful anoyous for to heere.
Also ye han erred, for theras ye sholden oonly have cleped to youre conseil youre trewe frendes olde and wise,
ye han ycleped straunge folk, yonge folk, false flatereres, and enemys reconsiled, and folk that doon yow reverence withouten love.
And eek also ye have erred, for ye han broght with yow to youre conseil ire, coveitise, and hastifnesse,
the whiche thre thinges been contrariouse to every conseil honest and profitable;
the whiche thre thinges ye han nat anientissed or destroyed hem, neither in youreself, ne in youre conseillours, as yow oghte.
Ye han erred also, for ye han shewed to youre conseillours youre talent and youre affeccioun to make werre anon and for to do vengeance.
They han espied by youre wordes to what thyng ye been enclyned;
and therfore han they rather conseilled yow to youre talent than to youre profit.
Ye han erred also, for it semeth that yow suffiseth to han been conseilled by thise conseillours oonly, and with litel avys,
whereas in so greet and so heigh a nede it hadde been necessarie mo conseillours and moore deliberacion to parfourne youre emprise.
Ye han erred also, for ye ne han nat examyned youre conseil in the forseyde manere, ne in due manere, as the caas requireth.
Ye han erred also, for ye han maked no division bitwixe youre conseillours— this is to seyn, bitwixen youre trewe freendes and youre feyned conseillours—
ne ye han nat knowe the wil of youre trewe freendes olde and wise,
but ye han cast alle hire wordes in an hochepot, and enclyned youre herte to the moore part and to the gretter nombre, and there been ye condescended.
And sith ye woot wel that men shal alwey fynde a gretter nombre of fooles than of wise men,
and therfore the conseils that been at congregaciouns and multitudes of folk, there as men take moore reward to the nombre than to the sapience of persones,
ye se wel that in swiche conseillynges fooles han the maistrie."


Melibeus answerde agayn, and seyde, "I graunte wel that I have erred;
but there


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as thou hast toold me heerbiforn that he nys nat to blame that chaungeth his conseillours in certein caas and for certeine juste causes,
I am al redy to chaunge my conseillours right as thow wolt devyse.
The proverbe seith that "for to do synne is mannyssh, but certes for to persevere longe in synne is werk of the devel.'


To this sentence answered anon dame Prudence, and seyde,
"Examineth," quod she, "youre conseil, and lat us see the whiche of hem han spoken most resonably and taught yow best conseil.
And for as muche as that the examynacion is necessarie, lat us bigynne at the surgiens and at the phisiciens, that first speeken in this matiere.
I sey yow that the surgiens and phisiciens han seyd yow in youre conseil discreetly, as hem oughte,
and in hir speche seyden ful wisely that to the office of hem aperteneth to doon to every wight honour and profit, and no wight for to anoye,
and after hir craft to doon greet diligence unto the cure of hem which that they han in hir governaunce.
And, sire, right as they han answered wisely and discreetly,
right so rede I that they been heighly and sovereynly gerdoned for hir noble speche,
and eek for they sholde do the moore ententif bisynesse in the curacion of youre doghter deere.
For al be it so that they been youre freendes, therfore shal ye nat suffren that they serve yow for noght,
but ye oghte the rather gerdone hem and shewe hem youre largesse.
And as touchynge the proposicioun which that the phisiciens encreesceden in this caas—this is to seyn,
that in maladies that oon contrarie is warisshed by another contrarie—
I wolde fayn knowe hou ye understonde thilke text, and what is youre sentence."


"Certes," quod Melibeus, "I understonde it in this wise:
that right as they han doom me a contrarie, right so sholde I doon hem another.
For right as they han venged hem on me and doon me wrong, right so shal I venge me upon hem and doon hem wrong;
and thanne have I cured oon contrarie by another."


"Lo, lo," quod dame Prudence, "how lightly is every man enclined to his owene desir and to his owene plesaunce!
Certes," quod she, "the wordes of the phisiciens ne sholde nat han been understonden in thys wise.
For certes, wikkednesse is nat contrarie to wikkednesse, ne vengeance to vengeaunce, ne wrong to wrong, but they been semblable.
And therfore o vengeaunce is nat warisshed by another vengeaunce, ne o wroong by another wroong,
but everich of hem encreesceth and aggreggeth oother.
But certes, the wordes of the phisiciens sholde been understonden in this wise:
for good and wikkednesse been two contraries, and pees and werre, vengeaunce and suffraunce, discord and accord, and manye othere thynges;
but certes, wikkednesse shal be warisshed by goodnesse, discord by accord, werre by pees, and so forth of othere thynges.
And heerto accordeth Seint Paul the Apostle in manye places.
He seith, "Ne yeldeth nat harm for harm, ne wikked speche for wikked speche,
but do wel to hym that dooth thee harm and blesse hym that seith to thee harm."
And in manye othere places he amonesteth pees and accord.
But now wol I speke to yow of the conseil which that was yeven to yow by the men of lawe and the wise folk,
that seyden alle by oon accord, as ye han herd bifore,
that over alle thynges ye shal doon youre diligence to kepen youre persone and to warnestoore youre hous;
and seyden also that in this caas yow oghten for to werken ful avysely and with greet deliberacioun.
And, sire, as to the firste point, that toucheth to the kepyng of youre persone,
ye shul understonde that he that hath werre shal everemoore mekely and devoutly preyen, biforn alle thynges,
that Jhesus Crist of his mercy wol ban hym in his proteccion and been his sovereyn helpyng at his nede.
For certes, in this world ther is no wight that may be conseilled ne kept sufficeantly withouten the kepyng of oure Lord Jhesu Crist.
To this sentence accordeth the prophete David, that seith,
"If God ne kepe the citee, in ydel waketh he that it kepeth."
Now, sire, thanne shul ye committe the kepyng of youre persone to youre trewe freendes that been approved and yknowe,


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and of hem shul ye axen help youre persone for to kepe. For Catoun seith, "If thou hast nede of help, axe it of thy freendes," for ther nys noon so good a phisicien as thy trewe freend."
And after this thanne shul ye kepe yow fro alle straunge folk, and fro lyeres, and have alwey in suspect hire compaignye.
For Piers Alfonce seith, "Ne taak no compaignye by the weye of a straunge man, but if so be that thou have knowe hym of a lenger tyme.
And if so be that he falle into thy compaignye paraventure, withouten thyn assent,
enquere thanne as subtilly as thou mayst of his conversacion, and of his lyf bifore, and feyne thy wey; seye that thou [wolt] thider as thou wolt nat go;
and if he bereth a spere, hoold thee on the right syde, and if he bere a swerd, hoold thee on the lift syde."
And after this thanne shul ye kepe yow wisely from all swich manere peple as I have seyd bifore, and hem and hir conseil eschewe.
And after this thanne shul ye kepe yow in swich manere
that, for any presumpcion of youre strengthe, that ye ne dispise nat, ne accompte nat the myght of youre adversarie so litel that ye lete the kepyng of youre persone for youre presumpcioun,
for every wys man dredeth his enemy.
And Salomon seith, "Weleful is he that of alle hath drede,
for certes, he that thurgh the hardynesse of his herte and thurgh the hardynesse of hymself hath to greet presumpcioun, hym shal yvel bityde."
Thanne shul ye everemoore contrewayte embussbementz and alle espiaille.
For Senec seith that "the wise man that dredeth harmes, eschueth harmes,
ne he ne falleth into perils that perils eschueth."
And al be it so that it seme that thou art in siker place, yet shaltow alwey do thy diligence in kepynge of thy persone;
this is to seyn, ne be nat necligent to kepe thy persone nat oonly fro thy gretteste enemys but fro thy leeste enemy.
Senek seith, "A man that is well avysed, he dredeth his leste enemy."
Ovyde seith that "the litel wesele wol slee the grete bole and the wilde hert."
And the book seith, "A litel thorn may prikke a kyng ful soore, and an hound wol holde the wilde boor."
But nathelees, I sey nat thou shalt be so coward that thou doute ther wher as is no drede.
The book seith that "somme folk han greet lust to deceyve, but yet they dreden hem to be deceyved."
Yet shaltou drede to been empoisoned and kepe the from the compaignye of scorneres.
For the book seith, "With scorneres make no compaignye, but flee hire wordes as venym."


"Now, as to the seconde point, where as youre wise conseillours conseilled yow to warnestoore youre hous with gret diligence,
I wolde fayn knowe how that ye understonde thilke wordes and what is youre sentence."


Melibeus answerde and seyde, "Certes, I understande it in this wise: That I shal warnestoore myn hous with toures, swiche as han castelles and othere manere edifices, and armure, and artelries,
by whiche thynges I may my persone and myn hous so kepen and deffenden that myne enemys shul been in drede myn hous for to approche."


To this sentence answerde anon Prudence: "Warnestooryng," quod she, "of heighe toures and of grete edifices apperteyneth somtyme to pryde.
And eek men make heighe toures, [and grete edifices] with grete costages and with greet travaille, and whan that they been accompliced, yet be they nat worth a stree, but if they be defended by trewe freendes that been olde and wise.
And understoond wel that the gretteste and strongeste garnysoun that a riche man may have, as wel to kepen his persone as his goodes, is
that he be biloved with hys subgetz and with his neighebores.
For thus seith Tullius, that "ther is a manere garnysoun that no man may venquysse ne disconfite, and that is
a lord to be biloved of his citezeins and of his peple."


"Now, sire, as to the thridde point, where as youre olde and wise conseillours seyden that yow ne oghte nat sodeynly ne hastily proceden in this nede,
but that yow oghte purveyen and apparaillen yow in this caas with greet diligence and greet deliberacioun;
trewely, I trowe that they seyden right wisely and right sooth.
For Tullius seith, "In every


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nede, er thou bigynne it, apparaille thee with greet diligence."
Thanne seye I that in vengeance-takyng, in werre, in bataille, and in warnestooryng,
er thow bigynne, I rede that thou apparaille thee therto, and do it with greet deliberacion.
For Tullius seith that "longe apparaillyng biforn the bataille maketh short victorie."
And Cassidorus seith, "The garnysoun is stronger whan it is longe tyme avysed."


But now lat us speken of the conseil that was accorded by youre neighebores, swiche as doon yow reverence withouten love,
youre olde enemys reconsiled, youre flatereres,
that conseilled yow certeyne thynges prively, and openly conseilleden yow the contrarie;
the yonge folk also, that conseilleden yow to venge yow and make werre anon.
And certes, sire, as I have seyd biforn, ye han greetly erred to han cleped swich manere folk to youre conseil,
which conseillours been ynogh repreved by the re- souns aforeseyd.
But nathelees, lat us now descende to the special. Ye shuln first procede after the doctrine of Tullius.
Certes, the trouthe of this matiere, or of this conseil, nedeth nat diligently enquere,
for it is wel wist whiche they been that han doon to yow this trespas and vileynye,
and how manye trespassours, and in what manere they han to yow doon al this wrong and al this vileynye.
And after this, thanne shul ye examyne the seconde condicion which that the same Tullius addeth in this matiere.
For Tullius put a thyng which that he clepeth "consentynge"; this is to seyn,
who been they, and whiche been they and how manye that consenten to thy conseil in thy wilfulnesse to doon hastif vengeance.
And lat us considere also who been they, and how manye been they, and whiche been they that consenteden to youre adversaries.
And certes, as to the firste poynt, it is wel knowen whiche folk been they that consenteden to youre hastif wilfulnesse,
for trewely, alle tho that conseilleden yow to maken sodeyn werre ne been nat youre freendes.
Lat us now considere whiche been they that ye holde so greetly youre freendes as to youre persone.
For al be it so that ye be myghty and riche, certes ye ne been but allone,
for certes ye ne han no child but a doghter,
ne ye ne han bretheren, ne cosyns germayns, ne noon oother neigh kynrede,
wherfore that youre enemys for drede sholde stinte to plede with yow or to destroye youre persone.

Ye knowen also that youre richesses mooten been dispended in diverse parties,
and whan that every wight hath his part, they ne wollen taken but litel reward to venge thy deeth.
But thyne enemys been thre, and they han manie children, bretheren, cosyns, and oother ny kynrede.
And though so were that thou haddest slayn of hem two or three, yet dwellen ther ynowe to wreken hir deeth and to sle thy persone.
And though so be that youre kynrede be moore siker and stedefast than the kyn of youre adversarie,
yet nathelees youre kynrede nys but a fer kynrede; they been but litel syb to yow,
and the kyn of youre enemys been ny syb to hem. And certes, as in that, hir condicioun is bet than youres.
Thanne lat us considere also if the conseillyng of hem that conseilleden yow to taken sodeyn vengeaunce, wheither it accorde to resoun.
And certes, ye knowe wel "nay."
For, as by right and resoun, ther may no man taken vengeance on no wight but the juge that hath the jurisdiccioun of it,
whan it is graunted hym to take thilke vengeance hastily or attemprely, as the lawe requireth.
And yet mooreover of thilke word that Tullius clepeth "consentynge,"
thou shalt considere if thy myght and thy power may consenten and suffise to thy wilfulnesse and to thy conseillours.
And certes thou mayst wel seyn that "nay."
For sikerly, as for to speke proprely, we may do no thyng but oonly swich thyng as we may doon rightfully.
And certes rightfully ne mowe ye take no vengeance, as of youre propre auctoritee.
Thanne mowe ye seen that youre power ne consenteth nat, ne accordeth nat, with youre wilfulnesse.


"Lat us now examyne the thridde point, that Tullius clepeth "consequent."
Thou shalt understonde that the vengeance that thou purposest for to take is the consequent;
and therof folweth another vengeaunce, peril, and werre, and othere damages withoute nombre, of whiche we be nat war, as at this tyme.


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And as touchynge the fourthe point, that Tullius clepeth "engendrynge,"
thou shalt considere that this wrong which that is doon to thee is engendred of the hate of thyne enemys,
and of the vengeance-takynge upon that wolde engendre another vengeance, and muchel sorwe and wastynge of richesses, as I seyde.


"Now, sire, as to the point that Tullius clepeth "causes," which that is the laste point,
thou shalt understonde that the wrong that thou hast receyved hath certeine causes,
whiche that clerkes clepen Oriens and Efficiens, and Causa longinqua and Causa propinqua; this is to seyn, the fer cause and the ny cause.
The fer cause is almyghty God, that is cause of alle thynges.
The neer cause is thy thre enemys.
The cause accidental was hate.
The cause material been the fyve woundes of thy doghter.
The cause formal is the manere of hir werkynge that broghten laddres and cloumben in at thy wyndowes.
The cause final was for to sle thy doghter. It letted nat in as muche as in hem was.
But for to speken of the fer cause, as to what ende they shul come, or what shal finally bityde of hem in this caas, ne kan I nat deeme but by conjectynge and by supposynge.
For we shul suppose that they shul come to a wikked ende,
by cause that the Book of Decrees seith, "Seelden, or with greet peyne, been causes ybroght to good ende whanne they been baddely bigonne."


"Now, sire, if men wolde axe me why that God suffred men to do yow this vileynye, certes, I kan nat wel answere, as for no soothfastnesse.
For th'apostle seith that "the sciences and the juggementz of oure Lord God almyghty been ful depe;
ther may no man comprehende ne serchen hem suffisantly."
Nathelees, by certeyne presumpciouns and conjectynges, I holde and bileeve
that God, which that is ful of justice and of rightwisnesse, hath suffred this bityde by juste cause resonable.


