Middle-English versions of Partonope of Blois

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Partonope of Blois.

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The main source of this text is the British Museum Ms., with lacunas supplied by text from the University College Ms. Square brackets denote editorial insertions or emendations

HOo so luste olde stories to rede,
He shalle ffynde, wyth-owten Drede,
Meruellys and wonders mony and ffele
Off myrthe, ioye, dyssese, and wele.
For ne had bokes ben wryten in prose,
And eke in ryme, Of them þat be-fore vs were,
We shulde haue lytelle luste to lere
Or know of thynge that was be-fore
Wroghte or don̄, or Gode was bore.
Ther-fore be wrytinge of olde storyes
Ys now broghte to owre memories
The olde law and eke the newe;
And ellys myghte we alle rewe
Vppon̄ owre-selfe, whylle we ben here.
For be wrytinge we moste lere
How we moste gouerned be
To worshyppe Gode in trinite.
And ther-fore Stories for to rede
Wolle I conselle, wyth-owten drede,
Bothe olde and yonge þat letteryd be.
To the lewed also, parde,
Is goode sum-tyme for to here.
For by herynge he may lere
Thynge þat fryste he ne knewe;
And to soche folke olde þynge ys new,
Whanne hyt ys in gestes songe,
Or els in prose tolde wyth tonge.

Seynte Paule, þat ys cheffe doctor
Off holy scrypture and pryncipalle auctor,
Talkynge a-monge þe clerge,
Thes ben̄ hys wordes playnlye,
That alle þat euer ys y-wrytte
In boke we owe welle to wytte,
That alle to vs ys goode doctryne.
For thorowghe scrypture men deuyne
To parte the goode fromme the Ille;
Thys preueth he wyth many a skylle.
For be the Sentense neuer so lewyd,
Yet þer-in moste nedes be shewyd
Good and euelle bothe in ffere.
For be Scrypture a man may lere
To do the goode, and the euell Eschewe;
And yeff all scrypture were hyd in mewe,
Men shulde haue full lytelle knowynge
Off goode and euell the trew departynge.
The fole of byrth can no wytte ffynde
But that he hath by taste of kynde.
Off alle þat vnder heuen ys
The wyse taketh wysdam I-wys.
Eke euery man may at the eye See
The fly wyche ys callud the bee,
Hys hony he draweth be hys kynde
Off bytter erbes, and the wyse can ffynde
In folys tales sum-tyme wysdame.
Ther-fore fulle ofte the wyse manne
Wolle here the fole and eke the wyse,
Where-thorowe he can þe better deuyse
To drawe wysdam owte of ffoly,
Where-fore y Sey yow sykerly:
In thys boke shalle ye fynde wrytte
Both goode and euelle. I do yow to wytte:
The goode taketh, the euelle leve,
For all goode moste welle preve.
In thys boke ye may lere,
And ye lyste hyt rede and here,

Howe God hath departed on thre
Thys worlde in wyche we all be.
That on quarter named ys
Euroupe, and the secunde I-wys
Aufryke ys cleped, as bokes trete,
And the thryde Asye the grete.

IN Asye stante þe Cyte of Troye
Fulfylled of ryches and alle Ioye,
Wher-of kynge Pryamus was lorde and syre.
Alle Asye nyghe was hys Empere.
Thys worthy kynge gate on hys wyffe
Fyve sonys, wyche he in hys lyffe
Seyghe þe worthyeste on lyve.
The names of thes worthy fyve
Arn thes: Ector and fayre Parys,
Troylus, Elenus, Markomyrys.
Ector was hardy and þer-to full lyghte,
Off all þe worthyeste knyghte;
Grette and stronge and fayre was he,
Curtesse to þe pepulle and þer-to free.
On the grekes he made grette a-sayes,
So worthy was none after hys dayes.
The kynge of Troy in hys age
Pryded hym grettely of the lynage
Off hys worthy sonys fyve.
Hym thoȝte, whylle they were on lyue,
Hym durste not drede all the worlde.
He wax ryghte ferse in dede and worde;
Hys pepull he hated, he was so felle.
They hym hated a-geyne as welle.
In care, in pouerte, and in woo
He hem helde, that they soo
Wery were of hys tyrannye,
They had euer gret espy,
Yeff any pepull hym werrye,
Wyth hym they thoȝte to lyfe and dye,
So fully that when þe grekes were
Come to Troye, alle here ffere

They had of there souereyne lorde,
Was goo, and they be [on] a-corde
To the grekes come wyth-outen ffayle
A-geyne here kynge to holde batayle.
For he had of a knave certayne
Vn-know, and ouer alle hys reygne,
Chyffe Iustyce made; and he wex all a fende.
He toke non hede but of hys ffrende,
They shulde haue alle maner offyce.
By the Ientylnes set he no pryce,
But euer helde hem lowe and mate.
That made the pepulle þe kynge to hate.
Hys name was cleped Anchyses.
And hys cause hyt was, wyth-owten les,
That Troye, the cyte ryche and ryalle,
Was for euer destroyed; for towre and walle
To erthe was throw, and all was brente.
Thoroghe thys traytoure þus was shente
Thys worthy Cyte, þys nobell towne.
Wyth grekes thus was vp so downe
Throw and destroyed for euer-moo
Thys Cyte and pepulle also.

THys Cyte was of hye noblesse,
Fulle of worshyppe and gret ryches.
Of knyghthode eke hyt bare þe pryse
Off all the worlde; and of delyse
Hyt had grette plente, þys ys no naye,
Tylle hyt be-felle vppon̄ a day
The kyngus Sone, þe noble Parys,
Reueshyd on Elyne, þat bare the prys
Thoroughe the worlde of hye beaute.
Yette for all thys, þys noble Cyte
Myghte neuer haue be destroyed thus,
Ne had be that kynge Pryamus
Set hym in couetyse so grettely of goode.
That made hys pepull for wrathe so wodde
That they hym hated a-bofe alle thynge.
That was destruccion of the kynge

And of the Cyte; for Elynes hosbande
Durste neuer haue take on honde
To sette a-pon the worthy Cyte;
And yette a noble kynge was he.
Menelaus was thys kyngus name.
He suffered mekely alle thys shame.
Thoghe he were worthy, yt to playne
Durste he noghte, alle-thowe Eleyne
Were hys wyffe; he dred So
The Troyens; for what hym luste to do,
Thys spared they noghte, þys ys no lye;
They were so stronge of cheualrye.
Tylle þat a knyghte, þe wyche hyte Nestor,
Wyche for age was whyte and hore,
That loued Menelaus as hys lyffe,
He grucched sore that hys wyffe
Was take a-way thus wyth stronge honde.
Thys Nestor eke helde hys londe
Off Menelaus, and he hys lege lorde
Was: where-fore in no wyse a-corde
He wolde but hyt a-venged were,
For he was a worthy man of werre.
An.c. yeres he had and moo
Of age, and eke he was ther-to
A goode clerke; of fayre Eloquens
He had y-noghe, for be experyens
Throwe Greke hyt was well knowe.
Mony grette wysdomys had he Sowe
Throwoute the londe in euery contre;
Ther-fore chyffe of conselle was he
Wyth euery lorde and euery kynge.
Grettely to herte he toke thys thynge
That was so shamefully do
A-yens hys souereyne lorde, and tho
He be-thoȝte hym in what wyse
Hys wyttes cowde he beste deuyse
To a-venge hys lordes Shame.
For þorowe þe worlde þys fowle ffame

Was so dryffe and forth I-blowe;
Thorowe alle londys hyt was knowe.
Then thys wyse Nestor sente
To any man that seruice or rente
Oughte Menelaus her kynge,
They shulde excuse hem for no-thynge
To a-venge the shame of here lorde.
Thus alle hys men̄ be on̄ a-corde
A-greyn̄ welle hym seruyse to do.
And he off wysdome eke ther-to
Sente vn-to Pryamus londe
To wyth-holde in-to hys honde
Alle tho that rebelyn̄ wylly were
For to Susteyne the grette werre
That Menelaus oughte to Troy make.
To thys a-corde Nestor haþe take
Inde, Capadoyne, Perce and Mede;
And alle Crurenye thys werre spede;
Lybens hadden̄ eke grette Ioye
To ryse a-pon̄ here kynge of Troye.
Thus they assentyd be one a-corde
To werre a-pon̄ here souerayne lorde.
Ector had a-spyed alle thys;
Hem to wyth-stonde hys porpose ys.
He Sende a-non̄ to alle the oryente
For pepulle, and to hys commawndemente
Alle were redy to Obey.
They seyde wyth oo voyse they wolde dye
And lyffe wyth Ector, the worthy knyghte,
And helpe hym wyth alle here myghte
A-geynes the grekes, þat were so stronge.
And so they dyd eres full longe,
And mony a yere, and euer so myghte,
Ne had Anchises, þe fals knyghte,
Solde hyt to Grekes for couetyse.
Thus he be-trussed hyt at hys deuyse.
The troyans kepte hyt ix yere
Mannely, and after ferther nere.

In the x yere Ector was slayne,
Where-of þe grekes were glad and fayne,
And the troyans were as sory,
For in here werres he full knyghtly
A-geyne the grekes hem dud defende,
For mony a grette showre he hem sende.
Tho Priamus thys Anchyses
Chyffe to hym of conselle hym ches,
No man wyste of whens he was bore,
Ne of hys kyn; but of tresoure
He cowde welle geder to ryche þe kynge.
He hym loued a-boue alle thynge,
Off alle hys londe hym chef Iustice
He made, and as he wolde deuyse
He aggreed, and helde hym ther-to.
Thys fals traytoure demenyd hym so
He made the kynge the lordes hate.
Euer he sette grette debate
Be-twyn̄ the lordes and the kynge,
For mony a grette and stronge lesynge
He made vppon̄ hem euer-moo.
The kynge louyd golde and seluer soo,
He fulle falsly in kowde hyt brynge.
He and couetyse destroyed the kynge.
Thys Anchyses, thys fals traytoure,
Vppon þe master-yate he had a towre
Off Troye, thys noble and worthy Cyte,
Where, on a nyghte, pryuely he
Hadde yn the grekes be hys assente,
And accorded wyth hem þat destroyed and brente
Shulde Troye, thys worthy Cyte, bee,
On thys condicione that he
Shulde robbe and pylle eche neyghbore
Off hys, for he knew all there tresowre,
Where hyt was, and they grauntted well
Alle that he axed, euery delle.
Nowe preuely enteryd thes grekes be

In-to Troye, thys worthy Cyte.
Fryste they robbed and after brente,
They no-thynge spared of mankynde.
In-to þe towre, wych was þe dongeon,
The kynge flede, and hys sones echeone.
There was slayne kynge Pryamus
And alle hys sonnes, saue Elenus,
Wyche in-to a botte dyd preuely skape,
And yede where hym was Shape
Shame; and a-nother chylde toke
A man, hys name telleth not [t]hys boke,
And broghte hym preuely, wyth-owte les,
In-to a shyppe of Anchyses.
When Anchyses had done thys tresone,
To shyppe he wente wyth grette ffoysone
Off golde and seluer. Wyth hym was
Gone in-to the shyppe was noble Eneas.
Off hys kyn no-þyng was he,
For worthy and curtes in euery degre
Eneas was, as seythe the booke.
Anchises all a-nother way toke,
For he was fulfylled of couetyse,
Prowde and envious in alle wyse.
Yette Eneas was wyth Anchises,
In wele and woo, in prate of dyssece,
He toke wyth on sonde and see,
Tylle atte the laste aryued they be
In-to the londe of Romenye,
Where-of they conqueryd the Senerye.

Whan Markomyris, þys yonge kynge,
Wyche was sone to Priamus þe kyng,
Was scaped frome Troye wyth Anchyses
Fulle yonge and tender amonge þe pres,
Thorowe helpe of on̄ wyche was hys norry,
Vn-wyste of Anchyses fulle priuely,
Whan he was xv yere of age,
He woxe semely, stronge, and had corage
To do alle thynge; and þe pepulle Sykerly

Whende he had ben sone to hys norry.
Yette he wyste welle hyt was not so,
Butte yette hys Norry made hym so.
Yette ofte wolde he say: “That ffelowne!
I shalle sle hym that dyd þys tresone
To my fader and to my lynage.”
And euer the more he waxeth in age,
To alle the pepull, as they deuyse,
He lykned mochell Ector and Parys
Off stature, of vysage, and off bonne.
The pepulle ther-fore ofte gonne
To hys Norry for to enquere
Yeff thys chylde hys sone were;
And euer he sayde sykerly ye.
Where-fore thys man thoȝte þat he
Myghte notte welle a-byde there.
He thoȝte he wolde goo yelse-where.
And pryuely, when he had spase,
He putte hym alle in Goddys grace.
And pryuely be nyghte stale a-waye
And in-to Fraunce toke hys waye.
Nowe in-to Fraunce comyn be
Bothe Markomyrys And he.
Fraunce was named tho ylke dayes
Galles, as myne auctor seyes.
Ther-In was neyther Cyte, castell, ne borowe.
A man myghte ryghte welle haue ryde þorowe,
In euery parte bothe of brede and lenghe,
He shulde neyther haue fownde no strenghe.
The pepull were dysperplede here and there,
They were no-thynge a-rayed for werre.
Ther-In herbourghede mony a wylde beste.
Alle the londe was tho ny honde fforeste.
Ther-In was neyther Erle, duke, ne kynge;
Eche man was lorde of hys owne thynge.
Tylle hyt happened þat, at the entre
Off the londe, Markomirys Norrye
Dyed, and þer-wyth as ffaste

He brente hys bonus in grette haste,
That [was] the vsage of that contre.
In-to seruyse tho droghe he.
Thys yonge man̄, thys ylke Markomirys,
He was manly, semely, and ryghte wyse;
For hys seruyse hym ryghte goode wage.
He seruyed nonne but of lynage
Where the grettes off alle þat ylke londe.
Curteyse and lowly hys lorde hym euer fonde.
On a Day when he luste for to talke
Wyth hys lorde, as he allone dyd walke,
He tolde of Troye alle the case,
Of the desstruccione, and eke how þat he was
The kyngus sone of Troye Pryame,
And preuely in-to a shyppe he came
Off Anchyses, vnwyste of any wyghte.
Hys master tho wyth hys herte and myghte
Was glade and Ioyfull, and made hym grette chere,
And made hym telle, þat alle men myghte here,
The processe a-gayne, and alle the case,
And how kynge Pryame sone he was.
They herde hys tale alle goodely,
They helde hym trew, wyse, and eke redy.
And then he tolde hem forthe of Eneas,
Wyche a man of Armes that he was,
And wyche materyes he dyd in Ytalye,
Howe he conquered by and bye.
“He dothe thurghe-owte what hym luste,” sayde he,
“Rydethe and brenneth and raunsomethe eche cuntre.
Thys ys the cause for they haue no strenghe
In alle the cuntre, neyther in brede ne lenghe.
He maketh the pepulle thralle and bownde ycheone.
Hyt ys fulle lyke he shalle yow yeke so donne,
Butte yeffe ye ordeyne a-gayne hym other strenghe,
He shalle yowe ouer-ryde in brede and lenghe.”
He hem conselleth they shalle strenghes make,
And then he durste welle vnder-take,

And they wolle to-geder hem in habyte,
They shulde fynde ther-in grette [de]lyte,
And walle here Cytees and borovs rownde a-bowte,
Then myghte they slepe sykerly, and haue no dowte
Off no Enemyes, whens so euer they were.
In thys wyse he can hem faste lere.
They lyked welle hys conselle and hys rede.
Cytees and castelles they made in grette spede,
Welle I-walled in the beste wyse.
For hys wytte a-non chyffe Iustyce
They hym made, and sette hym vp as a lorde.
They dyde no-thynge wyth-owte hys a-corde.
A wyffe they geffe hym, borne of hye kynrede,
And then they made hym lorde, wyth-owte drede,
Alle hys lyffe vn-tyll hys endynge-daye,
Off hem alle, thys ys wyth-owten naye.
When he wes dede, hys sone prynse they made
Off hem alle, of whome they were fulle gladde.
He hem gouernyd in welthe and grette honowre;
He was to hem a nobulle gouernowre.
And after hym fro eyre to eyre hyt yede.
Here names to telle I trowe hyt be no nede,
They bythe not putte yette in Remembraunce
In thys cronycle wyche I rede of Fraunce.
Prynces they were so of here maner.
Butte the ffrenshe boke me dothe lere
That longe after a prynce syker they hadde,
Wyche in wele and prosperite hem ladde,
Wyche was of the ryalle blode of Troye.
Off hym alle Fraunce hade so muche Ioye
That they hym loued a-boue all erthely thynge.
He was the ffryste that euer was named kynge.
He made lawes and moche other thynge,
And made hem drawe wyth-owte lesynge
To be obeysaunte to here kynggus lawe,
Bothe wyth ffeyrnesse and eke wyth awe.
He made the lawes, as y gesse,
For batellus, for customys, and ffrauncheses,

Off thefes and traytowres also here Iewy[s]es.
Thus he made the lawes wythe-owten lese.
In ryghte and trowthe euer hys pepulle he ladde.
Ther-fore alle hys lyfe-dayes he hade
A-monge hem Ioye, welthe, and prosperite.
Yeres and dayes fulle mony regned he,
And then after, when all-myghty Gode wolde,
A sone he hadde, þat after hym rengne shulde.

LUdon hyghte thys chylde þat shulde be
Here kynge, þat of wytte lacked grette plente.
Off other goodes lytelle he hadde.
Ther-fore moche hys pepulle he dradde,
Wher-fore in chamber hym-selfe he hade.
Fulle ofte hys peple lawes he ladde,
Chorles he cheresede, and no-þynge Ientyle.
He levyde notte butte a whyle.
Affter hym came hys sone and eyre,
And he made a-yen to repeyre
All þat contraryed hys ffader lawe,
Sum wyth ffeyrenes and some wyth awe.
Hym to Crystes lawe seynte Remys
Conuerted, longe or than seynte Denys
Kame in-to Fraunce; and eke the clergye
He loued, and cheresshyde chyuallerye.
Cleouels thys nobelle kynge hyghte.
He proued hym-selfe a nobelle knyghte.
Grette werre he helde alle hys lyfe.
Wyth Sareȝines he foughte mony a sythe,
For sethen he the crowne namme,
He so wyse and so ryghtefulle kynge be-came
Ther was no manne of hym complayned
Off ronge, a-none he hyt restrayne[d],
And wolde se where the trowthe stode.
And then he wolde wyth esy mode
Redresse hyt as resone were.
And so he hadde a goode manere:
The porallis ryghte esely here he wolde,

A lorde also, yeff þat he shulde;
To euery manne, after hys state were,
He wolde redresse hyt in esy manere.
Off knyghtehode fully he bare the pryse.
Ther-to he was ryghte manly and wyse.
So wysely hys remme gouerned he
That he lyued euer in prosperite.
Thys nobelle kynge, þys nobelle conquerowre,
Wanne many a Cyte wyth many a towre,
That ffro Chyrbron in-to Russye
Was ther neuer manne so hardye
To don̄ a-geynste hys commaundemente;
And yeffe he dyd, he were butte shente.
Off Arderne the towre also,
Ther contraryed no manne þat he wolde haue do.
In thys Arderne, as seythe thys geste,
Ther ys a grette and a huge fforeste.
Hyt lyethe in lenghe bothe este and weste;
Ther-In dwelluthe mony a wylde beste;
The porsewte ys fulle large a-bowte.
Ther-fore hyt ys, wyth-owten dowte,
Grette perelle a man ther-In to come;
Ther-In to herboroughe ys no man wonne.
For shyppes that passe by the See,
For no nede dar notte he
Arryue in-to the huge fforestes
For drede of the wylde bestes.
In olde bookes, as I rede,
I fynde wryten, wyth-owten drede,
Off lyones and lebardes hyt ys ffulle.
The wylde bore and eke the bulle
Haue there here haunte destawntly.
The cause I wolle telle yowe why
That I thys fforeste thys deuyse,
For owte of thys moste moche thynge ryse
That longethe vn-to my matere.
Lystenethe nowe, and ye shalle here.

THys kynge Cleouels, þys worthy manne,
Syn ffryste þe tyme that he be-gan
Crowne on hedde ffryste to bere,

Also for to holden in honde a spere,
Nexte dede of armes he loued bestes
To hunte in Arderne, thys huge fforeste,
And wyth strenghe of howndes and men
The boore to chasse owte of hys den.
So hyt be-ffell that on a daye
To ffynde the boore he wolde assaye.
Hys hvntes he warned ryghte a-nonne
That to thys foreste he wolde gon.
Than had thys kynge a suster there
That was to hym full lefe and dere,
Þat nexte hys owne weddute wyffe
He loued here as hys owne lyffe.
Lucresse thys noble lady hyghte.
A sone she had, that be goode ryghte
Erle of Angowe shulde be
And of Bloys, so tellethe me
The olde booke full well I-wryted,
In ffrenshe also, and fayre endyted.
And ye wolle wytte what he hyte,
Partonope be Gode almythe
Named he was, when he was bore,
Of hys godfader atte the churche-dore.
And playnely to tell yow of thys manne
Thys tale trewly I be-gan.
Thys yonge man of whome I telle,
Of Ientylnes he was the verey welle.
The nobelle kynge hym loued so
That where þat euer he rydde or go,
Nexte hym he ys of alle men,
To hym also nyghe of kyn,
That [nexte] hys suster or hys wyffe
He loued hym beste of any lyffe.
He was so gentyll of worde and dede
That thorowe all Fraunce, where þat he yede,
Off hys worshyppe men myghte here.
For off hys age he had no pere.

Hys age was forsothe, as I gesse,
xviij yere, neyther more ne lesse.
What a-venture fell nowe of þys man
I wolle telle forthe now as I can.

THys kynge of whome I of tolde,
He ys shape wyth baronys bolde
To [t]hys foreste for to ryde,
Wyth knyght and squyer hym be-syde,
And also wyth nowmber of men,
The bore to chasse owte of hys den.
To thys foreste he ys come
Wyth hvnte and hownde as he was won.
Off thys hyt nedeth no more to telle:
The hornes sownen as any belle,
The howndes arne vncowpeled than.
There loketh vp full mony a man
Here tryste on euery syde to kepe,
Hyt ys no tyme for hem to slepe.
And nexte the kynge of any man
Stonde Partonope, hys tryste man.
Ryghte sone after, wyth-owten more,
Fownde ys the wylde boore.
The howntes to blowe spare notte then.
The grette lymowres ere lette renne.
A-bowte the wodde the boore ys broghte;
Alle the day they spare noghte
Hym to hvnte thorowe thyke and thynne,
Tylle the boore, fulle wery of renne,
A-yen Euyn the bay a-bodde.
Partonope, there as he stode,
Pullud owte hys swyrde lyche a manne,
And ffreshely to thys bore he ranne.
Be-twyn was then a grette stryfe,
Butte yet the boore there loste hys lyfe.
Seynge, the kynge, there as he stode,
Then sayde he: “Be Goddys rode,
Thys was welle don, as of a chylde,

To sle a boore so fers and wylde.
Nowe Gode, I thanke the as I can.
He ys ryghte lyke to ben a man.”
The kynge in talkynge as he stode,
Sawe where ther come wyth eger mode
A-nother boore, alle ffreshe I-fownde.
To hym the howndes dyd renne full rownde.
The kynge comaunded ryghte a-nonne
The huntes they shulde euery-chone
Drawe vp there howndus by and by.
The cause shalle I telle yow why;
For faste westwarde draweth þe sonne,
The howndes ben fulle wery for ronne.
Also he sey hyt drew nere nyghte.
To hys loggyng he wente fulle ryghte.
The kyng commaunded Partonope
T[h]at swythe on horsebacke shulde he be,
Prycke after faste, sette horne to mowthe
To drawe of the howndes, yeff þat he cowthe.
Thys Partonope no lettyng made,
But dyd ryghte as the kynge hym bade.
A-pon hys horse a-none he lepe,
Thoroughe thyke and thynne toke he no kepe
The boore to folowe, I yowe plyghte,
And draw yefter hym, yeff that he myghte.
So faste hys hors he prycketh thanne
That hym folowe myghte no manne.
The boore was neuer owte of hys syghte,
The sothe to sayne, tylle darke nyghte
So faste felle on in that tyde,
No ferther myghte he se to ryde.
He wyste neuer where that he was,
Thys was to hym a sory case.
The kynge a-nonne loste had he.
Thynge þat ys ordeyned nedes moste be
By ffortune vn-to euery manne.
Partonope hys horne be-gan
In honde to take, and blewe hyt lowde.

But for no crafte that euer he cowde,
Men ne horne cowde he non here.
Than gan he waxe of heuy chere,
For he hadde don a foly thynge
So for to drawe hym fro hys kynge.
Nowe wolle I leue thys manne so ynge,
And telle yowe forthe of the kynge,
Þat homwarde to hys loggyng rydethe.
After hym for sothe no manne a-bydethe.
He wenyth Partonope were I-come.
The hunte hys howndus hath vp nome,
And come was to hys loggynge.
A-none hym axed thys worthy kynge
After hys Neuowe Partonope.
He cowde not telle whether þat he
Were come home, or els be-hynde.
A-none hyt ran the kynge in mynde
Howe he hym had bode gon
To drawe the howndus of echone.
Then he comaundethe wyth all hys myghte
That men wythe hornes alle þat nyghte
Shulde noyse make on euery syde,
And in the foreste alle nyghte to ryde,
Yeff any grace myghte be
Thys chylde to fynde in any degre.
Now after hym euery man, as he ys bedyn,
Vn-to the foreste ys he ryden.
Grette noyse they make all þat nyghte,
Tylle on the morowe þe sone bryghte
Owte of the este gan showe hyr so
That euery manne myghte se to goo
Or ryde where so euer hym luste.
Thoroughe thyke and thynne in þat fforeste
Ryghte faste they soghte euerychone,
Butte tydynges cowde they here nonne
Off thys chylde in no degre.
Gretter sorowe myghte not be

Then was a-monge the mayne tho:
“Allas!” they sayde, “thys chylde y[s] go
And loste for euer, thys ys no nay.”
There ys songe but welewaye.
Thys grette boore of home I tolde,
Thorowe the foreste ys bente full bolde,
Tylle he come to the see-syde.
There thoȝte he longe not to a-byde;
Hys lyppe vn-to the see he nomme,
And ffaste thorowe the see he swomme,
And ouer see faste hym hyede,
Tylle he come in-to the other Syde.
Whan he was the perelle paste,
He hydd hym so wonder faste
To the wyldernes, I dar well Saye.
And lyued there many a longe daye.

NOwe wolle I speke of Partonope.
Whatte to do wotte not he.
Hownde and horne had he loste;
Hys horse for sothe ys alle-moste
Dede for wery in that stonde,
And sodenly ys falle to grownde.
Alle drery stonte Partonope.
“Lorde alle-myghty Gode,” sayde he,
“Saue me nowe I be not lore,
As thowe were of a mayden bore.”
“Allas,” he thoghte, “what may I do?
For colde and honger I am fulle wo.
A-ferde also nowe of my lyffe.
Helpe me lorde Gode and eke seynte Sythe
That thes wylde and wodde bestes
Deuowre me not in thes fforestes!”
Thys yonge man wyste not what to do,
But at the laste he drewe hym to
An olde tre, an holowe thynge,
Ther-in to haue hys loggyng.
Alle nyghte ther-in he laye
Tylle on the morowe þat hyt was daye.
Alle that nyghte fulle sore he wepte,
For sorowe and drede slepe he no slepe.

Be-tyme a-morowe he gan to ryse.
He loked a-bowte, and gan to deuyse
Wyche cuntre homwarde he myghte beste
Drawe owte of thys wylde fforeste.
Vn-to hys horse he yede ffaste,
And by the brydelle atte the laste
Hym he dreue on hys ffette.
In-to the sadelle a-none he lepe,
Homwarde to drawe for sothe he wende.
Gode hym grace ther-to sende!
But alle for noghte, hyt wyll not be,
Alle a-weywardys the wey taketh he.
Alle þat day he rode fulle ffaste,
Mony a perlows water he paste.
The ffrenshe boke thus dothe me telle
xx waters he passed fulle ffelle.
He rode as faste as euer he myghte
Alle that day, tylle hyt was nyghte.
When nyghte was come, thys ys no nay,
The mone shone as bryghte as day.
He loked apon the mone so bryghte:
“Nowe, lorde,” he sayde, “that made thys lyghte
Man to comforte and also beste,
Brynge me welle owte of thys fforeste!”
He houyde stylle, he loked a-bowte.
Than sawe he, wyth-owten dowte,
Where he was in a medow stronge,
The grasse vp to hys styroppe longe
Was grow on heyghte, as I hope,
For hyt had neuer be mow ne rope,
But beddet full of bestes wylde.
Fulle sore a-ferde tho was thys chylde.
Forthe tho rode Partonope,
Tylle atte the laste he sawe the see
Ebbe and flowe and noyse make.
Hys herte wyth-In be-gan to quake,
He wende fully ded to be,
He thoȝte he myghte no ferther fle.

And fferther loked he in-to the stronde,
Hym thoȝte that faste by the londe
A Shyppe he sawe there rydynge,
Ryghte welle a-rayed, tho any kynge
There shulde haue passed the See.
And of thys shyppe ryghte glade was he;
He thoȝte he shulde haue some comforte
Off them þat ryued atte the porte,
And wyth hem conselle howe he myghte beste
Scape owte of thys wylde foreste.
He heyd faste tylle he was there,
And sone he neȝhed þe shyppe fulle nere.
When he come vn-to the stronde,
Owte of the shyppe vn-to þe londe
A brygge was leyde fulle goode and stronge,
Ryghte brodde hyt was and also longe,
And man thyder-in myghte go ryghte well,
And noȝte to wete hys fotte a delle.
And when he to the brygge came,
Then thoȝte he: “My Gode and man,
In wolle I go, what so be-tyde,
No lenger here wolle I a-byde.”
Downe of hys horse he lepte a-none,
In-to the shyppe he gan to gon,
Hys hors he lede in by hys Syde,
“And what so euer me be-tyde,
He shalle not lefe be-hynde me,
For then I shulde hym neuer se.”
Thys ys the sothe, he luste welle slepe,
But fryste of o thynge he toke gret kepe
That man on lyffe Sawe he non.
Hys herte gan colde as any stonne.
To hym-selfe thus sayde he:
“Thys ys a Shyppe of ffayre
Or thynge made be Enchauntemente.
Nowe helpe me, lorde Omnypotente,
That the deuelle no power haue
My sowle wyth hym to helle craue,

And saue me, lorde, yeffe hyt be thy wylle,
That I neuer in thys shyppe spylle.”
And when he had sayde thes wordes,
He layde hym on the shyppe-bordes,
Whatte for honger and for slepe,
Off hym-selfe toke he no kepe.
When he for wery was downe layde,
Vn-to slepe he fell a lytell brayde.
No ryghte goode slepe for sothe he toke,
But halfe wakynge, as seyth þe boke,
And as he lay thy[s] in slummerynge,
There befelle a wonder thynge.
Thys ryalle shyppe of wyche I tolde,
The sayle a-non gan owte to folde.
Ryghte a-pon the toppe an hye.
The sayle ys pullud by and by.
A mevable wynde then had he,
He sawe the sayle vp in the see
A-fore the wynde in water clere.
A wonder thynge hyt ys to here
Wyth-owten helpe a shyppe to sayle,
The wynde so fulle vppon the sayle,
And helpe of man ther-in non ys.
A fulle grette meruelle me thynketh was thys.
Partonope when he a-woke,
A-bowte hym faste he gan to loke,
Be-thoȝte hym-selfe where þat he was:
“Thys ys,” thoghte he, “a wonder case,
A Shyppe to sayle wyth-outen gyde.
Gode helpe,” sayde he, “nowe in thys tyde.”
He sawe no-þynge but water clere;
For syghte of londe fer ne nere
Cowde he a-spye in no wyse.
Then gan he faste for to devyse
Where thys fforeste was be-come,
Owte of hys syghte hyt ys be-nome.
“Nowe, goode Gode,” sayde Partonope,
“Thowe fortune thus haþe shapen me

That I shalle dye in thys place,
Allmyghty Gode, do me grace!”
To hym-selfe he sayde thus:
“O mercy, lorde, swete Ihesus,
Man wotte lytell what ys hys beste.
For when I was in yender fforeste,
Off my lyffe I was in drad;
For very fere I was ny mad.
In-to þe shyppe for seker I came,
And In wyth me my horse I name.
I howpet to haue a better yere;
And nowe for soþe better me were
In yender foreste to haue ben
Than in thys shyppe, as I wene.
For yette by possibilite
Euery man know may he
A man þat ys in dry lande
Yet sum way may he fownde
Hym-selfe to helpe owte of dyssece
In mony a wyse, wyth-owten lese.
But in water for to be
I can for sothe in no degre
Devyse how any helpe to haue,
Butte Gode allone he may me saue.”
And thus he lyethe and sorow maketh;
He dar not Slepe, butte alle-wey wakethe
For drede of peresynge in the see.
But alle for noghte, hyt wyll not be,
Hys a-venture he moste a-byde,
For nowe ys fortune for sothe hys gyde.
And thus he saylethe alle the nyghte,
Tylle on the morowe þat hyt was lyghte,
Then on the shyppe gan faste he
Deuyse and loke howe hyt myghte be
That hyt shulde sayle in any londe
Wythe-owten helpe of mannus honde.
But for to speke of thys shyppe,
The more þer-of þat he toke keppe,

Euer to hym hyt was more mervayle:
Off clothe and selke þen was þe sayle;
Ther-to hyt was so welle graue
That of entayle, so Gode me saue,
Ther cowde no werkeman hyt a-mende.
Then prayde he Gode hym grace sende
Hys lyffe to saue, yeff hys wyll be.
And forthe alle day thys sayleth he,
Tylle hyt was derke nyghte all-moste,
And then þe shyppe vn-to a coste
Helde euen hys course, as þat he
By mannes honde gyded had be.
Whan̄ to þe londe the shyppe was come,
Partonope, as he was won,
Loked owte to se the tyde.
Than̄ sawe he where be-syde
Ther stode a towne, wyth-owten dowte,
Ryghte welle I-walled rownde a-bowte.
A-myddes the towne, wyth-in the walle,
There stode a castelle þat was ryalle,
Wyth towres grette on euery syde,
For any kynge ther-In to a-byde.
A grette mervayle þen sawe he,
For nyghte hyt was vppon̄ þe see,
And in þe Cuntre hyt was as bryghte
As thowe hyt had be day lyghte.
The brygge a-non he toke in honde,
And fro þe shyppe vn-to the londe
He layde hyt owte, and þat a-none,
That he myghte vn-to þe londe gon.
When he to þe londe come was,
He thonked Gode tho of hys grace,
That alle thes perellys he had welle paste.
Butte yette fulle sore was he a-gaste,
For he sawe no-þynge that [bare] lyffe,
Man ne chylde, wydo ne wyffe.
And he also for thryste and honger
Was ryghte febell, hyt was no wonder;
And on hys hors honger was sene,
For lacke of mete he was ryghte lene.