"Thy name is Melibee; this is to seyn, "a man that drynketh hony."
Thou hast ydronke so muchel hony of sweete temporeel richesses, and delices and honours of this world
that thou art dronken and hast forgeten Jhesu Crist thy creatour.
Thou ne hast nat doon to hym swich honour and reverence as thee oughte,
ne thou ne hast nat wel ytaken kep to the wordes of Ovide, that seith,
"Under the hony of the goodes of the body is hyd the venym that sleeth the soule."
And Salomon seith, "If thou hast founden hony, ete of it that suffiseth,
for if thou ete of it out of mesure, thou shalt spewe" and be nedy and povre.
And peraventure Crist hath thee in despit, and hath turned awey fro thee his face and his eeris of misericorde,
and also he hath suffred that thou hast been punysshed in the manere that thow hast ytrespassed.
Thou hast doon synne agayn oure Lord Crist,
for certes, the three enemys of mankynde—that is to seyn, the flessh, the feend, and the world—
thou hast suffred hem entre in to thyn herte wilfully by the wyndowes of thy body,
and hast nat defended thyself suffisantly agayns hire assautes and hire temptaciouns, so that they han wounded thy soule in fyve places;
this is to seyn, the deedly synnes that been entred into thyn herte by thy fyve wittes.
And in the same manere oure Lord Crist hath woold and suffred that thy three enemys been entred into thyn house by the wyndowes
and han ywounded thy doghter in the forseyde manere."


"Certes," quod Melibee, "I se wel that ye enforce yow muchel by wordes to overcome me in swich manere that I shal nat venge me of myne enemys,
shewynge me the perils and the yveles that myghten falle of this vengeance.
But whoso wolde considere in alle vengeances the perils and yveles that myghte sewe of vengeance-takynge,
a man wolde nevere take vengeance, and that were harm;
for by the vengeance-takynge been the wikked men dissevered fro the goode men,
and they that han wyl to do wikkednesse restreyne hir wikked purpos, whan they seen the punyssynge and chastisynge of the trespassours."


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[Et a ce respont dame Prudence, "Certes," dist elle, "Je t'ottroye que de vengence vient molt de maulx et de biens;
Mais vengence n'appartient pas a un chascun fors seulement aux juges et a ceulx qui ont la juridicion sur les malfaitteurs.]

And yet seye I moore, that right as a singuler persone synneth in takynge vengeance of another man,
right so synneth the juge if he do no vengeance of hem that it han disserved.
For Senec seith thus: "That maister," he seith, "is good that proveth shrewes."
And as Cassidore seith, "A man dredeth to do outrages whan he woot and knoweth that it displeseth to the juges and the sovereyns."
And another seith, "The juge that dredeth to do right maketh men shrewes."
And Seint Paul the Apostle seith in his Epistle, whan he writeth unto the Romayns, that "the juges beren nat the spere withouten cause,
but they beren it to punysse the shrewes and mysdoers and for to defende the goode men."
If ye wol thanne take vengeance of youre enemys, ye shul retourne or have youre recours to the juge that hath the jurisdiccion upon hem,
and he shal punysse hem as the lawe axeth and requireth."


"A," quod Melibee, "this vengeance liketh me no thyng.
I bithenke me now and take heede how Fortune hath norissed me fro my childhede and hath holpen me to passe many a stroong paas.
Now wol I assayen hire, trowynge, with Goddes help, that she shal helpe me my shame for to venge."


"Certes," quod Prudence, "if ye wol werke by my conseil, ye shul nat assaye Fortune by no wey,
ne ye shul nat lene or bowe unto hire, after the word of Senec,
for "thynges that been folily doon, and that been in hope of Fortune, shullen nevere come to good ende."
And, as the same Senec seith, "The moore cleer and the moore shynyng that Fortune is, the moore brotil and the sonner broken she is."
Trusteth nat in hire, for she nys nat stidefast ne stable,
for whan thow trowest to be moost seur or siker of hire help, she wol faille thee and deceyve thee.
And where as ye seyn that Fortune hath norissed yow fro youre childhede,
I seye that in so muchel shul ye the lasse truste in hire and in hir wit.
For Senec seith, "What man that is norissed by Fortune, she maketh hym a greet fool."
Now thanne, syn ye desire and axe vengeance, and the vengeance that is doon after the lawe and bifore the juge ne liketh yow nat,
and the vengeance that is doon in hope of Fortune is perilous and uncertein,
thanne have ye noon oother remedie but for to have youre recours unto the sovereyn Juge that vengeth alle vileynyes and wronges.
And he shal venge yow after that hymself witnesseth, where as he seith,
"Leveth the vengeance to me, and I shal do it.'


Melibee answerde, "If I ne venge me nat of the vileynye that men han doon to me,
I sompne or warne hem that han doon to me that vileynye, and alle othere, to do me another vileynye.
For it is writen, "If thou take no vengeance of an oold vileynye, thou sompnest thyne adversaries to do thee a newe vileynye."
And also for my suffrance men wolden do me so muchel vileynye that I myghte neither bere it ne susteene,
and so sholde I been put and holden overlowe.
For men seyn, In muchel suffrynge shul manye thynges falle unto thee whiche thou shalt nat mowe suffre.'


"Certes," quod Prudence, "I graunte yow that over-muchel suffraunce is nat good.
But yet ne folweth it nat therof that every persone to whom men doon vileynye take of it vengeance,
for that aperteneth and longeth al oonly to the juges, for they shul venge the vileynyes and injuries.
And therfore tho two auctoritees that ye han seyd above been oonly understonden in the juges,
for whan they suffren over-muchel the wronges and the vileynyes to be doon withouten punysshynge,
they sompne nat a man al oonly for to do newe wronges, but they comanden it.
Also a wys man seith that "the juge that correcteth nat the synnere comandeth and biddeth hym do synne."
And the juges and sovereyns myghten in hir land so muchel suffre of the shrewes and mysdoeres
that they


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sholden, by swich suffrance, by proces of tyme wexen of swich power and myght that they sholden putte out the juges and the sovereyns from hir places,
and atte laste maken hem lesen hire lordshipes.

"But lat us now putte that ye have leve to venge yow.
I seye ye been nat of myght and power as now to venge yow,
for if ye wole maken comparisoun unto the myght of youre adversaries, ye shul fynde in manye thynges that I have shewed yow er this that hire condicion is bettre than youres.
And therfore seye I that it is good as now that ye suffre and be pacient.


"Forthermoore, ye knowen wel that after the comune sawe, 'it is a woodnesse a man to stryve with a strenger or a moore myghty man than he is hymself,
and for to stryve with a man of evene strengthe — that is to seyn, with as strong a man as he is — it is peril,
and for to stryve with a weyker man, it is folie.'
And therfore sholde a man flee stryvynge as muchel as he myghte.
For Salomon seith, 'It is a greet worshipe to a man to kepen hym fro noyse and stryf.'
And if it so bifalle or happe that a man of gretter myght and strengthe than thou art do thee grevaunce,
studie and bisye thee rather to stille the same grevaunce than for to venge thee.
For Senec seith that 'he putteth hym in greet peril that stryveth with a gretter man than he is hymself.'
And Catoun seith, 'If a man of hyer estaat or degree, or moore myghty than thou, do thee anoy or grevaunce, suffre hym,
for he that oones hath greved thee, may another tyme releeve thee and helpe."
Yet sette I caas ye have bothe myght and licence for to venge yow,
I seye that ther be ful manye thynges that shul restreyne yow of vengeance-takynge
and make yow for to enclyne to suffre, and for to han pacience in the wronges that han been doon to yow.
First and foreward, if ye wole considere the defautes that been in youre owene persone,
for whiche defautes God hath suffred yow have this tribulacioun, as I have seyd yow heer-biforn.
For the poete seith that 'we oghte paciently taken the tribulacions that comen to us, whan we thynken and consideren that we han disserved to have hem.'
And Seint Gregorie seith that 'whan a man considereth wel the nombre of his defautes and of his synnes,
the peynes and the tribulaciouns that he suffreth semen the lesse unto hym;
and in as muche as hym thynketh his synnes moore hevy and grevous,
in so muche semeth his peyne the lighter and the esier unto hym."
Also ye owen to enclyne and bowe youre herte to take the pacience of oure Lord Jhesu Crist, as seith Seint Peter in his Epistles.
'Jhesu Crist,' he seith, 'hath suffred for us and yeven ensample to every man to folwe and sewe hym,
for he dide nevere synne, ne nevere cam ther a vileyns word out of his mouth.
Whan men cursed hym, he cursed hem noght, and whan men betten hym, he manaced hem noght.'
Also the grete pacience which the seintes that been in Paradys han had in tribulaciouns that they han ysuffred, withouten hir desert or gilt,
oghte muchel stiren yow to pacience.
Forthermoore ye sholde enforce yow to have pacience,
considerynge that the tribulaciouns of this world but litel while endure and soone passed been and goon,
and the joye that a man seketh to have by pacience in tribulaciouns is perdurable, after that the Apostle seith in his epistle.
'The joye of God,' he seith, 'is perdurable' — that is to seyn, everelastynge
. Also troweth and bileveth stedefastly that he nys nat wel ynorissed, ne wel ytaught, that kan nat have pacience or wol nat receyve pacience.
For Salomon seith that 'the doctrine and the wit of a man is knowen by pacience.'
And in another place he seith that 'he that is pacient governeth hym by greet prudence.'
And the same Salomon seith, 'The angry and wrathful man maketh noyses, and the pacient man atempreth hem and stilleth.'
He seith also, 'It is moore worth to be pacient than for to be right strong;
and he that may have the lordshipe of his owene herte is moore to preyse than he that by his force or strengthe taketh grete citees.'
And therfore seith Seint Jame in his Epistle that 'pacience is a greet vertu of perfeccioun.'"


"Certes," quod Melibee, "I graunte yow, dame Prudence, that pacience is a greet vertu of perfeccioun;
but every man may nat have the perfeccioun that ye seken;
ne I nam


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nat of the nombre of right parfite men,
for myn herte may nevere been in pees unto the tyme it be venged.
And al be it so that it was greet peril to myne enemys to do me a vileynye in takynge vengeance upon me,
yet tooken they noon heede of the peril, but fulfilleden hir wikked wyl and hir corage.
And therfore me thynketh men oghten nat repreve me, though I putte me in a litel peril for to venge me,
and though I do a greet excesse; that is to seyn, that I venge oon outrage by another."


"A," quod dame Prudence, "ye seyn youre wyl and as yow liketh,
but in no caas of the world a man sholde nat doon outrage ne excesse for to vengen hym.
For Cassidore seith that 'as yvele dooth he that vengeth hym by outrage as he that dooth the outrage.'
And therfore ye shul venge yow after the ordre of right; that is to seyn, by the lawe and noght by excesse ne by outrage.
And also, if ye wol venge yow of the outrage of youre adversaries in oother manere than right comandeth, ye synnen.
And therfore seith Senec that 'a man shal nevere vengen shrewednesse by shrewednesse.'
And if ye seye that right axeth a man to defenden violence by violence and fightyng by fightyng,
certes ye seye sooth, whan the defense is doon anon withouten intervalle or withouten tariyng or delay,
for to deffenden hym and nat for to vengen hym.
And it bihoveth that a man putte swich attemperance in his deffense
that men have no cause ne matiere to repreven hym that deffendeth hym of excesse and outrage, for ellis were it agayn resoun.
Pardee, ye knowen wel that ye maken no deffense as now for to deffende yow, but for to venge yow;
and so seweth it that ye han no wyl to do youre dede attemprely.
And therfore me thynketh that pacience is good. For Salomon seith that 'he that is nat pacient shal have greet harm.'"


"Certes," quod Melibee, "I graunte yow that whan a man is inpacient and wrooth of that that toucheth hym noght and that aperteneth nat unto hym, though it harme hym, it is no wonder.
For the lawe seith that 'he is coupable that entremetteth hym or medleth with swych thyng as aperteneth nat unto hym.'
And Salomon seith that 'he that entremetteth hym of the noyse or strif of another man is lyk to hym that taketh an hound by the eris.'
For right as he that taketh a straunge hound by the eris is outherwhile biten with the hound,
right in the same wise is it resoun that he have harm that by his inpacience medleth hym of the noyse of another man, wheras it aperteneth nat unto hym.
But ye knowen wel that this dede — that is to seyn, my grief and my disese — toucheth me right ny.
And therfore, though I be wrooth and inpacient, it is no merveille.
And, savynge youre grace, I kan nat seen that it myghte greetly harme me though I tooke vengeaunce.
For I am richer and moore myghty than myne enemys been;
and wel knowen ye that by moneye and by havynge grete possessions been alle the thynges of this world governed.
And Salomon seith that 'alle thynges obeyen to moneye.'"


Whan Prudence hadde herd hir housbonde avanten hym of his richesse and of his moneye, dispreisynge the power of his adversaries, she spak and seyde in this wise:
"Certes, deere sire, I graunte yow that ye been riche and myghty
and that the richesses been goode to hem that han wel ygeten hem and wel konne usen hem.
For right as the body of a man may nat lyven withoute the soule, namoore may it lyve withouten temporeel goodes.
And by richesses may a man gete hym grete freendes.
And therfore seith Pamphilles: 'If a net-herdes doghter,' seith he, 'be riche, she may chesen of a thousand men which she wol take to hir housbonde,
for, of a thousand men, oon wol nat forsaken hire ne refusen hire.'
And this Pamphilles seith also, 'If thow be right happy — that is to seyn, if thou be right riche — thou shalt fynde a greet nombre of felawes and freendes.
And if thy fortune change that thou wexe povre, farewel freendshipe and felaweshipe,
for thou shalt be alloone withouten any compaignye, but if it be the compaignye of povre folk.'
And yet seith this Pamphilles moreover that 'they that been thralle and bonde of lynage shullen been maad worthy and noble by the richesses.'
And right so as by richesses ther comen manye goodes, right so


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by poverte come ther manye harmes and yveles,
for greet poverte constreyneth a man to do manye yveles.
And therfore clepeth Cassidore poverte the mooder of ruyne;
that is to seyn, the mooder of overthrowynge or fallynge doun.
And therfore seith Piers Alfonce, 'Oon of the gretteste adversitees of this world is
whan a free man by kynde or of burthe is constreyned by poverte to eten the almesse of his enemy,'
and the same seith Innocent in oon of his bookes. He seith that 'sorweful and myshappy is the condicioun of a povre beggere;
for if he axe nat his mete, he dyeth for hunger;
and if he axe, he dyeth for shame; and algates necessitee constreyneth hym to axe.'
And seith Salomon that 'bet it is to dye than for to have swich poverte.'
And as the same Salomon seith, 'Bettre it is to dye of bitter deeth than for to lyven in swich wise.'
By thise resons that I have seid unto yow and by manye othere resons that I koude seye,
I graunte yow that richesses been goode to hem that geten hem wel and to hem that wel usen tho richesses.
And therfore wol I shewe yow hou ye shul have yow, and how ye shul bere yow in gaderynge of richesses, and in what manere ye shul usen hem.