Bvtte when þys chylde Partonope
On londe was come, a-non gan he
A-bowte hym loke on euery syde.
He sawe the cuntre bothe large and wyde.
Yette on thys shyppe he be-gan to holde,
He sayde be hym that Iudas solde
Thys shyppe was me[r]velus made.
In alle hys lyffe he ne hadde
Sey so cvryous a wroghte thynge.
He then trowed þer was no man̄ leuynge
By crafte of honde cowde suche on make,
Butte yeffe a clerke cowde vnder-take
By nygromansy to make hytte;
For hyt passeth mannes wytte.
The towne, the castell he be-helde,
Howe curiusly they were bylde:
Off blacke marbell was made þe wall,
Enchekeryd well wyth Crystalle,
Wyth Iasper also, þat was so bryghte.
In-to the cuntre hyt gaffe grette lyghte.
Thys grette meruayle he can be-holde;
Hys herte be-gan faste to colde.
He sayde: “Allas, what may þys be?”
He thoȝte he was but in fayre,
And weneth hyt were þe develles werke.
For well he wyste þe nyghte ys derke,
And nyghte hyt was vppon þe see;
On londe hyt was so lyghte þat he
Myghte se to ryde alle a-bowte
In alle the cuntre, thys ys no dowte.
Also þe hauen was large and wyde,
x thowsande shyppes þer-yn myghte ryde
For any drede of þe see,
Whatte wynde or wedder euer hyt be.
When he þe cuntre devysed had,
In herte he was no-þynge gladde,
Butte forthe wyth-alle hys hors he toke,

And streyghte to towne, as seyeth þe boke,
He rodde as faste as euer he myghte,
And to the gate he came fulle ryghte.
Butte when he to þe gate come,
Hys eye he caste vppe ther-on,
Be-helde hyt wysely alle a-bowte,
And then he sayde wyth-owte dowte:
“Thys ys of so grette an heyghte,
Ther can no man devyse be sleyghte
Thys towre to wynne in no wyse.”
And harde hyt was for to deuyse
The curyous makynge þat þer-on was.
And In he rydethe an esy pas.
The stretes were pauyd þat were full longe;
On euery syde howsynge stronge
Off blacke marbell full well I-bake.
A-bofe þer-on, I under-take,
Pomelys þer stode of golde full fyne;
Ther-on by crafte and goode engyne
Egelys of golde fflekerynge þer stode,
Lebardes and lyonys also fulle goode
Vppon þe gabellys of golde I-pured,
And other bestes dyuerse fygured,
And alle, as they haden ben on lyfe,
By crafte þey meuyde wonder blyfe,
Þat neuer, sethen þat he was boren,
Had he seyne suche a towne be-foren.
Thys fayre towne of wych I tolde,
The boke of ffrenshe, þat ys fulle olde,
Hyt deuyseth in suche degre
Hyt were to longe as nowe for me
Alle þat to telle, þys ys no naye.
Þer-fore I lefe hyt in goode faye,
And woll go forth vn-to my mater,
And hyt lyke yow me to here.

Thys yonge chylde Partonope,
For thryste and honger wotte not he
What to don—Gode be hys gyde—
And forthe full esely dothe he ryde.

He þoȝte of þys fayre syghte,
Hys herte sum-what be-gan to lyghte,
And sum-tyme he thoȝte a-yen
Alle þys ne was butte fantayne.
Then sawe he where þe palys-yate
Stode wyde open, and in þer-atte
He rodde, and downe frome hys horse he lyghte,
For ferther ryde he ne myghte.
And when he of hys hors lyghte,
Hym thoghte he sawe moche lyghte
Off torches and off ffyre also.
In-to the halle wente he thoo,
Fayre clothes he sawe þer layde
Thorowe þe halle on euery syde.
Off brede and wyne he sawe grette plente,
Off mete there lacked no maner of deynte.
He sawe stonde on þe cuppe-borde
Cuppes of golde for any lorde,
Sponys of golde and of Syluer also.
“Nowe, lorde,” sayde he, “what may I do?
For ded I am ney for honger.”
Also he had moche wonder
To se of Ryches so grette plente,
And no man on lyfe butte he.
Forthe thorowe þe halle walked he
The palys wyth-In forþe for to See.
When he was þorowe þe halle gon,
He sawe be-fore hym ryghte a-non
A towre of marbelle ryghte fayre þer stode;
The yates of Iron were fulle goode.
Vppon̄ the towre then̄ loked he.
“O lorde,” he sayde, “what may thys be?”
Stylle he stode, and hyt be-helde,
In what wyse hyt was bylde.
Then was hyt a castelle stronge.
A-bowte þe walle fulle brode and longe
A dyche þer was of water clere.
The brygge there-ouer was fulle nere
An c ffote, I trowe, of lenghe;

Hyt wolle be drawe wyth lytelle strenghte.
The fayre towne he sawe a-ffore
Hys grette bewte had I-lore.
Thys place was wonder fayre to se.
Than þoȝte thys chylde Partonope
Þys place shulde be goode Resone
Be chyffe palys of the towne.
And to hym-selfe sayde he:
“Whatte [ys] ther-In I shalle se.”
In atte the gate he made a loppe;
Thys was the sothe, hyt [was] wyde ope,
Hys herte wexe lyghte as leffe on lynde,
For he supposeth ther-In to fynde
Men I-nowe hym to dysporte,
And wyth mete hym to comforte.
In-to the halle vp wente he,
A ryghte goode fyre þer myghte he see.
The halle also fulle ryally
Wythe golden cloþes and attaby
Was hongyd fulle welle, wyth-owten dowte,
Off ryghte grette heyghte rownde a-bowte.
Off o þynge meruelyd grettely he:
Man ne chylde cowde he non see.
He sawe þer laye boþe cloþe and borde,
Þoȝe hyt had ben a-fore a lorde,
That sethe þe tyme þat he was borne
So fayre sawe he neuer be-fforne.
Than þoȝte þys chylde: “What may þys be?
Thys ys deuyllys werke,” seyde he.
And as he stode þus in thys thoghte,
A-none be-fore hym were I-broghte
A peyre of bassennys fayre I-curyd,
Off ffyne golde ryghte welle pured.
Alle thys be-helde Partonope.
Vn-to hym-selfe þys sayde he:
“These bassennys curyd þat I see,
For sothe be resone þynketh me
Ther-of to wasshe hyt arne broghte.”

And to wasshe was he be-thoghte.
He wasshed hys hondes ryghte a-none.
To soper þoȝte he for to gone,
As he þat was for wery honger
Loste, for sothe, hyt was no wonder.
Whan he hys hondes wasshe hadde,
He sawe no wyghte þat ones hym bade
To soper sytte in no place.
Þen thoȝte he, be Goddys grace,
To soper sytte þen he wolde.
A-none hym-selfe wyth herte bolde
A-myddes þe benche downe he sette.
The borde a-none, wyth-owte lette,
Be-fore hym lay ryghte well a-rayed.
Off þys syghte he was dysmayed
So ryalle seruyse for to see,
And no man on lyfe þer butte he.
Ryghte a-none, when he was sette,
Mete grette plente þer was fette.
Torches be-fore þe mete In come,
Off lyghte ther was full mykel wone.
Torches of broche by-fore hym stode,
Cuppys of golde wyth wyne fulle goode,
For sothe hym to yete ryghte welle.
Butte yette he was a-ferde sum delle.
A-bowte þe halle faste loked he,
On grette meruayle he myghte see:
He sawe þe bordes in þe halle,
Welle I-coveryd bothe grette and smale;
Fulle of mete stode euery borde.
But thorowe þe halle ther was no worde,
For man ne woman sawe he none
In þe place but he allone.
Butte neuer the later, so seythe þe boke,
To hys mete ffresshely he toke;
And for sothe hyt ys no wonder,
For þer-to droffe hym very honger.
And when he had yete ryghte welle,

Fayne wolde he haue dronke hys fylle.
Alle-thoȝe he had grette thruste,
For sothe drynke he ne druste:
For in drynke, he seyde, be resone
Myghte welle be herberowed poysone.
For alle þat he sawe wyth hys eye,
Hym þoȝte hyt was but fantasye.
Cuppys of golde be-fore hym stode
Wyth dyuerse wynes, and þat fulle goode,
And wyth þat well to drynke for soþe hym luste,
For he was Inly sore a-thruste.
A-pon þe ryghte syde of þe dese
He sawe serued a ryalle messe,
As thoȝe a quene þer had bene;
And þat was ryghte well a-sene,
For hyt was seruyd in hey deuyse
Wyth metes and drynkes in dyuerse wyse.
Partonope hyt faste can be-holde,
He sawe þe vessell were all of golde.
A-monges þes vessell he sawe wyne stode
In a ryche cuppe þat was fulle goode.
Thys cuppe was of safer ffyne,
Hyt moste nedes showe well wyne.
Þe couacle was of Rube redde,
Thys chylde þer-of toke grette hede.
Wyth-In hym-selfe he gan to þynke
Off þat cuppe he wolde drynke.
Ther-to þoȝte hym he had a skylle,
For the ssafer for sothe ne wylle
Suffer in hym no poysone to a-byde.
“For soþe,” he thoȝte, “what euer me tyde
Ther-of I wolle drynke a draghte.”
And wyth hys honde þe cuppe he rawghte.
To hys mowthe he gan hyt sette,
Hym þoȝte þey were ryghte well I-mette.
There he dranke wyne full goode,
Hym þoȝte hyt comforte welle hys blode.

And when he had dronke þys drawghte,
To hys mete ffresshely he rawghte,
And to hym goode comforte toke,
Thys seyethe my auctor, þe ffrenshe boke.
Sythe he had dronke of þys cuppe,
He þoȝte he myghte þe Safer sowpe;
For thys was hys Opynion,
That cuppe wolle holde no poyson.
And he sowpethe alle in ese,
And maketh hym-selfe welle at ese.
When he had so sowped all hys wylle,
And of þe cuppe dronke hys ffylle,
Than hym luste no more to sowpe.
Vppe goþe þe mete and eke þe cuppe,
The clothe vp-drawe, þe towayle layde.
A-non ryghte in a lytelle brayde
He wasshe hys hondes, and vppe he stode.
Than gan chaunge alle hys blode,
He loked a-bowte, he myghte þer see
Off torches and lyghte grette plente,
Butte man on lyfe sawe he none.
“Lorde,” sayde he, “what may I done?
I not,” he sayde, “what me ys beste.
But he þat made bothe Este and weste,
Safe me, yeff hyt be hys wylle,
In thys myschyffe þat I ne spylle.”
And when he had all þys I-þoȝte,
“Be Gode,” he sayde, “þat me hath wroȝte,
I wolle as ny as euer I can
Take herte to me, and be a man.
And what so euer me be-tyde,
Whyther so þat thys lyghte me gyde,
After I wolle, what euer be beste,
For sone ys tyme to go to reste.”
And so after wyth-In a lytell whyle,
I trowe þe mowntans of a myle,
To chamber the torches toke þe waye.
Than thoȝte the chylde: “Now, by my ffaye,

Folowe I wolle, what so be-tyde.
Gode of heuen, be nowe my gyde!”
When he was come in-to þe chamber,
The walles were as bryghte as ambere.
A bed þer-In ther henge fulle ffyne,
Hyt was honged be goode engyne.
The Couertowre was of Ermone goode.
Thys chylde be-helde, and stylle stode,
And sayde: “Lorde, what may thys be?”
And faste a-bowte he gan to See.
He blessyd hym thryes wyth goode entente.
Þen sayde he: “Lorde Omnipotente,
Þat haste me saued alle thys waye,
Be nowe my helpe, lorde, I þe praye;
For I wot neuer what to do,
Yeffe thy grace go nowe me ffro.”
He gan fulle faste loke a-bowte,
Howe he myghte do he had grette dowte.
Then In þe chymneye he sawe a ffyre,
And to þe ffyre he drewe hym nere,
Þe ryall fyre and þe bed he gan be-holde,
Cloþes he sawe fulle mony a ffolde
Off golde fulle ryche, hyt ys no drede.
The grette ryche[s] ys nowe no nede
Me to deuyse, ne hyt to telle,
Hyt were full longe for me to dwelle.
Owte of þe chamber þe lyghte forth yede,
Then gan þys chylde haue mykell drede,
And þoȝte: “Allas, what may I do,
Nowe þys lyghte ys gonne me fro?”
A Shete of raynes full fayre I-sprade
Vppon a forme ryghte by þe bedde
He sawe, and downe þer-on hym sette,
And þoȝte he wolde wyth-owte lette
Make hym redy. What shulde he do?
He þoȝte he wolde to bedde go.
Hys Spores a-none were of I-take,
No lenger þoȝte he for to wake.
Off gowne, of hosen, of gon hys shone;
In-to þe bedde he yede a-none;

Þe cloþes to hym fulle softe he drowe.
I trowe of fere he had I-nowe,
For þen he sawe þe chamber all derke,
He þoȝte thys was a wonder werke.
For fere he dryste not ryghte well slepe,
He was In better poynte to wepe.

Thys lay he stylle all in a traunse;
He was a-ferde of some myschaunse
Shulde hym be-falle or hyt was daye.
And as he was In thys a-ffraye,
And hys herte fulle nere quappynge,
In þe flore he herde comynge
A þynge fulle softely what euer hyt were,
Where-off fully he gan to fere.
Meruayle he had what hyt myghte be.
“Allas þe tyme,” then sayde he,
“That euer I was of woman bore,
For welle I wotte I am butte lore.”
Vnder þe cloþys he can hym hyde,
And drow hym to þe beddys syde,
Weny[n]g hyt had ben sum euylle þynge
That he herde in þe flore comynge.
And þen hyt was, wyth-owten drede,
A yonge mayde, ho so luste to rede
The story in frenshe, þer shalle he se
She was a laydy of grette degre,
That homely to hyr owne bedde come.
And wyth hyr hondes vppe she nome
The cloþys alle, and In dyd crepe,
For þer she wolde, she þoȝte, slepe.
Whether she were fayre or ellys no,
Nere þe chylde she dressyd here tho.
Stylle sho lay, and no-þynge sayde,
A grette whyle after þat she was layde;
For she ne herde ne felte no-þynge
Off Partonope þat was so yenge.
Fulle stylle he lay and durste not stere,
Hys herte was so fulle of ffere,
For he ne wyste what þynge hyt was.
Me þynkethe he stode in a wonder case:

In bedde they be thes to yonge,
They neyther to other sayde no-þynge.
The ton̄ dar not for very fere,
Þe tother for shame can no chere.
A-shamed she ys for wommanhede,
Thynkenge þat she haþe in here bedde
A lusty man, and she I-wys
Wettynge welle a mayde she ys,
Here maydenhode so yonge for to lese,
Supposyng welle she may not chese,
As she þat had in soche plyghte
Here-selfe broghte; for alle here delyte
And all here plesaunce was hym to haue
To here husbande, and so to saue
Here worshyppe; for fully þys was her þoȝte.
Off alle þe worlde no-þynge she Roghte,
Off kyn, ne ffrynde, ne creature,
But þynkyng howe sho myghte endure
Euer of hym to haue plesauns;
For she wyth-owten varyauns
Purposyd euer to ben hys.
What say ye loueres, was hyt not thys
A gentylle herte of here þys was,
Off hyghe borne, and in suche case
Had broȝte here-selfe in blame and balawnce,
That here honowre lay in suche chaunse?
But here-after she fownde hym vntrewe.
Alle here lyffe she myghte welle rewe
Vppon hyr-selfe, and eche man haue rowthe,
That euer so fayre on for here trowþe
Falssely shulde deseyued be
Off here lofe in eny degre.
Butte atte þys tyme I wolle no more
Speke of þys mater, ne trete be-fore
Off parellys after þat may be-falle.
But to þat lady I clepe and calle
That Venus ys called, goddas of loue,
Þat in heuen sytteste a-boue,

Brynge þys lady to here desyre,
Þat haste so sore sette on ffyre
In here serues þys her trowbell herte,
Þat she here-after fele no smerte
For here trowþe, ne for here kyndenes.
Alle nyghte þus In grette dystresse
Lyethe þys goodely lady ffre.
For alle þys worlde not not she
In what wyse she myghte beste
Be acquontede wyth here geste,
Wyth here loue þat was so dere.
Ofte þer-fore she chawngeth chere,
And In here-selfe thynkethe thys:
“Yeffe I make hym chere, I-wysse,
I am a-ferde leste he wolle wene,
And here-efter of me deme
Other-wyse þen godely were,
Thys ys alle my moste ffere,
And falle here-after in Ielosye,
And parauenture þynke þat I
Off a-nother wolle be wonne
As lyghtely, and þen were be-gonne
An endeles sorowe for euer-moo,
Then were my Ioye for euer goo.”
Thus laye þys lady arguynge
In here-selfe and sore fferynge,
Prayinge Gode of hys grace
To be here conselle In þys case.
Thus caste she perellys, and In grette fere
Lyethe alle nyghte, and I dar swere
On the toder syde Partonope
Ys so a-ferde þat trewly he
Wenethe fully for to be dedde.
He can no concelle ne no redde,
But lyethe as stylle as any stone.
He not to home to make hys mone,
But wenythe hyt were Illusione

Off þe deuylle and of conivrysone,
Dar he not speke In no wyse.
Lette se nowe ho can beste deuyse
Þes tweyne to make a-quentyd to be.
For sothe I dar welle seye þat she
For shamefaste dar noȝte saye,
The toder weneth for to dye.

Off alle þys fere make we a fyne.
Þe ffrenshe boke fulle welle In Ryme
Tellethe hyt shortely, and noȝte in prose.
Ther-fore fully I me purpose
After myn auctor to make an ende.
Thy[s] fayre lady þat was so hende,
Streyghte forþe here legge, and happed to ffele,
Trewly þe ffrenshe boke seyeth þe hele
Off þys wofulle Partonope.
“Owte! allas þen!” sayde [s]he,
And In a maner gan to crye,
For sothe I wolle not lye,
Myne auctor seyethe hyt was not lowde.
Hyt semed welle for soþe she cowde
Mykelle goode, and þer-fore she
Spake fulle softe, for þer shulde be
No grette a-ffray, ne no sterynge.
She þoȝte þys mater In to brynge
That here worshyppe sauyd were,
For þat euer was here moste ffere.
As In anger tho she sayde thys:
“Owte of my bedde, thow mester man,
Hye þe faste, and þat a-none!
Hoo may þou be? what doste þou here?
Hyt were better for þe þou were
An hunderd thowsande myle henne.
For and hyt were wyste of my men,
Thowe sholde not skape, þou shuldeste be dedde.
Hey þe faste owte of my bedde.
For and I crey and make a-ffray,
Or yeffe þou ly stylle tylle hyt be daye,
Haddeste thowe an honderde mennes lyves,

Thowe shuldeste ben alle to-hewe wyth knyves.
Hey þe faste þat þou were hennes!
Ey mayde Mary! of what contre or whennes
Arte þou come so boldely
In-to thys contre? I telle þe I
Am quene and lady of þys londe.
How dorste þou euer take on honde
In-to bedde onus thy ffote to sette
Wyth-owte my leve? Fulle euelle mette
Shalte þou be or to-morowe nonne;
For þou shalte se þan fulle sone
Thowe shalte wyth ffeterys be harde knytte,
And depe þrowe downe In-to a pytte,
Where þou shalte neuer þy hondes see
As longe on lyve as þowe shalte be.
Allas, allas! betrayed I am
Of a comelynge straunge, a stronge man.”

Thys yonge man, þys Partonope,
A-ffrayde he was, but yet was he
Comforted well in oo þynge.
He wyste welle, wyth-owte lesynge
Hyt was ne deuelle ne no ffynde
For he herde her haue in mynde
Crystes moder, the mayden Mary.
And be þat worde he gan a-spy
Hyt was a woman, what euer she were,
But of o thynge he was to lere
Whether she were wydo, mayden, or wyffe.
But glade was he þat of hys lyffe
He howpethe fully to be in swerte,
For he wyste welle syker þat she
Was of so hye kynrede borne,
Alle-þo she had spoke be-fforne
Wordes of malys and cruelte,
Yette fully trusteth and howpeth he
That he shalle haue of hyr fulle grace.
And þer-wyth-alle he þynketh to enbrace
Thys ffayre lady in hys armes too.
Then he be-thoȝte hym, and I do soo,
I notte þer-of what harme myghte falle.

And ryghte a-non þer-wyth-alle
He gan to Syghe fulle pytuosly:
“Medame,” he sayde, “I axe mercy
Off yow þat arne so mercyable,
For I wolle make to yow no ffabelle,
Butte telle yow playnely my desece,
In howpe yowre wrathe to a-pese
And stoppe alle yowre malencoly.
Thys ys þe soþe, medame, þat I
Happed to chase a wylde beste
Yender in Arderne, þat huge foreste.
A bore hyt was, I wolle not ly,
After hym so faste I ganne to hy,
Tylle derke nyghte felle vppon̄ me;
And þen I myghte no lenger see
Thys wylde borre forth to chase.
And þen I þoȝte to chese a place
Where-In þat I myghte be
Herberowed; an hy vppon a tre
I me sette for very ffere,
For I sawe alle a-bowte me where
Wylde bestes fulle þyke layen.
I was fulle Sore a-ferde to dyen
Alle þat nyghte, tylle hyt was daye.
And In þe mornynge for soþe I saye
A shyppe rydynge in þe see.
Thyder þoȝte to hye me,
And [when] I to þe shyppe kame,
Off þe fayrenes grette kepe I name,
And þer I howped refresshyd to be.
Theder-In þerfore I hyed me
Wyth myne hakeney in my honde.
And þus, medame, in-to thys londe
I am come and in-to þys cyte,
Where-of ye clayme lady to be,
And in-to bedde wyth-owten leve.
Ther-fore I pray yowe noȝte to greue.
For alle þys day in þe towne
I haue go both vppe and downe.

Man ne chylde cowde I non see;
And þus my-selfe I herborowed me;
Where-fore, my lady, mercy I cry.
For truly, medame, þoȝe I shulde dy,
And I shulde departe yowe fro,
I notte to home ne wheder to go.
I knowe no cuntre fer ne nere,
And þus I am yowre presonere.
Blessyd be fortune þat wyth hys whele
Hath alle my sorowe turned to wele,
For þer I wende wyth wylde beste
Haue be deuowred in yon fforeste,
Haþe me sende in-to yowre honde,
Þat arne chyffe lady of alle þys londe,
To be my lady and my gyde.
What euer ye wolle þat me be-tyde,
I wolle þe same, what euer hyt be,
My dere lady, haue mercy on me.”

“SIr,” sayde þys lady, “I haue not to do
Off þyne ese ne of þyne woo,
Butte faste I bydde þe hey þe henne.
For wytte ryghte well þat I haue men
Þat wolle a-raye the fulle Ille,
And þer-fore wyth þy goode wylle
I conselle þe faste hens to gone.
Wette ryghte welle I am not allone.”
“MAdame,” he sayde, “hyt ys no skylle,
Ne resone neyþer, but by yowre wylle,
That euer I shulde here he[r]borowde be,
Saue onely þorowe yowre benygnite
And yowre gracius homanhede,
Where-of I truste ye wolle take hede.”

“Syr, hyt nedythe no man yowe teche
Off fantesy ne of ffayre speche,”
Sayde thys lady. “I fele ryghte welle,
Butte alle þys helpeth þe neuer a delle,
For þoȝe þowe were as worthy a knyghte
As euer was moste worthy, be nyghte
I haue knyghtes faste me be-syde

That shulle a-bate alle thy pryde.”

“MAdame,” sayde Partonope,
“Gode for-bede þat euer shulde be
In me founde suche a-vyse,
Ye myghte welle saye I were to nyse,
Yowe to showen dysdayne or pryde.
For I woll neuer be but glade to a-byde
And stonde to yowre ordynaunce,
And what euer so be my happe or chawnce,
Þoȝe yowre knyghtes shulde me slene,
I wolle no ferther, I may not flene.
I say for me I wolle not ryse.
I can not þynke In what wyse
I myghte owte of þys chamber passe.
I putte me holy in yowre grace.”

“Syr,” she sayde, “ryse vppe a-none,
And I my-selfe woll wyth þe gone,
And to þe dore I wolle þe lede.
Thy[s] ys my conselle and my rede.
Yeffe of my conselle ye geffe no forse,
To-morowe ye shulle wyth wylde horse
Be alle to-drawe as sone as daye,
Thys ys fulle sothe, wyth-owten nay.”

“MEdame,” he sayde, “truly,
I may not go, I am so wery,
Ther-fore yowre mercy euer I crye.
And yeff so be þat I shalle dye,
And wyth my dethe I may yowe plese,
Thys ys to me a ryghte grette ese.
For yeff ye woll I drawe be
Wyth hors and honged on a tre,
Rather þen we de-parte a-twyn̄,
I geffe yowe lefe wyth-owte syn̄
Thys to sle me, so Gode me saue,
Recke I not yowre mercy to haue.”

Thys yonge man, thys Partonope,
What more to sey wotte not he
But suffer hys payne pacyently,
In truste, in howpe to haue her mercy.

He syked softely, he lyethe fulle stylle,
As he þat dar not say owte hys wylle.
When thys lady þys sykynge herde,
Here herte wyth-in her body fferde
Lyke as þe leffe dothe on a tre,
When hyt ys blowe, as þou may see,
Wyth hydowesse wynde and tempaste grette.
Here body was colde, yette dyd she swete;
Hyt semed as þowe hyt had be
Travelyd wyth þat in-ffyrmyte
That ffefer ys cleped, or else þe agwe.
She gan her repente and also rewe
Off thys desese þat sho had do
To þe chylde; sho þoȝte also
He was but yonge and tender of age,
Borne and broghte forþe of heye parage.
“Allas,” she þoȝte, “þe ylke nyghte and whyle
Þat euer I shulde hym so fowle revyle,
As þowe he were of no degre.”
In here herte she gan to haue pyte.
Faste vppon hym þe mastery take,
Sho þoȝte fully a-mendes to make.
And wyth þat she be-gan to wepe;
The ters ranne downe by here cheke.
Sho sobbed, she syked petuesly,
Sho porposed her to aske mercy
Off hym þat fayne wolde mercy haue.
Nowe me þynketh, so Gode me saue,
Sho owte of very homanhede
Off hys desese to take grette hede.
And so sho dyd, þys ys no naye;
For also syker as any daye,
Ther ys in erthe no-þynge so kynde
As be þys wymmen, ther as þey fynde
Here serwandes trewe and stydfaste.
Ther-fore þys lady at the laste
Þoȝte fulle on hym to haue pyte.

She haþe loste here wordes of cruelte,
And sykethe and wepyth tenderlye.
And þen a-none fulle softely,
Ther as sho fryste to hym warde laye,
On here ryghte syde, þys ys no naye,
Fro hym sho turned to þe lyfte syde.
So nye hym sho þoȝte sho nolde not abyde.
And þus sho lyethe as stylle as a stonne.
Then þoȝte þys chylde: “What shalle I done?
Sho ys turned a-way fro me.
I wolle here folowe, what euer Sho be.”
Fro hym he putte forthe hys honde.
He soghte faste, tylle þat he fonde
Thys yonge lady, I yowe ensewre.
But suche a-nother creature
He ffelte neuer of flesche and bonne,
And nere þys lady he gan to gonne.
Ouer here hys arme he gan to laye,
Thys ys soþe as I yowe saye.
So softe, so clene she was to fele
Þat where he was he wyste not welle.
Plesaunce had hym ouer-come
Þat all hys wyttes were fro hym nome.

Whan þys lady hys honde can fele,
Whatte to done sho wotte not welle;
But ferssely hys honde sho put a-gayne,
Turned her to hym warde, and sayde: “Lette ben!
Be warre,” sho sayde, “whatte woll ye do?”
Thys chylde no-þynge durste say þer-to
For very shame, but stylle he laye
Ney alle þe nyghte tylle on þe daye.
Thys laye þey stylle be on a-corde,
He durste not speke for alle þe worlde.
Thys lay þey stylle, tylle at þe laste
After hys lady he gan to graspe
Wyth hys honde full cowardely.
And forth wyth-all full faste bye
Thys ffayre lady he can hym laye.

For shame he durste no worde seye
Tylle longe and late, and atte þe laste
Hys arme ffreshely he ouer her caste,
And she hyt suffered pasyentlye.
Than sayde sho to hym full mekely:
“For þe loue of Gode, I praye yowe lette be.”
And wyth þat worde a-none ganne he
In hys armes her faste to hym brase.
And fulle softely þen sho sayde: “Allas!”
And her legges sho gan to knytte,
And wyth hys knees he gan hem on-shote.
And þer-wyth-all she sayde: “Syr, mercy!”
He wolde not lefe ne be þer-by;
For of her wordes toke he no hede;
But þys a-way her maydenhede
Haþe he þen rafte, and geffe her hys.
Thus Entergamynyd they I-wys.
Suche game a-fore he neuer a-sayde.
Thys yonge lady was alle dysmayde
Off her-selfe, for trewly she
In suche a plyȝte had neuer erste be.
Thus haþe she sufferyd, sho seyeth ryȝte noȝte,
Butte lyethe fulle stylle alle in a thoȝte,
Tylle atte þe laste, wyth voyse full basse,
Twyes she sayde: “Allas, allas,
That I am sore and also wery!
For, syr, I telle yowe truly,
Had I had strenghte or ells myghte,
I dar welle say In all þys fflyghte
Ye shulde not haue had þat now ye haue.
But welle I wotte, so Gode me safe,
Myne a-mendes ys all I-made.”
And wyth þat worde she wox all sadde,
And tenderly she gan to wepe.
“My sorowe,” sho sayde, “ys not to seke.”
Þat worde herde Partonope.
“My dere herte,” þen sayde he,
“Be not heuy, ne be not wrothe,
For I wolle make to yow an wothe,

As sore as euer ye wolle me charge.
Þoȝe I were ryghte nowe at large,
As I am yowre presonere,
I wolle be bothe ferre and nere

[OMITTED] Off mony a semely manne they me tolde,
Off knyghtes þat were in batayle full bolde,
Off mony on fulle of gentylnes.
Butte for to speke of more or lesse,
They that in Fraunce haue be,
Toke grette hede in euery degre
Wyche beste shulde be for my prowe.
Than had they moste Ioye of yowe.
Þey tolde me they had fownde
A man, to seche þe worlde so rownde,
Suche a-nother myghte nonne be
Fownde ther-In in alle degre.
Semely he was and also yonge,
And cosyn he was vn-to þe kynge,
Broghte forþe and borne of hey degre.
Hys name [they sayde] ys Partonope.
Off yowe they tolde so grette goodenesse,
Off hey bewte so grette noblesse,
Of curtesy so grette abondans,
Þat þorowe alle þe remme of Fraunce
Off gentylnes ye bere þe pryse,
As off yowre age also ryghte wyse.

Thys was proclaymed þe hey renowne
Off yowre manhode þorowe euery towne.
Of yowre hey worshyppe when I hyt herde,
Trewly, my Ioye, myn herte fferde
As [thoȝe] hyt hadde ffully be
For euer rauesshyd [awey] fro me.
And gode of loue þer-wyth a-none
So sharpely shotte hys fyre flone
Thorowte myne ere in-to myne herte
Þat In no wyse I myghte a-sterte
To yowe onely for to obeye me
To loue yowe beste in alle degre.
Þen porposyd I me a-none
Þat In-to Fraunce I wolde gon
To haue knowlage of yowre persone,
And thus my-selfe all a-lone
Shope me for to passe þe see.
Wyth me þer were [but] maydenes iij.
And streyghte in-to Normande
Ouer the see, not for to lye,
I Sayled, and ryued atte a porte,
Wyche hauen [ys] I-named Tresporte.
Frome thens streyghte in-to Fraunce
I yede to see the Ordynaunce
Off þe kynge and of hys mayne.
And ther I sawe, my loue, howe ye
Were moste playinge wyth þe kynge.
Hyt semed well he louyd yowe a-bofe all þynge;

Alle þat ye dyd was hys a-corde,
Ye were be-louyd wyth alle þe worlde.
There sawe I yowe ffryste, my nowne Ioye.
Heuy I was to departe yowe ffro.
xv dayes I sogernyd ther;
And þat tyme myne herte dyd lere
A-boue alle other to loue yowe beste.
And streyghte fro thens to þe fforeste
Off Arderne þe kynge shope hym to come
To chasse þe boore, as he was wonne.
Alle thys dyd I þorowe my crafte,
Tylle I hadde yowe frome hym rafte.
The boore I made so faste to ffle,
For I wyste welle, my loue, þat ye
Wyth cruelle herte ye wolde hym chasse.
And so ye dyd, tylle in suche place
He yowe broghte, tylle ye ne wyste
Where þat ye were in þat fforeste.
Thys borre all day chassed ye,
Tylle nyghte ffylle on, ye myghte not se.
And on the morowe, when hyt was daye,
I made yowe se a shyppe fulle gaye
By an anker rydynge on the see.
Alle þys was made by crafte of me.
Thys crafte I dyd, yette more I can.
In alle þys tyme sawe [me] no man,
Ne noghte shalle vn-to þe daye
Þat I be weddyd, þys ys no naye.

Where-fore, my loue, I yowe praye
That ye neuer here-after þynke ne saye
That I shulde euer to hasty bee
To loue lyghtely, in no degre,
To parforme any other hys plesyre,
Alle-thowe I suffer yowre desyre.
For when ye enteryd in-to thys cyte,
I had ordeyned, my loue, þat ye
Shulde haue byn herberyd at yowre ese.
For alle þynge þat myghte yowe plese,
As ferforthe as Gode sende me wytte,
I hadde fully ordeyned hyt
In a palys fulle delectabelle—
Leuythe hyt well, þys ys no ffabelle—
Ther I had ordayned ye shulde haue be
Seruyd worchypfully for yowre degre,
Tylle I had holde my parlemente,
And alle my lordes, be on a-sente,
Hadden fully a-cordette be
That ye shulde haue wedded me.
And I þoȝte be on a-corde
Ye shulde haue be my souerayne lorde.
In-to a palys, þat ys large and wyde,
I sawe yowe enter, and þer-In a-byde
Wolde ye notte; but In þe palys
Þat pryncipalle was, a-pon þe deyse,
Homely ye sate, my nowne swete.

There sawe I yowe bothe drynke and ete.
And after þat, when þat ye luste,
To a chamber ye wente to haue yowre reste.
Ye spared not In-to my bedde
Homely to gonne, alle on-ledde.
On-ware of me I fynde yowe here.
Ryghte welcome be ye, my herte dere,
My hertes Ioy, myn erthely make.
In euylle I pray yowe ye ne take
Thoȝe I suffer yowr plesauns.
I se þat hyt ys the ordynauns
Off gode of loue, howe sore me smerte.
Hyt was me shape or then my serke.”

“MI dere lady,” sayde Partonope,
“By yowre wordes I fele þat ye
Haue byseed yowe bothe ferre and nere
Off myne astate besely for to enquere.
By yowre wordes I fele ryghte welle
Ye knowe my conselle euery delle,
Wheder hyt haþe ben wysdome oþer foly.
Ther-fore wyth alle my herte nowe I
Thanke yowe, my nowne herte dere,
Off thys plesauns þat I had here.
Where-fore I pray yow euer þat ye
Wolle þynke þat I shalle euer be
Trewe to yowe wyth-owten varyans,

And euer-more gladde to do yowe plesauns
A-bofe alle other creature;
Thys I am redy yowe to ensewre
By othe or bonde, or in whatte wyse
Yowre gentylle herte can beste deuyse.
Welle I wotte I am yowe dere,
Sethe ye haue chose me to be yowre ffere.
Ne trewly I can not þynke þat ye
Wolle euer in any wyse be
Wonne lyghtely frome me in any wyse,
Suche thoȝte in me shalle neuer ryse.
Ne In yowre herte lette no ffoly
Brynge to yowre mynde þat Ielosy
Shulde euer suche a master be
Þat I shulde þynke, my lady, þat ye
In yowre herte cowde be vntrewe,
Or lyghtely chaunge [me] for a newe.
For welle I wotte here be-fore
I haue drad Ielosy, butte [n]euer-more
Efter thys day haue hym in mynde
Þat ffals traytore þat ofte reste vnkynde,
That loueres made vnstydfaste
Tylle here loues, tyll at þe laste
Here grette loue was broghte to hate,
And after þat for euer debate.