"First, ye shul geten hem withouten greet desir, by good leyser, sokyngly and nat over-hastily.
For a man that is to desirynge to gete richesses abaundoneth hym first to thefte, and to alle othere yveles;
and therfore seith Salomon, 'He that hasteth hym to bisily to wexe riche shal be noon innocent.'
He seith also that 'the richesse that hastily cometh to a man soone and lightly gooth and passeth fro a man,
but that richesse that cometh litel and litel wexeth alwey and multiplieth.'
And, sire, ye shul geten richesses by youre wit and by youre travaille unto youre profit,
and that withouten wrong or harm doynge to any oother persone.
For the lawe seith that 'ther maketh no man himselven riche, if he do harm to another wight.'
This is to seyn, that nature deffendeth and forbedeth by right that no man make hymself riche unto the harm of another persone.
And Tullius seith that 'no sorwe, ne no drede of deeth, ne no thyng that may falle unto a man,
is so muchel agayns nature as a man to encressen his owene profit to the harm of another man.
And though the grete men and the myghty men geten richesses moore lightly than thou,
yet shaltou nat been ydel ne slow to do thy profit, for thou shalt in alle wise flee ydelnesse.'
For Salomon seith that 'ydelnesse techeth a man to do manye yveles.'
And the same Salomon seith that 'he that travailleth and bisieth hym to tilien his land shal eten breed,
but he that is ydel and casteth hym to no bisynesse ne occupacioun shal falle into poverte and dye for hunger.'
And he that is ydel and slow kan nevere fynde covenable tyme for to doon his profit.
For ther is a versifiour seith that 'the ydel man excuseth hym in wynter by cause of the grete coold, and in somer by enchesoun of the greete heete.'
For thise causes seith Caton, 'Waketh and enclyneth nat yow over- muchel for to slepe, for over-muchel reste norisseth and causeth manye vices.'
And therfore seith Seint Jerome, 'Dooth somme goode dedes that the devel, which is oure enemy, ne fynde yow nat unocupied.'
For the devel ne taketh nat lightly unto his werkynge swiche as he fyndeth occupied in goode werkes.


"Thanne thus in getynge richesses ye mosten flee ydelnesse.
And afterward, ye shul use the richesses which ye have geten by youre wit and by youre travaille
in swich a manere that men holde yow nat to scars, ne to sparynge, ne to fool- large — that is to seyen, over-large a spendere.
For right as men blamen an avaricious man by cause of his scarsetee and chyncherie,
in the same wise is he to blame that spendeth over-largely.
And therfore seith Caton: 'Use' he seith,
thy richesses that thou hast geten
in swich a manere that men have no matiere ne cause to calle thee neither wrecche ne chynche,
for it is a greet shame to a man to have a povere herte and a riche purs.'
He seith also, 'The goodes that thou hast ygeten, use hem by mesure; that is to seyn, spende hem mesurably,


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for they that folily wasten and despenden the goodes that they han,
whan they han namoore propre of hir owene, they shapen hem to take the goodes of another man.
I seye thanne that ye shul fleen avarice,
usynge youre richesses in swich manere that men seye nat that youre richesses been yburyed
but that ye have hem in youre myght and in youre weeldynge.
For a wys man repreveth the avaricious man, and seith thus in two vers:
'Wherto and why burieth a man his goodes by his grete avarice, and knoweth wel that nedes moste he dye?
For deeth is the ende of every man as in this present lyf.'
And for what cause or enchesoun joyneth he hym or knytteth he hym so faste unto his goodes
that alle hise wittes mowen nat disseveren hym or departen hym from his goodes,
and knoweth wel, or oghte knowe, that whan he is deed he shal no thyng bere with hym out of this world?
And therfore seith Seint Austyn that 'the avaricious man is likned unto helle,
that the moore it swelweth the moore desir it hath to swelwe and devoure.'
And as wel as ye wolde eschewe to be called an avaricious man or chynche,
as wel sholde ye kepe yow and governe yow in swich a wise that men calle yow nat fool-large.
Therfore seith Tullius: 'The goodes,' he seith, 'of thyn hous ne sholde nat been hyd ne kept so cloos, but that they myghte been opened by pitee and debonairetee'
(that is to seyn, to yeven part to hem that han greet nede),
'ne thy goodes shullen nat been so opene to been every mannes goodes.'
Afterward, in getynge of youre richesses and in usynge hem ye shul alwey have thre thynges in youre herte
(that is to seyn, oure Lord God, conscience, and good name).
First, ye shul have God in youre herte,
and for no richesse ye shullen do no thyng which may in any manere displese God, that is youre creatour and makere.
For after the word of Salomon, 'It is bettre to have a litel good with the love of God
than to have muchel good and tresour and lese the love of his Lord God.'
And the prophete seith that 'bettre it is to been a good man and have litel good and tresour
than to been holden a shrewe and have grete richesses.'
And yet seye I ferthermoore, that ye sholde alwey doon youre bisynesse to gete yow richesses,
so that ye gete hem with good conscience.
And th'Apostle seith that 'ther nys thyng in this world of which we sholden have so greet joye as whan oure conscience bereth us good witnesse.'
And the wise man seith, 'The substance of a man is ful good, whan synne is nat in mannes conscience.'
Afterward, in getynge of youre richesses and in usynge of hem,
yow moste have greet bisynesse and greet diligence that youre goode name be alwey kept and conserved.
For Salomon seith that 'bettre it is and moore it availleth a man to have a good name than for to have grete richesses.'
And therfore he seith in another place, 'Do greet diligence,' seith Salomon, 'in kepyng of thy freend and of thy goode name;
for it shal lenger abide with thee than any tresour, be it never so precious.'
And certes he sholde nat be called a gentil man that after God and good conscience, alle thynges left, ne dooth his diligence and bisynesse to kepen his goode name.
And Cassidore seith that 'it is signe of a gentil herte whan a man loveth and desireth to han a good name.'
And therfore seith Seint Austyn that 'ther been two thynges that arn necessarie and nedefulle,
and that is good conscience and good loos;
that is to seyn, good conscience to thyn owene persone inward and good loos for thy neighebor outward.'
And he that trusteth hym so muchel in his goode conscience
that he displeseth, and setteth at noght his goode name or loos, and rekketh noght though he kepe nat his goode name, nys but a crueel cherl.


"Sire, now have I shewed yow how ye shul do in getynge richesses, and how ye shullen usen hem,
and I se wel that for the trust that ye han in youre richesses ye wole moeve werre and bataille.
I conseille yow that ye bigynne no werre in trust of youre richesses, for they ne suffisen noght werres to mayntene.
And therfore seith a philosophre, 'That man that desireth and wole algates han werre, shal nevere have suffisaunce,
for the richer that he is, the gretter despenses moste he make, if he wole have worshipe


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and victorie.'
And Salomon seith that 'the gretter richesses that a man hath, the mo despendours he hath.'
And, deere sire, al be it so that for youre richesses ye mowe have muchel folk,
yet bihoveth it nat, ne it is nat good, to bigynne werre whereas ye mowe in oother manere have pees unto youre worshipe and profit.
For the victorie of batailles that been in this world lyth nat in greet nombre or multitude of the peple, ne in the vertu of man,
but it lith in the wyl and in the hand of oure Lord God Almyghty.
And therfore Judas Machabeus, which was Goddes knyght,
whan he sholde fighte agayn his adversarie that hadde a gretter nombre and a gretter multitude of folk and strenger than was this peple of Machabee,
yet he reconforted his litel compaignye, and seyde right in this wise:
'Als lightly,' quod he, 'may oure Lord God Almyghty yeve victorie to a fewe folk as to many folk,
for the victorie of a bataile comth nat by the grete nombre of peple,
but it cometh from oure Lord God of hevene.'
And, deere sire, for as muchel as ther is no man certein if he be worthy that God yeve hym victorie ne plus que il est certain se il est digne de l'amour de Dieu or naught, after that Salomon seith,
therfore every man sholde greetly drede werres to bigynne.
And by cause that in batailles fallen manye perils,
and happeth outher while that as soone is the grete man slayn as the litel man;
and as it is writen in the seconde Book of Kynges, 'The dedes of batailles been aventurouse and nothyng certeyne,
for as lightly is oon hurt with a spere as another';
and for ther is gret peril in werre, therfore sholde a man flee and eschue werre, in as muchel as a man may goodly.
For Salomon seith, 'He that loveth peril shal falle in peril.'"


After that Dame Prudence hadde spoken in this manere, Melibee answerde and seyde,
"I see wel, dame Prudence, that by youre faire wordes and by youre resouns that ye han shewed me, that the werre liketh yow no thyng;
but I have nat yet herd youre conseil, how I shal do in this nede."


"Certes," quod she, "I conseille yow that ye accorde with youre adversaries and that ye have pees with hem.
For Seint Jame seith in his Epistles that 'by concord and pees the smale richesses wexen grete,
and by debaat and discord the grete richesses fallen doun.'
And ye knowen wel that oon of the gretteste and moost sovereyn thyng that is in this world is unytee and pees.
And therfore seyde oure Lord Jhesu Crist to his apostles in this wise:
'Wel happy and blessed been they that loven and purchacen pees, for they been called children of God.'"

"A," quod Melibee, "now se I wel that ye loven nat myn honour ne my worshipe.
Ye knowen wel that myne adversaries han bigonnen this debaat and bryge by hire outrage,
and ye se wel that they ne requeren ne preyen me nat of pees, ne they asken nat to be reconsiled.
Wol ye thanne that I go and meke me, and obeye me to hem, and crie hem mercy?
For sothe, that were nat my worshipe. For right as men seyn that 'over-greet hoomlynesse engendreth dispreisynge,' so fareth it by to greet humylitee or mekenesse."


Thanne bigan dame Prudence to maken semblant of wratthe and seyde:
"Certes, sire, sauf youre grace, I love youre honour and youre profit as I do myn owene, and evere have doon;
ne ye, ne noon oother, seyn nevere the contrarie.
And yit if I hadde seyd that ye sholde han purchaced the pees and the reconsiliacioun, I ne hadde nat muchel mystaken me ne seyd amys.
For the wise man seith, 'The dissensioun bigynneth by another man, and the reconsilyng bygynneth by thyself.'
And the prophete seith, 'Flee shrewednesse and do goodnesse;
seke pees and folwe it, as muchel as in thee is.'
Yet seye I nat that ye shul rather pursue to youre adversaries for pees than they shuln to yow.
For I knowe wel that ye been so hard-herted that ye wol do no thyng for me.
And Salomon seith, 'He that hath over-hard an herte, atte laste he shal myshappe and mystyde.'"


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Whanne Melibee hadde herd dame Prudence maken semblant of wratthe, he seyde in this wise:
"Dame, I prey yow that ye be nat displesed of thynges that I seye,
for ye knowe wel that I am angry and wrooth, and that is no wonder;
and they that been wrothe witen nat wel what they don ne what they seyn.
Therfore the prophete seith that 'troubled eyen han no cleer sighte.'
But seyeth and conseileth me as yow liketh, for I am redy to do right as ye wol desire;
and if ye repreve me of my folye, I am the moore holden to love yow and to preyse yow.
For Salomon seith that 'he that repreveth hym that dooth folye,
he shal fynde gretter grace than he that deceyveth hym by sweete wordes.'"


Thanne seide dame Prudence, "I make no semblant of wratthe ne anger, but for youre grete profit.
For Salomon seith, 'He is moore worth that repreveth or chideth a fool for his folye, shewynge hym semblant of wratthe,
than he that supporteth hym and preyseth hym in his mysdoynge and laugheth at his folye.'
And this same Salomon seith afterward that 'by the sorweful visage of a man' (that is to seyn by the sory and hevy contenaunce of a man)
'the fool correcteth and amendeth hymself.'"


Thanne seyde Melibee, "I shal nat konne answere to so manye faire resouns as ye putten to me and shewen.
Seyeth shortly youre wyl and youre conseil, and I am al redy to fulfille and parfourne it."


Thanne dame Prudence discovered al hir wyl to hym and seyde,
"I conseille yow," quod she, "aboven alle thynges, that ye make pees bitwene God and yow,
and beth reconsiled unto hym and to his grace.
For, as I have seyd yow heer biforn, God hath suffred yow to have this tribulacioun and disese for youre synnes.
And if ye do as I sey yow, God wol sende youre adversaries unto yow
and maken hem fallen at youre feet, redy to do youre wyl and youre comandementz.
For Salomon seith, 'Whan the condicioun of man is plesaunt and likynge to God,
he chaungeth the hertes of the mannes adversaries and constreyneth hem to biseken hym of pees and of grace.'
And I prey yow lat me speke with youre adversaries in privee place,
for they shul nat knowe that it be of youre wyl or of youre assent.
And thanne, whan I knowe hir wil and hire entente, I may conseille yow the moore seurely."

"Dame," quod Melibee, "dooth youre wil and youre likynge;
for I putte me hoolly in youre disposicioun and ordinaunce."


Thanne dame Prudence, whan she saugh the goode wyl of hir housbonde, delibered and took avys in hirself,
thinkinge how she myghte brynge this nede unto a good conclusioun and to a good ende.
And whan she saugh hir tyme, she sente for thise adversaries to come unto hire into a pryvee place
and shewed wisely unto hem the grete goodes that comen of pees
and the grete harmes and perils that been in werre,
and seyde to hem in a goodly manere hou that hem oughten have greet repentaunce
of the injurie and wrong that they hadden doon to Melibee hir lord, and unto hire, and to hire doghter.
And whan they herden the goodliche wordes of dame Prudence,
they weren so supprised and ravysshed and hadden so greet joye of hire that wonder was to telle.
"A, lady," quod they, "ye han shewed unto us the blessynge of swetnesse, after the sawe of David the prophete,
for the reconsilynge which we been nat worthy to have in no manere,
but we oghte requeren it with greet contricioun and humylitee,
ye of youre grete goodnesse have presented unto us.
Now se we wel that the science and the konnynge of Salomon is ful trewe.
For he seith that 'sweete wordes multiplien and encreescen freendes and maken shrewes to be debonaire and meeke.'


"Certes," quod they, "we putten oure dede and al oure matere and cause al hoolly in youre goode wyl
and been redy to obeye to the speche and comandement of my lord Melibee.
And therfore, deere and benygne lady, we preien yow and biseke yow as mekely as we konne and mowen
that it lyke unto youre grete goodnesse to fulfillen in dede youre goodliche wordes,
for we consideren and knowelichen that we han offended and greved my lord Melibee out of mesure,
so fer


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forth that we be nat of power to maken his amendes.
And therfore we oblige and bynden us and oure freendes for to doon al his wyl and his comandementz.
But peraventure he hath swich hevynesse and swich wratthe to us-ward by cause of oure offense
that he wole enjoyne us swich a peyne as we mowe nat bere ne susteene.
And therfore, noble lady, we biseke to youre wommanly pitee
to taken swich avysement in this nede that we ne oure freendes be nat desherited ne destroyed thurgh oure folye.'

"Certes," quod Prudence, "it is an hard thyng and right perilous
that a man putte hym al outrely in the arbitracioun and juggement, and in the myght and power of his enemys.
For Salomon seith, 'Leeveth me, and yeveth credence to that I shal seyn: I seye,' quod he, 'ye peple, folk and governours of hooly chirche,
to thy sone, to thy wyf, to thy freend, ne to thy broother
ne yeve thou nevere myght ne maistrie of thy body whil thou lyvest.'
Now sithen he deffendeth that man sholde nat yeven to his broother ne to his freend the myght of his body,
by a strenger resoun he deffendeth and forbedeth a man to yeven hymself to his enemy
And nathelees I conseille you that ye mystruste nat my lord,
for I woot wel and knowe verraily that he is debonaire and meeke, large, curteys,
and nothyng desirous ne coveitous of good ne richesse.
For ther nys nothyng in this world that he desireth, save oonly worshipe and honour.
Forthermoore I knowe wel and am right seur that he shal nothyng doon in this nede withouten my conseil,
and I shal so werken in this cause that by the grace of oure Lord God ye shul been reconsiled unto us."


Thanne seyden they with o voys, "Worshipful lady, we putten us and oure goodes al fully in youre wil and disposicioun,
and been redy to comen, what day that it like unto youre noblesse to lymyte us or assigne us,
for to maken oure obligacioun and boond as strong as it liketh unto youre goodnesse,
that we mowe fulfille the wille of yow and of my lord Melibee."


Whan dame Prudence hadde herd the answeres of thise men, she bad hem goon agayn prively;
and she retourned to hir lord Melibee, and tolde hym how she foond his adversaries ful repentant,
knowelechynge ful lowely hir synnes and trespas, and how they were redy to suffren all peyne,
requirynge and preiynge hym of mercy and pitee.


Thanne seyde Melibee "He is wel worthy to have pardoun and foryifnesse of his synne, that excuseth nat his synne
but knowelecheth it and repenteth hym, axinge indulgence.
For Senec seith, 'Ther is the remissioun and foryifnesse, where as the confessioun is,'
for confessioun is neighebor to innocence.
And he seith in another place that 'he that hath shame of his synne and knowlecheth [it is worthy remissioun].' And therfore I assente and conferme me to have pees;
but it is good that we do it nat withouten the assent and wyl of oure freendes."


Thanne was Prudence right glad and joyeful and seyde:
"Certes, sire," quod she, "ye han wel and goodly answered,
for right as by the conseil, assent, and help of youre freendes ye han been stired to venge yow and maken werre,
right so withouten hire conseil shul ye nat accorden yow ne have pees with youre adversaries.
For the lawe seith, 'Ther nys no thyng so good by wey of kynde as a thyng to be unbounde by hym that it was ybounde.'"


And thanne dame Prudence withouten delay or tariynge sente anon hire messages for hire kyn and for hire olde freendes which that were trewe and wyse,
and tolde hem by ordre in the presence of Melibee al this mateere as it is aboven expressed and declared,
and preyden hem that they wolde yeven hire avys and conseil what best were to doon in this nede.
And whan Melibees freendes hadde taken hire avys and deliberacioun of the forseide mateere,
and hadden examyned it by greet bisynesse and greet diligence,
they yave ful conseil for to have pees and reste,
and that Melibee sholde receyve with good herte his adversaries to foryifnesse and mercy.


And whan dame Prudence hadde herd the assent of hir lord Melibee, and the conseil of his freendes
accorde with hire wille and hire entencioun,
she was wonderly glad in hire herte and seyde:
"Ther is an old proverbe," quod she, "seith that 'the goodnesse that thou mayst do this day, do it,


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and abide nat ne delaye it nat til tomorwe.'
And therfore I conseille that ye sende youre messages, swiche as been discrete and wise,
unto youre adversaries, tellynge hem on youre bihalve
that if they wole trete of pees and of accord,
that they shape hem withouten delay or tariyng to comen unto us."
Which thyng parfourned was in dede.
And whanne thise trespassours and repentynge folk of hire folies — that is to seyn, the adversaries of Melibee —
hadden herd what thise messagers seyden unto hem,
they weren right glad and joyeful, and answereden ful mekely and benignely,
yeldynge graces and thankynges to hir lord Melibee and to al his compaignye,
and shopen hem withouten delay to go with the messagers and obeye to the comandement of hir lord Melibee.


And right anon they tooken hire wey to the court of Melibee,
and tooken with hem somme of hire trewe freendes to maken feith for hem and for to been hire borwes.
And whan they were comen to the presence of Melibee, he seyde hem thise wordes:
"It standeth thus," quod Melibee, "and sooth it is, that ye,
causelees and withouten skile and resoun,
han doon grete injuries and wronges to me and to my wyf Prudence and to my doghter also.
For ye han entred into myn hous by violence,
and have doon swich outrage that alle men knowen wel that ye have disserved the deeth.
And therfore wol I knowe and wite of yow
wheither ye wol putte the punyssement and the chastisynge and the vengeance of this outrage in the wyl of me and of my wyf Prudence, or ye wol nat?"


Thanne the wiseste of hem thre answerde for hem alle and seyde,
"Sire," quod he, "we knowen wel that we been unworthy to comen unto the court of so greet a lord and so worthy as ye been.
For we han so greetly mystaken us, and han offended and agilt in swich a wise agayn youre heigh lordshipe
that trewely we han disserved the deeth.
But yet, for the grete goodnesse and debonairetee that al the world witnesseth of youre persone,
we submytten us to the excellence and benignitee of youre gracious lordshipe,
and been redy to obeie to alle youre comandementz,
bisekynge yow that of youre merciable pitee ye wol considere oure grete repentaunce and lowe submyssioun
and graunten us foryevenesse of oure outrageous trespas and offense.
For wel we knowe that youre liberal grace and mercy strecchen hem ferther into goodnesse than doon oure outrageouse giltes and trespas into wikkednesse,
al be it that cursedly and dampnablely we han agilt agayn youre heigh lordshipe."


Thanne Melibee took hem up fro the ground ful benignely,
and receyved hire obligaciouns and hir boondes by hire othes upon hire plegges and borwes,
and assigned hem a certeyn day to retourne unto his court
for to accepte and receyve the sentence and juggement that Melibee wolde comande to be doon on hem by the causes aforeseyd.
Whiche thynges ordeyned, every man retourned to his hous.


And whan that dame Prudence saugh hir tyme, she freyned and axed hir lord Melibee
what vengeance he thoughte to taken of his adversaries.


To which Melibee answerde and seyde, "Certes," quod he, "I thynke and purpose me fully
to desherite hem of al that evere they han and for to putte hem in exil for evere."


"Certes," quod dame Prudence, "this were a crueel sentence and muchel agayn resoun.
For ye been riche ynough and han no nede of oother mennes good,
and ye myghte lightly in this wise gete yow a coveitous name,
which is a vicious thyng, and oghte been eschued of every good man.
For after the sawe of the word of the Apostle, 'Coveitise is roote of alle harmes.'
And therfore it were bettre for yow to lese so muchel good of youre owene than for to taken of hir good in this manere,
for bettre it is to lesen good with worshipe than it is to wynne good with vileynye and shame.
And everi man oghte to doon his diligence and his bisynesse to geten hym a good name.
And yet shal he nat oonly bisie hym in kepynge of his good name,
but he shal also enforcen hym alwey to do somthyng by


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which he may renovelle his good name.
For it is writen that 'the olde good loos or good name of a man is soone goon and passed, whan it is nat newed ne renovelled.'
And as touchynge that ye seyn ye wole exile youre adversaries,
that thynketh me muchel agayn resoun and out of mesure,
considered the power that they han yeve yow upon hemself.
And it is writen that 'he is worthy to lesen his privilege that mysuseth the myght and the power that is yeven hym.'
And I sette cas ye myghte enjoyne hem that peyne by right and by lawe,
which I trowe ye mowe nat do;
I seye ye mighte nat putten it to execucioun peraventure,
and thanne were it likly to retourne to the werre as it was biforn.
And therfore, if ye wole that men do yow obeisance, ye moste deemen moore curteisly;
this is to seyn, ye moste yeven moore esy sentences and juggementz.
For it is writen that 'he that moost curteisly comandeth, to hym men moost obeyen.'
And therfore I prey yow that in this necessitee and in this nede ye caste yow to overcome youre herte.
For Senec seith that 'he that overcometh his herte overcometh twies.'
And Tullius seith, 'Ther is no thyng so comendable in a greet lord
as whan he is debonaire and meeke, and appeseth him lightly.'
And I prey yow that ye wole forbere now to do vengeance,
in swich a manere that youre goode name may be kept and conserved,
and that men mowe have cause and mateere to preyse yow of pitee and of mercy,
and that ye have no cause to repente yow of thyng that ye doon.
For Senec seith, 'He overcometh in an yvel manere that repenteth hym of his victorie.'
Wherfore I pray yow, lat mercy been in youre herte,
to th'effect and entente that God Almighty have mercy on yow in his laste juggement.
For Seint Jame seith in his Epistle: 'Juggement withouten mercy shal be doon to hym that hath no mercy of another wight.'"


Whanne Melibee hadde herd the grete skiles and resouns of dame Prudence, and hire wise informaciouns and techynges,
his herte gan enclyne to the wil of his wif, considerynge hir trewe entente,
and conformed hym anon and assented fully to werken after hir conseil,
and thonked God, of whom procedeth al vertu and alle goodnesse, that hym sente a wyf of so greet discrecioun.
And whan the day cam that his adversaries sholde appieren in his presence,
he spak unto hem ful goodly, and seyde in this wyse:
"Al be it so that of youre pride and heigh presumpcioun and folie, and of youre necligence and unkonnynge,
ye have mysborn yow and trespassed unto me,
yet for as muche as I see and biholde youre grete humylitee
and that ye been sory and repentant of youre giltes,
it constreyneth me to doon yow grace and mercy.
Wherefore I receyve yow to my grace
and foryeve yow outrely alle the offenses, injuries, and wronges that ye have doon agayn me and myne,
to this effect and to this ende, that God of his endelees mercy
wole at the tyme of oure diynge foryeven us oure giltes that we han trespassed to hym in this wrecched world.
For doutelees, if we be sory and repentant of the synnes and giltes which we han trespassed in the sighte of oure Lord God,
he is so free and so merciable that he wole foryeven us oure giltes
and bryngen us to the blisse that nevere hath ende." Amen.

Heere is ended Chaucers Tale of Melibee and of Dame Prudence.

240

THE PROLOGUE OF THE MONK'S TALE
The murye wordes of the Hoost to the Monk.

Whan ended was my tale of Melibee,
And of Prudence and hire benignytee,
Oure Hooste seyde, "As I am feithful man,
And by that precious corpus Madrian,
I hadde levere than a barel ale
That Goodelief, my wyf, hadde herd this tale!
For she nys no thyng of swich pacience
As was this Melibeus wyf Prudence.
By Goddes bones, whan I bete my knaves,
She bryngeth me forth the grete clobbed staves,
And crieth, "Slee the dogges everichoon,
And brek hem, bothe bak and every boon!"
"And if that any neighebor of myne
Wol nat in chirche to my wyf enclyne,
Or be so hardy to hire to trespace,
Whan she comth hoom she rampeth in my face,
And crieth, "False coward, wrek thy wyf!
By corpus bones, I wol have thy knyf,
And thou shalt have my distaf and go spynne!"
Fro day to nyght right thus she wol bigynne.
"Allas," she seith, "that evere I was shape
To wedden a milksop, or a coward ape,
That wol been overlad with every wight!
Thou darst nat stonden by thy wyves right!"
"This is my lif, but if that I wol fighte;
And out at dore anon I moot me dighte,
Or elles I am but lost, but if that I
Be lik a wilde leoun, fool-hardy.
I woot wel she wol do me slee som day
Som neighebor, and thanne go my way;
For I am perilous with knyf in honde,
Al be it that I dar nat hire withstonde,
For she is byg in armes, by my feith:
That shal he fynde that hire mysdooth or seith—
But lat us passe awey fro this mateere.
"My lord, the Monk," quod he, "be myrie of cheere,
For ye shul telle a tale trewely.
Loo, Rouchestre stant heer faste by!
Ryde forth, myn owene lord, brek nat oure game.
But, by my trouthe, I knowe nat youre name.
Wher shal I calle yow my lord daun John,
Or daun Thomas, or elles daun Albon?
Of what hous be ye, by youre fader kyn?
I vowe to God, thou hast a ful fair skyn;
It is a gentil pasture ther thow goost.
Thou art nat lyk a penant or a goost:
Upon my feith, thou art som officer,
Som worthy sexteyn, or som celerer,
For by my fader soule, as to my doom,
Thou art a maister whan thou art at hoom;
No povre cloysterer, ne no novys,
But a governour, wily and wys,
And therwithal of brawnes and of bones
A wel farynge persone for the nones.
I pray to God, yeve hym confusioun
That first thee broghte unto religioun!
Thou woldest han been a tredefowel aright.
Haddestow as greet a leeve as thou hast myght
To parfourne al thy lust in engendrure,
Thou haddest bigeten ful many a creature.
Allas, why werestow so wyd a cope?
God yeve me sorwe, but, and I were a pope,
Nat oonly thou, but every myghty man,

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Though he were shorn ful hye upon his pan,
Sholde have a wyf; for al the world is lorn!
Religioun hath take up al the corn
Of tredyng, and we borel men been shrympes.
Of fieble trees ther comen wrecched ympes.
This maketh that oure heires been so sklendre
And feble that they may nat wel engendre.
This maketh that oure wyves wole assaye
Religious folk, for ye mowe bettre paye
Of Venus paiementz than mowe we;
God woot, no lussheburghes payen ye!
But be nat wrooth, my lord, though that I pleye.
Ful ofte in game a sooth I have herd seye!"
This worthy Monk took al in pacience,
And seyde, "I wol doon al my diligence,
As fer as sowneth into honestee,
To telle yow a tale, or two, or three.
And if yow list to herkne hyderward,
I wol yow seyn the lyf of Seint Edward;
Or ellis, first, tragedies wol I telle,
Of whiche I have an hundred in my celle.
Tragedie is to seyn a certeyn storie,
As olde bookes maken us memorie,
Of hym that stood in greet prosperitee,
And is yfallen out of heigh degree
Into myserie, and endeth wrecchedly.
And they ben versified communely
Of six feet, which men clepen exametron.
In prose eek been endited many oon,
And eek in meetre in many a sondry wyse.
Lo, this declaryng oghte ynogh suffise.
"Now herkneth, if yow liketh for to heere.
But first I yow biseeke in this mateere,
Though I by ordre telle nat thise thynges,
Be it of popes, emperours, or kynges,
After hir ages, as men writen fynde,
But tellen hem som bifore and som bihynde,
As it now comth unto my remembraunce,
Have me excused of myn ignoraunce."
Explicit

THE MONK'S TALE
Heere bigynneth the Monkes Tale
De Casibus Virorum Illustrium.

I wol biwaille in manere of tragedie
The harm of hem that stoode in heigh degree,
And fillen so that ther nas no remedie
To brynge hem out of hir adversitee.
For certein, whan that Fortune list to flee,
Ther may no man the cours of hire withholde.
Lat no man truste on blynd prosperitee;
Be war by thise ensamples trewe and olde.

Lucifer

At Lucifer, though he an angel were
And nat a man, at hym wol I bigynne.
For though Fortune may noon angel dere,
From heigh degree yet fel he for his synne
Doun into helle, where he yet is inne.
O Lucifer, brightest of angels alle,
Now artow Sathanas, that mayst nat twynne
Out of miserie, in which that thou art falle.

Adam

Loo Adam, in the feeld of Damyssene
With Goddes owene fynger wroght was he,
And nat bigeten of mannes sperme unclene,
And welte al paradys savynge o tree.
Hadde nevere worldly man so heigh degree

242

As Adam, til he for mysgovernaunce
Was dryven out of hys hye prosperitee
To labour, and to helle, and to meschaunce.