And alle hys crafte ys but fals ymagynacion
Off þat was neuer put in exsecucione;
As ofte tyme a man shalle dreme a þynge
Þat ys in-possibell, and yet in slepynge
He shalle wene hyt myghte be ryghte well,
And þat hyt were as soþe as þe gospelle.
Thys case felle onus in thys same londe
Off a man þat bare hys wyffe on honde
Þat he was Cokoolde, and sho was to hym vntrewe,
For euery day þat he wolde loue a newe.
Yette cowde he neuer put þys þynge in preve.
Þat he was cokoolde, hyt was hys fulle be-leve,
And euer hys wyffe wepte and sayde naye.
The sely woman was In grette affraye,
And he so sore ymagened of þys thynge
That on a nyghte, as he lay slepynge,
Ielosy þoȝte he wolde make hym a-fferde.
He þoȝte he sawe hys neyȝbore drawe owte hys swerde,
And fulle hys scawbarte he þoȝte þat he pyssed.
When he had don, where he be-come he nyste.
Owte of hys slepe woddely he a-woke,
For-ferde of Ielosy all hys body quoke.
“Owte, allas!” sayde he, “þat I was boore!
Nowe hyt ys worse þen euer hyt was be-fore.
For welle I wotte be myne ymaginacion
The dede ys done and put in exsecucion.
My dreme haþe showed me by expereauns
He þat pyssed he[re]in my presauns
In my scawbarde, he haþe don þe dede.”
And þus Ielosy haþe quytte þe fole hys mede.
And þerfore putte Ielosy owte of mynde;
For In þat case ye shalle me neuer ffynde,
Þat euer mystrustye shalle I to yowe be.
And do þe same, whylle þat ye lyffe, to me;
And þen shalle owre hertes stonde in reste,
And eche of vs shalle welle oþer truste.

But yff I yowe louyd, for soþe I were vnkynde.
To do my plesauns euer redy I yowe ffynde.
Ther-to so softe, so fayre shape ye be,
Þat and hyt lyke yowe I myghte yowe onus see,
Ye shulde þer-wyth do me so hey plesauns,
Hyt shulde neuer passe owte of my remem brauns.”

“MI swete loue,” sayde þys lady fre,
“Ye shalle not fayle no nyghte to haue me
Redy to parforme yowre hertes desyre.
In kyssynge, in felynge, and in all þat may be plesyre,
To yowe, my herte, I wolle euer redy be;
Safe onely syghte desyre þat noghte of me,
Tylle tyme come, wyche ys neyder fer ne nere
Butte too yere hen and euen̄ halfe a yere.
Thys shalle to yowe be no hevy a-bydynge.
Off me ye shalle haue playe, speche, and ffelynge,
Howndes [and] hawkes ye shalle haue eke I-nowe,
Mules and stedes also to bere yowe
Bothe in foreste and eke also In ryvere,
Where euer ye luste, ferre or else nere.
Clothes of sylke ye shalle haue goode and fyne,
Fyshe and fflesshe, goode bredde and eke goode wyne,
Fayre townes and castelles to hell In your hede,
And euery nyghte a fayre and a softe bedde,

And me þer-In redy yowe to comforte,
Wyth alle my herte to make yowe dysporte.
Other company gete ye non but me
Off no man ne woman̄, tyll þese yeres be
Passed and gon̄ and fully broghte to ende.
And be þat tyme þynge þat ys nowe blynde,
Shalle be to yowe ryghte opon I-nowe.
Ye shall se all folke, and all folke shall se yowe.
Be consell of my kynges ye shalle þen se
I shall be wedded vn-to yowe, Partonope.
In thys mene whyle hyt shalle so ordenyte be
Þys loue be-twyn vs shall be kepte preve.
Be then shalle all þe londe be [on] a-corde
Assente ye shalle be my souerayne lorde.
[Thynkyth not this tyme shall be to longe;]
Þys ys þe acorde be-twyn my lordes and me,
Þat alle þys tyme sene shalle ye not be,
Tylle I haue chosen suche on þat lyketh me.
Nowe haue I chose soche on as me luste to haue.
Alle þys dydde I for yowe, so Gode me safe.
Þe order of knyghtehode in þys tyme shall ye take,
Þe pepull may yowe þen in no wyse for-sake.
Hyt shall on yowe þen be so semely a syghte
Þat þorowe þe worlde þey cowde not chese a knyghte

A more a-beller to be here gouernowre,
Þoȝe þey wolde haue here lorde an Emperowre.
Off Ectorys blode ye be þat worthy knyghte,
Where euer [he were] In batelle or in fyghte
Off knyghte-hode euer he bare þe pryse a-waye.
Ye know thys wylle, hyt may neuer be sayde nay.
Alle-way he louyde cheualrye.
Þys was on cause, my dere herte, þat I
Chesse yowe to be my lorde and eke my loue,
Þys ys trowþe be Gode þat syttethe a-bofe.
And sethe ye be come of gentylle blode,
Off Ector of Troye, þat sette no pryse be goode,
Butte sette hys loue euer in knyghte-hode,
Loke ye sewe forþe þat no-belle blode,
And sette yowre herte euer in cheualry.
Loke In yowre persone fayle no curtesy,
And be lowly to smale as welle as to grete,
Þat men mowe say þat passe by þe strete:
“Loo, yender goþe the welle of gentylnes.”
Þus shall ye bere the name of hey nobles.
Thys þorowe þe londe of yowe shalle ryse a fame,
Þat þorowe þe worlde Enhaunsed shall be your name,
Wyche shalle be so hey a Ioye to me
Þat I may þonke Gode þat I may see

Þat ylke daye þat y was so full of grace
Þat I be-sette my loue In so goode a place,
To se my loue þe worthyeste of þe worlde.
And goode, sw[e]te herte, beþe nowe of myn a-corde,
And be not heuy, thowe ye may notte se
As yet my persone; for trewly hyt shall not be
Here after-warde owre bothes beste.
Lette no soche þoȝtes reve yowe of your reste,
And loke here-after ye neuer desyrious be
Be crafte of Nygromansy to haue þe syghte of me,
Vn-to þe tyme þe day be come and goo
Þat we mowe openly showe vs bothe too.
For yeff ye do, trewly ye shalle be dedde.
Ye mowe not scape, to ley a lasse wedde,
And I shulde lese my name for euer-moo.
My goode, dere herte, loke ye do neuer Soo.
Alle soche fantasyes, for Goddys loue, lette be;
A-bofe all þynge haue mercy, my swete loue, on me!

MI fayre loue, my goode, swete herte dere,
Off my persone haue ye no ffere.
Demythe me not to be an euell þynge
That shulde be crafte yowre sowle In synne brynge,
Hytte to departe frome heuen blysse.”
And wyth þat worde she can hym kysse,
Wyth wepynge, and sayde: “For soþe I am

Borne and broghte for-þe a trewe crysten woman,
And my lefe ys fully In Crystes lore,
And euer haþe ben sethe I was bore.
Truste hyt well, my dere loue, I woll not lye,
I truste I[n] Cryste þat was borne of Marye,
Þat boghte vs frome hell wyth hys presious blodde.
I aske of yowe, my herte, neuer more goode
Butte for hys loue þat ye wolle loue me beste.
Þan may I þynke my herte ys sette atte reste.
For ye shalle neuer wytte me do any þynge
To Ihesu Cryste þat shulde be dysplesynge;
Þat ys euer and shalle be myne entente
Fully to kepe hys commawndemente.
I Pray yowe, loue, þat ye woll do þe same.
A-boue alle þynge I loue Ihesu name.
Off alle þe worlde he ys lorde and syre;
He made erthe, water, Eyre, and ffyre.
He ys maker of euery creature;
He made man euen after hys ffygure.”

Whan sho had sayde, þus onswered Partonope:
“I am ryghte gladde þat I may knowe and see
Þat ye truste and loue Gode almyghte.
But sory I am I may not haue þe syghte
Off yowe þat ben my souereyn lady dere.
I shalle fulle longe þynke on þys ij. yere
And other halfe. Howe shall I þus endure?

Lette me yowe se, and I yowe ensvre.”—
“Speketh not of syghte, let all þes wordes be.
I pray yowe fully ye woll haue mercy on me,
And byse yowe all-way myne honowre to saue,
And saue your-selfe, þat ye no harme haue.”
Partonope ys nowe faste falle on slepe.
Hys fayre lady than takethe on hym grette kepe,
And kyssethe hym swete, and þynketh fully þat sho
In other heuen kepte neuer for to be.
Offte sho was In porpose hym to wake
To haue more plesauns of hym þat ys her make.
Wyth hym to play was all her moste delyte.
Yette alle her luste sho woll putte In respyte.
She þoȝte grette trauayle all þat nyȝte had he;
Hym to wake, hyt had ben grette pyte.
Stylle sho lay, tylle hyt was opyn daye,
That she myghte, In bedde as sho laye,
Se þe sonne he[r] bemus sprede In so bryghte
Þat all þe chamber was laughynge lyghte.
Thys Partonope owte of hys slepe a-woke.
As he caste vp hys ey, sodenly he gan loke
Alle a-bowte þe chamber; he sey so gret a lyghte,
Alle þe dayes of hys lyffe he seye neuer soche a syghte.
Grette Ioye had he of þys chamber, as he myghte welle.
Butte yette was þer on þynge þat lyked hym no delle:
He loked after hys lady þat he louyd soo.

Hys lokynge seruyde hym not, for sho ys frome hym goo,
That felethe thys wofulle Partonope.
“Allas,” he sayde, “what may thys be?
My Ioye ys gonne, whyder I ne wotte,
And what to do for soþe I notte.”
And soþe to sey and not to lye,
Vppon þe bedde he caste hys eye,
And seye þe chamber so ryche a-rayed
Þat off þe bewte he was Dysmayed.
He mervelythe grettely of þe bryghtnes.
And þer-wyth he be-gynnethe hym-selfe to dresse
Owte of hys bedde, þys ys no dowte.
And as he loked thys a-bowte,
Vppon þe bedde he seye where laye
A gowne alle newe, þys ys no naye.
He þoȝte þat þys [noble] garmente
Was layde there to þat entente
Þat he shulde hyt on hym do,
And, shorte tale to make, he dyd so.
And when he hadde hyt on hys backe,
In the gowne fownde he no lacke.
For to hym hyt was as welle I-shape
As thowe þe mesure had ben I-take
For hym verely off Porpose.
And þer-wyth-alle a-non he rosse.
Hosen and shone a-none he fonde ther
A-rayde for hym in þe beste manere.
Whan he was redy and a-rayed,
Off hys newe cloþes he was welle payde.

Owte of the chamber he þoȝte to goo.
Then Soudenly was broghte hym too
A newer of water and a bassyne,
Bothe hyt were of golde fulle ffyne,
A towelle þer-wyth of Parys werke.
Thys seruyse was to hym full derke,
For man ne chylde cowde he non See.
He wysshe hys hondes, and owte yede he
Off þys chamber, þat was so gaye,
In-to þe halle, and þer he Saye
The bordes coueryd wyth cloþes fyne.
Hyt was made redy for he shulde dyne.
Than þys yonge Partonope þoȝte:
“Alle thys a-raye ys for me broghte.”
A-myddes þe benche downe he hym sette,
Þer was no wyghte hym for to lette.
Off mete and drynke had he plente,
Þus seyethe þe boke, þer lacked no deynte.
Off on þynge he was heuy and sadde:
Þer sayde to hym no man ‘be gladde,’
Ne bade hym ne mery be and blythe.
He sawe no-þynge þat euer bare lyve.
When he had dyned, he þoȝte tho:
“Alle þys day whatte may I do?”
And streyghte he rose vp fro þe deyse;
And þorowe þe halle and downe by þe gryse
In-to þe cowrte streyghte yede he.

He loked a-bowte, he cowde not se
Off hys wery and lene hakeney
That he þer lafte yesterdaye.
He loked a-bowte, and faste be-helde
Þys castelle ryalle, howe hyt was bylde.
And as he ceste hys eye a-bowte,
He sawe where stode, wyth-owten dowte,
A Corser þat was bothe fayre and able
For any kynge, þat streyghte owte of þe stabelle
Was broghte for he shulde on hym ryde.
He was a-ferde hym for to be-stryde,
Or for to lepe vppon̄ hys backe,
Be-cause þat he was so blacke.
Some euelle thynge he wende hyt had be,
And stylle stante thys Partonope,
And off þys courser toke grette kepe,
And atte þe laste vppon hym lepe.
Nowe ys yonge Partonope
Vppon̄ hors-backe, and streyghte rydethe he
Thorowte þe cowrte ryghte to þe gate.
When he was þer, he þoȝte alle-gate
That fayre towre he wolde See.
Fro horsebacke lyghtely lepythe he.
Vppe þorowe þe towre he goþe wyth-alle.
He lafte not tylle he was on þe walle,
There as he myghte se rownde a-bowte,
The castelle wyth-In, þe cyte wyth-owte.
Towarde þe sonne þan lokethe he.

Alle þe coste was notte but see,
Thorowe wyche he sawe be resone
By shyppe come marchandyse in-to þe towne,
Cloþes of golde and Spycery
Frome Alysaunder and fro Surry,
Clowys, macys, and Galyngale,
Off suger and canelle full mony a bale,
Off medecynes boþe more and lesse
To hele folke of here Sekenes.
On þe toder syde þen loked he:
A Ml Erberys þer myghte he see
Þat longen to þe Cyteȝines of þe towne,
There myghte he se hem walke vp and downe.
Ther-to he sawe so mony gardynes,
And by þe [see-]syde no-þynge but vynes.
On þe thryde quarter gan he loke
Off þe castelle, as seyethe þe boke,
Þat ys of ffrenshe, wyche ys myn auctor.
Ther as he loked ouer þe towre,
As fferre as euer he myghte see,
Hyt was butte corne alle þe cont[r]e,
And medowe wyth gras so well I-growe,
And euyn redy for to mowe.
On þe iiij quarter of þe castelle
He lokethe owte, and vysethe hym welle.
Many fayre syghtes sawe he there,
Hem shalle I telle and ye wolle here:
Ther sawe he þe haven large and wyde.

A Ml shyppes þer-on myghte ryde
Saffe I-nowe for any tempaste,
Thus tellethe me þe ffrenshe geste.
Ouer thys hauen þen sawe he
A brygge of stonne and not of tre,
Wyth towres and cornellys so well I-made,
On them to loke hys herte dyd glade.
Atte þe ende of þe brygge in þe contre
A castelle all Newe þer myghte he se
So welle I-towred, so large a-bowte,
Ther-In myghte herborowe, wyth-owten dowte,
Mony a knyghte and mony a squyer,
A kynge hym þoȝte wyth alle hys power.
He myȝte see no-þynge x myle a brede
Butte alle was corne and grene mede;
Off lenghe hyt was mony a myle.
Þys towre be-helde he a ryghte grette whyle.
Be-ende all þys was huge fforeste,
No-þynge þer but brydde and beste.
Thys yonge man alle þys be-helde,
The towne, þe castelle, so well I-bylde,
Þe See, þe vynes, þe gardynes large,
The haven so fulle of shyppe and barge,
Off corne, of mede so grette plente.
He þoȝte þys was a delectabell contre.
Thys droffe he fforþe wyth ffayre syghte
The longe day, tylle hyt was nyghte.

Downe fro þe towre now þynkethe he goo.
When he was downe, þer founde he þo
The fayre corser þat was so blacke.
And streyghte he lepethe vppon hys backe,
And rydeth forthe to þe halle dore,
There as he fownde þys hors be-fore.
Frome hors he lepeth wyth-owten moo;
In-to þe halle þen doþe he goo,
That was cheffe of þe palys.
There as þe fyre was a-fore þe deyse,
In a cheyer homely he hym sette.
Whatte he wolde haue, a-none was fette.
And þus he warmethe hym by þe fyre,
Tylle tyme was to goo vn-to sopere.
And when hys soper was redy dyghte,
He ryseth a-none ryghte,
And sette hym euen a-myddes þe deyse,
And sowpethe alle in goode pesse.
Ther was no wyghte þer-of hym lette,
Ne atte hys soper hym onus grette.
And thus he sowpethe atte goode leysere.
When he had done, streyghte vn-to þe ffyre
He gothe, and warmethe hym atte þe beste,
Tylle hyt was tyme to go to reste.
And when tyme was to go to bedde,
Wyth torches he was thyder ledde,
In-to þe chamber þat was so bryghte.
In shorte tyme after voyded þe lyghte.

He made hym redy wyth-owte moo
Streyghte in-to þe bedde to goo.
And when he was in bedde layde,
Sone after, wyth-In a lytelle brayde,
Comethe hys ladye fayre and ffre.
Her In hys Armes þen takethe he,
And kyssethe her, and makethe her feste,
And wyth her doþe what euer hym leste.

Than seyde þys ladye, þys ys no naye:
“My loue,” quod sho, “howe haþe þys daye
Bynne spente, and In whatte manere?
Tellethe me nowe, myne owne herte dere.”—
‘Madame,” Sayde Partonope,
“I haue hyt spente in þys degre:
Ouer þe yate I haue be,
On þat grette towre, where I myghte see
The towne, þe castelle rownde a-bowte,
And alle þe contre, wyth-owten̄ dowte,
So plentuos of wyne and corne.
I sawe neuer suche a syghte be-forne.”

“Syr,” sayde þe lady, “þys is soþe.
As ffer as any man rydeth or goþe
Thorowe þe worlde þat ys so rownde,
So ffayre a place may neuer be ffownde
Þat haþe In hym so grette delyte,
And þer-to stante in so ffayre a syghte.
When ffryste I herde of yowe tydynge,

I lefte besynes of other þynge,
And made þys place so fresshe and gaye,
Thynkynge, my herte, þat ye yowre playe
Shulde haue þer-In and I also,
Wyth-owten knowlage of any moo.
And þer-fore nowe, my herte dere,
Sythe ye nowe haue ensured me here
Þat ye shulle neuer by crafte me see,
Yowre ensurawnce in no wyse breke ye,
But kepethe tenderly vn-to my daye,
Tylle eche of vs of other maye
Vn-grucchede of eny haue plesaunce;
Ellys myghte þer ffalle grette dystaunce
For euer be-twyn yowe and me,
Wyche Gode for-bede þat euer shulde be.
And þer-fore doþe fully by my rede;
Ye myghte fulle lyghtely ellys be dede,
And I shamed for euer-moo.
My goode swete, doþe neuer Soo;
Ye wolde, I trowe, holde me to blame.
Butte I tolde yowe the name
Off þe see and eke of þys castelle.
My loue, nowe vnderstonde me welle,
Thys grette see ys named Doyre,
The cyte ys called Chyffe De Oyre.

Thys Castell sette I in þys fayre syghte,
Þat we twayne myghte haue delyte
For euer In thys lusty place;
Ther-to I pray Gode sende vs grace.
Here, In þe dyche, for soþe I haue,
Þat ys harde rocke, fulle mony a cave
Hewed and made by goode engyne,
On caue þat ys alle of marbryne,
Where-In on hyghte Hernelus
Dwelled, þat had to hys spowse
One Betyryce, wyche was hys wyffe,
Þat broghte hym forþe in here lyffe
.v. ssonnys, and alle had order of knyghte.
Bolde and harde þey were in ffyghte.
When þe gallyottys on þe See
Hadde robbyd marchandes, þen wolde he
Owte off fyghte wyth hem gonne.
Off hem he toke fulle mony onne,
And In-to presone made hem dye,
And toke fro hem Robbery.
So of þys see the name ys Doyre,
The castelle hate Chyffe De Oyre,
Thatt ys y-bylte wyth mane towre.
And, my leue, my name ys Meliowre.
And leuyd Ryȝth welle, þer ys no thynge
Thatt ys or may be ynne [my] kepynge,
Redy ytte schalle euer vnto yow be,
Yff ȝe ordeyne no crafte to see

My person by-fore the assyngned day.”
Partonope answeryd and sayde: “Nay,
In me ther schalle neuer be fownd [such] fowly.
Trewly, my lady, y hade leuer dye.”—
“Speke we no more of thus matere,”
Sey[d]e thus lady, “butt tellyth me where
To-morewe ye wylle desporte yowe
Wyth howndys or hawkys. Tellyth me nowe,
Wylle ȝe to Reuer or to wode goo?
Ye mowe now chese of bothe too.
Yff ȝe wylle to the wode gonne,
Affter dyner to yow anone
An horn ther schalle to yow be broghte.
Thowe a man hadde Parys sogthte,
Sucche an horn cowde no man fynde.
Loke ye leue ytte noȝth be-hynde.
And whenne ye be the medowys passyd,
Sette horn to mowthe, an blowe ytt faste.
Be-fore yow ȝe schalle see anone
Rennynge howndys fulle many wone,
Fayre grayhowndes and grete lymores.
And yeffe ye luste to see Reueres,
In a chamber here be-hynde
I schalle yow bryngge ther ȝe schalle fynde
Sacrys, lanard[s], Tarcellys gentylle,
Gerfawkones, ffawkonys, thatt fleyth so hye

In-to the skye thatt Ioye ys to see.
Of alle these dysportes now chese ye.”—
“Madame,” he sayde, “me luste beste
To-morewe to hunte yn the foreste.”—
“Nowe, sere,” sche sayde, “do as ye luste.”
And there-wyth-alle sche hym kyste,
And [sone] affter they fylle onne slepe,
Wat they dydde more toke y no kepe.
In bedde thay laye, thus ys no naye,
Tylle onne the morewe light daye
Into the chamber yeff sucche a lyȝthte
Thatt welle to ryse see he mygthte.
Vppe he rose, for ytte was tyme.
He made hym redy for to dyne.
Wanne he hadde dynyd, he toke the horne,
Thatt onne the walle henge hym be-forne,
Lepte vppe on hys hors, and rydyth faste
Tylle he was alle the medawys paste.
He blewe hys horn, thus ys no dowte;
He was welle herde ij myle abowte.
Whenne he hadde blowe, thenne myght he see
[M]ywtes of howndes come nygheynge nere,
Copelud wyth sulke and noȝth wyth here.
Lemers to hym thenne come lepynge,
They where as soffte as eny selke,
And ther-to whyte as eny mylke.

Into the foreste he rydythe apase;
Anone fownde alle ffreschely the trace,
Off a passyng wylde bore.
Thys Partonope, wyth-owte more,
Vnkowpelyd hys howndes, and taketh in lesse
These fayre lemers, and thay not sesee
Alle the howndes to seke the foreste,
Tylle fownde ys the wylde beste.
Now ys the wylde bore fownde.
The howndes to hym now Rennyth fulle rownde,
The grete as welle as do the leste.
The crye to here yt were a feste
For an emperowr an for a lorde.
So hole they Renne by one acorde
To thys bore, thus ys no naye,
So ffresche thay Renne alle the daye,
Tylle he ganne wery, thus ys no dowte,
They broghte [hym] so faste abowte.
Atte the laste thus wylde beste
For-sakethe clene the thycke foreste.
Vnto the lande drawyth he,
There as stode Partonope
Wythe the lemers ynne hys lesse.
He lette hem slyppe, and faste they presse
To-ward the beste; and þat seyth he.
Wythe alle hys myȝthe he gynnyth flee.
Hys flyȝthte may hym serue of nowȝthte;

For ynne sucche pleyte thay haue hem broȝthte,
He myȝthte noȝth couer yn-to hys denne.
Ther-to he was so wery off Renne,
He myȝhte no ferther, thys ys no naye.
Stylle he standythe, and bydythe the baye.
There-to come anone fulle Rownde
Alle the racches, and down to grownde
They haue hym drawe wyth grete stryffe,
And thus the bore [hath] loste hys lyffe.
Wat dothe thenne Partonope?
Hys swerde anone drawyth owte he,
And alle to-brekyth the wylde beste,
And wyth yt makyth hys howndes a feste.
Be than alle thys thynge was done,
Hytte was hye tyme to drawe home,
There as he thoȝthte to haue hys Reste.
He bare noȝth wyth hym off thus beste;
Hys hors he toke, and onne hym lepe,
More of hys howndes toke he no kepe,
Saue ij lemers, thus ys no naye,
Wyth hym he toke, and Rode hys waye,
That onne dayly he myȝthte dysporte.
For tylle nyȝthte come hadde he no sporte.
Nowe Rydyth he strawȝte to the castelle,
Where as he fownde alle thyng Ryȝth welle,
Hys soper redy and welle y-made.

He sopyd freschely and makeȝth hym gladde.
From soper Rysyth Partonope,
And ynne-to Chamber thenne gothe he,
Weder thatt the torches streyȝth hym ledde.
He makyth hym redy and gothe to bedde,
Where as he fyndyth fayre Meliowre,
Thatt ys chefe lady of the towre,
Wyche thatt he ffeynte euer ynne O pleyte.
For here Ioye and here delyte
Ys hym to make Ioye and playe.
That ffeynte he bothe nyȝth and daye.
Nowe may thys man grete Ioye make,
That loue hath sende hym sucche a make
That he may bathe ynne so hye a blysse.
Alle nyȝthte they leye and clyppe and kysse,
And she hym tellyth nobel storyes,
Offe loue of knyȝthode olde victoryes.
Hym to dysporte faste besyeth sche.
Alas, thus story schendyth me.
For alle my loue canne y haue noȝthte
Butte cawse of care and sorow and thoȝthte.
Now wolde God hytte myȝth be soo
Thatt sche loued me as y here doo.

Partonope stonde in blessed plyte,
For of hys lady he hathe hys delyte.
He lackyth no-thyng of here grace,
And y stonde euen in contraryys case.
He seyth here noȝth, but he hath leyser

To fele, to kysse, and to haue hys plesowr.
And y se my lady day be daye,
Here gracyous worth ys euer naye.
[I] Have the euyl and [he] the gode,
Where-fore me thynkyth myn herte-bloode
Fulle offte tyme away dothe mylte.
I fare thenne as y ne felte
Gode ner hylle, but lye ynne a trawnce.
Thys hathe ffortune caȝthte me ynne a chanse
Vppon hys dyce thatt neuer wylle turne.
Thus muste y euer yn wo soiorne.
Butte playnely excusyth me,
I am noȝth in thus in-firmyte.
God schelde me euer fro that mischaunce
To hoppe so ferre ynne loue-ys dawnce.
For y am comawndyt of my souereyne
Thys story to drawe fulle and playne,
Be-cawse yt was ful vnkowthe and lytel knowe,
Frome frenche ynne-to yngelysche, that beter nowe
Hyt myȝth be to euer-y wyȝthte.
There-fore y do alle my myȝthte
To saue my autor ynne sucche wyse
As he that mater luste devyse,
Where he makyth ynne grete compleynte
In frenche so fayre thatt yt to paynte
In Engelysche tunngge y saye for me
My wyttys alle to dullet bee.
He tellyth hys tale of sentament,
I vnder-stonde noȝth hys entent,
Ne wolle ne besy me to lere.
There-fore strayȝthte to the matere
I wylle go of Partonope.
Fulle xij mo[n]thys hathe he now be
In hert-ys Ioye fulle playnere,
One day to hunte, another to þe Reuere.
Thys hath he broȝth the ȝere to ȝende,

That canne remembraunce put hym in mynde
In wat pleyte he ys broȝthte ynne.
He hath for-ȝete alle hys kynne;
He thynckyth [on no-thyng] ferre ne nere,
Butt on howndes and hawkes for the reuere,
And onne hys lady fayre and bryȝthte,
Tylle ytte be-ffelle vppon a nyȝthte
Thatt ynne [the] mony the that was of Septembere
Thatt can he ffully hym remembre
Off Cleobolys, the gode [kyng] of France,
And off hys moder, that ynne grete dystawnce
And ynne werte stote of hys lyffe.
Hys dethe wyth euery man was Ryffe,
No man cowde speke of hys welefare.
There-fore he wote welle yn grete care
Stante hys moder ffor hys sake.
Where-fore he purposyth amendys to make,
Now thynckyth ynne hys hert Ryȝth hye:
“I wolle take leue to goo and see
My moder, the kynge my Emme alle-soo.”
There-wyth he makyth hym redy to goo
Straygthte to bedde, so ytte was Eue.
For there he thoȝthe to take hys leue.
In-to the bedde nowe goyth hee,
Where as he ffeynte hys lady ffre,
Redy to make hym gode chere.
Here lesson was not newe to lere.
Now be-gynnyth to speke Partonope

To hys lady: “Madame,” seyde hee,
“I praye yow thatt ȝe in no wyse greve
Off my wordys, for trewly of leue
I muste praye yow, thus ys no naye;
For ytte ys go fulle money a daye
Offe my fryndys thatt y ne herde.
I wolde ffayne wete howe they ferde.”—
“My nowne loue,” thenne sayde sche,
“Ye schalle haue gode leue of me;
And lokyth alle-way thatt ȝe be trewe
To me, and chancheth for no newe:
For Fraunce stonde in sucche plyte nowe,
Hytte [hath] ryȝthte grete nede of yow;
For kynge Cleobolys hathe loste hys lyffe;
In Fraunce ys not but werre and stryffe.
The power of Fraunce ys dyscumfyte.
And y schalle telle yow yn wate plyte
Yowr fader stande, for he ys dede.
Yowr moder leuyth, an canne no rede;
And Bloys stante thus wyth-owten dowte,
Hytte ys beseget Rownde abowte.
Drawe yow to armes and knygthode,
And loke there lacke ynne yow no manhode.
Loke ȝe be large and geuyth faste.
Where to haue goode be not agaste;
Ye schalle haue y-nowe of me.
And [yf] ye canne aspye ther be

Any worthy knygthtys thorow the londe,
In alle the haste loke that ye fownde,
There as they bene yn armes bolde,
Wyth gode y-now hem to wyth-holde.
Loke thatt ye be gentyll, lowly, and meke,
And geuyth to hem gode clothys eke.
Alle-so of speche beyth fayre and lowlyche
As wele to the pore as to the Reche.
Affter my cowncel loke thatt ye wyrke,
And louyth welle God and holy chyrche.
Ye mowe notte fayle of hye cheualrye,
Yff ȝe loue God and owr lady.
And o thyng, my loue, y praye yowe
That yn no wyse ye ne besy yow howe
By craffte of nygromansy me to see.
For yt wolle for yowr worse be.
Whenne ȝe haue y-broȝthte thus worke to a ȝende—
Ther-to sone yow Gode grace sende—
In Fraunce loke affter dwelle not ȝe,
Butte faste hye yow agayne to me.
Tylle ye be [at] Doyre loke ȝe not cesse
For yowr worchypp and myne ese.”—
“Medame,” sayde he, “thus gode lesson
Schalle y welle kepe and thys sermone.
Nor neuer for kunny[n]ge thatt here speke

Schalle y neuer my Couenaunte breke,
Ne yn no wyse besy me
Er the day sette yow to see.”
Nowe haue thay bothe lafte talkynge
And falle ynto grete thynchynge.
Thys lyyth Partonope tylle yt ys day,
Thenne he abowte hym se welle may
To ryde or go where so hym luste.
In bedde he thynckyth no lengger reste.
He rysyth vppe ynne grete haste,
An on hys Iorney hyythte hym faste.
He toke hys cowerser that was Coole blacke,
And lyȝthtely lepyth apon hys backe,
And takyth wyth hym hys lemers too;
Off meyne wyth hym taketh he no moo.
Hyt nedythte noȝth telle how he toke hys leve,
He dydde yt preuely ouer eve.
Off oder thyng takethe he no kepe,
Butte straygth he rydyth forthe to the [s]chyppe,
Wyche furste hym broȝthte to thatt Cetee.
Wyth-owten more there-in gothe he,
And takyth hys horse wyth hym in honde.
Wanne he was there-ynne he fownde
A bedde alle redy and clenly made,
Where-of he was Ryȝthte ynly gladde.
He made hym redy, and ynne dide crepe,
He hadde grete nede forto slepe.
Off thus fayre schyppe alle the mayne,

Off wyche he myȝthte noȝth on see,
Vppe drowe angker yn alle the haste.
The schyppe anone begynnyth sayle faste,
Thatt er thatt day was comen to ende—
The schyppe so saylythe afore the wynde—
He hadde alle passyd the grete see,
And ynne to Lyere was comyn hee,
Where as he muste nedys abyde;
He mygthte no ferther for thatt tyde.
The schyppe was grete, he myȝthte noȝth passe.
The water of Leyre alle-so was
Butte strayte, and eke yt was scholde.
There thay can faste owte folde
The gabelle, on wyche the anker was
Tyed, owte, and a grete pas
The grete anker they lette owte slyde,
Be wyche thys grete schyppe schulde Ryde.
The schyppemen alle bothe more and lesse
Owte of the schyppe the bote gan dresse
In-to the watere thatt hatythe Leyre.
[A bed] Thay hym dressyd welle and ffayre
In-to the bote, and yt was arayede
Wythe clennely clothys, and þer-in they leyde
Alle slepyng Partonope.
Off thus araye nothynge wyste he.
Thys was me thenketh a wonder reyse.
Whenne he woke, then faste be Bloyse
Aryved thus ȝonge Partonope,

Wyche he knewe [welle] for hys contre.
Wan he was landyd, then ganne he blyve
Hym loke abowte, butte thynge on lyve
Saue horse and grehowndys cowthe he non se,
Wyche he broȝthte wyth hym to the see.
The bote no lengger there wolde soiorne,
Butte to hys schyppe gan faste returne.
Butte ho was gyde kowde he nott see
Off thus bote, and stylle stode he
And thyncketh on Melioure, hys hert swete.
For pety of here the terys a-downne crepe
Owte off hys eyen down by hys cheke.
Hys hert tenderyd, and ganne to wepe,
And thynkethe sone to turne a-yenen
To se hys lady, hys hertes quene.
Here-to he prayythe God sende grace;
And onne hys Iorney he gynnyth to pace.
Off the Cuntre he nymmyȝthte grete garde,
And seyth where Bloys stante, and thedyrwarde
The way fulle preuely taketh he;
He wolde noght blythely aspyed be.
And as he nyed Bloys nere,
In the way he sawe [how and] where
Agayne hym come xii somerys,
Charged wythe golde and Ryche auerys.