Sampson

Loo Sampsoun, which that was annunciat
By th'angel longe er his nativitee,
And was to God Almyghty consecrat,
And stood in noblesse whil he myghte see.
Was nevere swich another as was hee,
To speke of strengthe, and therwith hardynesse;
But to his wyves toolde he his secree,
Thurgh which he slow hymself for wrecchednesse.
Sampsoun, this noble almyghty champioun,
Withouten wepen save his handes tweye,
He slow and al torente the leoun,
Toward his weddyng walkynge by the weye.
His false wyf koude hym so plese and preye
Til she his conseil knew; and she, untrewe,
Unto his foos his conseil gan biwreye,
And hym forsook, and took another newe.
Thre hundred foxes took Sampson for ire,
And alle hir tayles he togydre bond,
And sette the foxes tayles alle on fire,
For he on every tayl had knyt a brond;
And they brende alle the cornes in that lond,
And alle hire olyveres, and vynes eke.
A thousand men he slow eek with his hond,
And hadde no wepen but an asses cheke.
Whan they were slayn, so thursted hym that he
Was wel ny lorn, for which be gan to preye
That God wolde on his peyne han some pitee
And sende hym drynke, or elles moste he deye;
And of this asses cheke, that was dreye,
Out of a wang-tooth sprang anon a welle,
Of which he drank ynogh, shortly to seye;
Thus heelp hym God, as Judicum can telle.
By verray force at Gazan on a nyght,
Maugree Philistiens of that citee,
The gates of the toun he hath up plyght,
And on his bak ycaryed hem hath hee
Hye on an hill whereas men myghte hem see.
O noble, almyghty Sampsoun, lief and deere,
Had thou nat toold to wommen thy secree,
In al this world ne hadde been thy peere!
This Sampson nevere ciser drank ne wyn,
Ne on his heed cam rasour noon ne sheere,
By precept of the messager divyn,
For alle his strengthes in his heeres weere.
And fully twenty wynter, yeer by yeere,
He hadde of Israel the governaunce.
But soone shal he wepe many a teere,
For wommen shal hym bryngen to meschaunce!
Unto his lemman Dalida he tolde
That in his heeris al his strengthe lay,
And falsly to his foomen she hym solde.
And slepynge in hir barm upon a day,
She made to clippe or shere his heres away,
And made his foomen al his craft espyen;
And whan that they hym foond in this array,
They bounde hym faste and putten out his yen.
But er his heer were clipped or yshave,
Ther was no boond with which men myghte him bynde;
But now is he in prison in a cave,
Where-as they made hym at the queerne grynde.
O noble Sampsoun, strongest of mankynde
O whilom juge, in glorie and in richesse!
Now maystow wepen with thyne eyen blynde,
Sith thou fro wele art falle in wrecchednesse.
The ende of this caytyf was as I shal seye.
His foomen made a feeste upon a day,
And made hym as hire fool biforn hem pleye;
And this was in a temple of greet array
But atte laste he made a foul affray,
For he two pilers shook and made hem falle,
And doun fil temple and al, and ther it lay—
And slow hymself, and eek his foomen alle.

243

This is to seyn, the prynces everichoon,
And eek thre thousand bodyes, were ther slayn
With fallynge of the grete temple of stoon.
Of Sampson now wol I namoore sayn.
Beth war by this ensample oold and playn
That no men telle hir conseil til hir wyves
Of swich thyng as they wolde han secree fayn,
If that it touche hir lymes or hir lyves.

Hercules

Of Hercules, the sovereyn conquerour,
Syngen his werkes laude and heigh renoun;
For in his tyme of strengthe he was the flour.
He slow and rafte the skyn of the leoun;
He of Centauros leyde the boost adoun;
He Arpies slow, the crueel bryddes felle;
He golden apples rafte of the dragoun;
He drow out Cerberus, the hound of helle;
He slow the crueel tyrant Busirus
And made his hors to frete hym, flessh and boon;
He slow the firy serpent venymus;
Of Acheloys two hornes he brak oon;
And he slow Cacus in a cave of stoon;
He slow the geant Antheus the stronge;
He slow the grisly boor, and that anon;
And bar the hevene on his nekke longe.
Was nevere wight, sith that this world bigan,
That slow so manye monstres as dide he.
Thurghout this wyde world his name ran,
What for his strengthe and for his heigh bountee,
And every reawme wente he for to see.
He was so stroong that no man myghte hym lette.
At bothe the worldes endes, seith Trophee,
In stide of boundes he a pileer sette.
A lemman hadde this noble champioun,
That highte Dianira, fressh as May;
And as thise clerkes maken mencioun,
She hath hym sent a sherte, fressh and gay.
Allas, this sherte—allas and weylaway!—
Envenymed was so subtilly withalle
That er that he had wered it half a day
It made his flessh al from his bones falle.
But nathelees somme clerkes hire excusen
By oon that highte Nessus, that it maked.
Be as be may, I wol hire noght accusen;
But on his bak this sherte he wered al naked
Til that his flessh was for the venym blaked.
And whan he saugh noon oother remedye,
In hoote coles he bath hymselven raked,
For with no venym deigned hym to dye.
Thus starf this worthy, myghty Hercules.
Lo, who may truste on Fortune any throwe?
For hym that folweth al this world of prees
Er he be war is ofte yleyd ful lowe.
Ful wys is he that kan hymselven knowe!
Beth war, for whan that Fortune list to glose,
Thanne wayteth she her man to overthrowe
By swich a wey as he wolde leest suppose.

Nabugodonosor

The myghty trone, the precious tresor,
The glorious ceptre, and roial magestee
That hadde the kyng Nabugodonosor
With tonge unnethe may discryved bee.
He twyes wan Jerusalem the citee;
The vessel of the temple he with hym ladde.
At Babiloigne was his sovereyn see,
In which his glorie and his delit he hadde.
The faireste children of the blood roial
Of Israel he leet do gelde anoon,
And maked ech of hem to been his thral.
Amonges othere Daniel was oon,
That was the wiseste child of everychon,
For he the dremes of the kyng expowned,
Whereas in Chaldeye clerk ne was ther noon
That wiste to what fyn his dremes sowned.

244

This proude kyng leet maken a statue of gold,
Sixty cubites long and sevene in brede,
To which ymage bothe yong and oold
Comanded he to loute, and have in drede,
Or in a fourneys, ful of flambes rede,
He shal be brent that wolde noght obeye.
But nevere wolde assente to that dede
Daniel ne his yonge felawes tweye.
This kyng of kynges proud was and elaat;
He wende that God, that sit in magestee,
Ne myghte hym nat bireve of his estaat.
But sodeynly he loste his dignytee,
And lyk a beest hym semed for to bee,
And eet hey as an oxe, and lay theroute
In reyn; with wilde beestes walked hee
Til certein tyme was ycome aboute.
And lik an egles fetheres wax his heres;
His nayles lyk a briddes clawes weere;
Til God relessed hym a certeyn yeres,
And yaf hym wit, and thanne with many a teere
He thanked God, and evere his lyf in feere
Was he to doon amys or moore trespace;
And til that tyme he leyd was on his beere
He knew that God was ful of myght and grace.

Balthasar

His sone, which that highte Balthasar,
That heeld the regne after his fader day,
He by his fader koude noght be war,
For proud he was of herte and of array,
And eek an ydolastre was he ay.
His hye estaat assured hym in pryde;
But Fortune caste hym doun, and ther he lay,
And sodeynly his regne gan divide.
A feeste he made unto his lordes alle
Upon a tyme and bad hem blithe bee;
And thanne his officeres gan he calle:
"Gooth, bryngeth forth the vesseles," quod be,
"Whiche that my fader in his prosperitee
Out of the temple of Jerusalem birafte;
And to oure hye goddes thanke we
Of honour that oure eldres with us lafte."
Hys wyf, his lordes, and his concubynes
Ay dronken, whil hire appetites laste,
Out of thise noble vessels sondry wynes.
And on a wal this kyng his eyen caste
And saugh an hand, armlees, that wroot ful faste,
For feere of which he quook and siked soore.
This hand that Balthasar so soore agaste
Wroot Mane, techel, phares, and namoore.
In all that land magicien was noon
That koude expoune what this lettre mente;
But Daniel expowned it anoon,
And seyde, "Kyng, God to thy fader lente
Glorie and honour, regne, tresour, rente;
And he was proud and nothyng God ne dradde,
And therfore God greet wreche upon hym sente,
And hym birafte the regne that he hadde.
"He was out cast of mannes compaignye;
With asses was his habitacioun,
And eet hey as a beest in weet and drye
Til that he knew, by grace and by resoun,
That God of hevene hath domynacioun
Over every regne and every creature;
And thanne hadde God of hym compassioun,
And hym restored his regne and his figure.
"Eek thou, that art his sone, art proud also,
And knowest alle thise thynges verraily,
And art rebel to God, and art his foo.
Thou drank eek of his vessels boldely;
Thy wyf eek, and thy wenches, synfully
Dronke of the same vessels sondry wynys;
And heryest false goddes cursedly;
Therefore to thee yshapen ful greet pyne ys.
"This hand was sent from God that on the wal
Wroot Mane, techel, phares, truste me;
Thy regne is doon; thou weyest noght at al.
Dyvyded is thy regne, and it shal be
To Medes and to Perses yeven," quod he.
And thilke same nyght this kyng was slawe,
And Darius occupieth his degree,
Thogh he therto hadde neither right ne lawe.

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Lordynges, ensample heerby may ye take
How that in lordshipe is no sikernesse,
For whan Fortune wole a man forsake,
She bereth awey his regne and his richesse,
And eek his freendes, bothe moore and lesse.
For what man that hath freendes thurgh Fortune,
Mishap wol maken hem enemys, I gesse;
This proverbe is ful sooth and ful commune.

Cenobia

Cenobia, of Palymerie queene,
As writen Persiens of hir noblesse,
So worthy was in armes and so keene
That no wight passed hire in hardynesse,
Ne in lynage, ne in oother gentillesse.
Of kynges blood of Perce is she descended.
I seye nat that she hadde moost fairnesse,
But of hir shap she myghte nat been amended.
From hire childhede I fynde that she fledde
Office of wommen, and to wode she wente,
And many a wilde hertes blood she shedde
With arwes brode that she to hem sente.
She was so swift that she anon hem hente;
And whan that she was elder, she wolde kille
Leouns, leopardes, and beres al torente,
And in hir armes weelde hem at hir wille.
She dorste wilde beestes dennes seke,
And rennen in the montaignes al the nyght,
And slepen under a bussh, and she koude eke
Wrastlen, by verray force and verray myght,
With any yong man, were he never so wight.
Ther myghte no thyng in hir armes stonde.
She kepte hir maydenhod from every wight;
To no man deigned hire for to be bonde.
But atte laste hir freendes han hire maried
To Odenake, a prynce of that contree,
Al were it so that she hem longe taried.
And ye shul understonde how that he
Hadde swiche fantasies as hadde she.
But natheless, whan they were knyt in-feere,
They lyved in joye and in felicitee,
For ech of hem hadde oother lief and deere,
Save o thyng: that she wolde nevere assente,
By no wey, that he sholde by hire lye
But ones, for it was hir pleyn entente
To have a child, the world to multiplye;
And also soone as that she myghte espye
That she was nat with childe with that dede,
Thanne wolde she suffre hym doon his fantasye
Eft-soone, and nat but oones, out of drede.
And if she were with childe at thilke cast,
Namoore sholde he pleyen thilke game
Til fully fourty [wikes] weren past;
Thanne wolde she ones suffre hym do the same.
Al were this Odenake wilde or tame,
He gat namoore of hire, for thus she seyde:
It was to wyves lecherie and shame,
In oother caas, if that men with hem pleyde.
Two sones by this Odenake hadde she,
The whiche she kepte in vertu and lettrure.
But now unto oure tale turne we.
I seye, so worshipful a creature,
And wys therwith, and large with mesure,
So penyble in the werre, and curteis eke,
Ne moore labour myghte in werre endure,
Was noon, though al this world men sholde seke.
Hir riche array ne myghte nat be told,
As wel in vessel as in hire clothyng.
She was al clad in perree and in gold,
And eek she lafte noght, for noon huntyng,
To have of sondry tonges ful knowyng,
Whan that she leyser hadde; and for to entende
To lerne bookes was al hire likyng,
How she in vertu myghte hir lyf dispende.
And shortly of this storie for to trete,
So doghty was hir housbonde and eek she,
That they conquered manye regnes grete
In the orient, with many a fair citee
Apertenaunt unto the magestee
Of Rome, and with strong bond held hem ful faste,

246

Ne nevere myghte hir foomen doon hem flee,
Ay whil that Odenakes dayes laste.
Hir batailles, whoso list hem for to rede,
Agayn Sapor the kyng and othere mo,
And how that al this proces fil in dede,
Why she conquered and what title had therto,
And after, of hir meschief and hire wo,
How that she was biseged and ytake—
Lat hym unto my maister Petrak go,
That writ ynough of this, I undertake.
Whan Odenake was deed, she myghtily
The regnes heeld, and with hire propre hond
Agayn hir foos she faught so cruelly
That ther nas kyng ne prynce in al that lond
That he nas glad, if he that grace fond,
That she ne wolde upon his lond werreye.
With hire they maden alliance by bond
To been in pees, and lete hire ride and pleye.
The Emperour of Rome, Claudius
Ne hym bifore, the Romayn Galien,
Ne dorste nevere been so corageus,
Ne noon Ermyn, ne noon Egipcien,
Ne Surrien, ne noon Arabyen,
Withinne the feeld that dorste with hire fighte,
Lest that she wolde hem with hir handes slen,
Or with hir meignee putten hem to flighte.
In kynges habit wente hir sones two,
As heires of hir fadres regnes alle,
And Hermanno and Thymalao
Hir names were, as Persiens hem calle.
But ay Fortune hath in hire hony galle;
This myghty queene may no while endure.
Fortune out of hir regne made hire falle
To wrecchednesse and to mysaventure.
Aurelian, whan that the governaunce
Of Rome cam into his handes tweye,
He shoop upon this queene to doon vengeaunce.
And with his legions he took his weye
Toward Cenobie, and shortly for to seye,
He made hire flee, and atte laste hire hente,
And fettred hire, and eek hire children tweye,
And wan the land, and hoom to Rome he wente.
Amonges othere thynges that he wan,
Hir chaar, that was with gold wroght and perree,
This grete Romayn, this Aurelian,
Hath with hym lad, for that men sholde it see.
Biforen his triumphe walketh shee,
With gilte cheynes on hire nekke hangynge.
Coroned was she, as after hir degree,
And ful of perree charged hire clothynge.
Allas, Fortune! She that whilom was
Dredeful to kynges and to emperoures,
Now gaureth al the peple on hire, allas!
And she that helmed was in starke stoures
And wan by force townes stronge and toures,
Shal on hir heed now were a vitremyte;
And she that bar the ceptre ful of floures
Shal bere a distaf, hire cost for to quyte.

De Petro Rege Ispannie

O noble, O worthy Petro, glorie of Spayne,
Whom Fortune heeld so hye in magestee,
Wel oghten men thy pitous deeth complayne!
Out of thy land thy brother made thee flee,
And after, at a seege, by subtiltee,
Thou were bitraysed and lad unto his tente,
Where as he with his owene hand slow thee,
Succedynge in thy regne and in thy rente.
The feeld of snow, with th'egle of blak therinne,
Caught with the lymrod coloured as the gleede,
He brew this cursednesse and al this synne.
The wikked nest was werker of this nede.
Noght Charles Olyver, that took ay heede

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Of trouthe and honour, but of Armorike
Genylon-Olyver, corrupt for meede,
Broghte this worthy kyng in swich a brike.

De Petro Rege de Cipro

O worthy Petro, kyng of Cipre, also,
That Alisandre wan by heigh maistrie,
Ful many an hethen wroghtesrow ful wo,
Of which thyne owene liges hadde envie,
And for no thyng but for thy chivalrie
They in thy bed han slayn thee by the morwe.
Thus kan Fortune hir wheel governe and gye,
And out of joye brynge men to sorwe.

De Barnabo de Lumbardia

Off Melan grete Barnabo Viscounte,
God of delit and scourge of Lumbardye,
Why sholde I nat thyn infortune acounte,
Sith in estaat thow cloumbe were so hye?
Thy brother sone, that was thy double allye,
For he thy nevew was and sone-in-lawe,
Withinne his prisoun made thee to dye—
But why ne how noot I that thou were slawe.

De Hugelino Comite de Pize

Off the Erl Hugelyn of Pyze the langour
Ther may no tonge telle for pitee.
But litel out of Pize stant a tour,
In which tour in prisoun put was he,
And with hym been his litel children thre;
The eldest scarsly fyf yeer was of age.
Allas, Fortune, it was greet crueltee
Swiche briddes for to putte in swich a cage!
Dampned was he to dyen in that prisoun,
For Roger, which that bisshop was of Pize,
Hadde on hym maad a fals suggestioun,
Thurgh which the peple gan upon hym rise
And putten hym to prisoun in swich wise
As ye han herd, and mete and drynke he hadde
So smal that wel unnethe it may suffise,
And therwithal it was ful povre and badde.
And on a day bifil that in that hour
Whan that his mete wont was to be broght,
The gayler shette the dores of the tour.
He herde it wel, but he spak right noght,
And in his herte anon ther fil a thoght
That they for hunger wolde doon hym dyen.
"Allas!" quod he, "Allas, that I was wroght!"
Therwith the teeris fillen from his yen.
His yonge sone, that thre yeer was of age,
Unto hym seyde, "Fader, why do ye wepe?
Whanne wol the gayler bryngen oure potage?
Is ther no morsel breed that ye do kepe?
I am so hungry that I may nat slepe.
Now wolde God that I myghte slepen evere!
Thanne sholde nat hunger in my wombe crepe;
Ther is no thyng, but breed, that me were levere."
Thus day by day this child bigan to crye,
Til in his fadres barm adoun it lay,
And seyde, "Farewel, fader, I moot dye!"
And kiste his fader, and dyde the same day.
And whan the woful fader deed it say,
For wo his armes two he gan to byte,
And seyde, "Allas, Fortune, and weylaway!
Thy false wheel my wo al may I wyte."
His children wende that it for hunger was
That he his armes gnow, and nat for wo,
And seyde, "Fader, do nat so, allas!
But rather ete the flessh upon us two.
Oure flessh thou yaf us, take oure flessh us fro,
And ete ynogh"—right thus they to hym seyde,
And after that, withinne a day or two,
They leyde hem in his lappe adoun and deyde.
Hymself, despeired, eek for hunger starf;
Thus ended is this myghty Erl of Pize.
From heigh estaat Fortune awey hym carf.
Of this tragedie it oghte ynough suffise;
Whoso wol here it in a lenger wise,

248

Redeth the grete poete of Ytaille
That highte Dant, for he kan al devyse
Fro point to point; nat o word wol he faille.

Nero

Although that Nero were as vicius
As any feend that lith ful lowe adoun,
Yet he, as telleth us Swetonius,
This wyde world hadde in subjeccioun,
Bothe est and west, [south], and septemtrioun.
Of rubies, saphires, and of peerles white
Were alle his clothes brouded up and doun,
For he in gemmes greetly gan delite.
Moore delicaat, moore pompous of array,
Moore proud was nevere emperour than he;
That ilke clooth that he hadde wered o day,
After that tyme he nolde it nevere see.
Nettes of gold threed hadde he greet plentee
To fissbe in Tybre, whan hym liste pleye.
His lustes were al lawe in his decree,
For Fortune as his freend hym wolde obeye.
He Rome brende for his delicasie;
The senatours he slow upon a day
To heere how that men wolde wepe and crie;
And slow his brother, and by his suster lay.
His mooder made he in pitous array,
For he hire wombe slitte to biholde
Where he conceyved was—so weilaway
That he so litel of his mooder tolde!
No teere out of his eyen for that sighte
Ne cam, but seyde, "A fair womman was she!"
Greet wonder is how that he koude or myghte
Be domesman of hire dede beautee.
The wyn to bryngen hym comanded he,
And drank anon—noon oother wo he made.
Whan myght is joyned unto crueltee,
Allas, to depe wol the venym wade!
In yowthe a maister hadde this emperour
To teche hym letterure and curteisye,
For of moralitee he was the flour,
As in his tyme, but if bookes lye;
And whil this maister hadde of hym maistrye,
He maked hym so konnyng and so sowple
That longe tyme it was er tirannye
Or any vice dorste on hym uncowple.
This Seneca, of which that I devyse,
By cause Nero hadde of hym swich drede,
For he fro vices wolde hym ay chastise
Discreetly, as by word and nat by dede—
"Sire," wolde he seyn, "an emperour moot nede
Be vertuous and hate tirannye—"
For which he in a bath made hym to blede
On bothe his armes, til he moste dye.
This Nero hadde eek of acustumaunce
In youthe agayns his maister for to ryse,
Which afterward hym thoughte a greet grevaunce;
Therefore he made hym dyen in this wise.
But natheless this Seneca the wise
Chees in a bath to dye in this manere
Rather than han another tormentise;
And thus hath Nero slayn his maister deere.
Now fil it so that Fortune liste no lenger
The hye pryde of Nero to cherice,
For though that he were strong, yet was she strenger.
She thoughte thus: "By God! I am to nyce
To sette a man that is fulfild of vice
In heigh degree, and emperour hym calle.
By God, out of his sete I wol hym trice;
Whan he leest weneth, sonnest shal he falle."
The peple roos upon hym on a nyght
For his defaute, and whan he it espied,
Out of his dores anon he hath hym dight
Allone, and ther he wende han been allied
He knokked faste, and ay the moore be cried
The fastere shette they the dores alle.
Tho wiste he wel, he hadde himself mysgyed,
And wente his wey; no lenger dorste he calle.
The peple cried and rombled up and doun,

249

That with his erys herde he how they seyde,
"Where is this false tiraunt, this Neroun?"
For fere almoost out of his wit he breyde,
And to his goddes pitously he preyde
For socour, but it myghte nat bityde.
For drede of this hym thoughte that he deyde,
And ran into a gardyn hym to hyde.
And in this gardyn foond he cherles tweye
That seten by a fyr, greet and reed.
And to thise cherles two he gan to preye
To sleen hym and to girden of his heed,
That to his body, whan that he were deed,
Were no despit ydoon for his defame.
Hymself he slow, he koude no bettre reed,
Of which Fortune lough, and hadde a game.

De Oloferno

Was nevere capitayn under a kyng
That regnes mo putte in subjeccioun,
Ne strenger was in feeld of alle thyng,
As in his tyme, ne gretter of renoun,
Ne moore pompous in heigh presumpcioun
Than Oloferne, which Fortune ay kiste
So likerously, and ladde hym up and doun
Til that his heed was of er that he wiste.
Nat oonly that this world hadde hym in awe
For lesynge of richesse or libertee,
But he made every man reneyen his lawe.
"Nabugodonosor was god," seyde hee;
"Noon oother god sholde adoured bee."
Agayns his heeste no wight dorst trespace,
Save in Bethulia, a strong citee,
Where Eliachim a preest was of that place.
But taak kep of the deth of Oloferne:
Amydde his hoost he dronke lay a-nyght,
Withinne his tente, large as is a berne,
And yet, for al his pompe and al his myght,
Judith, a womman, as he lay upright
Slepynge, his heed of smoot, and from his tente
Ful pryvely she stal from every wight,
And with his heed unto hir toun she wente.

De Rege Antiocho illustri

What nedeth it of kyng Anthiochus
To telle his hye roial magestee,
His hye pride, his werkes venymus?
For swich another was ther noon as he.
Rede which that he was in Machabee
And rede the proude wordes that he seyde,
And why he fil fro heigh prosperitee,
And in an hill how wrecchedly he deyde.
Fortune hym badde enhaunced so in pride
That verraily he wende he myghte attayne
Unto the sterres upon every syde,
And in balance weyen ech montayne,
And alle the floodes of the see restrayne.
And Goddes peple hadde he moost in hate;
Hem wolde he sleen in torment and in payne,
Wenynge that God ne myghte his pride abate.
And for that Nichanore and Thymothee
Of Jewes weren venquysshed myghtily,
Unto the Jewes swich an hate hadde he
That he bad greithen his chaar ful hastily,
And swoor, and seyde ful despitously
Unto Jerusalem he wolde eftsoone
To wreken his ire on it ful cruelly;
But of his purpos he was let ful soone.
God for his manace hym so soore smoot
With invisible wounde, ay incurable,
That in his guttes carf it so and boot
That his peynes weren importable.
And certeinly the wreche was resonable,
For many a mannes guttes dide he peyne.
But from his purpos cursed and dampnable, 2605
For al his smert, he wolde hym nat restreyne,
But bad anon apparaillen his hoost;
And sodeynly, er he was of it war,
God daunted al his pride and al his boost.

250

For he so soore fil out of his char
That it his limes and his skyn totar,
So that he neyther myghte go ne ryde,
But in a chayer men aboute hym bar,
Al forbrused, bothe bak and syde.
The wreche of God hym smoot so cruelly
That thurgh his body wikked wormes crepte,
And therwithal he stank so horribly
That noon of al his meynee that hym kepte,
Wheither so he wook or ellis slepte,
Ne myghte noght the stynk of hym endure.
In this meschief he wayled and eek wepte,
And knew God lord of every creature.
To al his hoost and to hymself also
Ful wlatsom was the stynk of his careyne;
No man ne myghte hym bere to ne fro.
And in this stynk and this horrible peyne,
He starf ful wrecchedly in a monteyne.
Thus hath this robbour and this homycide,
That many a man made to wepe and pleyne,
Swich gerdoun as bilongeth unto pryde.

De Alexandro

The storie of Alisaundre is so commune
That every wight that hath discrecioun
Hath herd somwhat or al of his fortune.
This wyde world, as in conclusioun,
He wan by strengthe, or for his hye renoun
They weren glad for pees unto hym sende.
The pride of man and beest he leyde adoun,
Wherso he cam, unto the worldes ende.
Comparisoun myghte nevere yet been maked
Bitwixe hym and another conquerour;
For al this world for drede of hym hath quaked.
He was of knyghthod and of fredom flour;
Fortune hym made the heir of hire honour.
Save wyn and wommen, no thing myghte aswage
His hye entente in armes and labour,
So was he ful of leonyn corage.
What pris were it to hym, though I yow tolde
Of Darius, and an hundred thousand mo
Of kynges, princes, dukes, erles bolde
Whiche he conquered, and broghte hem into wo?
I seye, as fer as man may ryde or go,
The world was his—what sholde I moore devyse?
For though I write or tolde yow everemo
Of his knyghthod, it myghte nat suffise.
Twelf yeer be regned, as seith Machabee.
Philippes sone of Macidoyne he was,
That first was kyng in Grece the contree.
O worthy, gentil Alisandre, allas,
That evere sholde fallen swich a cas!
Empoysoned of thyn owene folk thou weere;
Thy sys Fortune hath turned into aas,
And for thee ne weep she never a teere.
Who shal me yeven teeris to compleyne
The deeth of gentillesse and of franchise,
That al the world weelded in his demeyne,
And yet hym thoughte it myghte nat suffise?
So ful was his corage of heigh emprise.
Allas, who shal me helpe to endite
False Fortune, and poyson to despise,
The whiche two of al this wo I wyte?

De Julio Cesare

By wisedom, manhede, and by greet labour,
From humble bed to roial magestee
Up roos he Julius, the conquerour,
That wan al th'occident by land and see,
By strengthe of hand, or elles by tretee,
And unto Rome made hem tributarie;
And sitthe of Rome the emperour was he
Til that Fortune weex his adversarie.
O myghty Cesar, that in Thessalie
Agayn Pompeus, fader thyn in law,
That of the orient hadde al the chivalrie
As fer as that the day bigynneth dawe,
Thou thurgh thy knyghthod hast hem take and slawe,

251

Save fewe folk that with Pompeus fledde,
Thurgh which thou puttest al th'orient in awe.
Thanke Fortune, that so wel thee spedde!
But now a litel while I wol biwaille
This Pompeus, this noble governour
Of Rome, which that fleigh at this bataille.
I seye, oon of his men, a fals traitour,
His heed of smoot, to wynnen hym favour
Of Julius, and hym the heed he broghte.
Allas, Pompeye, of th'orient conquerour,
That Fortune unto swich a fyn thee broghte!
To Rome agayn repaireth Julius
With his triumphe, lauriat ful hye;
But on a tyme Brutus Cassius,
That evere hadde of his hye estaat envye,
Ful prively hath maad conspiracye
Agayns this Julius in subtil wise,
And caste the place in which he sholde dye
With boydekyns, as I shal yow devyse.
This Julius to the Capitolie wente
Upon a day, as he was wont to goon,
And in the Capitolie anon hym hente
This false Brutus and his othere foon,
And stiked hym with boydekyns anoon
With many a wounde, and thus they lete hym lye;
But nevere gronte he at no strook but oon,
Or elles at two, but if his storie lye.
So manly was this Julius of herte,
And so wel lovede estaatly honestee,
That though his deedly woundes soore smerte,
His mantel over his hypes caste he,
For no man sholde seen his privetee;
And as he lay of diyng in a traunce,
And wiste verraily that deed was hee,
Of honestee yet hadde he remembraunce.
Lucan, to thee this storie I recomende,
And to Swetoun, and to Valerius also,
That of this storie writen word and ende,
How that to thise grete conqueroures two
Fortune was first freend, and sitthe foo.
No man ne truste upon hire favour longe,
But have hire in awayt for everemoo;
Witnesse on alle thise conqueroures stronge.

Cresus

This riche Cresus, whilom kyng of Lyde,
Of which Cresus Cirus soore hym dradde,
Yet was he caught amyddes al his pryde,
And to be brent men to the fyr hym ladde.
But swich a reyn doun fro the welkne shadde
That slow the fyr, and made hym to escape;
But to be war no grace yet he hadde,
Til Fortune on the galwes made hym gape.
Whanne he escaped was, he kan nat stente
For to bigynne a newe werre agayn.
He wende wel, for that Fortune hym sente
Swich hap that he escaped thurgh the rayn,
That of his foos he myghte nat be slayn;
And eek a sweven upon a nyght he mette,
Of which he was so proud and eek so fayn
That in vengeance he al his herte sette.
Upon a tree he was, as that hym thoughte,
Ther Juppiter hym wessh, bothe bak and syde,
And Phebus eek a fair towaille hym broughte
To dryen hym with; and therfore wax his pryde,
And to his doghter, that stood hym bisyde,
Which that he knew in heigh sentence habounde,
He bad hire telle hym what it signyfyde,
And she his dreem bigan right thus expounde:
"The tree," quod she, "the galwes is to meene,
And Juppiter bitokneth snow and reyn,
And Phebus, with his towaille so clene,
Tho been the sonne stremes for to seyn.