The horse were blacke euery-chone,
Ryȝth fayre courserys; and wyth hem come
xij ȝonge men thatt hem dede lede,
Welle cladde yn sylke, wyth-owten drede.
Alle be-hynde there come a knyȝthte
Thatt was ther master, and thatt was Ryȝthte,
For he [had] Iarge of the message.
He was very whyte for age;
He was fulle semely, of stature longe;
In ȝowthe hytte semed he hadde bene stronge.
Wanne he hadde syȝthte of Partonope,
Hys message ynne thus wyse sayde he:
“Syr,” he sayde, “y saye yow gretynge
Fro [s]wyche onne thatt aboue alle thynge
Thatt Erthely ys, to yow hathe geffe
Here body, here herte, and alle here loue.
And as ye ben [here] herte swete,
Sche prayythe ye schulde not here for-gete.
Alle thys tresowre sche hathe yow sente,
And as to here loue, to thus entente
To mayntayne yowr warres, and that in armes
Ye schulde be worchyppfull, and of Charmes
Be Ryȝthte ware, that ȝe ne be
Wythe [hem] be-gyled.” Thenne seyde he
To thus knyȝthte: “God me defende
Here ynne sucche wyse to offende.”—

“Welle,” seyde thys knyȝthte, “yette haue I to saye
To yow yett more. Sche dothe praye
In armes and tur[n]ewmentys ye lusty to be,
In Iustys alle-so; butte lokythe thatt ȝe
Be ware thatt knyȝthte no man yow make.
Thatt dede wolle sche vppon here take
Thatt day thatt ȝe weddyd schulde bee.
Wythe yowr swerde anone wolle sche
Yow gyrde yn alle pepull syȝthte.
Sche schalle yow geue the worder of knyȝthte.
And kepe yow welle for God-ys sake
That by no Craffte Eny man yow make
To se yowr lady er tyme be.”
And wythe thatt worthe alle wepyng he
Turned hym and gothe hys waye.
These ȝonge men, thatt yn selke so gaye
Were clothyd, to hym they come anone
To take ther leue; for they muste goone
Wyth here master home agayne.
And then they seyde: “Syr, loke ȝe bene
Euer-more to yowre lady trewe,
Ellys yt wylle yow bothe rewe,
And thatt ȝe not to longe soIorne,
Butte to yowr lady sone returne.”
And wyth thatt worthe sodenly they be
Vanaschyd away, that trewly he

Wote neuer were thay bene [be]come.
To Bloys hathe he the waye nome.
A-ffore hym gothe thus xij somerys
Streyȝthte to the gate, where as the porterys
Stode to-gydere and sawe thus syȝthte,
And thanckyd hyely God alle-myȝthte.
They sawe the somerys Charged wyth Rycches.
The Castell stode ynne grete dystresse;
They thoȝth yt come by God-ys grase.
Inne they lette the somerys pace.
Sone affter came Partonope.
[And whan they aspyed hit was he,
And they myght redyly hym know,
Down on knees they gan falle low,
And welcomed hym with alle her hert.
And in alle hast one in ded stert,
And to the lady, his moder, saide he:
“Youre Son ys come, Partanope.”]
Sche gan to fraye of sodente,
Butte yette ynne haste vppe Rysyth sche,
And gothe here sone for to mete.
Whanne sche hym sawe, sche gynnythe to wepe
For very Ioye, and ther-wyth-alle
Here armes, thatt were long and smale,
Abowte hys necke sche dede leye.
Sche myȝthte for Ioye no worthe seye,

And kyssed hym wyth dedely chere.
Sche ferde as thow sche weste neuer where
Sche hadde bene, and ther-wyth downe
To grownde sche fylde onne a sownne.
And sone affter sche dydde awake
Owte off here sownynge, and gynnythte take
Here hert to here fully agayne.
And then sche seyde: “Where haue ȝe bene,
My dere sone, my Erthely Ioye,
Thatt neuer y hadde tokyn fro the,
Letter ne worthe thatt me myȝth ese,
To me thus hathe bene grette dyssese.
Kynge Cleobollys he ys dede,
Yowr fader alle-so; thus ys the threde
I stande, an am ynne grete dowte.
My neyȝthbowrys here rownde abowte
Haue Rebellyd and dysheryed me
Off fayre castellys no lesse thenne thre,
Thatt stonden here ynne the moresse
Rownde abowte the castel of Bloys.”

“Madame,” sayde thus Partonope,
“Bethe off gode comfort; y hope that ȝe
In schorte tyme schalle stonde yn ese.
Y knowe Ryȝthte welle alle yowr dyssese.
Butte dothe dyscharge alle thys somerys,
And sendyth abowte for knyȝtes and squyers.

I schalle noȝthte spare for no gyffte
Hem to wyth-holde by my thryffte
To saue yow yowr herytage,
And c. Mli y wolle welle wage.”
In alle the haste thenne dothe sche
Here letterys sende alle the Cuntre
[For knyght, yomen, and goode Squyer
A certeyn day to come to dyner.
Tydyng ranne thorow the contree]
Thatt home was comen Partonope.
The tythyngys to hys fryndys buthe gladde,
Hys Enmyys ther-off no Ioye made.
Whenne the cheualrye of the Cuntre
Herde saye thatt Partonope
In very trowthe was come home,
Faste to hym warde they gynne gone.
He hym reseuyd wythe goodely chere,
They be Ryȝth gladde to feynde hym there.
To thowsand knyȝthtys there he wyth-helde,
Thatt redy were to go to the fylde,
When thatt euere hym lesste to Ryde.
Partonope wolde no lenger abyde,
Butte to the stronge Castellys thre
The streyȝthte way anon wylle he.

[Short tale to make, this ys no lees,
The castellys, the Contree he sett in pees.
Wythoute more lette than Partanope
Streight to the kyng the way] taketh he
To a stronge Castell men callythe Pvntyfe.
There lyythe the kynge, thatt of hys lyffe
Ys fulle wery, thus ys no drede;
For he hathe nother Cownsel ne rede
Off kynne, off frynde, ne off hys lyggys.
There-fore ynne grete drede hys he.
And there ys a kynge hathe Agysor
Come in-to Fraunce, thatt as a bore
Or lyon or wolffe ys ravennous.
He scleyth, he rubbythe, he leuyth no howse
Vnbrente, saffe Castelle and wallyd townys.
He hathe wythe hym dyuerse nacionys
And grete Numbere of Cheualrye
Off Norway, of Glygland, of Orcanye,
Off Erlond, off Fresselond, of Denmarke,
Thatt fully destroyen alle thatt marche.
He hopyth fully to conquere Fraunce;
Agaynyste hym ther ys no resistaunce.
Another ys there a grete werrowre,
A kynge thatt ys namyd Surnegowre,

Yonge, hardy, manly yn fyȝthte,
And ther-to a passynge semely knyȝthte.
For and he hadde bene off Crystys lore,
I trowe men haue neuer by-fore
In Romaunce herd a worthyer kynge.
He loued knyȝthhode aboue alle thynge.
The kyng of Fraunce ys onne Pvntyfe.
Tydyng-ys he heryth of werre and stryffe
Thorowe alle Fraunce yn euery Cuntre.
In thus Castell wyth hym there be
Offe frenche an flemysche, as y wene,
Butte x Mli and there agaynys bene
An .c. Mli wyth kynge Surnegowre,
There-fore off Cheualrye he ys namyd folowre.
And alle thus heryth Partonope.
A-none to the kynge faste hyythe he,
And wythe hym brynggythe a ffayre mayne,
Fyffe Mli knyȝthtes, wyche thatt be
In armes fresche and welle arayde;
Here wagys he hathe hem welle payde.
Nowe tythynggyste of Partonope
To the kynge ys come, and gladde ys he,
And gothe agaynys hym owte of hys towre,
And reseuyd hym wyth grete honowre,
And hys desese tellyth in haste
To Partonope, and how sore agaste

He ys of kynge Sornagowre,
For he ys so stronge a werrowre.
He thynckyth thus lond to conquere.
“I may not slepe for sorowe and fere:
He brennyth and wastyth alle the londe,
I haue no power hym to wyth-stonde.”
Alle thus heryth Partonope.
He seyyth butte lytell, butte more thynckyth he.
Atte the laste he sayde to the kynge:
“Me mervelyth gretely off on thynge.
Why sende ȝe noȝthe for alle menne
Thatt to yowr Crowne lege bene?”—
“So haue y do,” thenne seyde the kynge.
“They wylle obbeye me nothynge.
Y canne ynne no wyse trewly see
Butt thatt they neyder holde me
For kynge, for souereyne, ne for no lorde.”
Partonope answeryd atte thatt worthe:
“Thenne sethen ytte wolle no beter be,
Pray God of helpe, and he wolle see
To hys seruand euer yn nede.
I canne no more butte thus I rede.”
The kynge now leuyth alle thys mater,
And streyȝthte gothe in to [hys] dyner,
And wyth hym takythe Partonope.
Ryȝth gladde of hym for sothe ys he.
Thys Pvntyfe ys a Castell Ryalle,

Closyd welle wyth Ryȝth a stronge walle,
Fulle of towres wyth-owten dowte.
A deche ryȝthe depe goythe Rownde abowte,
Fulle of water, and harde to wynne.
Ther-to the Castel ys wyth-ynne
Off men of armes stuffet welle.
Off warre vesture hyt lackethe neuer a delle.
Nowe hadde these hethen men in costome
Euery day armed ffreschely to come
To profere skermesche to thys castelle.
Thay spare noȝthte to come Ryȝthte to the walle.
And these were knyȝthtes of kynge Sornagowre,
Wyche off cheualrye bare the flowre,
Where-of he lafte hadde atte the Castelle of Chanarde
A Mli knyȝthtys and neuer a cowarde.
xxti Mli he lafte be-hynde
Wyth kynge Agysor soior[n]ynge.
No wonder ys thowe the kynge be
Off Fraunce aferde, for fewe folke hathe he.
There-fore he comawndyth ynne grete haste
The porterys to sparre the gatys faste,
Thatt ther schulde no man owte Isse,
Knyȝthte ne squyer, butte be hys avyse.
The Ethen wyth grete boste and cryynge
To the Castelle-gate for Scarmesynge
Eny day comen wyth grette pryde,
The Cuntre prayden yn euery syde.

Watte euer ther prayes where nette, schepe, or horse,
Thay sende alle to kynge Agysores.
Atte Chars lyethe kynge Sornegowre
As fers ynne batyl as eny bore
Thatt wylde ys, and lyythe ynne Denne.
He comawndythe sertayn of hys men
To Ryde to hys re[re]warde,
Thatt thay schulde geue hym in charge
To euery man in hys degree
Thatt they algate schulde be
Wythe hym atte synt Iames ffeste,
Thatt hathe Baptyste bothe moste and leste.
Thys was vppon wytsoneday
That kynge Sornegowre at Chars leye,
Hys Rennerys dyscoueryd the Cuntre,
There herde he fyrste of Partonope.
Wanne thatt tythyngys they ganne here,
Off Partonope thenne dydde they ffere.
The saryȝynys ganne here cowncell take,
And charged alle men they schulde make
Hem redy and arme hym faste,
For they wolde ryde yn alle haste.
A none x Mli redy were
Onne horse-backe armed wyth schelde and spere.
v. c. off these, as I rede,
Helden hole to-gyder wyth-owten drede.
The oder v. c. owte of araye
Ranne and pryckyd the Cuntre alle daye.

Thay rafte maney man hys lyffe.
Thay cesyd nott tylle thay where atte Pvntyffe.
Thorow the Contre thenne Rose the crye.
The frenchemen onne the castel onne hye,
Owte of the Cuntre herde grette afraye,
Whyth hym-sylfe hadde grette dysmaye.
The hethen luste notte to abyde here kynge,
The ffrenche men thay dradde no-thynge.
A-none as euer Partonope
Thys noyse heryth, watt dothe he
Faste butte armethe hym in alle haste?
And Comaw[n]dythe hys sowdyowres faste
They make hem redy, for he wolle Ryde,
He thynckyth no lenger for to abyde.
v. c. now on horse-backe [he hade]
Welle armed; and thenne hee bade
The porterys faste vndo the ȝate.
Butte he wolle lette no man passe ther-ate,
Tylle tyme thatt he the kynge muȝthte y-see
Redy to ryde and hys mayne.
The kyng ys armed and Redy to Ryde.
Affter hym ther wolle no man abyde.
Two Mli men alle redy he
Armed hadde, and thenne Partonope
Spake to the kyng ynne thus wyse:
[“Sir, I pray yow, lat me devyse]
Howe thatt ȝe gouernyd schalle be.
Kepythe to-gedyr alle yowr mayne,

And y schalle go affore and mete
Wyth these hethen; butte locke ȝe lete
None off yowr hoste fro yow goo.
Butte ȝyff ȝe se ytte stonde soo
Thatt of helpe y haue grete nede,
Me to Rescowe than faste ȝe spede.”

Now [of] the kynge Partonope
Hys leue takyth, and ffreschely Rydyth he
Ouer the brygge yn-to the fylde,
To hym war[d] comyng he be-helde
Freschely armed an hethen knyȝthte
Thatt hym asawylett wyth alle hys myȝthte.
Partonope pulleth owte hys swerde,
As he [that] was no-thynge aferde.
He gaffe the hethen knyȝth a dynte
Wythte hys swerde thatt neuer stynte,
Tylle cleuen was hede and helme anone,
Streyȝthte vnto the breste bone.
He ffelle downe dede yn alle here syȝthte.
Heldines hyȝth thus knyȝthte.
He was of grete reputacon
Amonge the hethen, for here gownfanon
He bare euer-more ynne Batayle.
Thus sayyth myn Autor wyth-owten fayle.
Thys hathe Heldynes harde y-hent
Off thus skarmosche the fyrste dent.
Partonope wolde noȝth sese
Off grete strokys, butte yn be-gynnythe to prese,

As he thatt was bothe hardy and bolde.
Sucche a stroke he gaffe Burnolde,
An hethen man, thatt alle myȝtht see.
The quarter wythe the harme he made flee
From the body in-to the fylde.
Sucche strokys men haue y-sen butte sylde.
Partonope cryed: “O Crysten men!
Leye onne faste, thatt the hethen
Neuer mowe thatt day se
Thatt we schulle of them be
Dyscumfyte, or ellys be wyth-drawe
Off sucche pepelle of false lawe.”
The hethen hertys gan faste colde
Be-cawse of Heldine and of Burnolde
Where so deden; for bothe too
Were gode knyȝthtys; and Partonope ther-to
So fersely leyyth onne rownde abowte;
Moche folke he sleythe of the hethen Rowte.
Amonge the hethen he so pressythe,
And of fyȝthtyng neuer sessythe.
He leyyth on the hethen soo
They mow nott chese, away the[e]y goo,
Alle blody and beten owte of the fyȝthte,
Thus buth thay thus day alle scumfyte;
A-way they flee an huge pace.
Partonope folewyth wythe the chase
Wythe alle hys power by hys syde.

There was sene he cowde beste ryde.
The hethen for fere ganne quake,
Partonope hathe hem ouer-take.
Now enter-mellyd aȝen they be.
The Crysten lyen onne, thatt hyt to see
Or here, hyt was, me thynkythte, grete Ioye.
Partonope thatt day dydde grete noye
To the saryȝynys; for trewly abyde
Durste they neuer not; for wonde[r] wyde
Dysparcled ynne the felde they bee.
Many an helme ther men myȝthte y-see
Alle to-clatered and scheldes schake.
The sarȝynes effte sone he ganne make
To leue ther grownde, and to flyȝthte
He putte hem alle; and ther a knyȝthte
Ho slowe, hose name was Farrees,
He sclowe as he rode thorow the presse.
He mette anoder hygth Maroes,
He sclow hym alle-so, thus ys no lese.
Owte of the presse nowe dothe he Ryde
Hym to brethe, butte there abyde
He wolle noȝth long, butte ynne agayne.
Thatt sawe the sarȝynes, and faste to flene
They ganne echone wyth-owten lette.
Amonge hem was on hygthte bele Sawrette,
A sarȝyne, a luste man, an a ȝonge.
He was Newoo vnto Surnegowre the kynge.

Welle horsyd and ffreschely armyd was hee.
Off hym toke kepe Partonope.
He spowrythe hys stede wyth alle hys myȝthte,
He thoȝthte thatt sarȝyne schulde alyȝthte.
And wyth grete haste wythe hym he mette,
And so sore hym wyth-sette,
The sarȝyne mowȝth yn no wyse chese.
Partonope made hym there to lese
Hys lyffe; ther-wyth Partonope
Lokythe abowte affter hys mayne,
And to hym drawyth a sowffte pace.
The hethen cryed alas alas,
Off hys dethe thay hadde grete pety.
“Watte manne hy[s] thus Partonope?”
They sayde alle, in Crystyante
Was nott sucche anoder as hee.
Partonope ys nowe wythe hys mayne.
Hem to-geder nowe draweth hee;
And dothe off hys helme hem to abrethe.
He loked be-hynde, and on a hethe
The kynge of Fraunce ther sawe he comynge
Wythe alle hys Oste, wyche was gode tythyngge
To alle the power of Partonope.
For nothyng lengger abyde wolde he.
Onne goythe the helme, forthe Rennythe the stede
Amonge alle the bodyys thatt there laye dede,
Tylle he was, wyth-owte lese,

Amyddes the sarȝynes yn alle the prese.
He leyyth abowte hym wyth hys brande.
Many an hethen there loste hys hande,
The armes fro the body clene
He made flee ynto the grene.
Whan the sarȝynes thus dyd see,
Alle atte ons thay gan [to] flee.
Amonges these [hethen] was a man,
A worthy [knyght], thatt hyght Lugan.
Wyth hym mette Partonope.
Hys hede anone he made flee
From the body ynto the fylde.
Many a sarȝyne hytte be-helde.
Off thus stroke they were aferde;
They cursed hym sore and eke hys swerde.
Partonope leyyth [onne] ynne euery syde.
Now gynnythe the hethen faste on hym Ryde,
And wyth fers hert hym to asayle.
Now at Erste be-gynnythe the Batayle.
Ther-wyth-alle comythe the kynge
Off Fraunce, and wythe hym alle prekynge
To Mli of hys lege men,
Thatt freschely the prees of the ethen
Wythe sturdy speres and swerdes [br]eke.
Onne grownde of the hethen falleth maney freke.

The ȝonge kynge hym-sylffe dothe fyȝthte,
Off hym ytte was a ryȝth gode syȝthte.
There bydeth notte onne, butte faste thay flee
To Chars, here Castel; and Partonope
Charchet hem streyȝthte to the castelle,
Where-ynne was many a sarȝyne felle,
Thatt to the gate faste Ranne.
A-none owte gothe the grete gunne.
There-wyth they made an huge shryche;
Partonope hurlythe hem in-to the deche.
The bowes of brake er bent ynne haste;
They bent here arowblastys and stones caste.
Partonope thatt day vnder hys schelde
xx hethen he hathe slayn yn the fylde.
Wythe thatt he hadde of money moo
Broken the armes and leggys a-twoo.
The frenche men thatt were leffte in Pvntyffe,
Felle sodenly yn grete stryffe.
And alle was for here abydynge,
Thatt they schulde leue be-hynde here kynge.
They armed hym yn grete haste,
And affter the kynge hyed faste.
Eche man schaped hym to gone;
And thus ys Pvntyffe leffte alone.
Whenne Surnegowr, the hethen kynge,

Herde the noyce and the cryinge
Off thus mayne, he armed hym faste,
An to the ȝate he ganne haste.
Whenne he to the baryerys come,
Hys stede freschely ther he nome.
He wente to haue an issue fre,
Butte of hys purpose lette was he.
The kynge off Fraunce was atte that Res,
And Partonope the erle of Bloys;
There was eke the kynge-ys oste.
Partonope hadde atte hys coste
v Mti men armed welle
Wyth helmes Burneschyd wyth bryȝthte style.
Thay schette the Barryers anone Ryȝthte,
Thatt the hethen hathe no myȝthte
Owte of the Castell forder to Isse.
There ȝede strokes fulle thycke y-wysse.
The ffrenche there wythe the hethen [dyd] fyȝthte,
Tylle aponne hym felle durke nyȝthte,
Thatt [n]onne off them myȝthte oder see.

The kynge comawndyd hys men lette be
Off thus skermysche and thus stryve,
And takethe the way to Pvntyffe.
The hethen takethe Surnegowre,
Here kynge, and streyȝthte in-to the towre—
For ytte was nyȝthte—thay hym ladde.
They conseld hym, and they hym redde
To kepe thatt castel yn saue garde,
Tylle he hadde alle hys reerwarde.

To Pvntyffe ys now reden the kynge;
And Partonope, bothe luste and ȝonge,
In thus Iornay hathe geten hym a name,
Thatt alle men be-gynne to proclame
Hys grete name and worthynys.
Ther-to there spake bothe more and lasse,
And seyden, sethen the worle be-ganne,
Was ther neuer bore a sucche a mane
Off manhode, of worthynys, of fredome and of lowlynys.
For so hym preysythe bothe more and lesse;
For he helde sucche opyn husholde
Thatt wellcome was ho euer come wolde.
And grete gyftys gaue he, and thatt was ofte,

Off clothes, off golde, and velavet soffte.
There-to so lowly [eke] was he
Notte onely to lordys butte to euery degre,
Thatt euery man of hym hadde Ioye;
They lekened hym to worthey Ector of Troye.
Thatt lady here loue cowde welle Chese
Thatte sucche onne chese, and cownde so plese
Alle the worle, and loued here beste;
Me thyncketh [here] herte stante ynne grete Reste.
Thys he ys spoken off thorow alle Fraunce,
Thatt of hys wytte and of hys gouernaunce
Kame neuer no sucche yn-to thatt Cuntre.
The pepele desyryd hym gretely to see,
And drewe to hym fro euery syde.
Knyȝthte ne squyer wolde non abyde,
Butte alle drew to Partonope.
Hem so godely thenne reseuyd he
Thatt gladde of hym ys euery wyȝthte.
He was so plesawnt yn here syȝthte
Thatt ther was neyder knyȝthte ne squyer
Thatt for hys loue or for hys favowrre
Throw-owte alle Frawnce was gladde to be
A-queyntyd wythe Partonope.
And tho thatt comythe he dothe wyth-holde
He yeuyth hem plenty of syluer and golde.

To plece hom alle he dothe hys myȝthte,
Hys worchyppe to saue, and eke the Ryȝthte
Off Fraunce and of hys lege lorde.
Fro maney partyes of the worlde
Moche pepele to hym ys comande,
Now a .c., now ij c., now a thosande.
To Fraunce was he a stronge poste;
[Day by day encresith the Ooste.
Or than a moneth was alle past]
Chyualrye to hym can dr[a]we faste,
Thatt there were numberyd in the fylde
An .c. Mli wythe spere and schylde.
The re[re]ward of kynge Surnegour
Ys now y-come, where-ynne the flowre
Ys herborewed of thus Chyualrye.
Where-fore anone he made do crye
Thatt they schulde alle y-armed bee
The nexte day, thatt he myȝthte y-see

Whatt pepele he hadde onne the fylde.
The herodes ther nummberyd wyth spere and schylde
ij hunderyd Mli wyth-owten alblasterys,
Wythe-owte gyldenys and archerys,
Were-of the numbere they cownde notte telle.
Sornegour the kynge, thatt was so felle,
Whenne alle these pepele he dyd see,
The kynge of Fraunce thenne manasyd he,
And sayde prowdely he wolde noȝthe fayle
To holde the fylde and geue hym batayle.
Partonope heryth alle thus;
And to hym comyng sodenly ys
Moche pepele of Loreyne and of Freslonde,
Wythe-owte letter of hym or [any] sonde,
The poytowys, the aunguys, the Gascon,
The frenche, the almayne, the Breton.
Moche pepele come of Pavy,
And alle-so owte of Lumbardy.

Be-twene these kynges wyth-owten fayle
Ys sette a day of Batayle,
Wyche ordinaunce, wyth-owten naye,
Shulde be holde apon a twysdaye,
Wyche yn olde tyme, I wolde noȝth lye,
The day of Batayle dothe synefye.
The kynge of Fraunce comaw[n]dythe by wrytte
Erche-byscoppes and Byschopys, and heyly hem bytte
To abbotys and priorys and eke to frerys
To come a prosescon and make here prayerys
For hym and alle hys cheualrye.
To do hys comawndement faste they hye.
Atte Chars schalle the Batayle be,
Where the hardy schalle make the coward flee.

Ytte was onne a twysday,
Whenne the sonne ys bemus fulle gaye
Schowed, wyche browȝthte forthe meny a flowr,
Kynge Agysowr and kynge Surnegowre,
Vnder the schadowe of a nappell tree,
Here cownsell helde yn alle degrees
Off here lordes and of here knyghthode,

100

And .c. knyȝthtys [that] of alle manhode
Where hyly cownted they hadde there,
Thatt kowde welle dele wythe schelde and spere.
They were as stylle as eny stone,
One worde ne spake of hem nott one.
Kynge Sornegowre hem faste be-helde:
“Lordynggys,” he sayde, “to-morewe the felde
We mutte holde and ȝeue Batayle
To the frenche, thys ys no fayle.
Ȝe buthe alle bothe ware and wyse.
Lete euery man seye now hys devyse
To sette owre Batayle in ordynaunce,
And se hoo schalle haue the gouernaunce
Off owre slyngges and of owre archerye.”
Firste spake Loemers in wordes hye.
Off Norway he was lord and kynge;
The Northwayys er atte hys ledynge.
“Ser,” he seyde, “hyt may nott fayle
To-morewe we schalle haue Batayle,

101

And wythe God-ys grace the victorye
Of here cheualrye, butte the frenche trewly
Encrese faste, and alle-so y seye
Moche pepull to hym gynnythe to obeye.
The frenche erne yn here own Cuntre,
And wythe hym ys one Partonope,
Thatt to seke the worl[d]e fur and nere
A worthyer may ther non be preuyed yn werre,
And of the frenche, y dar vndertake,
Beste; and alle-so he dothe make
Alle thus pepele agaynys vus to come.
They be nowe more streyngger thenne they were wone.
They haue more folke then have we,
And knowyth the Cuntre beter in eche degre.
The kynge hathe made vsse grete proferys
ij .c. to fylle of owre Cowferys
Wythe golde and syluer and grete Ryches,
Off mules of Spayne a Mli no lesse,
A Mli horse and XXti lyones,
A Mli gosse-hau-kys and a thowsand ffawconys.

102

And oder [that be] off owre concelle
Schulde be rewarded alle-so Ryȝth welle
Wythte cuppys of syluer and cuppys of goolde,
Onne thus conduscon wyth thatt we wolde
In-to owre cuntre faste returne,
And ynne Fraunce no lengger soiorne.
And yette thus profere yeffe ȝe haue mowe,
I cowncelle yow for hys crowne [nowe]
Ye stryue no more; lette hym ytte haue.
Thys ys my rede, so God me saue.”
When he hadde seyde, alle stylle they satte
A Ryȝthte grete whyle or any ys wytte
Owte wolde schewe or ytte declare.
Thatt sawe kynge Faburneys, and wolde noȝth spare
To telle ys wytte and hys aduyse.
He was Ryȝthte semely, and therto wyse,
And kynge he was of Glygland;
Money a Iorney toke he on hande.
“Syr,” he seyde, “dame Loemers
In armes ys bothe myȝthty and fers,

103

And welle hathe seyde towchyng yowr werre.
Butte welle ȝe wytte we arne come fro ferre
The crowne of thus land for to haue.
My rede ys there-fore, so God me saue,
Owre oste to-morewe redy bee
In the fylde, there yow may see

[_]

A lacuna of 60 lines occurs in the British Museum MS. After line 3152 the text is taken from the University College MS.

That [they] be sette in ordenaunce,
What euer falle after of happe or chaunce.
For we are ferre oute of oure Contree
Amonge oure enemys, this know ye.
Better were vs manly to dye
Than in tretyse trust her curtesy.”
His witte hath sayde kyng Faburnys.
There answerith kyng Marukenes.
Kyng he ys and lorde of Orkeney.
“I wole not spare,” quod he, “to say
My full reson and myne a-vyce.
Kyng Loemers ys bothe manly and wyse;
His counsaile may vs moche a-vaile.
Ye know wele that we haue grete trauayle,
And ferre are oute of oure Contre.
The french in a Castell restid be,
And beter are lerned of the werre

104

Thanne we that come so ferre;
And euery day they wex more stronge.
They haue the ryght and we the wronge.
To eschew fighting / or swiche dystresse
I consayle we take of her Rychesse,
And leve hem her contre / and nomore werre,
Sith we not mowe hem conquerre.”
Now hath this kyng sayde his a-vyce.
Hym answerid a kyng holden ryght wyse—
He hight Fursyn, kyng of Syre londe.
Many a vyage hathe he take on honde—
Seyng: “Kyng Marukyns hath wele sayde,
Saue of oo thyng I holde not me a-payde.
For thoght myn heers be woxen white,
I wole truly yet me acquyte
In this matere; for ye saide oo thing
That wysely hath Loemers thy kyng.
Of that wysedom canne I no skylle.
Yonge men a-dayes now echone wylle
Take vpon hem to be hye Counsellers,
And say that men with white herys
Dote and wote neuer what they mene.
But in the ende hit wole be seene.
And so to yonge men the olde are loothe.
I wote nevyr how this Counsayle gothe.
But whan the kyng was at home in his contre,

105

In peas and wele at ease was he.
Ye cowde not suffre hym to a-byde there,
He must gone oute algate and conquere.
And now ye counsayle hym to goone,
And say he shall haue with hym grete woone
Of horse, of golde, and of Rychesse,
Of lyons, fawkons, Goshawkes, and Mules.
The kyng of Fraunce myght none other do thenne,
For be-cavse he had no power of men.
Now his alleaunce and alle his kynne
With grete power to hym come ben.
They be now strenger of knyg[t]hode then we,
For alle his Ioye and comforte ys Partanope,
And now he wole not make suche profers.
I trowe he wole not one of his cofers
Opyn to gyffe vs of his Rychesse or goode.
Me thinketh he were than worse then woode.

[_]

The British Museum MS. continues here.

Off my Reson y wolle make a fyne.
A gode Reson seyde kynge Fabryne;
He sayde we werre yn the ronge;
There-fore be reson the lesse stronge

106

Schulde we be, sythte thay haue Ryȝthe.
For trewly me werre leuer fyȝthte
In Ryȝthte and for to haue lesse
Thenne in ronge to haue encresse.”
Kynge Fursyn hathe seyde and holde hys pese.
An Erle then spake woo-ys name ys Marres.
He was Cheffe Iustyce yn thatt Cuntre,
Moche lawe yn hys hede hadde he.
In hys Cownsell a-boue alle thyngge
Trusted moste Sornegowr the kynge.
“Syr,” he seyde, “herethe nowe my worde.
A noreis tolde yow thatt wyth-owten lorde
And gode gouernauns alle Fraunce stode.
There was none leffte of the Ryalle blode
Butte a chylde thatt was tendere of age.
He cownselyd yow men for to wage
To sette alle Fraunce yn grette werre,
Ye mowte noȝthte fayle hym to co[n]quere.
Butte he made yow a grete lesynge.

107

Ye knowe welle y-nowe the frenche kynge
Fulle manly gouernyd hym in werre,
And alle-so ther ys onne nowe come fro ferre
Thatt owte of Fraunce waste summe-tyme loste,
Wyche ys to hym Ryȝthte a grete poste.
Hys name ys clepyd Partonope.
So manly yn armes gouernyd ys he
Thatt alle the worlde begynnythe to hym drawe,
By yowr power he settyth noȝth an hawe.
Neuer the later y cownsel thatt yee
In the fylde euer redy be,
Welle arayed to [y]eve hym Batayle.
Paraventure hytt may yow gretely avayle.
For yff he se yow redy to fyȝthte,
He wolle paraventure anon Ryȝthte
Proffere yow gretely of hys tresowre.
Thus mowe ȝe wythe worchepp and honore
Escheue the harme of thys Batayle.
Thow hys proferys may lytell avayle,
And yff hym luste nothynge to proferre,

108

Ytte schalle y make hym to opene hys cofere.
Betyr hytt ys to wyrke by charme
Thenne to leve, and haue more harme.”
Thys ys playnely Marres ys conselle.
Ther-to acordythe the hethen Ryȝthte welle,
Saue kynge Fabowrys and kynge Fursyn
Thoȝth hys Cownsell was false engyne.
When Sornegour the kynge herde [t]hys conselle
Off Marres hys Iustyce, ytt was nott Ryȝthte welle
Plesynge to hym, ne to hys entente.
Yette for the tyme he dydde consente
To Marres cownsell; for hys corage
To lorde, to knyȝthte, yeman ne page,
He nolde dyscowuere, wythe-owten lese.
He sayd certayne he wolde haue pes
Wythe alle Fraunce to make a fyne
Off hys werre; and thenne the wyne
He axethe, and drynckethe wyth hem anone.
He comawndethe alle hys lordes echone
On the more thatt thay nott fayle

109

Hem to araye “to ȝeffe Batayle
To the frenche hem ryȝthte to the playne
Affore Chars, watte euer we sayne.
And [that] owre Batayll yn gode araye
Be sette in ordynaunce y yow praye.
Thenne be we redy for to fyȝthte
Yff nede be.” And thenne gode nyȝthte
He bade hys cownsell euery-chone;
For he wolde to hys reste gone.
He yede to bedde to haue hys reste;
Butte ȝette to slepe lytell hym leste.
For whenne he was a-bedde alone,
“Alas,” sayde he, “whatt may y done?
I am schamed, thus ys no lees,
And alle throw consel off Marres
And hys false cowardye.
He hadde made alle my mayny
Wythe-drawe here hertes and lothe to fyȝthte.”
Thus lyethe the kynge alle the nyȝthte,
Wepynge and waylynge and makynge woo.
“My worchypp for euer ys alle agoo,”
Seyde he, “and nowe I wote Ryȝthte welle

110

I haue harme hadde thorow hys Cownsell.
Ther-affter to werke y haue be gladde.
Off a Ryȝthte pore man y hym made
My Ieffe Justyce an eke an Erle,
There he was born a chorle.
Butte sethen [of] a chorle I turned the name
In-to an Erle, no wonder thow schame
In the ȝende be my rewarde,
Sethen he ys false and eke a cowarde
Preuyd alle-so, and a traytor felle.
Fro thys day forthe off consell
Schalle he be neuer, [ne] of thatt ys-state.
No wondere ys thow my men me hate.
For watte so euer he wolde haue do,
Thow ytte were ronge, ytte schulde be so.
I sufferyd hym [my] men to prisone,
And off a trew man to make a felone.
[And that he dyd me thought was lawe.]
There-fore me seythe an olde sawe:
He to home a man dothe tryste,

111

Euer may dyseue hym beste.
Hys bonde kyndrede y made fre,
And sette hem alle in hye degre,
And yff hym castell[es] and cetye[s],
And toke hem nexte me of alle my priueȝ.
Off no gentylle toke he no hede
To, butte alle to make ys owne kynrede
And hem in-hawnse to grette estate.
Thys hathe made my gentyl so mate,
And so wery offe here lyffe,
Thatt they be euer yn care and stryffe.
And fryste they loued me as ther kynge;
Nowe they hate me aboue alle thyncke.
Y may se ytte wele by here chere,
Alle-thow they kepe ytte ynne preuey manere.
For be thay payyd welle off ther wage,
For to fyȝthte haue they no corage.
Thay loue more ese and for to haue pes
Thanne myne honour; and thatt hathe Marres
Made wythe hys hyenys of pryde.
Gode ȝeue me grace O day to abyde

112

To saue my worchypp ynne thus viage!
And y schalle quyte hym so hys wage,
Thatt alle my knyȝthte-hode there-wyth schalle plese,
And alle here hertes sette ynne ese.”