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Thou shalt anhanged be, fader, certeyn;
Reyn shal thee wasshe, and sonne shal thee drye."
Thus warned hym ful plat and ek ful pleyn
His doghter, which that called was Phanye.
Anhanged was Cresus, the proude kyng;
His roial trone myghte hym nat availle.
Tragediës noon oother maner thyng
Ne kan in syngyng crie ne biwaille
But that Fortune alwey wole assaille
With unwar strook the regnes that been proude;
For whan men trusteth hire, thanne wol she faille,
And covere hire brighte face with a clowde.
Explicit Tragedia.
Heere stynteth the Knyght the Monk of his tale.

THE PROLOGUE OF THE NUN'S PRIEST'S TALE
The prologe of the Nonnes Preestes Tale.

"Hoo!" quod the Knyght, "good sire, namoore of this!
That ye han seyd is right ynough, ywis,
And muchel moore; for litel hevynesse
Is right ynough to muche folk, I gesse.
I seye for me, it is a greet disese,
Whereas men han been in greet welthe and ese,
To heeren of hire sodeyn fal, allas!
And the contrarie is joye and greet solas,
As whan a man hath been in povre estaat,
And clymbeth up and wexeth fortunat,
And there abideth in prosperitee.
Swich thyng is gladsom, as it thynketh me,
And of swich thyng were goodly for to telle."
"Ye," quod oure Hooste, "by Seint Poules belle!
Ye seye right sooth; this Monk he clappeth lowde.
He spak how Fortune covered with a clowde
I noot nevere what; and als of a tragedie
Right now ye herde, and pardee, no remedie
It is for to biwaille ne compleyne
That that is doon, and als it is a peyne,
As ye han seyd, to heere of hevynesse.
"Sire Monk, namoore of this, so God yow blesse!
Youre tale anoyeth al this compaignye.
Swich talkyng is nat worth a boterflye,
For therinne is ther no desport ne game.
Wherfore, sire Monk, daun Piers by youre name,
I pray yow hertely telle us somwhat elles;
For sikerly, nere clynkyng of youre belles
That on youre bridel hange on every syde,
By hevene kyng that for us alle dyde,
I sholde er this han fallen doun for sleep,
Althogh the slough had never been so deep;
Thanne hadde your tale al be toold in veyn.
For certeinly, as that thise clerkes seyn,
Whereas a man may have noon audience,
Noght helpeth it to tellen his sentence.
"And wel I woot the substance is in me,
If any thyng shal wel reported be.
Sir, sey somwhat of huntyng, I yow preye."
"Nay," quod this Monk, "I have no lust to pleye.
Now lat another telle, as I have toold."

253

Thanne spak oure Hoost with rude speche and boold,
And seyde unto the Nonnes Preest anon,
"Com neer, thou preest, com hyder, thou sir John!
Telle us swich thyng as may oure hertes glade.
Be blithe, though thou ryde upon a jade.
What thogh thyn hors be bothe foul and lene?
If he wol serve thee, rekke nat a bene.
Looke that thyn herte be murie everemo."
"Yis, sir," quod he, "yis, Hoost, so moot I go,
But I be myrie, ywis I wol be blamed."
And right anon his tale he hath attamed,
And thus he seyde unto us everichon,
This sweete preest, this goodly man sir John.
Explicit

THE NUN'S PRIEST'S TALE
Heere bigynneth the Nonnes Preestes Tale of the Cok and Hen, Chauntecleer and Pertelote.

A povre wydwe, somdeel stape in age,
Was whilom dwellyng in a narwe cotage,
Biside a grove, stondynge in a dale.
This wydwe, of which I telle yow my tale,
Syn thilke day that she was last a wyf
In pacience ladde a ful symple lyf,
For litel was hir catel and hir rente.
By housbondrie of swich as God hire sente
She foond hirself and eek hir doghtren two.
Thre large sowes hadde she, and namo,
Three keen, and eek a sheep that highte Malle.
Ful sooty was hire bour and eek hir halle,
In which she eet ful many a sklendre meel.
Of poynaunt sauce hir neded never a deel.
No deyntee morsel passed thurgh hir throte;
Hir diete was accordant to hir cote.
Repleccioun ne made hire nevere sik;
Attempree diete was al hir phisik,
And exercise, and hertes suffisaunce.
The goute lette hire nothyng for to daunce,
N'apoplexie shente nat hir heed.
No wyn ne drank she, neither whit ne reed;
Hir bord was served moost with whit and blak—
Milk and broun breed, in which she foond no lak,
Seynd bacoun, and somtyme an ey or tweye,
For she was, as it were, a maner deye.
A yeerd she hadde, enclosed al aboute
With stikkes, and a drye dych withoute,
In which she hadde a cok, hight Chauntecleer.
In al the land, of crowyng nas his peer.
His voys was murier than the murie orgon
On messe-dayes that in the chirche gon.
Wel sikerer was his crowyng in his logge
Than is a clokke or an abbey orlogge.
By nature he knew ech ascencioun
Of the equynoxial in thilke toun;
For whan degrees fiftene weren ascended,

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Thanne crew he that it myghte nat been amended.
His coomb was redder than the fyn coral,
And batailled as it were a castel wal;
His byle was blak, and as the jeet it shoon;
Lyk asure were his legges and his toon;
His nayles whitter than the lylye flour,
And lyk the burned gold was his colour.
This gentil cok hadde in his governaunce
Sevene hennes for to doon al his plesaunce,
Whiche were his sustres and his paramours,
And wonder lyk to hym, as of colours;
Of whiche the faireste hewed on hir throte
Was cleped faire damoysele Pertelote.
Curteys she was, discreet, and debonaire,
And compaignable, and bar hyrself so faire
Syn thilke day that she was seven nyght oold
That trewely she hath the herte in hoold
Of Chauntecleer, loken in every lith;
He loved hire so that wel was hym therwith.
But swich a joye was it to here hem synge,
Whan that the brighte sonne gan to sprynge,
In sweete accord, "My lief is faren in londe!"
For thilke tyme, as I have understonde,
Beestes and briddes koude speke and synge.
And so bifel that in a dawenynge,
As Chauntecleer among his wyves alle
Sat on his perche, that was in the halle,
And next hym sat this faire Pertelote,
This Chauntecleer gan gronen in his throte,
As man that in his dreem is drecched soore.
And whan that Pertelote thus herde hym roore,
She was agast and seyde, "Herte deere,
What eyleth yow, to grone in this manere?
Ye been a verray sleper; fy, for shame!"
And he answerde, and seyde thus: "Madame,
I pray yow that ye take it nat agrief.
By God, me mette I was in swich meschief
Right now that yet myn herte is soore afright.
Now God," quod he, "my swevene recche aright,
And kepe my body out of foul prisoun!
Me mette how that I romed up and doun
Withinne our yeerd, wheer as I saugh a beest
Was lyk an hound, and wolde han maad areest
Upon my body, and wolde han had me deed.
His colour was bitwixe yelow and reed,
And tipped was his tayl and bothe his eeris
With blak, unlyk the remenant of his heeris;
His snowte smal, with glowynge eyen tweye.
Yet of his look for feere almoost I deye;
This caused me my gronyng, doutelees."
"Avoy!" quod she, "fy on yow, hertelees!
Allas," quod she, "for, by that God above,
Now han ye lost myn herte and al my love!
I kan nat love a coward, by my feith!
For certes, what so any womman seith,
We alle desiren, if it myghte bee,
To han housbondes hardy, wise, and free,
And secree and no nygard, ne no fool,
Ne hym that is agast of every tool,
Ne noon avauntour, by that God above!
How dorste ye seyn, for shame, unto youre love
That any thyng myghte make yow aferd?
Have ye no mannes herte, and han a berd?
Allas! And konne ye been agast of swevenys?
Nothyng, God woot, but vanitee in sweven is.
Swevenes engendren of replecciouns,
And ofte of fume and of complecciouns,
Whan humours been to habundant in a wight.
Certes this dreem, which ye han met to-nyght,
Cometh of the greete superfluytee
Of youre rede colera, pardee,
Which causeth folk to dreden in hir dremes
Of arwes, and of fyr with rede lemes,
Of rede beestes, that they wol hem byte,
Of contek, and of whelpes, grete and lyte;

255

Right as the humour of malencolie
Causeth ful many a man in sleep to crie
For feere of blake beres, or boles blake,
Or elles blake develes wole hem take.
Of othere humours koude I telle also
That werken many a man sleep ful wo;
But I wol passe as lightly as I kan.
"Lo Catoun, which that was so wys a man,
Seyde he nat thus, "Ne do no fors of dremes"?
"Now sire," quod she, "whan we flee fro the bemes,
For Goddes love, as taak som laxatyf.
Up peril of my soule and of my lyf,
I conseille yow the beste—I wol nat lye—
That bothe of colere and of malencolye
Ye purge yow; and for ye shal nat tarie,
Though in this toun is noon apothecarie,
I shal myself to herbes techen yow
That shul been for youre hele and for youre prow;
And in oure yeerd tho herbes shal I fynde
The whiche han of hire propretee by kynde
To purge yow bynethe and eek above.
Foryet nat this, for Goddes owene love!
Ye been ful coleryk of compleccioun;
Ware the sonne in his ascencioun
Ne fynde yow nat repleet of humours hoote.
And if it do, I dar wel leye a grote,
That ye shul have a fevere terciane,
Or an agu that may be youre bane.
A day or two ye shul have digestyves
Of wormes, er ye take youre laxatyves
Of lawriol, centaure, and fumetere,
Or elles of ellebor, that groweth there,
Of katapuce, or of gaitrys beryis,
Of herbe yve, growyng in oure yeerd, ther mery is;
Pekke hem up right as they growe and ete hem yn.
Be myrie, housbonde, for youre fader kyn!
Dredeth no dreem; I kan sey yow namoore."
"Madame," quod he, "graunt mercy of youre loore.
But nathelees, as touchyng daun Catoun,
That hath of wysdom swich a greet renoun,
Though that he bad no dremes for to drede,
By God, men may in olde bookes rede
Of many a man moore of auctorite
Than evere Caton was, so moot I thee,
That al the revers seyn of this sentence,
And han wel founden by experience
That dremes been significaciouns
As wel of joye as of tribulaciouns
That folk enduren in this lif present.
Ther nedeth make of this noon argument;
The verray preeve sheweth it in dede.
"Oon of the gretteste auctour that men rede
Seith thus: that whilom two felawes wente
On pilgrimage, in a ful good entente,
And happed so, they coomen in a toun
Wher as ther was swich congregacioun
Of peple, and eek so streit of herbergage,
That they ne founde as muche as o cotage
In which they bothe myghte ylogged bee.
Wherfore they mosten of necessitee
As for that nyght, departen compaignye;
And ech of hem gooth to his hostelrye,
And took his loggyng as it wolde falle.
That oon of hem was logged in a stalle,
Fer in a yeerd, with oxen of the plough;
That oother man was logged wel ynough,
As was his aventure or his fortune,
That us governeth alle as in commune.
"And so bifel that, longe er it were day,
This man mette in his bed, ther as he lay,
How that his felawe gan upon hym calle,
And seyde, "Allas, for in an oxes stalle
This nyght I shal be mordred ther I lye!
Now help me, deere brother, or I dye.
In alle haste com to me!" he sayde.
This man out of his sleep for feere abrayde;
But whan that he was wakened of his sleep,

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He turned hym and took of this no keep.
Hym thoughte his dreem nas but a vanitee.
Thus twies in his slepyng dremed hee;
And atte thridde tyme yet his felawe
Cam, as hym thoughte, and seide, "I am now slawe.
Bihoold my bloody woundes depe and wyde!
Arys up erly in the morwe tyde,
And at the west gate of the toun," quod he,
"A carte ful of dong ther shaltow se,
In which my body is hid ful prively;
Do thilke carte arresten boldely.
My gold caused my mordre, sooth to sayn,"
And tolde hym every point how he was slayn,
With a ful pitous face, pale of hewe.
And truste wel, his dreem he foond ful trewe,
For on the morwe, as soone as it was day,
To his felawes in he took the way;
And whan that he cam to this oxes stalle,
After his felawe he bigan to calle.
"he hostiler answerede hym anon,
And seyde, "Sire, your felawe is agon.
As soone as day he wente out of the toun."
"This man gan fallen in suspecioun,
Remembrynge on his dremes that he mette,
And forth he gooth—no lenger wolde he lette—
Unto the west gate of the toun, and fond
A dong-carte, wente as it were to donge lond,
That was arrayed in that same wise
As ye han herd the dede man devyse.
And with an hardy herte he gan to crye
Vengeance and justice of this felonye:
o"My felawe mordred is this same nyght,
And in this carte he lith gapyng upright.
I crye out on the ministres," quod he,
"That sholden kepe and reulen this citee.
Harrow! Allas! Heere lith my felawe slayn!"
What sholde I moore unto this tale sayn?
The peple out sterte and caste the cart to grounde,
And in the myddel of the dong they founde
The dede man, that mordred was al newe.
"O blisful God, that art so just and trewe,
Lo, how that thou biwreyest mordre alway!
Mordre wol out; that se we day by day.
Mordre is so wlatsom and abhomynable
To God, that is so just and resonable,
That he ne wol nat suffre it heled be,
Though it abyde a yeer, or two, or thre.
Mordre wol out, this my conclusioun.
And right anon, ministres of that toun
Han hent the carter and so soore hym pyned,
And eek the hostiler so soore engyned,
That they biknewe hire wikkednesse anon,
And were anhanged by the nekke-bon.
"Heere may men seen that dremes been to drede.
And certes in the same book I rede,
Right in the nexte chapitre after this—
I gabbe nat, so have I joye or blis—
Two men that wolde han passed over see,
For certeyn cause, into a fer contree,
If that the wynd ne hadde been contrarie,
That made hem in a citee for to tarie
That stood ful myrie upon an haven-syde;
But on a day, agayn the even-tyde,
The wynd gan chaunge, and blew right as hem leste.
Jolif and glad they wente unto hir reste,
And casten hem ful erly for to saille.
But herkneth! To that o man fil a greet mervaille:
That oon of hem, in slepyng as he lay,
Hym mette a wonder dreem agayn the day.
Hym thoughte a man stood by his beddes syde,
And hym comanded that he sholde abyde,
And seyde hym thus: "If thou tomorwe wende,
Thow shalt be dreynt; my tale is at an ende."
He wook, and tolde his felawe what he mette,
And preyde hym his viage for to lette;
As for that day, he preyde hym to byde.
His felawe, that lay by his beddes syde,
Gan for to laughe, and scorned him ful faste.
"No dreem," quod he, "may so myn herte agaste
That I wol lette for to do my thynges.
I sette nat a straw by thy dremynges,
For swevenes been but vanytees and japes.
Men dreme alday of owles and of apes,
And of many a maze therwithal;