Nowe lyethe he stylle, and sayythe no more
A ryȝthte grete whyle, butte wonder sore
He sekethe and wepethe tenderlye:
“Alas,” he sayde, “how maye I
Beste yn thys case my honor saue?
Wythe me ther ys neyder knyȝthte no knaue
Thatt ynne my quarelle leste to fyȝthte.
They seyne playnely y haue no Ryȝthte.
These wordes to me bethe heuy and harde.
For an y fyȝthte notte, a very cowarde
The ffrenche for euer wolle me holde.
I hadde leuer a thowsand folde
For to dye thenne for to be schamed.
For thow y seye [hyt] y haue be named
The worthyyste nowe onne lyffe.”
And [he] ther-wythe anone as blyve

113

Sende affter a clerke off hys cowncelle,
Wyche thatt he trusteth and loued welle.
“My frynde,” he sayde, “haste thow noȝthte herde
How Marres wythe myne Oste hathe ferde,
And how falsely he hathe me be-trayed,
And alle my power gretely dysmayed?”—
“Syr,” sayde thus clerke, “yowe noȝthte dysplese
Off thatt y schalle saye, hytte ys non lese.
Alle the worlde, so God me saue,
Grette mervayle hathe thatt thys knaue,
Thatt was the sone of a chorle,
Ye haue en-haunsed and made an Erle.
For thus ys sothe, wyth-owten naye,
He loued yow neuer an howre of a daye
Butte for hys vantage and hys prowe.
Thatt haue ye preued welle y-nowe.
For thus ys euer chorles kynde:
He thatt he dredythe, schalle hym fynde
Curteyse, esy, and debonowre,
Tylle thatt he may haue tyme and leysowr
Hys master to do summe fowle dyspyte;

114

Hys kendenes ther-wythe he wolle aquyte.
Thus hathe Marres quytte hym to yow,
And y schalle telle yow trewly howe:
He dothe yowr knyȝthte-hode to vnderstonde
Hytte ys yowr wylle they voyde thus londe,
For wythe the ffrenche ye wolle nott Batayle,
And thatt manhode yn yow dothe ffayle.
Lo, syr, wyche loue ye ynne hym fynde.
Sucche frendes were gode to leue be-hynde.
Whanne he hym purposethe to do fals thyngge,
Thys ys worde: thus wolle the kynge.
Alle the defawte he puttethe yn yow;
Thatt hatthe he playnely preued nowe.
Thus hathte he fa[l]ssely yow be-trayed.
Wythe hys wordes [he] hathe demayed
Alle yowr knyȝthtes and alle yowr oste.
By hys doyng ys alle yowr coste
Loste, as towchynge thys viage.
For euer[y] knaue and euer[y] page

115

Spare nott to speke, and sey thatt ȝe
Dar nott do butte Ryȝthte as he
Wolle yow concelle; and furder-more
They [sey] thatt ȝe haue seyde be-fore
Thys londe ye wolle frely conquere,
And nowe thus cowarly ende yowr warre,
To hem grete harme, to yow grete schame.
Off alle thus dede ye bere the blame.”
And wythe thatt worde the clerke can wepe
So tenderly, he cowde notte lette
Off a grete whyle, tylle thatt the kynge
Badde hym be pes, [for of] a thyngge
He hym be-thoȝth, and thatt Ryȝthte thoo.
“My frynde,” he sayde, “thou schalte goo
On my erande to the kynge
Off Fraunce, and seye hym my plesynge,
Where yffe thatt he wolde
Thatt ij knyȝthtes fyȝthte scholde
For thus Ryȝthte and do thus batayle.
For welle y wote hytte myȝthte nott fayle,
And eche of vs bryngge to the fylde hys oste,

116

Many a gode man ther schalle be loste.
Where-fore my wylle were fully thys,
Thatt he wolle ordeyne a knyȝte of hys,
Be he gentell man or other,
And y my-sylffe wolle be the tother.
Yff y be slayne yn thatt fyȝthte,
There ys neyther kynge, squyer, ne knyȝthte
In my oste, thatt þey ne schalle do
To hym omage er thatt they goo,
Onne thus condicon thatt they haue leue
Thys londe to passe wyth-owten greue,
And vnder hys cundite thatt they may be,
Tyll the[y] be passed alle thus cuntre.
And y schalle make hem swere [al]so
Heder to sende my sone to do
Homage to hym ynne the same degre,
And alle-so, yff ytte appe be me
To sle hys champyon wythe myne hande,
Thatt he schalle holde alle hys lande
Of me by omage, and sucche seruyce
As y my-sylffe nowe [wolle] devyce

117

My owne mayne to hym to do.
The same to me he motte [do] alleso.
Go wryte a letter off thus matere,
And to the kynge faste thow ytte bere.”—
“Syr,” seyde the clerke, “y schalle do wryte
Alle thus matere and ytte endyte,
And to the kynge of Fraunce hytte bere.
A, Gode mersy! ynne grete fere
Stande alle yowr pepele, and namely ye
Thatt bene a lord of so hye degree,
Thatt sucche a batayle onne yow wolle take.
Yowre mannely herte alle thus dothe make.”
And wythe thatt worthe the clerke dydde turne,
And went hys way; for lengger soiorne
Wythe the kynge wolde noȝth he,
Sethe hytte motte no beter bee.
He wrote hys letter, and went hys way.
He come to Pvntyffe be thatt daye
Was so dawed thatt he mowȝth see
Alle abowte, and streyȝthte yed he
To the brygge, and faste dyd calle.

118

The porter lete the drawȝthte down falle.
He axed anone who was there.
The Clerke hym answeryd: “A messyngere,
Thatt nedys muste speke wyth yowr kynge;
For a letter off credens I hym brynge.”
The porter lette hym ynne anone.
To-geder ynto the alle they gone.
There they fonde the kyngys [s]t[e]werde;
A knyȝthte he semyd and no cowarde.
To hym anone seyde the porter:
“Sere, here ys come a messyngere,
And seyythe he mutte for eny thynge
Speke wyth owre lege lorde the kynge.”
The steward seyde he was welle come,
And by the honde he hathe hym nome,
And to [the] chamber he hym ledde.
There was the kynge thatt tyme a-bedde.
In-to the chamber the stewarde yede,
The messynger no ferther wolde he lede.
“Gode morwe,” he seyde vnto the kynge.
“Syr, y hope gode tythynge,
And ye wylle Ryse, ye schalle here.

119

For here ys come a messyngere
Fro onne off the hethen kynges.
Letterys he hatth wyth new tythynges.
I hope to God thatt they bene gode.”—
“Syr,” seyde the kynge, “nowe by the rode!
They bene welle-come watt euer they be.”
To the steward anone seyde he:
“Go for my Cowncell, and þat anone;
And bryngge hem wyth the euerychone.”
These tythynges herde Partonope,
To the kynge faste hyyde he.
[Bysshoppis and moche clergy
Toward the kyng faste ganne hye.]
Dukes, and Barons, and erlys mony one,
Where euer they were yn fylde or townne,
To the kynge faste canne they hye.
Whenne knyȝthtes and squyerys thatt dydde aspye,
They made hym redy ynne alle haste,
To-ward the kynge they spedde hem faste.

120

Nowe ys the Cowncell to the kynge come,
Into a chamber where they be wone
Alle to-geter for to mete.
The kynge anone was made to wete
Thatt hys Cowncell alle redy were.
The kynge sente for hys messyngere,
And the kyng ther-wyth dyde gone
In to hys Cownsell ryȝthte anone,
Wythe alle hys lordes thatt he myȝth speke and mete,
And reuerently hem alle he grete.
God morewe he hem badde by and bye,
And onne hys cheyer hym sette onne hye,
And he seyde: “Serys, why I
Haue sente for yow thus hastelye,
Thus ys the cawse, echeman here:
To me ys come a messyngere
Fro the hethen kynge Sornegour.
Watte he menythe, why ne where-ffore,
I wote neuer; butte there-ffore I
Haue sent for yow thus hastelye
Thatt ȝe schulde heyre hys entente
As welle as y”; and ther-wyth he sente
To thys Clerke, wythte-owten lette.
Anone he come, and downe hym sette
Vppon hys knee fulle Reuerently,

121

And salyed the kynge and seyde: “Syr, I
Am come fro Sornegour a messyngere,
And brynge yow letterys. Loo, syr, here
They bene redy. Wolle ye hem see?”
The kyngge hym answeryd: “Take hem mee.”
The letterys the kynge toke of the Clerke,
And by-cawse the howse was alle derke,
Vppe he rose, and streyȝthte he wente
To the wendowe, and thenne he sente
For serten lordys that were moste preve,
Off wyche onne was Partonope.
When they were come, the letter he toke,
And brake the seale, and there-onne gan loke,
And redde hytte ouer, and sawe the entente
Off kynge Sornegour, and watt he mente.
They yeve hym pryse of hys knyȝthode.
In hym, they seyde, ther lacked no manhode.
A-none ther-wyth Partonope
Knelyd adowne apon hys knee,
And to the kynge seyde: “Yeff me myne honowre.
Love, lette me wythe Sornegowr
For yow to do now thys batayle.”

122

The kynge anone wyth-owten fayle
Thancked hyely Partonope,
And seyde: “Y wote Ryȝthte welle thatt ye
Haue manhode y-nowe and eke Corage.
Butte for to speke off mannys agee,
Ye er butte yonge, nott gretely asayde—
Off thatt y sayde buth not dysmayed—
And he ys preuyd a manly knyȝthte;
For yn many a perilows fyȝthte
Hathe he done masteres wyth hys honde,
Mo thenne eny man yn thys londe.
Anne there-fore [cosyn] I praye yowe
Hertely, off thus matere nowe
To me ye speke neuer more.
For hytte schulde greue me so sore
Yff there ffylle eny messawnter.
Y hadde leuer my dethe endure,
Or me helde as a prysonere,
Thanne grawnte yow thus, my own fere.”
Thanne answeryd the kynge Partonope:
“Syr,” he sayde, “trewly yeff ȝee
Wolle notte graunte me thus Batayle,
I saye yow playnely, wyth-owten fayle,

123

Yowr seruyce for euer y refuse.”
Onne thus worde the kynge gretely ganne muse,
And answeryd wyth wepyng chere:
“Myne owne Cosyn̄, myne owne fere!
Alle myne owne truste stonte yn yowe.
And yff ye wylle alle-gate nowe
Thys perielys Batayll take yn honde,
Ye be cheffe Cowncell of thus londe,
And as ye wylle so motte hytt bee.
For trewly, Cosyn, ne hadde ye
Come ynto Fraunce atte thus tyme,
I wote welle y and alle myne
Hadde bene Chassed owte of Fraunce.
Butte my tryste and myn adssyawnce,
My ffayre Cosyn, ys alle onne yow.
Onne vs alle haue mersy nowe.
For y excuse me for euer-more,
And seye playnely hytt goyth fulle sore
Aȝens alle reson and alle skele.
Butte loo, y putte me yn yowr wylle.”

In thus wyse answeryd Partonope:
“Alle-myȝthty God, y praye thatt ye
Helpe me ynne yowr ownne Ryȝthte.
Onne [me] y take thus ylke afyȝthte
Yowr lawe fully to defende.
There-to [oure] lord me grase sende.”—
“Nowe,” sayde the kynge, “Partonope,
As ye wolle saye hytte muste nedys be.”
And there-wythe ffrendely he hym kyste,
And seyde: “Y hope for yowr beste
Yowr vndertakynge schalle nowe bee.
There[-to] yow helpe the trinite!”

124

And ther-wyth-alle streyȝte he wente
To hys cheyre, and faste sente
For alle hy[s] hole Cheualrye,
And thenne he sayde: “the cawse whye
I haue atte thus tyme sende for yow.
Kynge Sornegour hathe send me nowe
A letter—here stant the messengere—
And seyythe, yeffe I wolle, hys wylle were,
Forto trye owre bothe Ryȝthtes,
Thys bataylle to stonnde be-twyn ij knyȝthtes.
Thys ys the cause of his menynge,
For to Eschewe grete blode schedynge.
For thus ys seker, wyth-owten fayle,
Yeffe we bothe come to batayle,
Thatt bothe owre ostes to-geder mete,
Many a man schalle ther hys lyffe lete.
Inne hys cawse hym-sylffe wylle fyȝthte,
For he hym-sylffe schalle be hys knyȝthte.
And y another knyȝthte motte sende
Wythe hym to fyȝthte, ther to defende
The Ryȝthte thatt longethe to thus londe.
[For he hathe fully take on honde,]
Yeff he ynne thus Batayle slayne bee,
Knyȝthtes and Duckes of thatt Cuntree
And other lordes alle eke ther-too,
Schalle do me Omage, er thatt they goo,
And olde ther londes euer of me.
And eke ther-to they schulle swore bee

125

To sende me hys Eldyste sone;
And eke he schalle do as they haue done.
And so happe thatt my knyȝthte bee
Dyscumfyte or slayne yn the degre,
I and thus Reme motte stonde
To do hym Omage, and holde owre londe
Ryȝthte off hym as he schulde of mee,
Yffe he slayne or dyscumfyte bee.
To Partonope y grawnte thus Batayle.
I Charge yow alle thatt ȝe nott fayle
To-morew be-tyme redy to bee
Wyth my Cosyn, and eke wyth mee,
Armed be-fore the Castell of Chars.
Hytt ys gode afore to be warys.
For yf he mene vntrewly,
Thenne er we redy Boldely
Vs to defente, yffe he assayle.
And yffe so falle thus Batayle
He parforme wyth trewe entente,
I wolle ȝe alle, by onne asente,
Vn-arme yow ynne preue manere,
And make non ado butte as noȝth were.
I Charge yow alle eke ther-too,

126

Whenne euen comythe, that ȝe goo
Barefutte yn prosescione
To euery Churche ynne thus towne,
And praye the holy trinite
To owre worchyppe thatt he wolle see,
And Crystes lawe euer he saue
A[nd] on vs alle mersy to haue.”

The kynge atte thys tyme seyyth no more,
Ne alle the lordes, but wonder sore
They syke, and many tenderly
Wepe and waylythe fulle hevelye.
The kynge anone a letter lete wryte,
And bade the secreatory ytte welle endyte,
Thatt Sornegour myȝthte knowe hys entente.
The se[c]ratory forthe ynne haste wente
Thys letter fully to endyte,
And alle the kynge-ys entente to wryte.
Thys letter in haste ys wrete and made.
The kynge comawndytt anone and bade
The hethen clerke hytte to take,
And that he schulde no tarrynge make,

127

Butte bere hytte to kynge Sornegour,
And seye hym thatt “the cheffe fflowre
Off my knyȝthode wyth hym schalle fyȝthte,
Wythe Goddys grase, and saue my Ryȝthte.”
Thys letter thys Clerke hatthe taken ynne haste,
And to hys kynge hyed hym faste,
Thys Clerke to Chars ys come.
The kynge [hym] seythe, and sayde: “Welcome.”
The clerke downe knelythe afore the kynge:
“Syr,” he seyde, “letterys y brynge
Vnder the kynge-ys seale off Fraunce.
Redythe hym ouer, for gode purviaunce
For thys Batayle hytte nedythe make.
For sucche one hathe ytte vnder-take,
Hytte nedythe welle now avysed to be.”
Thanne sayde the kynge: “Canste thow telle me
Wo ys the man, and wate ys hys name?”
Thenne seyde the Clerke: “Gretely to blame
Ellys where I. I dyd hym see.
Hys name ys syr Partonope,
Inne whomme the kynge hathe grete affyaunce,
And affter alle the reme off Fraunce.”
Then answeryd kynge Sornegour:

128

“I thanke God hyely, for wythe the fflowr
Off alle knyȝththode of alle the Reme off Fraunce
I motte fyȝthte, wate happe or chaunce
Me euere ffalle ynne thys fyȝthte.
I hope, lorde, thorow thy myȝthte
To saue my worchypp and myne honowr,
Sethen he off Cheualrye ys the fflowre,
Off alle Fraunce eke the Gentyleste.
So mutte y fyȝthte wythe [the] beste,
Wyche to me ys grete honowre.”
Thus answeryd the Clerke kynge Sornegour.
And at þat worde he sent anone
For alle hys cownsayle be one and one.
To hym come kynge Fursyne,
Kynge Loemer, and kyng Fab[u]rynne,
And Marukyn, and false Marres
Comethe forthe wyth hem ynne the presse.
“Lordynges,” he sayde, “hytt ys my wylle
My cownsell yow telle, for hytte ys skelle
Ye ytte wete; for yesterd-day dy-verse
I fownde yow alle; for eche man dyd trauerse

129

Other-ys wette, ther as to cownsell
I dyd yow calle to se ynne watte perelle
We stodde ynne, and in watte dystawnnce,
There-agayne to make gode ordynaunce.
Whenne ye were come, ye toke non hede
To my worcheppe ne to my manhede.
[M]I cowncelle there-fore y take;
For no man y wolle ytte neuer for-sake.
Be hytt gode or ylle, ytte ffalleth on me.
The kynge-ys letterys off Fraunce here they be,
Sythe howe he wrytethe, and ynne wate forme,
For alle the couenauntes y wylle parforme.”
They brake the letter, and dyd hyt rede.
[They seye] The sentence, and ynne grete drede
Alle these lordes stode euerychone.
Off hem alle ther was nott one
Thatt here-to therste saye a worthe,
Butte stoden alle stylle be one acorde.
To hem thenne seyde the [stowte] kynge:

130

“I warne yow, seres, off one thynge:
Fro thus entent to a Newe
None off yow schalle me remeve.”
Fyrste off alle thenne spake syr Fursynne:
“Sythe off yowr wylle thus ys the fyne
Thatt fro thus prosses ȝe wylle not goo,
I canne no more saye ther-too,
Butte erly to-morewe thatt alle men be
In the ffylde armed to make yowr asemele,
Thatt ye mowe stonde ynne saue garde,
And euery man kepe hys owne warde.”
Alle they agreyd hem to thus worde,
And to hys herbrow went euery lorde.

[At] Morewe anone as hytte was day,
The sonne here bemus schewyd fulle gaye.
The mynstrallys here Trumpes gan sowne.
There-wythe there Oste they dyde some
To arme hem faste, and redy make
Anone the fylde for to take.
By thowsandys they drawyth to the felde
Wyth maney an helme and many a schylde.

131

The kynge hym armed, and as seythe [the] bocke,
In grete haste, and wyth hym toke
Faburine, Fursynne, and Marres,
Loemere, Marukyn, and moche prese.
Wythe hym come mony a spere and schelde.
Anone as they come to the fylde,
Here Bataylys ffaste they dyd araye.
I-armed they were fulle ffresche and gaye.
Onne the tother syde come the kynge of Fraunce
Wythe alle hys kynne and alle hys affyaunce,
And wyth hym Broȝthte Partonope.
And heven[-ly] ytte was hym to see,
So ȝonge, so fresche, so welle be-sene.
To praye for hym eche man was fayne.
The ffrensche dem[en]ed hym fulle eselye,
And prayyd God fulle besely
To saue here worchyppe and here Ryȝthte.
So hadde they do be-ffore alle nyȝthte,
Leyne ynne prayerys and ynne wepynge.
On the ffylde to hem warde come prekynge

132

Kynge Loemers and Erle Marres
Owte fro amonge the hethen presse
To the kynge of Fraunce streyȝthte
To wete yff thus ylke affyȝthte
Schulde be holden and alle the Cownandes.
To hem answeryd the kynge of Fraunse:
“Say kynge Sornegour thatt y haue y-sayde
Schalle so be holde thatt wele apayed
He and alle hys schulde bee.
Where-ffore y wolle anone thatt hee
Take wyth hym an .c. knyȝthtes,
And come downe streyȝte to the lyystys,
Owte ffrome hys oste; and thenne schalle I
Do the same, and there by and bye
Schalle the Cownauntes rehersyd be
Be-twyn hym and Partonope.
There we schalle [holde] owre parlement
And schewe playnely owre eythyr entente.”
To thus ther was no more to do;
They were alle greyd ther-too.
And ynne thus wyse anon they mette,
And Curtesly eche oder grette.

133

Schortely off thus to make a ffyne,
The hethen putte up Fursyne
To reherse the Covenauntes
Thatt holde schulde be be-twyn hem and Fraunce.
Kynge Fursyne, thus worthy knyȝthte,
Rehersyd the Covenauntes off thus fyȝthte,
And tolde the trowthe off the recorde,
In sucche wysse that euery worde
Acordyd to here bothe wrytynge.
Where-ffore the lordes made grete praysynge
Off hys dyscrescon and off hys wytte,
And seyde to fulle-fylle ytte
As he had sayde, alle redy were.
The hethen knyȝthtes anone dyd swere
Vppon sucche relakys as they hadde
These Covenauntes to holde suerly and sadde.
The kynge of Fraunce yn the other syde
Alle[-so] swore, watte so euer be-tyde,
The Covenauntes thatt he wolde trewly
Holde, as they ther-to by and bye

134

Were rehersyd by kynge Fursyne.
Thus off here Covenauntes thus ys the fyne.
Thanne made they herodes stonde on hye
To make an Oye and a crye,
Onne payne off losynge off lyffe and leme,
Eche man schulde on-arme hym.
Sornegour comawndyd off hys knyȝthtes
A thowsand welle armed to kepe the lyystes,
Thatt no man scholde so hardy bee
In-to [the] lyestes to make entre,
Ne alle-so no man to go owte.
Onne the ffrenche seyde a Mli knyȝthtes stowte
Where armed to kepe thus affyaunce,
And thatt the worthyeste off alle Fraunce,
Redy onne horse-backe wyth spere and schylde,
Where ordeyned to kepe the ffrenche fylde,
Thatt no Ryott schulde aRyse.
Thus fylde was ryalle to devyse

135

Thatt so y-wardett was abowte
Wythe ij Mli knyȝthtes stowte.
The ffrenche kynge browȝthte Partonope
In-to the lyestys, and ther toke hee
Off hym leue fulle sore wepynge,
And comendyd hym to the blessynge
Off the blessyd trinite.
And thus from hym departed hee.
Kynge Fursyne onne the other seyde
Was kynge Sornegour ys gyde
In-to the lyestys, and ther hym broȝthte
Wyth heuy chere and grete thoȝthte.
Wyth wepynge eyen he toke hys leve,
And prayed hys god he schulde welle preue
In thy[s] Batayle and ynne hys Ryȝthte,
And saue hym schameles ynne hys fyȝthte

Nowe the hethen kynge Sornegour,
Wyche off Cheualrye bare the flowre
Off alle the sette of hethen laye,
In-to the leystys fulle fresche and gaye
Onne horse-backe ys comen y-armed welle

136

Wythe hosen of mayle and fyne style,
Welle y-lased wythe fyne sylke.
Hys stede was whyte as eny mylke,
Armed ynne mayle fulle fresche and gaye,
Suer[l]y I-nowe for alle asaye,
And there a-bowte a fresche trappure,
Welle y-schape and of gode messure,
Wythe golde welle bete and of hys devyse.
Thys lorde, thatte was bothe manly and wyse,
Above sate armed ffreschely and welle
Inne an habrygon of fyne style.
Abowte hys necke henge a schylde
So bryȝthte off style thatt alle the fylde
Was Elumyed of the bryȝthnysse.
Ther-to hytte was weldely, [y] gesse.
Vppon hys hede a helme fulle gaye,
S[u]ere y-nowe atte alle asaye.
Above a Cerkell of stones Reche,
A gode ytte hadde bene for a churche.
For the marchandys hynnes to Humbere
The valewe ther-off cowthe not nummbere.
Aboue his arnes he toke a cote,
Enbrowderyd wyth perell well yfrote

137

Off hys armes fulle Rechely
Wythe Rubyys and sauerys by and bye.
Onne eche schulder off style a besgue,
A swerde he hadde fresche and newe
Abowte hym gurde, bothe harde and longe,
And [in] hys honde a spere fulle stronge.
And by hys sadel apon hys arsyone
Hynge a gleyue thatt nye hande downe
To the grownde the alffe toke;
And Ioye onne hym hytt was to loke,
As thoȝth the hethen thatt ylke daye.
Off kynge Sornegour thus was the araye.

Onne the ffrenche seyde Partonope
Onne horsebacke [ffreschely] y-armed sette hee,
In hosen of mayle shape ryght well,
I-lased wythe sylke wyth poleyns of stele.
And hauberke he hadde of gode mesure,
Myȝthty and strong and off gode temp[er]ure,
A Cote off armes he hadde above,
Welle Enbrowderyd which thatt hys loue

138

Hadde ordeynyd afore yn the beste manere;
A beter be sayne was ther non no-where.
Hys helme was sette fulle off precyous stones.
Hym-sylue was myȝthty and begge of bonys.
A-bowte hys necke enge hys schylde,
So ffreschely, hytte gladethe alle the fylde,
Welle I-feteryd wyth plate and style,
Syr wythte hys swerd, wyche was Ryȝth welle
Wyth golde and perell Reche be-gone.
Swerdes he ne hadde more butte one,
Ne wepyn were-onne he myȝtht tryste,
Saue a spere he hadde onne hys feste.
Off axe ne Glayue made he no forse.
As blacke as Cole thenne was hys horse,
Thus ys the sothe, wyth-owten lesse.
He was welle y-armed to hys ese.
And ynne hys sadel he ganne hym dresse,
And to hys Enmy e gan to presse.
Vnder hys arme hys spere he kaste,
Hys hors he prekyd feressly and faste.
Sornegowre he smote amydde the schylde

139

Wythe hys spere, alle men be-hylde.
Hys helme twyched hys horse cropon.
Ne hadde [he] hym helde by the arson,
Fro hys sadel he hadde fallen to grownde.
Hytt apped hys stede was myȝthty and sownde,
And ellys men myȝthte saye wyth-owten fayle
He hadde bene dedde for stuffe or mayle.
Sornegour smote hym fersely agayne
Wyth hys spere, gretely ytte was sene,
For fowle rased was hys schelde.
And wyth thus Curse forthe yn the fylde
Eche off hem departed from other.
The ffrenche be-helde, and sucche anoder
Corse onne horse-backe neuer afore
They hadde sene, sethe they were bore.
Sornegour thatt felde bothe sore and smerte,
Schowed welle he lacked no herte.
Hys horse he turned ynne agayne,
And schope hys Corse, Ioye ytte was to sene.
He thoȝthte to quyte Partonope,
Butte he was ware as welle as hee.

140

He made hys Curse wythe-owten lette.
Amydde the lyystes euen they mette.
Sornegour hytte hym amydde the [s]chylde
Wythe hys spere, thatt alle the fylde
Dyneed off thatt grete stroke.
Hytt ferde as ther hadde [be] felde an eoke.
The spere was stronge and wolde not breke.
Partonope was a myȝthty freke,
And luste nott the spere Escheue,
Hytt made hym not onys to remeue.
In hys sadell he sette fulle welle.
Sornegour thatt was bothe fers and felle,
And eke yn armes fulle welle y-leryd,
Turned hys horse, and owte wyth hys swerd.
There-off toke hede Partonope,
And owte drowe hys swerde as welle as hee.
Fersely anone to-gedyr they mette.
Many a grete stroke there was smete.
And ynne thus hurlynge Partonope
Wythe hys swerde a stroke smote he
Apon kynge Sornegour hys helme so gaye,

141

So dyspetuusly, the kynge gan affraye,
And stonyed there-wythe he was so gretelye,
Thatt there-wyth hys horse fulle lyȝthlye
He turned fro Partonope.
There-wythe aȝenne the kynge smote hee
Wythe hys swerde, wyth alle hys myȝthte.
He was pwynte to haue made hym lyȝthte
Owte of hys sadell sodenlye.
Butte as he helde hym myȝthtelye
By the here of hys stede-ys necke,
Partonope sparythe nott, butte leyyth on thycke.
The kynge ynne hys arnes waxed alle hotte.
Wyth hys spores hys stede he smote;
And ynne thus wyse departed bee
Kynge Sornegour and Partonope.
They hadde bothe nede hym to brethe.
A whyle they Reste hem on thatt ethe.
A-monge the ffrenche was made a grete noyse.
They seyde Partonope, the Erle of Bloyse,
Hadde welle quytte hym in thys fyȝthte
A-gaynyste kynge Sornegour, thatt worthy knyȝthte.
Onne the hethen syde the Danes

142

Alowed gretely the Erle [of] Bloys,
And seyde ynne armes he was ryȝthte parfyte.
Butte Sornegour for sothe hadde grete dyspyte
Off thus yonge Partonope.
He thoȝth welle quytte he schulde be.
And ynne hys sadelle he ganne hym dresse.
He thoȝthte, were hym-sylffe beter or worse,
He wolde asayle Partonope.
[There-wyth his lenger swerd toke he.]
Anone ffreschely bothe they mette.
And ther as Sornegour wente to haue smette
Vnder the schelde Partonope,
Off thatt stroke fulle fayled hee:
The swerdes pwynte he bare to lowe.
For euen amydde the sadel-bowe
Off hys swerde he smote the pomelle.
Thys hethen kynge thatt was so felle,
Thoȝthte haue reuenen throwe hys Corse.
Off hym he ffaylett and smote hys horse
In-to the Brayne thorow the panne.
[This blake steede there-wyth be-ganne]
To staker, as he nede mutte falle.

143

Partonope anone lyȝthtely wyth-alle
Lepte ffro hys horse, bothe hole and sownde.
Hys stede dyed, and felle to grownde.
There myȝthe a man the ffrenche see
Grete sorowe make for Partonope.
“Mercy, lord Ihesus,” sayde hee,
“Now saue myn honor and my frynde,
And suffere notte thus hethen fynde
Off thus batayle to haue the victorye,
Thatt neuer here-after he hadde ynne memorye
Thatt thy seruantes dyscumfyte schulde be.
O mysiaw[n]che thatt neuer dyd þe
Plesauns, ne worchypp, ne seruyce.
Lord! lette thy wrathe nowe notte aryse
For owre synnes, butte saue thy Ryȝthte!”
Partonope onne fote was redy to fyȝthte.
He Coverd hym knyȝthtely vnder hys schelde,
Alle redy d[r]awe hys swerde he helde.
Summe-wate aschamed was Partonope
Thatt thus lyȝthtely vnhorsed was hee.
The danes onne the other syde
In [here] hert hadde grete pryde
Off thus Chaunce thatt was be-falle,
And wyth one voyse they seyden alle
Here lorde and here kynge Sornegour

144

Off alle knyȝthode yette bare the flowre,
And wende for thus sory chaunce
They hadde conqueryd the Realme of Fraunce.
Onne horse-backe sette kynge Sornegour
As felle, as fers as eny bore;
And streyȝthte he Rydythe to Partonope:
“My frynde,” he sayde, “er thatt thatt yee
Be dede, my wylle were on thynge
Thatt ȝe schulde speke wyth yowr kynge,
And cownselle hym to haue pes wyth me.
And seye so mersyabel wolle y be,
And seye hym hys worchypp schalle y saue.
Off hys gode kepe y none to haue,
Butte thatt he wolle [holde] hys heretage
Offe me, and ther-fore do me Omage,
And be redy atte euery tyme
Atte myn comawndement as onne of myne.
To hys y schalle do, and eke to hym,
So welle thatt he and alle hys kynne
Schulde seye hys Omage ys welle y-sette,
He myȝthte ynne no wyse for hym do bette.
He schalle fryste be swore to me.
To hym also swore wolle I be.
Off hym axe I no more A-vawntage,
But onely that he do me homage
Here In thys place be-fore myn oste,
Thys ys to hym no ryghte grette coste.
Thus I mene to saue myne honowre,
That no lyer ne no gabbowre

145

May say that I shulde chaced be
Shamfully owte of þys cuntre,
And I myghte no-þynge conquere,
Towne ne cyte, and þus of my werr
Shulde make an ende shamfully.
Thys ys þe cause why that I
Desyre no more off alle hys goode.”
Partonope fulle stylle stode
And herde þe keynge sey all hys wylle,
And thys wyse he spake hym tylle:
“Syr, yeff þe kynge of Fraunce shulde be
Thys wyse homagere, then myghte well ye
Seyne ye had made a fayre conqueste,
And I had falsly my be-heste
Performed in myne owne a-corde,
Syth to fyghte for my lorde
I swore, and eke to safe hys honowre.
But of on þynge, Surnegowre,
I am gladde, for yowre cruelte
Ys turned fully to humylyte,
For ye se me atte dysavawntage.
I trowe ye haue loste yowre grette corage.”

When kynge Surnegowre herde þys scorne,
Yeffe he were wodde or fell be-forne,
Then wex he feller then euer he was,
And prycked hys stede a full grette pas;
And wyth hys swerde fully was he

146

Porposed to stycke Partonope.
Atte hym he smotte on þe ryghte syde.
Hys stroke hym þoȝte not to a-byde,
But to þe lyfte syde lyghtely leppe,
Where of hys stede he toke grette kepe,
And fownde welle hys hedde was bare.
There hym to smyte wolde he not spare.
So sore hys strocke ther he sette;
A-mydde the hedde þe stede he smette,
That hedde and necke þorowe he cleffe,
And wyth þe dynt þe sadyll reffe.
The stede felle vpon Surnegowre,
Where-of grette parte of hys honowre
He loste at þat ylke ffalle.
Ne had he be delyuer wyth-alle,
He had ben ded wyth-owten more.
Thys falle hym greved wonder sore.
The danys on þe hethenne syde
Hath loste a parcelle of here pryde.
The ffrenshe a-non̄ wyth alle here herte
Preyseden Gode þat so gan verte
Wele and woo, ryghte as hym lyste.
The kynge hym-selfe halpe at þe beste,

147

And lyghte vp lyghtely on hys fette,
As that þoghte fully to mete
Wyth hys enmy Partonope.
For a grette [stroke] þen gaffe hym he
Vppon the cornere of hys shylde.
Hyt dynned ouer alle the fylde;
Stele ne mayle wolde hyt not holde.
Thys swerde was tempered, and wolde not folde.
In the shylde hyt enteryd a ffote;
And wyth the poynte yet was hys cote
Fowle I-raced, and eke I-rente.
And wyth boþe hondys þe kynge þen hente
The swerde þat faste was yn þe shylde.
Many a man thys case be-helde.
He pullud so, hyt wolde not be.
To hys horse-warde þen drowe hym he.
Partonope gan hym folow so faste,
Hys porpose fayled that he had caste.
For he þoȝte, yeffe he had mon,
To haue take a swerde þat by þe arson̄
Off hys sadyll þen hynge.
But Partonope so fersly gan swyng
After hym, and layde on ffaste,

148

And on hym so fersly gan laste
That on hys horse he stombelde and felle.
And þer-wyth he happed to take hys bylle,
The wyche some men do a gleyue calle.
A-shamed he was of þys grette falle,
And ther-wyth lyghtely vppon hys fette
He lepe, and þoghte he wolde mete
Wyth hys Enemy Partonope.
But so hyt happed þat both he
For wery of fyghte nedyd of breth;
And bothe a-reste hem on þe hethe.
Partonope had grette encombrawnce
Off Sornegour ys swerde, þat fowle myschawnce,
The wyche henge so faste in hys shylde,
He myghte not lyghtely hym be-welde.
And þat sawe welle kynge Sornegowre,
And fersly, as he had ben a bore,
Leyethe on hys Enemy wyth hys gleyve.
Partonope faste þe strokes doþe weyfe.
Thus they ley on̄ alle þe day,
Þat alle men, that hyt be-helde and say,
Sayde þat perylouse was þys batayle,
So fersly eche other dothe sayle.

149

They sayde boþe were ryghte worthy
Knyghtes, and in batayle myghty,
Sturdy, delyuer, and also stronge.
The day was þer-to boþe hot and longe.
A-fferde were on̄-what þe heþenne,
And faste to Gode prayde þe Crysten.
To Marys þe Erle a-geyne turne I,
That welle ys warre, and wotte surely
Howe Surnegowre, hys lorde and eke þe kynge,
Hatyth hym dedely a-bofe all þynge.
He be-þynketh faste how þat he
To hys lorde myghte make hys gre.
In peryle he þynketh he syth hys lorde.
Hys retenewe þat byn of hys a-corde,
To hym priuely he dud hem calle.
“Syris,” he seyeth, “wytteth welle alle,
In grette drede stondyth owre kynge.
I telle yowe trowþe of on þynge:
Owte of þys fylde to passe on lyfe
He ys not lyckely; þer-fore as blyve
In preuey wyse do Arme yowe.
For all þys worlde ne wolde I nowe

150

A-ffore myne eyne to se hym dye.
Yowe to armes faste þat ye hye.
Dothe on faste yowre habyriownys;
A-boffe caste on yowre gownes,
And wyth yowre swerdes gyrde yowe faste,
And loke þorowte þe presse ye þruste,
That ben on-armed and naked men,
And presyth forthe tyll þat ye ben
[Thorugh the meynee and nygh your kyng.]
And sparythe not for no-þynge
Yowre lege lorde for to rescowe.
For I make Gode a vowe:
I had leuer be for-sworne
Then I shulde se me by-forne
My lege lorde þe kynge dye.”
My auctor seythe yet he dud lye,
For hys menynge was alle fals-hedde.
But forthe a-non, wyth-owte drede,
iij. thowsande, wyth-owten noyse or crye,
Off þe knyghtes were armed, and faste bye
Here mastere they houe, Erle Marys,
Redy to þruste þorowte þe prese.

151

STronge ys the batelle and perelowse,
To be-holde full dolorowse.
Prowde men of armys ben they bothe,
To geffe hyt vp lyghtely they ben fulle lothe.
Frome morowe lasted þys stronge batayle,
Tylle the sonne wyth-owten ffayle
Gan drawe fulle lowe in-to the weste.
Thowe shuldyste haue [sene] þen lytelle reste
Be-twyn thes ffyghters, they ben so rothe,
They peyne hem-selfe ffersly to fyghte bothe.
They sawe the day gan faste ffayle,
And eche of hem of þys batayle
The victory wolde haue yeff þat he myghte.
Ther-fore ffersly nowe gan they ffyghte.
Ryghte Rothe they were, not yet for þen
Vn-syttynge wordes shulde no man
Haue herde be-twyn hem in no wyse.
Butte þys batayle forthe to deuyse
I wolle atte þys tyme hye me.
Fulle ffersly ys nowe Partonope
A-sayled of the kynge Sornegowre
That wode ys as a wylde bore.
Þys kynge hys gysharne halte in honde,
To sle hys enemy nowe woll he fownde.

152

A delefulle stroke he [leet] þen ffle
Wyth hys gysharne to Partonope,
And wyth hys shylde he dude hyt wefe.
But wyth þe becke yet of hys gleve
A-pon the helme so fersly he smotte
Off Partonope, þat he ne wotte
Where he was wysely in þat stonde.
For wyth that stroke ryghte to þe grownde
Partonope hadde a poynte to ffalle.
Hys helme was bent In grettely wyth-alle.
Ne had hyt welle I-tempered be,
Alle to pecys hyt shulde haue be.
Wyth thys strocke Partonope
A-stonyed was, butte yette lette he
To þe kynge a stroke so fersly ffle
Wyth hys swerde, and ryghte [an] h[y]e
Vppon hys helme he hym smette,
That a-non wyth-owte lette
Hys cover brake and alle þe tyinge
Off hys helme, and [hyt] gan fflynge
Frome hys hedde in-to the ffylde.
Crysten and hethen þat hyt be-hylde,
Sayden: “Thys ys a perlous ffyghte.”
Thys hethen kynge, þys worthy knyghte,

153

For alle hys helme a-basshyd hym noghte,
Butte all-wey ffersly hys enemy soghte,
And wyth hys gysharne atte hym lette ffle.
And wyth hys shylde Partonope
Welle hym defendyth as he myghte.
Butte þe gysharne so sore a-lyghte,
The strocke ronge ouer alle the ffylde.
In-to the myddys hyt cleffe the shylde,
And ther-In stake so sore and faste.
The kynge to hym hyt pullyth in haste.
He pullyth so fersly that on hys kne
To grownde gothe Partonope.

Partonope lyghtely a-non vp sterte.
A-shamed he was and wrothe in herte
That at þe erthe he had so be.
Wyth hys swerde þen lette he fle
To hys enemy so grette a stroke,
Hyt semed þat ther had falle a wocke.
The kynge hys stroke warly be-hulde,
And reseyued hyt vppon hys shylde.

154

The shylde was sure, but not for þan
In-to þe myddes þe swerde Ran.
The swerde was stronge and wolde not breke,
Þorowe þe shylde a fote he steke.
The kynge aspyed þe swerde was faste
In hys shylde, and in grette haste
He vndothe þe gyrdell of hys shylde,
And frome hym keste hyt in þe fylde.
Wyth þys crafte ys Partonope
Grettely encomberyd; nowe may not he
Wyth hys swerde hym-sselfe be-welde,
For on the poynte faste cleuythe þe shylde.

PArtonope stonte nowe in grette fere.
The kynge wolle geffe hym no leysere
To drawe hys swerde owte of þe shylde,
But chassyth hym fersly owte of þe ffylde.
In bothe hys armes he halte hys gysharne,
And leyethe on faste, and dothe moche harme
To thys yonge Partonope.
But wyth hys shylde well couereth hym he.

155

And as they were thus in stryvynge,
He toke hede where a feyre swerde hynge
A-pon þe kynges ded stede.
Hys swerde he lefte, and thyder he yede,
And Sornegowre swerde fro þe Arson rafte,
There as he hyngynge had hyt lafte.
Grette a-venture and grette dystresse
A man myghte se þer and grette provesse
Be-twyn thes two worthy men.
The batayle ys fulle perlowse be-twyn hem,
And mervelowse to be-holde þer-to,
For ofte tyme hyt stode So
The twonne hath þe better a man wolle deme,
And sodenly, or thowe wolste wene,
He hathe the worse, wyth-owten nay.
Thus fortune alle the longe day
Turnyth hur on-stydfaste whele,
That non of hem no whyle ys welle.
Hyt to be-holde ys a mervelowse syghte.
The day passyth, and on comyth the nyghte.

156

In bothe hondys holdeth the hethyn kynge
Fulle fersly hys gysharne and dredyth no-þynge.
On the other syde Partonope
Hys swerde in hande alle naked halte he,
Redy to ffyghte in the ffylde.
Kynge Sornegowre haþe neyþer helme ne shylde.
Fortune hathe hym thus a-Rayed,
Hys oste þer-off ys grettely dysmayed.

NOwe comyth Partonope to assayle
Þys heþyn kynge, and woll not ffayle,
Yeffe he may, to haue hys hedde.
The kynge hym hyethe a fulle grette spede
To hym warde, and off þe strokes ys warre,
And wyth hys gysharne a-way hyt bare.
Bothe ffersly to-geder they smette,
And so hyt happenyd here wepenys mette.
Partonope had there a grette harme:
Hys swerde he smotte a-geyne the gysharne.
Be the hylte hit brake, and alle to-flye.
The danys were gladde when they hyt seye,
For swerdeles was Partonope.

157

When the ffrenshe men þat dyd se,
Grette sorowe in hertys they hadde;
And namely the kynge grette sorow made,
And prayed Gode wyth alle hys myghte
To safe Partonope and eke hys ryghte.

Wythe-owte wepyn ys Partonope.
That swerde ys broke, þe toþer tweyne be
Snarled in þe shyldes ffaste.
Whatte dothe Partonope butte in grette haste
Lepte to þe kynge wyth-owten lette,
And on the gysharne bothe hondys sette,
And þoghte hyt fro þe kynge to pulle.
The kynge defendythe [hyt] atte þe fulle.
And thus they wrastelle and streyve sore,
Tylle atte þe laste, whatte wolle ye more?
The Erle of hym þe gysharne wanne.
The kynge sey þat, and faste Ranne
To the swerde, alle men be-helde,
There as hit stake faste in þe shylde.
Vppon þe shylde he sette hys fette,

158

And atte hyt pulled wyth grette hete.
He pulled and lefte not tylle he hyt hadde.
The danys þer-off were ryghte gladde.
Ther-wyth he wolde haue take the s[h]ylde.
Wyche Partonope þat he be-helde,
Wyth the gysharne at hym he smete,
And of þat porpose þe kynge he lette.
He sythe that hyt wylle not be.
The swyrde in honde naked halte he,
Wyche he drowe owte of þe shylde.
In hys honde he hyt halte, all men be-helde,
Hys naked swerde [as] syluer bryghte.
Hym lacked no poynte of a knyghte,
[For helme and sheelde had he none,
In the feelde he had hem forgone.]
And wyth þat swerde nowe þynkethe he
Fersley to assayle Partonope.
To hym he smotte wyth alle hys myghte,
And þoghte hys swerde shulde a lyghte
Vppon hys Enemy Partonope.

159

But hyt happed for soþe þat he
Was so ney hym þat on hys shylde
He smotte hys honde; and in-to þe fylde
Owte fle hys swerde þat was so bryghte.
The stroke he smotte wyth alle hys myghte,
Wyche was to hym both shame and harme,
Ther-wyth a-stonyed wes hys Arme.
Thys a-spyed Partonope.
In alle þe haste a-wey caste he
Hys gysharne, and wyth þat lyghtely wente
To the swerde, and vp hyt hente,
Wyche fleye owte of þe kynges ffyste.
Nowe hathe Partonope all hys lyste,
For Sornegowre stante nowe wepynlesse.
Lo, thus ffortune can turne hur dyse
Nowe vp, nowe downe; here whele ys vnstabelle.
On her ys no truste; she ys so varyabelle.
Butte gladde ys nowe Partonope,
For in hande that swerde hath he
In wyche [he] hath grette affyawnce,
He broghte hyt wyth hym in-to Fraunce.
Butte wyle Partonope þys swerde vp toke,

160

The heþyn kynge faste gan loke
After wepyn, butte þer was non
Thatte he myghte haue; þen what to done
He wotte neuer; yette he toke keppe
Where a shylde lay, and thyder he leppe.
He toke hyt vp in fulle grette haste,
And a-bowte hys necke hyt caste.
That sethe þys erle Partonope,
And fersly a strocke at hym lette fle.
The kynge hyt kepp[t]e appon hys shylde.
And wyth þat stroke in-to þe ffylde
A cantelle ffley, þys ys no nay.
And when Partonope þys syghte say,
A-nother dynte þer-on he yaffe,
That alle on peces þe shylde raffe.
A-none þoghte Partonope
The better he hadde of þys medele.
Ther-wyth sey þys heþyn kynge
Hys Enemys shylde, and þer-in styckynge
A swerde þat was ffurbeshe[d] full bryghte,
And þer-to a-non he lepte fulle ryghte.

161

He pulled hyt owte and þat a-non.
Hys ffryndes þer-wyth were gladde echeon.
Nowe ys þe bat[a]yle fulle mervelowse,
And to be-holde fulle Dolorowse.
Off hem bothe ys non ryghte sure.
There falleth so mony a venture
On bothe þe sydes; for nowe þe ton
Ys atte þe better, and ryghte a-non
Mervelowsly ys atte the wo[r]sse:
So ys the batayle fulle peruerse.
To bothe partyes fortune stante;
Her whele ys euer vnstabell and mevante.

PArtonope hys bryghte swerde gynneth dresse,
Wyche that Mel[i]owre for hye provesse
Hym gaffe at here laste departynge,
Wyche was to hym a precyowse thynge.
So goode hyt was, whan he hyt sey,
And Remembryd hym the cause why
Hys loue, hys lady so fayre and ffre,
Hym hyt gaffe, and for that he
Shulde hym besy grettely in knyght-hode.
And þat made hym thynke in manhode.
And ther-wyth hys herte gan faste lyghte;
That thoȝte made hym freshe to ffyghte

162

And quekened hys herte so hyly,
That to Sornegowre he lepte fulle lyghtely,
And so fersly smotte on hys shylde,
By peces hyt ffley a-bowte the ffylde.
The kynge hym couerythe as he myghte;
Butte euer Partonope put hym to flyghte.
For in no place he Soferyth hym to a-byde,
Butte alle a-bowte þe lystes wyde
He hym chasyth so hyly,
That kynge Sornegowre wotte full surely
He hathe the worse of thys batayle.
Lowe, thys can loue wyth-owte ffayle

MAke eche man hys mastere vse:
Knyghtes shame to refuse,
Clerkes to loue well clergye,
And ladyes to cheresse curtesy.
For sho that can not love,
Hur grette stabylnesse no man may prove;
For þowe she be louyd for here bewte,
And þowe she loue, yette all-way may she
Saue here worshyppe and hyr name.
For be hyt in e[r]nyste or in game
That hyr loue make hyr a requeste,
And she þynke hyt be not honeste,
She ys atte large, she may sey naye.

163

For thus I am serued day be day
Off her that I loue and do serue.
Yette frome her seruyse shall I not swerue,
For I wolle euer her seruante be.
And wolde Gode that onys she
Off here conselle me wolde make!
Butte alle þat me luste she doþe for-sake.

LOrdynges, I pray alle þat ye,
Þowe I leue of Partonope
A whyle, and speke of oþer þynge,
Hyt be to yowe no dysplesynge.
For of suche mater speke moste I,
Whether hyt be wysdome or ffoly.
For þer þe sore ys, þe fynger woll be,
And where thy loue ys, þyne ey ys to se.
For as thy ffynger drawethe to þe sore,
So wolle thyne eye euer-more,
Drawe to that place þat þou louyste beste.
Ther-fore to me hyt ys a ffeste
To talke a-monge of suche matere
That longeth to loue, and nowe ye shall here
The tale fforthe of Partonope.
He makethe hys enemy a-fore hym fle.
He suffery the hym a-byde on no grownde,
Butte chasyth hym a-bowte þe lystes rownde.
Thys sythe thys fals Erle Mares,
Wyche I tolde yowe come of Cherles,
And was enhawnsed to lordys degre,
Wyth iij. thowsande of hys mayne
Comyth in-to þe lystes to helpe hys lorde,
Welle I-armed, and breketh the a-corde

164

Off bothe þe partyes, wyth-owten dowte.
A-none he and alle hys rowte
Owte wyth here swerdes, and leyne on ffaste
One euery syde, and atte þe laste
Mares come to Partonope,
And wyth hys swerde atte hym lette ffle.
The Erle manly defendyth þe ffelde.
Mares smete fersly, and Sornegowre behelde,
And cryed faste to Erle Mares
That he shulde leue and make pes
By the alygeawnce þat he hym owghte.
Mares hym answered that in hys þoghte
Hyt come neuer, what so be-felle;
He woll not be cesyd of hys wylle.
The Ml Danys þat armed were,
And þat day assygned there
The fylde to kepe on Sornegowre ys syde,
To the kynge they faste gan ryde.
Kynge Fursyn and kynge Fabure eke
On the ffelde ffaste gan prycke
To kynge Sornegowre, here lege lorde.

165

“Mercy!” seyde he, “ffor owre a-corde
Ys alle to-Squatte and dysarayed.
Fals Mares hath me be-trayed.
Slethe hym, I bydde yowe, and þat anonne!”
They hym answeryd euerychone
That hyt shulde be done in haste.
Towarde Mares they prekyn ffaste,
And alle they hem peyned wyth-owten ffayle
To sle Mares in þat batayle.
The Paynemys layde eche on other,
Ther spared no man cosyn ne brother.
The crysten were sley thykke also,
Butte of the heþen were mony mo.
And so hyt myghte no noder be
Butte take was Partonope.
Butte mony an heþyn made he to dye,
Er they myghte come hym so nye.
And mony a crysten dyed in þat ffyghte,
And mony mo shulde, ne had the nyghte
Come on so faste, þys ys the sothe.
Butte kynge Sornegowre wyth þys was roþe.

166

HE toke an horse in grette haste,
And In a-monge hem prycked faste.
And wyth hys swerde leyde faste a-bowte,
And slowe mony on, wyth-owten dowte,
Off hys secte and hys kynredde,
And euer cryed faste as he yede:
“Loke ye saue Partonope!”
Thys in hys fyghtynge euer cryed he.
Butte when he cowde no-þynge here,
Off Partonope he was In ffere
In thys horlynge he had byn sleyne.
Hys clepynge he thoȝte was in veyne,
For lytelle he þoȝte he shulde be take.
The heven waxed darke, þe skyes were blake,
The day was passed, hyt wes derke nyghte.
Thys þe Ostes departed from ffyghte.
The ffrenshe departed wyth grette deele,
For Partonope they supposed welle
Ys ded wyth-owte any nay.
And streyghte to Pvntyffe þey toke þe way.
Kynge Sornegowre ys rothe and Anguysshous

167

That he myghte not haue þe Rescowse
Off hys ffelowe Partonope.
What dyd he þen suppose ye?
Wyth þe ffrenshe he dyd forthe ryde
A-monge hem alle vn-a-Spyed,
As þowe he had be on of hem.
Ther herde he of þe ffrenshe men
So grette sorowe and complaynte made
For Partonope, þat none was glade,
Butte fulle of sorowe and wepynge.
And þus to Pvntyffe-warde þey be rydynge,
And Sornegowre in here company.
None of hem hym cowde a-Spy.
And In-to Pvntyffe, to þe halle dore,
Wyth hem rodde kynge Sornegowre.
As he was armed he lyghte a-none,
He lette hys hors where he wolde gon,
He toke no hede where he be-come.
The wey vn-to þe chamber he nome,
Where as þe kynge of Fraunse he seye
Make sorowe, and wepte fulle tenderly,
Sownynge and passynge sorowe made.
None of hys men hym cowde glade,

168

For in hys sorowe þys was hys crye:
“Allas, Partonope! þou were so nye
My kyn and eke my gouernowre.
Nowe arte þou ded, wyche were þe fflowre
Off alle þe knyghthode þat longeth to Fraunce.
Allas! what happe or what myschawnce
Was that þe felde so ffalsely
Was kepte; for þe heþen truly
Arne for-sowrne, and þat echone.
None of hem alle may voyde ne gon
Frome þys fowle Inconvenyente,
For I my-selfe was there presente,
When alle þe kynges þer toke here othe.
Yette sory I am, and ryghte wrothe,
Thys vyleny shulde be in Sornegowre,
For he was þe ffryste on þat swore;
And þat I wotte well he lacked no manhode.
I trusted euer fully in hys knyghthode
And In hys gentylnes, that neuer he
In suche vntruþe fownden wolde be.
Hys worde I cowde euer haue trysted welle,
That hyt had ben as trewe as stylle.”

169

When Sornegowre herde þe kynge hym preyse,
To hys herte hyt was grette ese.
Wyth-In hym-selfe then þoȝte he:
“I wolle no lenger hyde me.”
And wyth þys þoghte in grette haste
Hys hedde he vnarmed, and þer-wyth as faste
Alle naked he pulled owte hys swerde,
Wyth þe wyche at þat tyme he was gyrde.
And in hys honde þe poynte he toke,
Hys Regalyte he than for-Soke
As for þat tyme, as þynkethe me;
For downe he sette hym on hys kne.

“Syr,” sayde he to þe ffrenshe kynge,
“Mercy I aske a-boue all þynge.
I am vnarmed, as ye may se,
My hedde ys naked, syr, parde.
The hyltes vpwarde ye se I holde
Off my swerde naked, for þat I wolde
Bene atte your grace and atte yowre wylle.
Thys ys my cause and also my Skylle:
Yeffe þat yowre cosyn Partonope

170

Be ded or takyn, or þat I be
Fow[n]den wyttynge of thys trosone,
Or any man can preve be resone
Thys [pes] shulde be broke þorowe me,
I am here redy alle-wey to be
Obeysaunte to yowre cowrtys a-warde.
Puttythe my body in safe garde.
My requeste I pray þat ye do,
I yelde yowe here my Swerde also.”
Þe kynge hys swerde taketh in goode a-vyse,
And prayethe hym he wolde a-ryse
Vppon hys fette, and þen he sayde:
“Sornegowre, I am grettely myspayde
Wyth þys falshode; yette neþerles I se
By yowre gouernavnce þat ye ne be
Knowynge þer-off in no wyse,
Sythe ye arn come þus in þys gyse
To yelde yowe þus lowly vn-to me.
Hyt semeth sory þer-off þat ye be,
Off thys grette losse þat I haue.”

171

“Syr,” sayde Sornegowre, “so Gode me safe,
I am rothe also trewly.
Ye ben be-trayed, and also am I,
And by home I shalle yowe telle:
He ys boþe olde, fers, and ffelle.
I haue broghte hym vp of noghte,
Where-fore ofte in my þoghte
I haue fulle sore repented me.
For he was butte of lowe degre;
Off berthe hys fader was a chorle.
Nowe haue I made hym a grette Erle;
Hys name ys Mares, syr, Parde.
He hath be-trayed boþe yowe and me.
Cursed he ys in alle wyse,
Fayre of speche, and fals of seruyse.
To me he ys plesawnte and lowly,
And to my knyghthode dyspituos and stordy.
Fryste I helde hym trewe and sadde,
And þer-fore my stewarde I hym made.

172

And when he purposed to do fals þynge,
Þys was hys worde: þys wolle þe kynge.
Thys alle þe dynte ys falle on me.
There as my pepelle was wonte to be
To me fulle louynge and fulle kynde,
Ille wylled and frowarde nowe I hem ffynde.
For no man to me wolde sey of þe traytowre
Butte alle worshyppe and grette honowre.
An Erles doȝter I gaffe hym to wyfe;
He hathe me greued wyth werre and stryfe.
For þer I had wende he had saued myn honowre,
He maketh me be holde fals and a traytowre.
Where-fore I pray yowe of on þynge,
As ye ben a ryghtfulle kynge,
Þat in no wyse ye þynke þorowe me
Shulde be ded Partonope.
For an Erle haue here a kynge.
And yeff so be [þat] for no-thynge
I may not [now] excused be,
Takethe venganse þen vppon me.
And yeffe hyt lyke yowe þen þat I haue

173

My lyffe, I shalle, so Gode me saue,
To yowe as trewe and ffryndely be
As Euer was Erle Partonope,
And do yowe seruyse as well as I can,
And þer-to be-come yowre trewe lege man.
And here-of to make yowe swerte
I shalle le hostages of goode degre,
Erlys and baronys and oþer men,
Kynges also, and eche of hem
Shalle come and do yowe homage,
As welle as they þat ben for me in Ostage.”

The kynge hym answered full goodely:
“Syr,” he sayde, “be Gode all-myghty,
O-the[r] vengaunce kepe I none
Butte þat ye haue seyde ye wolle done.
Ye seyne ye wolle my lege man be
And alle yowre londe holde of me.”—
“Syr,” sayde Sornegowre, “þat I yow seye,
To do hyt redy I wolle obeye.”
Þe ffrenshe men all helde hem well payde
Wyth þe kynge, and also they sayde

174

Off kynge Sornegowre grette worshyppe in soþe,
And seyden trewly he had kepte hys othe.
The kynge a-non hys Omage haþe take.
The ffrenshe men grette Ioye make,
And seyne Sornegowre wyll holde hys heste,
And that þe kynge a grette conqueste
H[ath]e made, and fewe strokys gefe.
They byn ensured eche other to loue.
Thes ij. kynges vnarmed be.
Yette grette heuynes for Partonope
Ys made a-monge þe ffrenshe men.
The kynge a-nonne comawndethe hem
Alle that of hys conselle be,
That they shulde besy hem to se
That alle þe worshyppe and honowre
That myghte be do to Sornegowre,
Shulde be don and alle þe seruyse
Þat myghte be do in ony wyse.
And so they dyd as they myghte.
Here hertys were heuy and no-þynge lyghte

175

For the losse of Partonope.
Grette sorowe in herte for hym made he.
Alle nyghte gret sorowe a-monge hem was made;
None of hem cowde other glade.
The hethen men on here syde
On the morowe faste to Chars gan ryde,
And to the castelle off Agysowre
To seche here lorde kynge Sornegowre.
And when they hed all I-soghte,
And of hym fynde cowde ryghte noghte,
Off hym cowde they no nother rede,
Butte Supposen sothely þat he ys dede.
Kynge Fursyn and kynge Fabowre
Hem armed a-none wyth hert Sore,
And comawnded all here cheualrye
Wyth hem to ryde In grette hye
Streghte to Mares loggynge.
They sayde he was causer of lesynge
Off here kynge and here a-vowe,
Where-fore they seyde ded shulde he be.
As they seyden so they dyd.

176

Ferssely a-pon hym they rydde,
And In grette haste dyd hym sle,
And grette parte also hys meyne.
When Partonope sawe alle thys,
To hem a-none yeldon he ys.
When they fownde hym on lyfe,
Grette Ioye was a-monge hem as blyfe,
And þonked ther gode of hys grace:
They howped they shulde þe better passe
Thorowe Fraunce to þe ssee,
And so to passe safe in-to here cuntre.
And as they were in thys affray,
Fro Povntyffe, ther as here kynge laye,
A letter he sende in grette haste,
Vndyr hys synette, comawndynge ffaste
Alle hys oste to come to Povntyfe
To make an ende of all þys stryffe,
And homage to do to þe kynge of Fraunce,
To home he had made hys alygeavnsse.
When they herde of here kynge

177

That on lyfe was, a-bofe alle þynge
They made grette Ioye, and yette þey were
For Mares dethe grettely in ffere.
Nowe be they come to Povntyfe
To here kynge, and of hys lyfe
They be as gladde as they may be.
Wyth hem they brynge Partonope.
The kynge of Fraunce owte of þe towne
Ys ryden, and wyth hym a legyowne
Off hys knyghtes, as syker as day,
Welle I-horsed and in ffresshe a-raye.
Off all þe Ostys they bere þe flowre.
And wyth hym rydeth kynge Sornegowre,
Talkynge and spekynge dyuerse þynges.
And sone after they had tydynges
That þe oste of Sarsenyes was neye.
When the kynge of Fraunce hem sye,
A-fore hem all come kynge Fursyn,
And nexte hym come kynge Faburyn,
Partonope and kynge Loemers,

178

And Marukyns, a kynge full fers.
Wyth hem come mony a worthy knyghte.
These iiij. kynges on here fete be lyghte,
And come to Sornegowre, wyth-owten les,
To crey hym mercy, and axe here pes
Off þat they had Mares Slayne.
But lorde! the ffrensshe men were fayne,
When þe kynge had Partonope
In hys possessione and in hys sewerte.
Some lowhen, and some sterte,
And some wepte for tendernes of herte.
And Sornegowre was boþe glad and Ioyus
Off Partonope, and þer-to desyrous
Wyth hym to speke, wyth-owte les.
But a-none þer was so grette pres
To be-holde þys yonge Partonope,
Eche man had Ioye on hym to se.
Some hym welcome, and some hym kysse,
The syghte of hym here care made lesse.
The kynge of Fraunce taketh homage
Off alle þe heþyn, and þer-to sure hostage,

179

That they shulde hym bere feyth and trowþe,
And In hym shall neuer be slowþe
Fownden, but in trowþe here honowre
Euer he wolle safe, and þer-wyth Sornegowre,
When he herde þe deth of Mares,
He comawndethe hys men þat all þer pleys
Shulde cese and be putte in contynuawnce,
Whyll they were in þe Reme of Fraunce.
The kynge of Fraunce hath made an ende
Wyth all þes heþyn, and lefe to wende
He geuyth hem þorowe þe Remme of Fraunce,
Wyth-owte lettynge or dysturbaunce.
Atte þe departynge of thes ij. kynges,
Þe kynge of Fraunce geuyth grete þynges:
He gaffe hem golde, seluer, and corne,
And þat suche plente, þat neuer be-forne
In Fraunce was sene suche a coste,

180

Off corne suche plente, for all þe Oste
Was refreshed, yet more gaffe he:
Clethes of golde and of sylke gret plente,
Horse, howndes, berys, and lyonys,
Goshawkys, sparohawkys, and ryalle facownys.
Sornegowre suche frenshyppe he be-hyghte,
That homwarde in hert he ys gladde and lyghte.

Affter þe kynge his yefftys alle
Hath I-geffe, boþe grette and smalle,
Be-þynketh hym grettely Partonope
Whatte geftes beste geffe may he.
And for hys worshyppe shulde a-ryse
Grette geftys he gan to deuyse
And to departe so plentuosly,
That men myghte se so frely
Neuer man hys geftys gaffe.
The heþyn kynge sownde and saffe
Hys lefe haþe taken, and streyghte goþe he
The nexte way in-to hys Cuntre.
The kynge of Fraunce be goode a-vyce
Þe streyghte way holdeth in-to Paryse.

181

Wyth Sornegowre ys Partonope,
And grette geftes nowe geuethe he
To hym and to all hys Oste,
Þat wyth-owte a passynge coste
Alle men sayde hyt myghte not be.
He was boþe manly, curteyse, and fre.
Ther was neyþer Erle, kynge, ne barowne,
Were he in fylde, Castelle, or towne,
Þat he ne had gefftes grete.
Hyt semed well he wolde not lette
Hym-selfe to worshyppe for coste or dyspence.
Also, for soþe, grette neclygens
Was neuer herborowed in hys persone,
He wyste so welle what was to done.
Ther was neyþer knyghte, ne squyer of price,
That they ne had gyfftes of good deuyse.
Þer-fore they thonked hym in hye wyse,
And ther-to gaffe hym the pryce
Off manhode, fredome, and curtesey.
They cleped hym þe flowre of cheualrey;
For in hys geuynge he ofte hem prayde

182

Off here goode frenshyppe, and þer-wyth sayde,
Yeffe euer hyt lay in hys lotte eny þynge
That hem myghte do ese or plesynge,
He wolde be euer redy to do.
The heþen on the other syde also
Hym þonked grettely, bothe moste and leste,
Off hys grette yeftes and hys be-heste.
Butte when Sornegowre and Partonope
Alle-gate shulde departed be,
And eche shulde take leue of other,
They wepte as þowe broþer and broþer
For euer shulde departe on tweyne.
Sornegowre sayde, þowe he myghte wynne
Atte one worde alle Turkye and Fraunce,
He had leuer haue þe Allyawnce
Off yonge Partonope þan þat to Ioye,
“And nowe I wotte welle, departe fro yow
I moste nedys, þys ys the ffyne.”
And þer-wyth he wepte, and þen kynge Fursyne

183

Come, and wyth hym kynge Loemers
And kynge Fabur[i]nes, þey had no perys,
For kynges they were alle thre,
And come to speke wyth Partonope.
Fryste of all spake Fursyne þe kynge
To Partonope, and sayde: “Of one þynge
We wolle yowe pray, and þat eche-one,
Ye wolle vs conselle what were to done.”

“Syre,” sayde Fursyne, “þys ys no les,
Ye wotte welle þat ded ys Mares,
And Gode wotte not þurghe owre defawte,
For falsely vppon yowe he made a-sawte
A-yenste þe a-corde of owre parlemente.
Ther swore we alle be one assente
The ffylde to kepe well and trewly
That no man shulde be so hardy
To entermete hym on eyþer partye.
And thus sware Mares as well as I.
And þen we sawe hyt myghte not ffayle
That þe vyctorye of þys batayle

184

Moste nedes falle to yowre syde.
Thys Mares wolde no lenger a-byde:
He toke no hede of othe ne allegeawnce,
Butte enteryd þe lystes, and gret dysturbawnce
Made, for he wolde rescowe hys lorde,
A-geyne þe ordynavnce and þe accorde
Off alle þe lordes of bothe partye.
Where[-fore] me þynketh, syr, trulye,
Suche as were kepers of þe place
To suche one shulde do no grace,
Butte done hym lawe and hye Iustyce.
So dud we, and þus in þys wyse
Ys ded þat fals Erle Mares,
That brake hys othe and eke owre pes.
And þer-fore, yef any man woll [say] þat y
In thys case dude ffelonye,
Or ony of vs, þe contrary to proue
I am redy.” And þer-wyth hys gloue
He threwe downe; and Partonope
Toke vp þe gloue, and þen sayde he:
“Off alle þys stryfe ys made a ende.

185

Eche man ys kyste and oþer frynde,
And eche ys shapen to hys cuntre.
Lette all þes nedeles rehersales be.”
And wyth þys Partonope haþe take
Hys leue, and ther-wyth the heþen make
Grette heuynes at hys departynge.
And þen he prayeth Gode hem brynge
Safe and welle in-to there cuntre.
And thus wyth worshyppe departethe he.
And here-wyth-alle Partonope
The streyghte way to Bloys takyth he.

NOwe ys Partonope come to Bloys
And on a day a-pon hys deys
A-monge hys meyne atte mete he sete
Alle heuy, and neyþer dranke ne ete,
Butte sette hys eyen in a place,
And neuer hem remeuyd of a grette space.
Butte hys mayne grette Ioye made,
Etyn, and dronken, and were ryghte glade.
And all-wey sate Partonope heuy,

186

Þynkynge in hys herte besely
Off ffayre Melyowre, hys ladye ffre,
Howe longe þe tyme ys syn þat he
Hade be owte of hyr syghte,
And also in whate wyse he myghte
Wyth-owten any other-ys offence
Sonneste come to here presence.
Hys moder on hym faste gan loke,
And of hys chere grette hede toke.
She had grette mervayle for why and whatte
Þe cause was so heuy þat he Sate,
Her dere sone Partonope.
Fulle mekely to hym þus sayde she:
‘My ffayre sone, ye wotte well thys,
In alle þys worlde a-lyue þer nys
Þynge þat better loued shulde be,
Ne trusted neyþer, as þynketh me,
Then of a chylde shulde be þe moder.
For eche of vs shulde lofe so other,
That ther shulde none heuynes be
In yowre herte, þat a-none to me
Ye shulde dyscouer and playnely sey.

187

Ye haue sete nowe thes owres twey
Ryghte pensyfe and In grette heuynesse.
Tellethe me nowe yowre grette dystresse.
Ye seme a man, as þynketh me,
That grettely wyth loue vulnerate be,
And þat yowre herte wyth-owte varyaunce
Ys hole in yowre loues gouernaunce.
I conivre yowe, yeff hyt so be,
Þe verey trowþe ye telle to me,
By þe feythe þat a goode chylde owe
To hys moder, and lette me knowe
The verey trowþe, and yeff ye be
In grette dystresse, playnely telle me.
And yeff ye haue cause to be seke or heyle,
I may yowe ese wyth my conseyle.”

“MOder,” þen sayde Partonope,
“I wotte ryghte well truly þat ye
Loue me a-boue all erþely þynge.
Ther-fore atte yowre comawndynge
I moste nedes obeysaunte be.

188

And also ye haue coniured me
To telle wheder I haue [a loue] or none.
Þe soþe I wolle sey, so motte I gone.
Trewlye, moder, a loue I haue,
That vnder heuen, se Gode me saue,
Haþe no man suche one of heye noblesse.
Frome hyr come alle þys grette rychesse
That In þes someres was broghte wyth me,
Off golde and syluer so grette plente.
As she luste, she may me gye;
She haþe of me the Senorye.”

Then seyde hys moder: “Blessed be þat lorde
Þat in gouernaunce haþe all þe worlde,
And geffe grace þat for þe beste hyt be.”—
“Amen,” answered Partonope.
“Ys she ryghte ffayre, my sone? telle me.”—
“For sothe I notte, moder,” sayde he.
“Thys ys mervayle, be Gode all-myghte.
So moche as ye haue had þe syghte

189

Off hyr, and also þe repayre
In here howse, where she ys ffayre,
Or ells nay, ye can not telle?”—
“For soþe, moder, alle-þowe I dwelle
In her howse, boþe day and nyghte,
Off her had I neuer yette þe syghte.
For she haþe geffe me in charge,
Þowe I be fro hyr and atte large,
I shulde neuer besy be
In no wyse her to se,
Tylle she fully a-corde þer-to.
And a-geyne her comawndement wyll I not do.”