257

Men dreme of thyng that nevere was ne shal.
But sith I see that thou wolt heere abyde,
And thus forslewthen wilfully thy tyde,
God woot, it reweth me; and have good day!"
And thus he took his leve, and wente his way.
But er that he hadde half his cours yseyled,
Noot I nat why, ne what myschaunce it eyled,
But casuelly the shippes botme rente,
And ship and man under the water wente
In sighte of othere shippes it bisyde,
That with hem seyled at the same tyde.
And therfore, faire Pertelote so deere,
By swiche ensamples olde maistow leere
That no man sholde been to recchelees
Of dremes; for I seye thee, doutelees,
That many a dreem ful soore is for to drede.
"Lo, in the lyf of Seint Kenelm I rede,
That was Kenulphus sone, the noble kyng
Of Mercenrike, how Kenelm mette a thyng.
A lite er he was mordred, on a day,
His mordre in his avysioun he say.
His norice hym expowned every deel
His sweven, and bad hym for to kepe hym weel
For traisoun; but he nas but seven yeer oold,
And therfore litel tale hath he toold
Of any dreem, so hooly was his herte.
By God! I hadde levere than my sherte
That ye hadde rad his legende, as have I.
"Dame Pertelote, I sey yow trewely,
Macrobeus, that writ the avisioun
In Affrike of the worthy Cipioun,
Affermeth dremes, and seith that they been
Warnynge of thynges that men after seen.
And forthermoore, I pray yow, looketh wel
In the olde testament, of Daniel,
If he heeld dremes any vanitee.
Reed eek of Joseph, and ther shul ye see
Wher dremes be somtyme—I sey nat alle—
Warnynge of thynges that shul after falle.
Looke of Egipte the kyng, daun Pharao,
His bakere and his butiller also,
Wher they ne felte noon effect in dremes.
Whoso wol seken actes of sondry remes
May rede of dremes many a wonder thyng.
Lo Cresus, which that was of Lyde kyng,
Mette he nat that he sat upon a tree,
Which signified he sholde anhanged bee?
Lo heere Andromacha, Ectores wyf,
That day that Ector sholde lese his lyf,
She dremed on the same nyght biforn
How that the lyf of Ector sholde be lorn,
If thilke day he wente into bataille.
She warned hym, but it myghte nat availle;
He wente for to fighte natheles,
But he was slayn anon of Achilles.
But thilke tale is al to longe to telle,
And eek it is ny day; I may nat dwelle.
Shortly I seye, as for conclusioun,
That I shal han of this avisioun
Adversitee; and I seye forthermoor
That I ne telle of laxatyves no stoor,
For they been venymes, I woot it weel;
I hem diffye, I love hem never a deel!
"Now let us speke of myrthe, and stynte al this.
Madame Pertelote, so have I blis,
Of o thyng God hath sent me large grace;
For whan I se the beautee of youre face,
Ye been so scarlet reed aboute youre yen,
It maketh al my drede for to dyen;
For al so siker as In principio,
Mulier est hominis confusio
Madame, the sentence of this Latyn is,
"Womman is mannes joye and al his blis."
For whan I feele a-nyght your softe syde—
Al be it that I may nat on yow ryde,
For that oure perche is maad so narwe, allas—
I am so ful of joye and of solas,
That I diffye bothe sweven and dreem."
And with that word he fley doun fro the beem,
For it was day, and eke his hennes alle,
And with a chuk he gan hem for to calle,

258

For he hadde founde a corn, lay in the yerd.
Real he was, he was namoore aferd.
He fethered Pertelote twenty tyme,
And trad hire eke as ofte, er it was pryme.
He looketh as it were a grym leoun,
And on his toos he rometh up and doun;
Hym deigned nat to sette his foot to grounde.
He chukketh whan he hath a corn yfounde,
And to hym rennen thanne his wyves alle.
Thus roial, as a prince is in his halle,
Leve I this Chauntecleer in his pasture,
And after wol I telle his aventure.
Whan that the month in which the world bigan,
That highte March, whan God first maked man,
Was compleet, and passed were also,
Syn March [was gon], thritty dayes and two,
Bifel that Chauntecleer in al his pryde,
His sevene wyves walkynge by his syde,
Caste up his eyen to the brighte sonne,
That in the signe of Taurus hadde yronne
Twenty degrees and oon, and somwhat moore,
And knew by kynde, and by noon oother loore,
That it was pryme, and crew with blisful stevene.
"The sonne," he seyde, "is clomben up on hevene
Fourty degrees and oon, and moore ywis.
Madame Pertelote, my worldes blis,
Herkneth thise blisful briddes how they synge,
And se the fresshe floures how they sprynge;
Ful is myn herte of revel and solas!"
But sodeynly hym fil a sorweful cas,
For evere the latter ende of joye is wo.
God woot that worldly joye is soone ago;
And if a rethor koude faire endite,
He in a cronycle saufly myghte it write
As for a sovereyn notabilitee.
Now every wys man, lat him herkne me;
This storie is also trewe, I undertake,
As is the book of Launcelot de Lake,
That wommen holde in ful greet reverence.
Now wol I torne agayn to my sentence.
A col-fox, ful of sly iniquitee,
That in the grove hadde woned yeres three,
By heigh ymaginacioun forncast,
The same nyght thurghout the hegges brast
Into the yerd ther Chauntecleer the faire
Was wont, and eek his wyves, to repaire;
And in a bed of wortes stille he lay
Til it was passed undren of the day,
Waitynge his tyme on Chauntecleer to falle,
As gladly doon thise homycides alle
That in await liggen to mordre men.
O false mordrour, lurkynge in thy den!
O newe Scariot, newe Genylon,
False dissymulour, o Greek Synon,
That broghtest Troye al outrely to sorwe!
O Chauntecleer, acursed be that morwe
That thou into that yerd flaugh fro the bemes!
Thou were ful wel ywarned by thy dremes
That thilke day was perilous to thee;
But what that God forwoot moot nedes bee,
After the opinioun of certein clerkis.
Witnesse on hym that any parfit clerk is,
That in scole is greet altercacioun
In this mateere, and greet disputisoun,
And hath been of an hundred thousand men.
But I ne kan nat bulte it to the bren
As kan the hooly doctour Augustyn,
Or Boece, or the Bisshop Bradwardyn,
Wheither that Goddes worthy forwityng
Streyneth me nedely for to doon a thyng—
"Nedely" clepe I symple necessitee—
Or elles, if free choys be graunted me
To do that same thyng, or do it noght,
Though God forwoot it er that I was wroght;

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Or if his wityng streyneth never a deel
But by necessitee condicioneel.
I wol nat han to do of swich mateere;
My tale is of a cok, as ye may heere,
That tok his conseil of his wyf, with sorwe,
To walken in the yerd upon that morwe
That he hadde met that dreem that I yow tolde.
Wommennes conseils been ful ofte colde;
Wommannes conseil broghte us first to wo
And made Adam fro Paradys to go,
Ther as he was ful myrie and wel at ese.
But for I noot to whom it myght displese,
If I conseil of wommen wolde blame,
Passe over, for I seyde it in my game.
Rede auctours, where they trete of swich mateere,
And what they seyn of wommen ye may heere.
Thise been the cokkes wordes, and nat myne;
I kan noon harm of no womman divyne.
Faire in the soond, to bathe hire myrily,
Lith Pertelote, and alle hire sustres by,
Agayn the sonne, and Chauntecleer so free
Soong murier than the mermayde in the see
(For Phisiologus seith sikerly
How that they syngen wel and myrily).
And so bifel that, as he caste his ye
Among the wortes on a boterflye,
He was war of this fox, that lay ful lowe.
Nothyng ne liste hym thanne for to crowe,
But cride anon, "Cok! cok!" and up he sterte
As man that was affrayed in his herte.
For natureelly a beest desireth flee
Fro his contrarie, if he may it see,
Though he never erst hadde seyn it with his ye.
This Chauntecleer, whan he gan hym espye,
He wolde han fled, but that the fox anon
Seyde, "Gentil sire, allas, wher wol ye gon?
Be ye affrayed of me that am youre freend?
Now, certes, I were worse than a feend,
If I to yow wolde harm or vileynye!
I am nat come youre conseil for t'espye,
But trewely, the cause of my comynge
Was oonly for to herkne how that ye synge.
For trewely, ye have as myrie a stevene
As any aungel hath that is in hevene.
Therwith ye han in musyk moore feelynge
Than hadde Boece, or any that kan synge.
My lord youre fader—God his soule blesse!—
And eek youre mooder, of hire gentillesse,
Han in myn hous ybeen to my greet ese;
And certes, sire, ful fayn wolde I yow plese.
But, for men speke of syngyng, I wol seye—
So moote I brouke wel myne eyen tweye—
Save yow, I herde nevere man so synge
As dide youre fader in the morwenynge.
Certes, it was of herte, al that he song.
And for to make his voys the moore strong,
He wolde so peyne hym that with bothe his yen
He moste wynke, so loude he wolde cryen,
And stonden on his tiptoon therwithal,
And strecche forth his nekke long and smal.
And eek he was of swich discrecioun
That ther nas no man in no regioun
That hym in song or wisedom myghte passe.
I have wel rad in "Daun Burnel the Asse,"
Among his vers, how that ther was a cok,
For that a preestes sone yaf hym a knok
Upon his leg whil he was yong and nyce,
He made hym for to lese his benefice.
But certeyn, ther nys no comparisoun
Bitwixe the wisedom and discrecioun
Of youre fader and of his subtiltee.
Now syngeth, sire, for seinte charitee;
Lat se; konne ye youre fader countrefete?"
This Chauntecleer his wynges gan to bete,
As man that koude his traysoun nat espie,
So was he ravysshed with his flaterie.
Allas, ye lordes, many a fals flatour
Is in youre courtes, and many a losengeour,
That plesen yow wel moore, by my feith,
Than he that soothfastnesse unto yow seith.
Redeth Ecclesiaste of flaterye;
Beth war, ye lordes, of hir trecherye.
This Chauntecleer stood hye upon his toos,
Strecchynge his nekke, and heeld his eyen cloos,

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And gan to crowe loude for the nones.
And daun Russell the fox stirte up atones,
And by the gargat hente Chauntecleer,
And on his bak toward the wode hym beer,
For yet ne was ther no man that hym sewed.
O destinee, that mayst nat been eschewed!
Allas, that Chauntecleer fleigh fro the bemes!
Allas, his wyf ne roghte nat of dremes!
And on a Friday fil al this meschaunce.
O Venus, that art goddesse of plesaunce,
Syn that thy servant was this Chauntecleer,
And in thy servyce dide al his poweer,
Moore for delit than world to multiplye,
Why woldestow suffre hym on thy day to dye?
O Gaufred, deere maister soverayn,
That whan thy worthy kyng Richard was slayn
With shot, compleynedest his deeth so soore,
Why ne hadde I now thy sentence and thy loore,
The Friday for to chide, as diden ye?
For on a Friday, soothly, slayn was he.
Thanne wolde I shewe yow how that I koude pleyne
For Chauntecleres drede and for his peyne.
Certes, swich cry ne lamentacion
Was nevere of ladyes maad whan Ylion
Was wonne, and Pirrus with his streite swerd,
Whan he hadde hent kyng Priam by the berd,
And slayn hym, as seith us Eneydos,
As maden alle the hennes in the clos,
Whan they had seyn of Chauntecleer the sighte.
But sovereynly dame Pertelote shrighte
Ful louder than dide Hasdrubales wyf,
Whan that hir housbonde hadde lost his lyf
And that the Romayns hadde brend Cartage.
She was so ful of torment and of rage
That wilfully into the fyr she sterte
And brende hirselven with a stedefast herte.
O woful hennes, right so criden ye
As whan that Nero brende the citee
Of Rome cryden senatoures wyves
For that hir husbondes losten alle hir lyves—
Withouten gilt this Nero hath hem slayn.
Now wole I turne to my tale agayn.
This sely wydwe and eek hir doghtres two
Herden thise hennes crie and maken wo,
And out at dores stirten they anon,
And syen the fox toward the grove gon,
And bar upon his bak the cok away,
And cryden, "Out! Harrow and weylaway!
Ha, ha! The fox!" and after hym they ran,
And eek with staves many another man.
Ran Colle oure dogge, and Talbot and Gerland,
And Malkyn, with a dystaf in hir hand;
Ran cow and calf, and eek the verray hogges,
So fered for the berkyng of the dogges
And shoutyng of the men and wommen eeke
They ronne so hem thoughte hir herte breeke.
They yolleden as feendes doon in helle;
The dokes cryden as men wolde hem quelle;
The gees for feere flowen over the trees;
Out of the hyve cam the swarm of bees.
So hydous was the noyse—a, benedicitee!—
Certes, he Jakke Straw and his meynee
Ne made nevere shoutes half so shrille
Whan that they wolden any Flemyng kille,
As thilke day was maad upon the fox.
Of bras they broghten bemes, and of box,
Of horn, of boon, in whiche they blewe and powped,
And therwithal they skriked and they howped.
It semed as that hevene sholde falle.
Now, goode men, I prey yow herkneth alle:
Lo, how Fortune turneth sodeynly
The hope and pryde eek of hir enemy!
This cok, that lay upon the foxes bak,
In al his drede unto the fox he spak,
And seyde, "Sire, if that I were as ye,
Yet sholde I seyn, as wys God helpe me,
"Turneth agayn, ye proude cherles alle!
A verray pestilence upon yow falle!
Now I am come unto the wodes syde;
Maugree youre heed, the cok shal heere abyde.
I wol hym ete, in feith, and that anon!"

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The fox answerde, "In feith, it shal be don,"
And as he spak that word, al sodeynly
This cok brak from his mouth delyverly,
And heighe upon a tree he fleigh anon,
And whan the fox saugh that the colt was gon,
"Allas!" quod he, "O Chauntecleer, allas!
I have to yow," quod he, "ydoon trespas,
In as muche as I maked yow aferd
Whan I yow hente and broghte out of the yerd.
But, sire, I dide it in no wikke entente.
Com doun, and I shal telle yow what I mente;
I shal seye sooth to yow, God help me so!"
"Nay thanne," quod he, "I shrewe us bothe two.
And first I shrewe myself bothe blood and bones,
If thou bigyle me ofter than ones.
Thou shalt namoore thurgh thy flaterye
Do me to synge and wynke with myn ye;
For he that wynketh, whan he sholde see,
Al wilfully, God lat him nevere thee!"
"Nay," quod the fox, "but God yeve hym meschaunce,
That is so undiscreet of governaunce
That jangleth whan he sholde holde his pees."
Lo, swich it is for to be recchelees
And necligent, and truste on flaterye.
But ye that holden this tale a folye,
As of a fox, or of a colt and hen,
Taketh the moralite, goode men,
For Seint Paul seith that al that writen is,
To oure doctrine it is ywrite, ywis;
Taketh the fruyt, and lat the chaf be stille.
Now, goode God, if that it be thy wille,
As seith my lord, so make us alle goode men,
And brynge us to his heighe blisse! Amen.
Heere is ended the Nonnes Preestes Tale.
["Sire Nonnes Preest," oure Hooste seide anoon,
"I-blessed be thy breche, and every stoon!
This was a murie tale of Chauntecleer.
But by my trouthe, if thou were seculer,
Thou woldest ben a trede-foul aright.
For if thou have corage as thou hast myght,
Thee were nede of hennes, as I wene,
Ya, moo than seven tymes seventene.
See, whiche braunes hath this gentil preest,
So gret a nekke, and swich a large breest!
He loketh as a sperhauk with his yen;
Him nedeth nat his colour for to dyen
With brasile ne with greyn of Portyngale.
Now, sire, faire falle yow for youre tale!"
And after that he, with ful merie chere,
Seide unto another, as ye shuln heere.]