“FAyre sone,” seyde she, “hyt ys beste
Thatte ye kepe alle her be-heste,
And þat ye do alle your entente
To parforme alle her comawndemente.
Dyscouer hyr conselle in no wyse,
Butte besy yowe to do hyr seruyse.
And spare not for besynes ne labowre.
Þynke she haþe done yowe grette honowre.
And I pray Gode, þat syttethe a-boue,

190

Yeffe yowe grace euer to loue
Yowre lady, and no wyse forfette
My fayre sone, when þynke ye wyth her to mete?”—
“To-morowe, moder, efter none,
When I haue dyned, þynke I to gon.
My mayne I wyll wyth yowe lette,
I wolle no frynde I haue þys wytte;
For, moder, I wolle gone all a-lone.”—
“Ye wotte beste, sone, what ys to done.
Gouerne yowe after your entente,
And br[e]ke not her comawndemente.
And kepe your conselle fro euery wyghte.
For on my syde, be Gode almyghte,
Hyt shall be kepte fro euery man.
And consell I wolle yowe as I can.”

The moder and þe sone departed be.
An heuy woman in herte ys she.
To hys conselle þow she a-corde,
Her hert ys full fer fro her worde.
To [þe] kynge of Fraunce ys she gonne.
“Syr,” she sayde, “What may I done,

191

I sorowfulle wreche and wofulle caytyfe?
I may be sory I am on lyfe.
Ther was neuer woman had suche a harme:
My sone ys loste by crafte of charme,
Alle by þe deuyllys Enchauntemente.
My sone ys lore, and I am shente.”
Ther-wyth a-none þe kynge of Fraunce,
In whome wes alle hyr affyaunce,
Toke hyr to hym fulle goodely;
And in-to a chamber preuely
They wente to-geder, þer as she
Myghte telle hyr complaynte, and no man se.
And þer she wepte wonderly sore
Er þat she myghte sey won worde more.
When she lefte hyr wepynge,
Þese wordes she sayde to þe kynge:
“Syr,” she sayde, “I can not se
Butte ye haue loste Partonope.
When he wes loste in yowre fforestes,
In Ardern a-monge þe wylde bestes,
Ther drewe to hym a þynge of ffeyre,
As þowe hyt had ben a woman or a ladye,
And bade hym of goode comforte for to be,
And be-hyghte also þat she
Shulde brynge hym owte of dysese.
And wyth hyr wordes so hym dud plese,
And geffe hym þat tyme of hauer,

192

And he in þat tyme was in grette fere.
He made wyth hyr covenaunte
To be hyr loue and hyr seruante.
He louethe hyr beste of any creature.
Yette of hur persone, shappe, ne fygure,
Wyth hys eyen he neuer [had] syghte trewly.
Þys ys, me þynketh, a mervelowse ffoly.
Off hyr he hath alle maner plesawnce.
Þus ys he broghte in þe deuellys dawnce.
She hath defended hym in alle degre
He shulde not besy hym here to se.
And þus I see welle he ys butte lore.
And yette y sey yowe furthermore,
He bydethe no lenger þen to-morowe none.
He shapythe hym towarde here to gone.
Thus ys he loste, syr, what sey ye?
For Goddys loue, syr, consellythe me.
I haue be-þoghte me of won þynge
Yeffe hyt were to yowre plesynge.
Wolle ye here nowe my devyse?
I wolle be ruled at yowre a-vys.
Ye haue a nece, syr,” she sayde,
“That ys to mary, and ys a mayde,
Wyche hathe passynge grette beawte.
And þer-to, syr, ye wotte well þat she
Ys well nerysshed, connynge, and wyse.
Trewly me þynketh she beryth þe pryse

193

Off alle maydenys in þe reme of Fraunce.
Yeffe ye a-corde to hys allyawnce,
Yeff ye wolle þus sende for hym a-none,
I shalle telle yowe how þys shall gone.
I moste haue ij. pottys of wyne;
Hyt moste be goode and Inle ffyne.
Þe tone I shalle in þys wyse a-ray:
Yeff my sone þer-off assay
A drawȝte or tweyne, I wotte ryghte well
Hys þoȝte shall chaunge euery delle.
Yowre nece to yowe þe wyne shalle brynge,
But drynketh not þer-off for no-þynge.
Yowre nece þer-off shalle drynke I-nowe.
Þe toþer potte shalle be for yowe.
And lette hem twayne to-geder speke;
I kepe here dalyance no man breke.
And thys I howpe alle shalle be welle.”
The kynge answeryd: “I graunte eche delle.
Hyt ys wysdome a man hys frynde to wynne
Where þorowe ffoly they shulde twynne,
Be what crafte hyt euer may be.”
And þer-wyth a-none for Partonope
He sent a-none in alle þe haste,
Chargynge hym he shulde faste
Come to hym, alle þynges lefte.
Partonope a-bode tylle efte
Off hys Iorney and off all hys þynge,

194

And In grette haste come to þe kynge.
When he was come, þe kynge a-none
To a wyndowe wyth hym dyde gone,
And ther they fylle in mery talkynge
Off dyuerse þynges; þer-wyth þe kynge
Bade alle men owte of þe chamber goo,
Safe the ladye and they too,
And þe mayde, wyche rose vp faste,
And after hem barred þe dore in haste.
Thys fayre mayde, wyche ys to marye,
Her bewte dyscry fayne wolde I
Affter þe sentence off myne auctowre.
Butte I pray yowe of þys grette labowre
I mote at þys tyme excused be,
Off þe ffeture to reherse þe bewte.
Xviij. yere she wes of age,
Semely of stature, borne of hye parage.
Hur herte was sette grettely in on þynge
To be ffreshe a-rayed in cloþynge,
Enbrowded wyth perle in strawnge wyse.
Þer cowde hyt no man lyghtely deuyse
To telle owte playnely here entente.
Here forehede was brod, here browes bente,
Hyr here was bloye, streyghte wes hur nose,
Hur colowre rody lyke to the rose.
Off sangweyne was hur complexione,
Þe here of hur browes were sum-dele browne,
The skynne of hur necke was lyly whyte.
She wes not lene, but flesly a lyte.

195

Smale armes she had and hondys ffayre,
She was curteyse, lowly, and debonayre.
Clethed she was In samette ffyne,
Atte hur owne delyte welle shapyn.
She was sette in ffreshenesse of goode a-raye.
She was as freshe as þe rose in maye.
Off alle hur bewte I make a ffyne.
The kynge of Fraunce nowe axethe þe wyne,
Thys mayde gothe wyth goode chere,
And ffyllethe a cuppe of þat pychere,
Wyche þe moder of Partonope
Hadde so a-Rayed yeff þat he
Off þat wyne drynke a drawghte,
That a-none he shalle be caughte
In suche wyse he shulde for-yete
Melyowre, hys fayre lady swete.
The mayde bryngeth þe kynge þe wyne,
That of þe poysen was myghty and ffyne.
The kynge knewe alle þe crafte welle,
He kyssed þe cuppe, but neuer a delle
Ther-of he dronke, but þus he sayde:
“Berythe my cope, fayre mayde,
To my cosyn Partonope.
And I commawnde that also ye
Drynke to hym and make hym chere.”
Thys mayde haþe boþe connynge and manere,

196

She bare þe cuppe to Partonope.
“Syr,” she sayde, “þe kynge woll þat ye
Drynke of þys cuppe, I shall be-gynne.”
She purposythe fully hys loue to wynne,
She dronke fryste, and þen dronke he.
Thys wyne was lusty, and Partonope
Sette cuppe to mowþe, and better assayde,
And þer-wyth-all he prayde þe mayde
She wolde drynke to hym a-geyne.
And so they dronke þat boþe they bene
Welle I-wette, and þen Partonope
Off þys mayde behelde so þe bewte,
That wyth hur loue he wes so take,
He had for-yete Melyowre hys make.
And wyth þys mayde he felle in talkynge
Off dyuerse materes, þat of o þynge
Hys moder was syker by hys chere
He had for-yete hys olde ffere.
Hys chere gan chawnge, hys blode gan ryse.
Thys mayde wes plesawnte in all wyse;
To loue hym beste wes alle hur luste.
Fulle ofte tymes þys mayde he kyste.

197

To hym so plesawnte was þys mayde
Þat atte þe laste to hur he sayde:
“Yowre beawte and yowre goodely chere,
Your semely poorte, your womanly manere,
In my trewe hert arne prynted so,
Þat where þat euer I ryde or goo
Ye ar my loue and lady souereyne.
And to brynge me owte of peyne
Graunte me nowe to be my loue.”—
“Syr,” sayde þe mayde, “be Gode a-boue,
On a condycione ye graunte me
To be my husbonde, I woll be
Euer redy atte your comawndemente.”—
“I graunte to parforme your entente,”
Sayde thys yonge Partonope.
Thus in þys wyse a-corded they be.
Yette of þys foly haue I no mervayle;
For a ryghte sober man, wyth-owten ffayle,
Wyth drynke and dalyaunce and grette delyte,
Off so fayre wone myghte in suche plyghte

198

Be broghte to axe hur of hur grace,
Beynge boþe in so preuey a place.
Ther were no mo folke but they to,
Safe þe kynge and hys moder þer were no mo,
Lokynge owte atte a wyndowe and talkynge
Howe they myghte Partonope In brynge
To lofe thys mayde and for-yete Melyowre.

The kynge a-none, wyth-owte more,
Cleped to hym Partonope.
“Cosyn,” he sayde, “howe lyke ye
Be my nece, wyche ys to marye?
By owre lady þat in heuen syttethe on hye,
Yeff ye wolle haue hur to your wyffe,
As I am trewe kynge, all my lyffe
I shall be to yowe goode lorde and souereyne.
For ye shall truste me fulle and playne:
I shall geffe yow townes, Castelles, and Cyte,
And off all ryches grette plente.
Off all men on lyfe I truste yowe beste.”
Hys moder on hur syde made grette heste.

199

They yede so to hym not for to lye,
He accorded hym fully to þys ffolye.
Hys moder was gladde tho owte of mesure,
And made hem eche oder to ensure.
Þe kynge by þe honde he toke þe mayde,
And Partonope þus he sayde:
“Thys woman I yeffe yowe to your wyfe,
In Ioye for euer to lede your lyfe,
And so I pray Gode hyt mote be.”—
“I thonke yowe, syr,” sayde Partonope.
He wende all þys had ben ryghte welle,
Hys olde loue was for-gete eche a delle
He kysseth hys loue, he makethe hur chere.
He was in wyll, had he leysere
And place, þys ys syker as daye,
For to haue pleyed þe comyn play
Off wyche thes louers haue suche plesaunce,
For Melyowre was clene owte of Remembraunce.
Thus wes he falle to novelry.

200

Thus was grette merveyle, for trewly I
Shulde neuer haue be brogthe in þat plyghte,
Off ony oþer to haue Ioye or delyte
Butte of my lady, þat ys my souereyne;
I telle yowe trowþe, I can not feyne.
Fresshe and lusty ys Partonope;
For in hys armes hys loue haþe he,
Wyche he hath geton hym fresshe and newe.
He seyethe to hyr he woll be trewe.
And she wyth hym falleth in Dalyaunce
Off maters of loue and of hye plesaunce;
Wyth kyssynge and talkynge she ys fall in boldenesse.
When wymmen be well they can not cese.
Wyth gladde chere to hym she sayde:
“My dere herte, fulle well a-payde
Alle my lyffe-dayes ben may I,
That I haue conquered yowe so wysely.
For be crafte I haue yowe take,
And made yowe fully to for-sake
Yowre olde loue, and fully to me
Ye ben ensured euer trewe to be.”

201

When of hys loue he herde hur speke,
Hys herte hym þoȝte for sorowe shulde breke.
Alle pensyfe stylle a grette whyle he sytte.
In thys þynkynge a-yen hys wytte
Ys come to hym all ffresshe and newe.
“All[a]s!” þoghte he, “I am vntrewe
To hur þat ys my souereyne ladye.”
And þer-wyth-all he sterte vp fersly,
And to þe dore streghte he wente.
The barre in hys honde he hente,
And openyd þe dore in grette haste,
And þorowe þe hall heyed ffaste.
In-to þe porche he come rennynge,
Hys horse he fownde þer redy stondynge.
Vppon hys horse in haste he lepte,
More of hys trowþe toke he no kepe.
A-none as þe kynge wes war of þys,
A sory man for soþe he ys.
He cursed þe moder and hur Enchawntmente.
The newe loue also for all þys ys shent.
In grette haste rydethe Partonope
To the castell of Bloys, and tenderly wepyth he,
Thynkynge on hys lady Melyowre,
Howe of hys herte she ys þe tresowre,
And he hath hur serued so falsely.
In hys herte he fynte hym gyltye.
Whome in haste he cometh rydynge;

202

Frome hys meyne he hydythe hys wepynge.
Frome hys horse lepethe, and streghte gothe
In-to hys chamber, for he ys lothe
Hys meyne shulde knowe of hys dysese.
He byddythe hem voyde, þys ys no lese.
They voyde hys chamber in grette haste;
After hym he barrethe the dore ffaste.
Nowe by hym-selfe he ys allone;
He makethe sorowe and moche mone.
He cursythe the cunselle of þe kynge,
He hatythe hys newe loue a-boffe all þynge.

The kynge, þe moder, and hys loue,
Herde tydynges þat a-bofe
In-to a chamber was Partonope
Go to slepe. “Þat may not be,”
Sayde hys moder, “for no-þynge.
All for noȝte þen were owre charmynge.”
To hys chamber she yede in haste,
The dore she fownde barred faste.
She knocked þer-ate, and faste gan crye:
“Vndo the dore, sone, hyt am I.”
All for noghte he lette hur be,
And þen he sayde: “For sothe ye
Haue fro me take my erthely Ioye;
And mowe I ones departe fro the,
Ye shall neuer efte haue Ioye of me.
Gothe forthe yowre way, and lette me be.”

203

Thys lady wepynge went hur way,
Wenynge fully, þys ys no nay,
She had to hym no trespas do.
Partonope a-none, as she was go,
Be-þoghte hym: “Yeff I a-byde here,
The kynge and my moder wyth wepyng chere,
Wyth mony a-nother, scholde wonder on me,”
And a-noþer whyle þus þoghte he:
“My loue, my lady, my hertys leche,
I wolle me besy yowe for to seche.
For I haue not so grettely a-geyne resone
Forfete to hur, butte grace and pardone
I may axe of hur and haue.
Off þat I haue do, so Gode me saue,
Wyth all my hert I me repente,
And mercy [crye] wyth goode entente.”
And wyth þys þoghte he rose vp faste.
The dore he vnbarred in grette haste,
And went hys way full heuely.
And for men shulde hym not aspye,
Ouer hys eyen he keste hys hode,
And to a man þat to-fore hym stode
He sayde: “No lenger loke þou a-byde,
Butte fecche my horse, for I wolle ryde
A lytell way for to desporte me
All alone; for of my meyne
Atte þys tyme grettely haue I no nede.”
Thus all alone forthe he yede.

204

And thus alone as he rode musynge,
Knyghtes sodenly hym come metynge,
Off wyche I haue tolde of be-fore,
Þat broghte hym hys somers wyth all hys tresowre.
The[y] saluyd hym fulle godely,
And þen they seyde: “Syr, grettely
Off your lady desyred ye be.
Gothe your way, for atte þe ssee
Yowre bote, your shyppe, þer ys redy.
The tyde a-bydethe yowe trewly,
And þe wynde and the weder at wyll ye haue.”—
“Off thes tydynges, so Gode me safe,
I thonke yowe grettely,” seythe Partonope.
And wyth þat worde þes knyghtes be
Sodenly gon, he wotte ner where.
And he rydethe forthe to þe water of Lere.
When he come þer, redy he fownde
A fayre bote stondynge by þe londe,
Where-In he fownde a ffeyre bedde made.
Partonope þer-off wes wonder gladde.
Shortely, no lenger wolde he a-byde,
Butte gothe to botte, and weder and tyde
Wes all redy ryghte to hys plesyre.
Downe on þe bedde he hym leyde at leysere;
He þoghte þer for to slepe a wynke.
Nowe shull ye here a wonder þynge:
Hys horse, hys lemerys noghte he seye,

205

The knyghtes ne no-þynge were bye.
The bote was gouerned in þe see.
A wonder þys ys, as þynkethe me.
The bote streyghte hym broghte to þe shyppe.
When he was In, he toke grette keppe:
For hys horse, hys lemers þer he fownde,
Wyche be-hynde hym on the strownde
Hed be lefte, for so wende he.
And þus forthe saylethe Partonope
Þorowe þe water wyche ys called [L]oyre,
Tyll he entered Chyffe Deoyre,
Wyche ys chyffe hauen of þat cuntre.
Fro þe shyppe to þe londe streyghte goþe he.
Master of þe shyppe, ne gouernowre
Sawe he none, and streghte to þe towre
Off hys lady nowe rydethe he,
And lette þe shyppe allone be.
Streyghte he rydethe in-to þe palys,
And in þe hall, a-pon the deyse
He sette hym downe; hys soper was redy.
He yete no mete, but sate heuely.
Sone after soper, when tyme was,
To chamber he went a esy pas.
He knewe what he was wonte to done.
He made hym redy for streyghte to gone
To bedde, þat was hys entente.
Shorte tale to make, to bedde he wente.

206

When he was leyde, þe couertowre
To hym he drowe. Þer-wyth Meleowre
To bedde come fulle softely.
In armes he toke hur full goodely,
He kyssed hur, and made hur chere.
Butte she a-spyed be hys manere
He was atte þat tyme sum-what heuy.

“GOode syr,” she seyde, “whate cause or why
Be ye nowe in thys heuynes?
Tellethe me playnely your dystresse.”
He answered hur full softely:
“My dere herte, I crey yowe mercy.
I-wys, my loue, I am grettely dysmayed.
The kynge of Fraunce hath [me] be-betrayed,
And my euelle moder also,
Thorowe a drynke made me do
A þynge where-of I repente me.
Falce and vn-trewe hyt made me be
To yowe, my lady souereyne.
On here falsehode I me complayne.
A wyne I dronke, was made by crafte,
Þorowe wyche my wytte was me by-rafte,
And I be-come a fole naturelle.
Thys made my moder, she ys full felle.
Ther-wyth they broghte me a mayde
That was mery, and þen they sayde:

207

‘Howe lyke yowe be þys mayde yonge?
She ys ryghte ffeyre and nece to þe kynge.’
The kynge þer-wyth come as blyfe,
And gaffe hur me vn-to my wyfe,
Wyth townes, castellys, and grette ryches.
Þer I ensured here a-fore þe wyttenes
To be hur husbondon and alle oþer for-sake,
And she on hur syde to be my make
Ensured by-fore hem alle tho.
Yette by grace hyt happed so,
Er I here nyghed bodely,
My wytte come to me gracyosly.
And þen I wyste I had mys-do.
In grette haste sterte I vp tho,
And lefte my trowþe þer wyth hem alle.
Where-fore your mercy euer I calle,
For I for-yete yowe þus ffalsselye.
My swete herte, haue on me mercy.”

Off speche he stynte, and seyde no more,
Butte stylle he lay and syked sore.
“Syr,” sayde hys lady, “why do ye thus?”
Ther-wyth she gaffe hym a swete cosse,
And sayde: “Lette be, my herte swete,
For I wolle ryghte welle ye wete
I loue yowe a thowsande folde þe more,
That ye haue byn a-sayde so sore,

208

And leve hem alle and drawe to me.
And I may þer-by knowe and se
Yowre herte to me stonte euer stable,
Where-fore þys traspas ys pardonable.
Butte yeffe here-after þe deuylle be
Yowre master so grettely þat me to se
[Ye desyre] ffor drynke or for ony poysone,
To make of me opyn demonstracyone,
Er my wyll be þat hyt be so,
Ye shulle vn-do vs boþe to.
Alle oþer þynges mowe fulle lyghtely
Off me for-yeffe be, but trewly I
Loue yowe so well wyth myn herte,
Alle oþer forfettys mowe me not smertte.”
Nowe ar they falle fro þys Dalyaunce,
And besy hem to do eche oþer plesawnce.
Thus alle þe nyghte to-geder þey be,
Tylle on the morowe þat Partonope
Moste nedes ryse, for hyt was day.
And þus he rose, and wente hys way,
Where he wolde hym to dysporte.
Off no wyghte ells had he comforte
Neuer a day, tylle hyt was nyghte.
Thys lyffe he leuyd fortenyghte.
And on a day he hym be-þoghte
In whatte care he had broghte
Hys moder, and eke þe kynge of Fraunce,

209

And all hys kynrede and hys allyaunce.
Where-fore he porposethe hem all to se
And hastely to go in-to hys cuntre.
As he [on] nyghte in bedde laye
Wyth hys lady, hys fresshe maye,
He toke hyr in armes and wyth þat hur kyste.
“My dere herte, he sayde, “and I wyste
Ye wolde not dysplesed be,
I wolde haue leue of yowe to se
My cuntre; hyt were to me grette ese.
Butte me were lothe yowe to dysplese.”
And wyth þat worde she syked sore.
“My loue,” she sayde, “euer-more
I drede me þorowe fals en-chawntemente
Ye shulle make vs boþe shente.
Yowre moder atte yowre nexte comynge
I fere me shall make yowe brynge
Some þynge where-þorowe ye shall me sene.
Shente for euer shall ye þen bene,
To brynge me in offence and to breke your trowþe.
My swete herte, haue on me rowþe.
For Gode me so helpe as wyslye
I gaffe yowe cause neuer why
Thus lyghtely to departe fro me.
Wyth-owten stroke ye wolle me sle.
In Fraunce ye mowe lyffe in pes,
Er euer to yowe I shulde make pres
That ye shulde euer repayre to me,

210

Butte yeff hyt to yowe plesaunce be.
Yeffe ye thus departe fro me,
And breke your beheste, ye shulle se
Ye shulle me sle wyth-owten knyffe.
Thus shall your loue reve me my lyffe,
And þus shall I be lefte allone
In care and sorowe to make my mone
I note to whom, when ye be wente.
Wyth sorowe and wepynge shalle I be shente,
For efter won euylle comythe mony mo.
And ye in suche wyse lette me go,
Then shall I endure in languyshyinge,
Never full dedde, but euer dyinge,
And lytell ete and lesse drynke,
And no dele slepe þowe I wynke.
Þus shall I my body pyne,
Fro myrthe and Ioye my hert restreyne.
Off all trewe consell shall I be sadde,
And mercy axe ther non may be hadde.
Soche Ioye haþe he þat lesythe hys loue,
Alle day hyt hath byn in proue:
Comynly ther þat wone louythe beste
Off all oþer hys thonke ys leste.
Lo, dere herte, þus mowe ye se
In whatte myschyffe ye shulle lefe me,
Yeffe ye me se or þan my luste.
In yowe fully ys alle my truste,

211

For lo, dere herte, þys ys my ffere:
A-monge yowre ffrendes, when ye be þer,
Wyth crafte broghte yn ye shulde be.
Ye shulle hem truste better þen me.
Yowre moder wenythe all fantasye be
That I do, seth me to se
Ye ben defended; þer-fore sykerly
She wolle make some crafte where-by
Ye shulle a-yen my wyll me se.
Thus shulle ye leue hur better þen me.
Yet a-boue all þys ys my fere
My loue to lese þat ys so dere,
Haue boughte myne herte, and þat be ye.
Nowe gode [loue], haue mercy on me.”

“MI ffayre lady, þynke well thys,
In alle þe reme of Fraunce þer nys
Man ne woman þat can me brynge
To done offence In eny þynge
That were contrary to yowre plesawnce.
Gode kepe me euer fro þat myschaunce.
Then were I worse þen ony hownde,
That thys louynge haue yowe fownde,
That I shulde your deth caste.
Myne endeles sorowe þen shulde I haste.
For by the holy A-postolys twelffe
I loue yowe better þen my-selffe.
And moche loue þen haue I loste,
Yeffe ye shulde me thys mystruste.”

212

Thus all nyghte by-twyn hem twey
Wordes þer were; hem luste not to pley,
Ne slepe neyþer, þys ys no nay,
Tyll on þe morowe þat brodde daye
Shone In so bryghte þat Partonope
Þoghte þat hyt was hey tyme þat he
Made hym redy, and so he dyde;
And to hys dyner streyghte he yede.
And after dyner streyghte yede he
Vppon a towre of þe castelle to se
The see, þe wynde, and eke þe tyde.
All þys was well, and þer-fore a-byde
Longe wyth hys lady þoghte not he.
Butte all-wey after Partonope
To hys lady euery nyghte
Sware he shulde neuer þe syghte
Off hyr desyre, tylle þat she
Luste hyt were so; and þus takythe he
Hys leue; also when hyt was day,
To shyppe he gothe, and takethe þe way
Ouer þe see streyghte to Bloys.

213

Thyder he come as who seyethe treys.
Shorte tale to make, he yede to londe,
And went to Bloys, and þer he fownde
Hys moder and alle hys oder meyne,
That off hys comynge full Ioyfull bee,
And of hys passage haue grette mervayle,
For no man sawe shyppe neyþer sayle,
And þat A-none he come to Bloys.
In hys comynge he ys curteyse.
All Fraunce made Ioye of hys comynge.
On horsbacke lyghtely lepethe þe kynge,
He prycked faste þorowe þe towne.
After hym heyed, boþe Erle and barowne.
Knyghtes, Squyers of euery degre
Come to welcome Partonope.
And he hem thonked wyth swyche chere,
That they lyked so hys manere.
Euery man made grette Ioyinge
Off Partonope-ys home comynge
Off welcomenynge an ende to make,
The grette pres here leue haþe take,
And homwarde eche man takethe hys wey.

214

Sone after hyt felle vppon a deye
Thys moder of Partonope
Hur wyttes castethe howe beste myghte she
Hur Sone haue stylle In Fraunce.
A moder she had, in home hur affyaunce
Was grettely, for she was boþe olde and wyse.
She þoghte she wolde haue hur a-vyse.
Hur moder she tolde alle hur conselle.
She hur answered, and sayde: “In perelle
Grettely stante Partonope;
Where-fore, doghter, I conselle þat ye
Sende for þe bysshoppe off Parys.
He ys a clerke, and þer-to ryghte wysse,
And can goode skyll of Sermonynge.
He knowethe the helpe off alle þynge.”
He was sente after, he come a-none.
When he wes come, to-gedyr they gone
In-to a parlere alle thre.
The moder sayde to the bysshoppe: “Syr, ye
Be ryghte welcome, wyth-owten more.

215

I am dyssesed wonder sore,
Where-fore your consell I moste haue
I ffere me grettely, so Gode me saue,
My sone to lese Partonope.
For thys hyt stante trewly, syr, he
Ys taken wyth ffendys of ffayre.
For all a-lone he gothe, þat we
Be monthe ne wotte where hym to ffynde,
Butte alle hys mayne he leuythe be-hynde.
He hathe a loue, syr, sykerly.
She hathe defended hym hyly
That he desyre hur noghte to se.
Thys ys a wonder þynge to me.
They mete neuer but on nyghte;
Off hur had he yette neuer no syghte.
Wyth hur he fynte all maner of plesaunce.
Hyt ys a fende or some myschawnce,
That wolle hys body and sowle brynge
In-to some myscheffe; lo, þys ys a þynge
Wyche greuethe my hert wonderly Sore.
Thys ys þe cause ye were sent fore.”—

216

“Wyll,” sayde þe bysshoppe, “lette me a-lone.
In-to a chamber I woll gonne,
And brynge yowre sone þen in to me.
A whyle in conselle we woll be.”
For hur sone she sent a-none.
When he was come, she made hym gone
In-to þe chamber wyth-owte lette,
Where as þe bysshoppe hym sone mette,
And sayde to hym: “Welcome be ye.
Come, syttythe downe ryghte here be me.”
The bysshoppe hys tale be-gan sotelly
Alle a-ff[e]rre, and seyde: “Syr, I
Here of yowe moche worshyppe and honowre;
For off all Fraunce ye bere the flowre
Off manhode and of cheualry.
Thys ys þe cause, syr, why þat I
Hyder am come yowe for to se,
And wyth all my herte am gladde þat ye
Arne in hele and in gladnes.”
Þys bysshoppe pleyed wyles, as I gesse;
For he no worde spake of hys lady,
Butte oþer materes broghte yn soþely.
And þen he sayde: “Trewly ye
To Gode moche holden be.
Ye haue þe name of gentylnes,
Off curtesy and off hye prouesse.
Þus renneth your fame þorowe þe worlde.
Thankethe heyly þat ylke lorde
Fro whome þys comethe; for wytte well ye

217

Off yowre-selfe hyt may not be.
For þowe a monne wolde yefe yowe a ffoder
Off golde, ye myghte not selle to a-nother
Bewte, strenghe, ne provesse,
Fredome, curtesy, ne larges.
Alle tho graces comethe fro hym;
Fro yowe cometh no-þynge but fowle synne.
Ther-fore sette alle yowre entente
To fulfyll hys commaundemente.
Serue not a-nothe[r]wyth hys yefte.
Take resone to yowe, and porsewe þryfte,
And besy yowe to serue Gode a-boue;
Then haue ye a lorde and eke a loue.
Yeff ye hym loue, he wolle yowe kepe
Fro alle your Enemys, þowe ye slepe,
Oþer ellys wheþer ye be wakynge.
Ther-fore loue hym a-boue all þynge.
All wordely worshyppe I-nowe haue ye.
All þat he geffe yowe, and þynketh þat he
Alle, when hym luste, may fro yowe take.
Loue hym þen for yowre owne sake,
And loue hym trewly in alle wyse.
Loke none erthely loue yowe suppryse,
Leste þer-wyth ye be so blente,
That ye breke hys comawndemente.
Lyethe not longe in dedely Synne,
Yeff þer be eny nowe þat ye be ynne.

218

Goþe faste to sore confessione.”
Þus endythe þe bysshoppe ys sermone.

When þe bysshoppe hadde all seyde,
Partonope sat all dysmayde.
He caste a syke, hyt semed fro ferre.
That herde þe bysshoppe, and nyghhed hym ner.
He bade hym boldely tell owte hys synne,
And ransake hys consyence well wyth-yn.
And þen he tolde hym a nobell story
Off holy wrytte, and howe þe vyctory
Off þe deuyll seynttes hadde
In olde tyme, and bade hym be gladde,
And on þe deuylle showe hys knyghthode,
Sythen in batayle he lacked no manhode,
“And showe þat þou arte Goddys knyghte.”
And so moche þynge hym he be-hyghte,
Þat atte þe laste Partonope
Aggreid hym fully for to be
Atte þe bysshoppys owne wyll.
And sodenly ther-wyth he felle
In-to a þoghte full heuely.
“Allas,” þoghte he, “what may I
Do, for well I wotte truly
I haue do nowe fulle grette ffolye
My loue þus fowle to be-traye.
Nowe ys to late to sey naye,
Sythe I am agreed þer-to.”

219

Þen to þe bysshoppe he seyde: “Syr, loo,
Off a synne I moste me shryue.
A loue I haue, wyche in my lyue
Wyth myne eyen yette neuer I seye.
For hur to se full hylye
She me defendyth; yette haue I be
Wyth hur fulle moche. And hardely she
Off Gode spekethe well and off hys lawe,
And euer conselleth me to drawe
Hym to serue and eke to plese.
And wyttethe well, þys ys no lese,
Off hym she spekethe full blessydlye.
Golde and syluer full plentuosly,
And precyous stones she geuythe to me,
And ryche cloþes; and bytte me be
Manly and þer-to off yefftes large.
Somerys of golde she made me charge,
And to me sente hem in-to Fraunce.
And to my kyn and myne allyaunce
She bade I shulde departe ffrely.
And so I dude, for trewly I
Yafe kynges, Erles, and eke barownes,
Knyghtes, Squyers: Cytees and townes.
And moche peple of euery degre
Wyth hur golde I wyth-helde wyth me.
Þorowe hur ys pes come in-to þys lande.
She hath made me to take on hande
Þys batayle, þorowe wyche I haue þe pryce.

220

Where-fore, syr, to myne a-vyce,
She haþe full gentylly quytte hur vn-to me,
Saue in on þynge þat hur to se
She me defendythe so heyly.
For þys cause, syr, trewly I
Putte me in yowre ordynawnce,
What euer happe me falle or chawnce.”

When þe bysshoppe herde hys entente:
“Nowe, lorde,” he sayde “omnipotente,
I ylde þe gracys and þonkynge!
Partonope,” he sayde, “a-boue all þynge
I cunselle þat ye hur se,
Þowe hyt a-geyne hur wyll be.”
Hys moder seyde on þe oder parte:
“I haue ordeyned þerfore an arte
Where-þorowe ye shulle hur naked see.
Butte for no-þynge loke ye ne be
A-fferde of þat fowle þynge.”
To hym a lanterne she dyd brynge
A-none, and þer-In a candell bryghte,
Þat shonne as þe day lyghte.
For wynde ne weder hyt wolde not owte.
And þer-wyth wyles, wyth-owten dowte,
She makethe hym fully to agre
Vn-to hys lady fals to be.
Þys lanterne wyth lyghte she doþe hym proferre.
He hyt reseyuethe, and in a coferre
Hyt putte, and hoydyth hyt preuely,
Tylle on þe tyme þat he be redy
To go hys lady for to se.
Tyll þys be do, grette þoȝte haþe he.
Off þys porpose shorte tale to make,
Towarde hys lady þe wey he haþe take.
To ryde faste spareth not he,

221

Tylle he come streghte to þe see.
A-none he comethe a-pon þe strownde.
Hys botte all redy þer he fownde,
And redely þer-In he leppe,
And rowed forþe vn-to þe shyppe.
When he was þer, In he yede,
And forthe he saylethe a full grette spede.
Þe wynde was goode, þe tyde was feyre.
A-none was he atte Cheffe-De-Oyre,
Wyche was þe hauen of þe Cyte,
Where as wonte was Partonope
To take þe londe and þer a-ryue.
Hys lanterne he toke to hym as blyue.
Hyt was nyghte and sum-dele derke.
Fulle preuely he hyd þys fals werke,
As a traytowre fals and felle.
He lefte þe shyppe and entered þe castell,
Where he fownde all suche semblaunte
As he was wonte, all þe remenaunte
Off wex, of napery full feyre a-raye,
Vessell of golde, ffyne and gay,
Plente of bredde and off goode wyne
Off all maner atte þe full ffyne,
Parteryggys, bryddys, and venosone,
Off all deynteis ryghte grette ffoysone.
Vppon þe benche downe he hym sette.
He ne yete ne dranke, for in þe nette
Off blynde ffoly he was I-take;
For alle resone had hym for-sake.
When the Soper wes all I-done,
Streyghte in-to þe chamber he dyde gone

222

Wyth lyghte a-fore hym as he was wone.
Þen he be-þoȝte what wes beste to done
Wyth the crafte of Nygromansy.
Wyth-In þe curteynes he gan hym hey,
And toke þe cloþes vp of þe bedde,
And þer-vnder þe launter[ne] hydde.
He off wyth hys cloþes euerychone,
And naked to bedde wente a-none.
Owte of þe chamber voyded þe lyghte.
And þer-wyth come hys lady bryghte;
And naked to bedde faste she dyd hye,
And to hur loue she drowe ryghte nye.
When naked hur felte Partonope,
The cloþes fro þem vppe þroweth he.
Hys launterne he putte vp wyth hys lyghte.
Alle naked þer had he þe syghte
Off þe ffeyreste shape creature
That euer was formed þorowe nature.
When þys lady dyd þys a-spye,
On hym she caste a pytuos eye,
And sowned wyth a dedely chere.
Tho Partonope gan sore to fere;
He wyste well he had done grette folye.
Alle hys crafte he can defye,
And þrewe þe lanterne a-geyn þe walle,
Þat on a thowsande pecys smalle

223

Hyt flye þat ffryste shonne so bryghte,
And þer-wyth quenched þat fowle lyghte.
Þys lady euer sowned faste,
Fulle pyteosly, and atte þe laste
She felle owte of hur sownynge
In-to a sorowfull wepynge,
Tylle longe after hur hert dyd breke.
Þan pytuosly she gan to speke,
As she þat was grettely dysmayed.
“Allas!” she sayde, “I am be-trayed
And shamed þorow my nowne dede.
Thus hathe loue quytte me my mede.
Loue to serue I was to hasty.
My ffayre, swete loue, what haue I
Done or sayde þat longeth to blame,
That ye haue done me þys opyn shame?
Dyd I a-geyne yowe any þynge
That was so heyly yowre dysplesynge,
Þorowe þe wyche ye were þus wrothe wyth me,
That I shulde þus I-shamed be?
Yeffe I wyste whatte my gylte were,
Yette I myghte suffer þe better to bere

224

Alle þys shame and þys dysese.
I telle yowe trewly þys ys no lese.
Lorde Gode! howe ofte dyd I yowe warne
Ye shulde desyre no crafte of charme
Me to se tyll tyme were.
Whatte þe cause was ye shall nowe here.
Ther was in yowe neyþer resone ne skylle
In þys wyse to se me a-geynes my wylle.

I was doȝter of an Emperowre,
Wyche of Constantynoble helde þe ho[no]wre.
He was louyd and drad þorowe þe worlde.
Eche man was gladde wyth hym to a-corde,
Saue onely Sulcan, þe lorde of Perce,
He wes euer to hym aduerse.
Whatte wyth hys ryches and hys grette Ire
He droffe hym owte of hys Empyre.
My ffader hadde no eyre but me.
Off me þer-fore grette hede toke he,
And me to scole a-none dyd sette,
And grette clerkes a-none lette ffette
To lerne me clergy and grette wysdome,

225

And þat I myghte þe better gouerne þe kyn[g]dome.
A c. mastres I had and mo.
And Gode gaffe me grace to lerne so,
Þat þe vij. sciens I cowde parfyghtly.
And after þat þen lerned I
To knowe þe Erbe and here vertu,
And eke þe rotes where euer they grewe,
Where þat in kynde were colde or hote,
All maner of spyces I knewe by rote,
Howe in phisike þey haue here worchynge.
The seke in-to hele I can well brynge.
After þys I lerned Diuinite,
To knowe þe personys of þe trinite.
By þen I was xv. yere of age,
My masters, þat were boþe wyse and sage,
In alle the vij. artys I dyd hem passe.
Then to Nygromancy sette I was,
Then I lerned Enchawntemente[s],
To knowe þe crafte of experimente[s].
In my chamber often preuely

226

I dyde craftes full meru[el]osly;
For oponly I wolde no-þynge done,
My konynge shulde haue be kydde a-none.
But when hyt lyked þe Emperowre
To se my craffte, þen In a towre
Or In a chamber þus preuely
Hym to dysporte þen wolde I
And my mastres at hys commawndemente,
Pley craftes þorowe wych mony man was blynte.
[The chambre wyth my fader that I was Inne,
By craft of nygromauncye and such gynne
Shulde seme hit grew, wythouten doute,
In largenesse a myle a-boute
To alle thoo that wythinne were.
Ther-to hit was so bright and clere,
And that a-boute high mydnyght,]
As þowe þe sonne had shonne in bryghte
As hyt dothe in þe somerys day
Ther shulde they haue seyne knyghtes gay,

227

Armed on horsbacke, redy to ffyghte.
Þys was, I trowe, a mervelows syghte.
Þen shulde they turney meru[el]osly
As longe as me luste, þen wolde I
In las whyle þen in a þoghte
Turne all þys meruayle to noghte.
After þat I wolde make come a lyon,
The olyfaunte also, and eke þe Gryfone,
And alle maner of bestys, whyle I wolde;
Eche wyth other ffyghte shulde.
By þe wytte þat Gode haþe sente me,
In cast[ell] or towne þowe þer had be
Off pepell dwellynge an C. Ml,
Thus durste I welle haue take on honde
Þat none of þem shulde of oþer war be,
For none of þem shulde oþer se.
And by þys crafte for sothe haue I
In my castell kepte yowe full preuely,
Wyth-owte knowynge of any wyghte,

228

And do yowe plesaunce wyth all my myghte.
All þys connynge and all þys crafte
Ye haue clene fro me be-rafte.
Thys ys þe cause and þe skylle,
For ye haue sene me a-yen my wyll.
For all þe dayes whyle I lyffe,
Thys crafte woll I neuer putte in preue.
To-morowe a-none as hyt ys day,
Ye shull well knowe þys þat I say
To yowe, ys soþe and no-þynge les:
Ye shull to-morowe se grette pres
Off Erlys, knyghtes, Squyers, and barownne,
Off ladyes, gentyll-wemmen of grette renowne.
My shame þen shall I se opynly,
That haþe be hyd full preuely
Þorowe my connynge and my scyence,
Wyche ys nowe loste þorowe yowre neglygence.
Myne Erlys, my barownys, and eke my mayne,
Thes kynges sonys þat wyth me be,
Shulle welle knowe knowe a-pertely

229

Whatte lyfe we haue lyued boþe ye and I,
And all wyth O voyse repreue me
That euer I shulde your loue be.
Thus shall openly be knowe my shame.
And who ys causer of my blame?
My swete loue, no-body but ye.”
And wyth þat worde thys lady ffre
Fylle on sownynge as she were dedde.
Partonope was wyth-owten redde,
And hym-selfe so can dysmay,
To hur he cowde þus no worde say,
Notte of hys forfette onys crye hur mercy.
Me þynkethe þys was not gouerned manly.

When thys lady fro sownynge came,
Hur complaynte all newe began,
And sayde: “Lorde Gode Omnipotente,
That erþe, water, and ffyrmamente
Atte O worde madyste all of noghte,
Why ssufferyste þou euer wommanys þoghte
Wyth mannys loue encombred to be,

230

Or tryste here worde? for well by me
Eche woman may ensampell take.
For fayre wordes men can make
I-nowe, tyll they haue here luste.
Here loue wolde they neuer after truste,
Butte besy hem tyll they haue a newe.
And so haue ye done; for full vntrewe
Haue I fownde yowe to me,
Yowre newe shall so serued be:
Ye loue so well Nouelrye.
Be war nowe ye haue do no ffoly.
For all I haue gon to scole,
I haue preued my-selfe a ffole;
That shall I wytte well to-morowe.
To me þen towarde ys shame and sorowe;
For eche man þen shall wonder on me.
And my fayre loue, þen shall ye be
Destroyed but yeff I hyt make,
For ye shall se, I vnder-take,
Knyghtes and Squyers mony won.
They roghte neuer whatte to don,

231

On yow for to a-venget be.
For mony a day haue they serued me
Fo[r] to se me oponly;
And nowe shull they knowe a-pertely
Þat I haue kepte yowe for my loue.
Allas! wyche shame and wyche reproue
Ye shalle þen be to me,
And yette I telle yowe trewly þat ye
Haue do worse to me þen all thys:
Ye haue rafte me my wordely blys,
My maydenhode, my honowre, and my name,
My Ioye, my boldenes, and all my game,
My bewte, my shappe, my goodely beholdynge,
My pley, my Iolyte, my myry lawghynge,
My fredome, my curtesy, and my bounte.
Alle þes vertues haue ye rafte me,
And geffe me for all þes myn endeles payne.
Ther-fore ye be nowe Sertayne
My sorowe, my wrathe, my Rancowre,
My sykynge, my wepynge, my Dyshonowre,

232

My langorynge, my sekenes, euyn and morowe,
My fowle shame, myne endeles sorowe,
My grette reprefe, my recheles ffoly,
My sorofull payne, my dedely vylony.
The[re] ys no ende of my sorowe;
Shamed for euer I shall be to-morowe.
Euer curse I may ther-ffore
That day infortunatte þat I was bore.
Losse of goode may esely be take;
But she þat lesythe hur loue and hur make,
Hur hertte shall neuer haue Ioye a day
After hym to loue, þys ys no nay.”
Thys lady for sorow hyr hondys doþe wrynge,
Hur here sheteryth, and lyethe sore wepynge.

Hyr complaynte heryth Partonope.
After hys deth sore wyssyethe he;
He sykethe, he wepythe pytuosly,
Hys moder he cursethe dyspytuosly,
The Erchebysshoppe and eke hys sermone,
And prayeth Gode they both Mon

233

Haue myschaunce or þen þat they deye,
And þen at erste be-gan faste crye,
And axe hys lady of hur mercy.
He sayde: “My lady, truly I
May excuse me by no resone
Þat I ne haue a full hey tresone
Wroghte; other be cause þer-of and not I.
Butte yette I knowlage þer-of þe ffelony,
Þat I haue forfette lymme and lyffe
To yowe, my souereyne lady and wyffe.
Ther-fore to-morowe lette me [be] slayne
Off yowre knyghtes, þat wolde so fayne
Take on me veniawnce; for truly I
Am not worthy to haue mercy.
I dar In no wyse axe pardon,
For I haue don so hye treson.
I wolde leuer for-go my lyffe
Þen euer to lyffe in care and stryffe.
My lyffe to me ys butte shame.
Off trowþe for euer ys loste my name.
Where-fore, my ffayre souereyne ladye,
I pray yowe hyly of yowre mercy,

234

In þys wyse þat erly to-morowe
I may be slayne, and owte of sorowe
I may be broghte and owte of stryffe.
My dethe ys me leuer þen my lyffe.”

And as they lay in here talkynge,
Þe lyghte of day in faste gan sprynge;
Þen gan hur wymmen faste a-ryse.
Hyre ffresshenes, here a-raye for to devyse
Hyt were nowe to grette a taryinge.
Myne auctor þer-of makethe no rehersynge,
Saue onely of here grette kynredde.
Ther-of he spekethe, wyth-owten drede:
Off kynges, of Erles they come echone.
Streyghte to here lady they can gone
In-to þe chamber, ther as they laye.
And by þat tyme hyt was brodde daye,
Ther sawe they alle opynly
Howe here lady had gouerned hur preuely.
Grette sorowe ther a man myghte se
A-monge þe wymmen; and þen Partonope

235

Wyste well he had do grette ffolye.
The wymmen on hym faste gan prye,
And seyde full euylle and as hem luste.
Þys ffayre lady had lytell reste,
What for drede and what for shame.
Alle hur wymmen hur fowle gan blame,
And sayde: “Grette Ioye ye may haue
Off yowre-selfe, when suche a knaue
To yowre loue ye haue þus take,
And so mony lordes for-sake,
Knyghtes and squyers eke þer-to.
Allas for shame! What haue ye do?
Whyle ye lyffe ye may repente
Þat yowre luste and yowre talente
Ye haue be-sette on a lewed knaue.”
And seyde þat all wemmen haue
A custome, and þey sette hem to loue,
Off shame they ne recche ne of reproue,
Be so þat they mowe haue here luste,
For any þynge þat be hadde moste.

236

When þe day was wyll forþe spronge,
And þes wemmen had well I-ronge
Here belle, wyche was heuy to here,
Thys lady had boþe shame and fere;
For she was in ryghte grette dowte:
Here wommen stode all rownde a-bowte
Hur bedde, and pre-cedyn wonder nye
To haue þe syghte of here lady.
On herre they loked wonder ffaste,
And nere they come at the laste
Here lady better for to a-vyse.
And þen they þoghte in all wyse,
And she had ben gladde and no-þynge heuy,
She had bewte and þat passyngely.
Hur bewte made here malencoly to sece,
So þat þer wes non of þat prece,
That þey ne were in here herte sory
That they hadde repreuyd so here lady.

237

And all stode stylle by one a-corde,
Þat none of hem durste sey more a worde.

Wyth-In a whyle come In a-none
A semely lady, and þat a ffayre one.
In hur persone was fownde no lacke:
Hur here henge tressyde at hur backe,
Fulle bloye, wyche hynge downe to hyr fete.
Eche of hyr bewtyes to oþer was mete,
And so answerynge in eche degre,
Þat she was preysed passyngly of bewte.
Hyr a-raye to reherse here,
Hyt nedythe not, but in þe beste manere
She wes a-rayed, þys ffayre maye.
Butte who so luste to here of hur a-raye,
Lette hym go to the ffrensshe bocke,
That Idell mater I forsoke
To telle hyt in prose or els in ryme.
For me þoghte hyt taryed grette tyme,
And ys a mater full nedeles,
For eche man wotte well wyth-owten les,
A lady þat ys of hye Degre,

238

A-rayde in þe beste maner mote be.
Whatte nedes to speke of hur forehedde,
Off hur nose, hur mowþe, hyrre lyppes redde,
Off hur shappe, or of hur armes smalle?
Off þys and more a ryghte grette tale
Myne auctor makethe, wych shall not for me
Be nowe rehersed, but thus that she
Was holden one off the ffayreste
That was on lyue, and þer-to þe goodelyste
Wyth to dele þat myghte be,
And Wrake for sothe hyte she.
Suster she was to ffeyre Melyowre.
Forthe she come wyth herte sore
Streyghte to þe bed, þer as she lay.
Þese oþer ladyes, when they hyr saye,
Hem wyth-drewen, and dyd hur reuerens;
And glad they were all of hur presens.
To Melyoure yede þe ffayre Wrake,
And þese wordes to hur she spake:

“LAdy,” she sayde, “for Godes loue haue mercy
Off yowre worshyppe, and hoyde your foly.

239

Thys man ye loue, we all well se,
And for yowre beste hyt may happe to be.
Takethe all þese wordes in vayne
That my felowes haue to yowe sayne.
Nowe þat they haue be-holde hym welle,
Here hertes be chaunged euery dele.
They þynke they haue a þynge mys-do.
And I shall sey yowe eke also
Playnly and truly myne a-vyse:
My þynkethe he shulde be boþe manly and wyse.
A ffeyrer, a semylyer shall no man fynde,
Þowe a man soghte to þe grette Ynde,
Then ye haue chose here to yowre loue.
A grette dele þe lesse ys yowre reproue.
I wotte well he hath do ryghte grette foly,
And quytte hym to yowe vntrewly.
All-þowe a louer be fownde vnstabell,
Yette ys þe forfette Pardonabell,”

“FAyre suster,” sayde the Quene,
“Ye wytte neuer trewly what ye mene
In thys mater; for sykerly I
Hym haue defended full hylye
He shulde not se me in þys wyse.
Ther-fore I wolle me well a-vyse,
Or I for-geffe hym þys hy trespas.
For whyle I lyffe, ‘Allas, allas’
May be my songe, I wotte ryghte well.
For and ye felde that I fele,
Hyt shulde not be lyghtely for-yeue.
But all-way, suster, ye speke of loue,

240

Off my wordes be not dysplesed,
Ye haue felte þer-of yet no dysese.”

TO hur answered þe fayre Wrake:
“Medame, grette cause ye haue to take
Sorowe for hys vnkyndenes.
But yette for thys, grette heuynes
In yowre hert takethe not ye.
Thynkethe of whatte estate ye be.
Ye shende your-selfe, and þer-fore grette ffoly
Hyt ys, sythe a-mendyd hyt may not be.
Ther-fore my conselle ys that ye
Leue all þys; hyt ys to done.
Or else we shull of yowe echone
Be so encombred þat no comforte
We shall make yow no dysporte.
Þynkethe ye ar quene and lady of þys londe.
No man may be any bonde
Yowe restrayne fro yowre desyre.
Ther-fore þys rancowre and þys grette yre
Off wrathe owte of yowre herte lette passe,
And take þys man a-geyne to grace.
Where-to clepe ye yowre-selfe caytyfe,
And wayle þe tyme ye be on lyue?
Wher-to wepe ye þus pytuosly?
Exile þys þoghte owte of yowre memorye.”

“Svster,” sayde thys lady ffre.
“Thys cunselle þat ye cunsell me
May neuer setyll in myne herte.
I fele þer-of so dedely smerte,
That trewly and by Gode a-boue,
Me þynketh I can hym neuer loue.

241

Allas, my suster, am I to blame?
He hath do me so opyn shame,
And Gode wotte causelas as for me.
Yette a grette forfette ones dyd he,
And þat I for-gaffe hym truly.
And nowe he hath quytte hym more vngoodely.
Thes ij. fawtes greue me so sore
That truly, suster, I may no more.”

“MEdame,” þen sayde fayre Wrake,
“A cause ye haue a quarelle to make
A-geyne yowre loue, syth þat he
Hath so hym gouerned þat yche man may se
Ye haue hym chose to yowre loue,
Wyche ye þynke ys grette reproue,
Syth thy wylle was þat couertly
Hyt shulde be do, and nowe a-pertly
Hyt ys knowe þorowe hys foly.
Yette yn þys case ye may do remedy,
And ye wolle do after my conselle,
And shalle fare welle and be ryghte welle.
Yowre lordes ar alle of on a-corde,
Wyll wyllynge ye shulle take a lorde
To be yowre husbonde and your gouernowre,
Off all your reme to safe the honowre.
Ther-fore lette wrytte yowre letteres faste,
Chargynge yowre lordes in grette haste
A Certeyne day wyth yowe to be.
When they ben come, þe moste preve
Off hem all to yowe ye take,
And tellyth playnely a lorde and a make
Ye haue I-chose yowre husbonde to be.
And lette hem þen the persone se.
A worthyer ne a semelyer knyghte

242

Was neuer non showed in here syghte.
Sythe ye haue take hym to yowre loue,
Thus shall quenched be þe grette reproue
That ye wene he haþe yowe do.
What mowe yowre lordes sey þer-to?
For to your luste they moste a-gre.
Ther-wyth a-none lette hem hym se.
Wyth hym they shulle be well a-payde.
Off yowre-selfe beþe not dysmayed.
Thus may beste be hydde your shame,
For none of þem may yowe blame;
They woll a-gre hem to yowre desyre.
Sythe þat ye luste fully your plesyre
Hem þus to telle, þen moste they be
Off yowre cunselle, and þen mowe ye
Rule hem alle ryghte as ye luste.
Medame, me þynkethe thys ys your beste.
For yeffe ye take a-noþer lorde,
Þowe hyt be by alle here a-corde,
For þys ye shalle full ofte bere blame,
Hyt shalle fulle fowle a-peyre yowre name.”

Thys lady answeryd: “Your fayre sermowne
Me þynketh ys grettely a-yen all resone,
That I shulde euer hys loue be,
That hath þus falsely be-trayed me.
For whome þat euer I take to lorde,
He and I shalle neuer a-corde.
Suster, fulle lytelle knowe ye of loue,

243

Ye byseed yowe neuer hyt to prove
Ther-In noþer Ioye ne dyssese.
For trewly, suster, wyth-owten les,
An vngoodely worde doþe more Envye
Off onys loue þen of an Enemy
Be a Ml folde and moche more.
Suster, I warne yowe þer-fore,
Alle thys mater ye lette nowe be,
And ther-of spekethe no more to me.”

GRrette sorowe makyth þys fayre mayde,
And þer wyth hyr suster ys euyll a-þayde,
That hyr entente may not be
Parformed as she wolde in no degre.
She syketh, sshe wepyth full tenderly.
These wordes she sayde full pytuosly:
“In loue thys ys a wonder þynge,
A lytell wrathe hathe neuer endynge.
A goode lorde þat sytteste a-boue!
Harde þynge ys on for to loue,
Sythe for a worde or lytelle debate
Eche shall oþer for euer hate.”

ANde after þys the[y] speke no more;
Butte Partonope wepyth wondyr sore.
He ys rysone, and stante vppon hys fete.
Wrake sette hur downe for to wepe.
Alle the ladyes that ther In bene,
Arne wrothe and heuy wyth the quene.

244

Alle-þowe they fryste toke of hym lyte.
Hem þoȝte of hym was a ryghte goode syghte.
Tho Wrake rose wyth-owte lette.
Alle hys cloþes to hym she fette,
Soche cloþes as he thyder broghte,
Were they owghte, were they noghte,
The fryste tyme he thyder come.
The huntynge cloþes to hym he nome,
And dyd hem onne wyth sory chere.
Wrake all in þe beste manere
In-to hys cloþes holpe hym a-raye.
They were not ouer-dele gaye;
Hys fresshe a-raye was all a-go.
Hys hosyn, hys shoys on dyd he tho,
The same he vsed longe a-forne.
Wrake toke hym hys wolde horne,
And a-bowte hys necke he hyt hynge.
All þe ladyes tho fell on wepynge;
They durste not speke ne hym be-mene,
Leste they dysdayned grettely þe quene.
Off hem he toke hys leue full pytuosly.
Off hys departynge þey were full heuy.
Ther they lefte hym euerychone.
None wolde wyth hym further gone,
Saue onely þys lady Wrake, þe fayre.
She was curteyse and debonayre,
She lefte hym not, wyth-owten les,
Tylle she had broghte hym þorowte þe pres.
When he in-to the halle come,
Off knyghtes and Squyers mony onne
Lokedde vppon hym fulle deynowsly,
And manacyde hym full dyspytuosly.
Ne hadde be þys mayde fayre Wrake,
Grette vengawnse on hym they had take.

245

Many wordes they sayde þat shamefull be,
They shulle not be rehersed for me.
When they had sayde all whatte they luste,
Eche man yede where hym ys beste.

WRake ledde thys Partonope
Thorowte the pres, but truly she
Off hys lyffe had grette dowte,
Tylle he was passed alle the rowte.
Forthe wyth hym yede thys lady ffre,
Tylle he was come ryghte to þe see.
There alle redy þe shyppe fownde he,
Where-In he wes wonte to passe þe see.
The Shypmen to hym gan shrewdely speke,
Prayde Gode þe deuylle hys necke shulde breke,
Or some fowle vengawnse on hym take,
Tylle atte the last þys goode Wrake
Bade hem leue here grette manassynge,
And commawnded hem all they shulde brynge
Hym safe to Nawntys wyth-owte more stryffe,
In payne of lesynge boþe lymme and lyffe.
Forthe-wyth was broghte hym hys hakeneye,
Neyther better ne worse, but in þe same a-Raye
As he hym fryste broȝte frome the foreste;
He semyd no-þynge a lusty beste.
Partonope, wyth-owten more,
Wepynge and sykynge wonder sore,

246

Leue takythe of þys mayden ffre,
And In-to shyppe stryghte gothe he.
After hym come In hys horse a-none.
Þe shypmen besyed hem euerychone,
Here ankyr drewe vp, and downe wyth þe sayle,
And forthe a-fore the wynde they sayle.
When the maryneres vnder þe sayle were,
Partonope they made grette chere
By-cause of Wrake þat mayde ffre,
To make hym chere alle besy the[y] be.
Be then they had sayled xv. Iowrnes,
A-none wyth-owte any owres,
A-fore Nawntys they were, þat feyre cyte,
Ther as Wrake bade hem be.
They owte wyth here botte ryghte a-none,
Partonope wyth hem thyder-yn doþe gone.
They toke yn wyth hem hys hakeney.
To Bloyes they rowed þe nexte way.
A-none as they come to the strownde,
Partonope in haste they sette on londe,
And þer hym lefte wyth-owte moo.
They bade hym fare welle, and home they goo.

PArtonope after þys shyppe can loke,
Off hys myshappe grette hede he toke.
Wyth-In hym-selfe he þoȝte hym vtterly:
“Allas,” þoȝte he, “howe vn-gracyously
To my loue haue I gouerned me!

247

A thowsande parte I had leuer be
Dedde þen lyffe as I nowe do.
My Ioye ys go for euer-mo.”
So yre and sorowe to[ke] hym by þe hatrelle,
Þat downe to grownde on sownynge he felle.
Hys spyrytte of lyffe fro hym ny paste.
So longe he lay, and atte the laste
He rosse as a man alle dysmayed.
Hys spyritualle membrys were grettely affrayed.
After hys shyppe he gan to se,
Wyche some-tyme was wonte to be
Attendante to hym, and nowe ys go.
Hys herte so sore gan quappe tho,
Remembrynge of the Ioye he had be-fore,
Wyche ys nowe go for euer-more.
Ther-wyth sodenly come a grypynge
A-bowte hys herte, þat efte on sownynge
He felle, and þer-wyth the paynes stronge
So perelowse were, and lasted so longe,
That of thys myschyffe ny ded he was.
And when he a-woke, he sayde: “Allas,
Allas!” he sayde, and þer-wyth fulle sore
He syked, and sayde: “Þat I was bore,
The tyme cursed motte hyt be!
Allas, Erle Mares, why ne had ye
Slayne me a-none wyth-owten more,

248

When ye rescowed kynge Surnegowre?
Or ells I had ben In the foreste
Off Arderne I-slayne, and wyth some beste
Deuowred, or euer ffayre Melyowre,
My loue, my Ioye, myne hertes tresowre,
Shulde euer thys fowle þorowe me
Be trayed! for well I wotte nowe þat she
For euer ys loste þorowe my folye,
Where-fore a traytowre nowe am I;
And am be-trayed eke ther-to.
Allas þe tyme hyt shulde be so!
Adame loste paradyse þorowe hys folye,
Butte yette a gretter losse haue I.
For when þe angelle droffe hym owte,
Thys ys the sothe wyth-owte dowte,
He toke wyth hym hys loue, hys wyffe;
In Ioye they ledde forthe ther lyffe.
Butte euen the contrary haue I do.
My Ioye ys loste for euer-moo.
Wylfully I haue loste myne honowre;
Þerfore resone ys þat I in langowre
Lyffe euer, and neuer Dye.
Fals traytowre wycked þat am I.
A man þat fals ys to hys loue,
By goode Iugemente þe lorde a-boue
Shulde not suffer hym to dye atte onus,

249

Butte lette hym fele to dye onys,
And efte to lyffe and ofte to dye ageyne.
Þus shulde suche traytowres byne
Serued and noghte do hym to dethe softe.
Suche a traytowre shulde dye ofte,
Þat myghte ofte haue remembraunce
Off hys fals and vn-trewe gouernaunce.”
And þer-wyth: “Allas,” seyde Partonope,
“Þys Ivgemente be ryghte moste falle [on] me.”

GRette sorowe to hym Partonope dothe take,
For he hathe loste for euer hys make.
Hys songe was not but wellawaye.
In sorowynge he spendythe þys longe day
Vppon the banke of þat ryvere,
Tylle þat the laste þat darke euyn þer
Wolde hym lette no lenger ther a-byde.
Then toke hys hakeney, and forthe gan he ryde
Streyghte vn-to the castelle-gate
Off Bloyes, and redy he fownde ther-atte
A yeman, wyche was chyffe portere.
On hys kne he kneled; wyth goode chere
Welcomythe he hys lorde Partonope.
No worde a-geyne þen answered he.
He lyghte fro hys horse, and wente in-to [the] halle,
And þer he fownde hys meyne alle.
Mony a knyghte and [mony] a Squyere,

250

When they hym sey, full Ioyfull were.
On kne they sette hem euerychone,
And wyth goode herte welcomyd hym home.
Butte he no worde answered a-yen,
Where-fore alle hys meyne ben
Heuy and sory, and Partonope
In-to a chamber þe streyghte wey goþe he,
Alle a-lone wyth-owten any lette,
And after hym the dore he shette.
When hys moder herde thys tydynge,
Þat hur sone come yn sore wepynge,
Off thes tydynges she was a-gaste,
And to hys chamber heyed hyr faste.
She wende haue entered wyth-owte lette,
And þen fownde she þe dore faste shette.
“Fayre sone,” sayde she, “lette me come In.”—
“In feythe,” sayde he, “þat shalle not byn.
Ye haue me betrayed, and þer-to
Ye haue made me betraye my loue also.
Youre crafte for euer hath me vndo,

251

And shewed wele þat no devyll is she.
May I oones departe wele from the.
Loke neuer to haue Ioy of me!
Seke the a sone where þat þe luste,
For on your modyrship̄p̄ shall I neuer trust.”

When his modre þus herd hym sey,
And þat hir modership̄p̄ he can reney,
And so vnkyndely to hir gan speke,
For sorow she thought hir hert wolde breke.
“Fayre sone,” seid she, “I cry you mercy.
In swych entent yete neuer was I
In no wise you to be-tray.”
And with that worde she gan array
Hir-self, þat pite a man myght haue.
She tare hir heere, and gan to Rave.
“Lete me come In, good sone,” seide she.
“I þray you, lady, þus lete me be
Alone; for your faire parlement
Hathe made that I am for euer shent.
My love, my hertely Ioy haue ye

252

Withouten ende fornome me.”—
“Trewly, my fayre sone, neuer my wetyng,”
Seide þis lady, full sore wepyng.
“I wende haue done all for þe best,
And to haue brought your hert in Reste.
Here amonge your Chyvallry
Ye haue made a sory company.”
Syth þis lady sawe no comforte,
Seide: “Of you they haue no comforte,
And sithe in faute they may not be,
All þe disese I take on me.
And this I take on me allone.
Sone, why make ye suche moone
All for love of this Meliore?
Ye mowe yite purchace as good tresoure,
And þat as plesaunt to you shall be,
I dare wele sey, as euer was she.
Me thinketh it were a Right fayre chaunge
To leve Meliore þat is bore straunge,
And take a woman of your contre,
That is brought forþe in hyghe degre
And nece to þe kyng of Fraunce.

253

Me thinketh þis were a fayre lyaunce.
And he will gyve at oone Reise
As grete lordship̄p̄ as the honour of Bleys.
In þis lande they haue grete affyaunce,
They love you as wele as þe kyng of Fraunce
This londe had be loste, had ye not be.
Therfore, fayre sone, as ye love me,
Lete be your crying ‘alas, alas,’
And all þis hevynesse lete it passe.”

PArtonope to hir yave noone answere.
More sorowe myght no man bere.
He couthe no chere, he couþe no countenaunce,
Meliore myght not of his Remembraunce.
Yite of his modire he hadde grete pite,
And in his herte ofte thought he:
“My meany feyne wolde I chere.
Therof,” thought he, “I am to lere,
Sith in my herte no Ioy I fynde,
For Melyore may not from my mynde.”
Thus all they withouten doute,

254

His moder and meany stode with-oute,
Of his disese euer complaynyng,
Till on þe morowe the sonne gan spryng,
That of hym they had no comforte,
Ne noone of them couþe oþer sporte.
Anoone þrugh Fraunce it Ronne þe tithynge
That Partonope lieþ in [poynt of] deyng
For hevynesse of sory mysschaunce.
And anoone þerwith þe kyng of Fraunce
After Erchbisshop̄p̄s and bisshop̄p̄s sent in haste,
And bade that they shuld hye hem faste
To Bleys to comforte her good ffrende.
They toke her hors and þider they wende.
When they were þere they wolde be,
To þe Chambre þey come where Partonope
Hym-self had prisoned wondirfully.
The bysshop̄p̄s gan speke to hym full goodly,
And with hym tretid in þe best manere,

255

Hym counseylyng to be of good chere,
And tolde hym ensaumples of holy write,
And how þat men had loste her witte
Throw takyng of such hevynesse.
Thus eiche bisshop̄p̄ made his processe
To þe dore of his chambre be sermone.
But for all þat they ne mowne
Make hym to speke to hem a worde.
When they þus sey, be oone acorde
Fro hym they turne full sore wepyng,
And home they priked with-oute lettyng.
They lefte Partonope sorowyng aloone.
The kyng of Fraunce þen what to doone
Wote neuer, and þus full hevely
Departed all þis company.
Grete sorowe made all his meany
And euery day full oft they be
Atte dore of her lordes prisone,
Lystenyng alwey if any sowne
Or worde of hym they myght here.

256

But all for nought; of hym no chere
They couþe haue, þis is no nay.
This lyfe they ladde vj. wekes day,
And they þan toke hem euerychone
What counseylle was beste to doone,
And seyne: “In grete wanhope
Oure lorde is loste, Partonope.”
Therfore eiche man trusse hem hoome,
“This is þe beste þat we may doone.”
Thus they go withoute leve takyng,
Eiche man to his house sore wepyng.

Now will I tell you of Partonope:
Lytill he etith and lasse drynkeþ he.
Thries in þe weke he doþe ete;
His fode is not deynte mete:
Brede made of barly or elles of oote,
This is his mete, and watir sode
His his drynke two dayes or þre,
That in þe weke now taketh he.
That is his sustenaunce and levyng;
In oþer rule may no man hym bryng.

257

His hede, his fete wole he not wasshe,
His Coloure is lyke þe pale asshe,
His nayles growen and all forfare,
He martreth his body with sorowe and care,
He is for-growen with his heere.
This peyn suffreþ he all þe yere.
When þat yere comeþ to ende
He was so megere and so vnthende
And so pale and ouer-growe,
That þere is noone on lyve, I trowe,
Shuld hym haue take for Partonope;
So hugely wasted a-wey is he.
This was his worde: “Meliore, my Ioy,
Allas, shall I neuer se þe with Ee?”
Thus wolde he sey sore wepyng.
In þis wise he lieth mourenyng,
That all his myght is so clene gone
He may not rise from his bed alone
With-outen helpe, ne go iij. pase.
His songe had ben to ofte allas.

Vpon a day þis wofull Partonope
Sate on his bedde, and þen seide he:

258

“O fadir of hevyn omnipotent,
That erthe, watir, and firmament
Madest of nought at oo worde,
And after into þis wreched worlde
Sendist þi sone mankynde to take,
And suffredist hym dey for oure sake,
Sende me comforte for þi mekenesse,
And let me not perysshe in þis distresse.
Comforte me by thy holy goste.
What is me beste, lorde, þou wele woste.
Thou blessed modir and mayden Marie
That conceyvedist within thi body
Thy ffadir, thy sone, thi creature,
And as softely as a lylle floure
Oute of the erthe peynles doþe sprynge,
Right so easily, lady, in thy childyng
Thou were delyuered of thy Savyoure,
And broughtest forþe þat blessed floure
Ayenst þe course of comyn kynde—
In holy wryte þus clerkes fynde—
And, lady, as wissely as I beleve

259

In childyng peynfull þou feldest no greve,
With all my hert I beseche þe
In my diseace haue mercy on me!
Of my life, lady, I am full wery,
For all to longe lyved haue I.
To longe liveth he þat doþe felony;
Therfore my Ioy were forto dey.
I wolde fayne dey, and I wist how.
But þe wey toward as nowe.
I can not fynde, so God me save;
For I ne haue with me yeman ne knave
That in my possescion wole leve a knyve,
Wher-with I myght vndo my lyfe.
Allas deþe, what ayleth the?
Why delyuerest þou not þe worlde of me?
The false folke þou haste Ioy to save,
All the good þou wilt haue.
Robbers, traytours þou levist on lyve,
And such as caste hem neuer to þryve,
Swych þou suffrest to haue longe life
That sette her neghbores euer in strife,

260

And lede her lyfe euer in Cursednesse,
They be suffred to haue þe swetnesse
Of þis worlde; þe toþer þat good be,
Fro þi swerde they shull not fle.
The good þou shuldest suffre on lyve,
The false þou shuldest sle as blyve.
Ladies þat fayre ben and vertuose,
To hem þou fiers arte and dispituose,
And ouer hem redy to take vengeance.
The foule, þe viciouse þou doste enhaunce;
In wordly Ioy þou makest hem hye.
Alas, faire Wrake, siþe þat I þe seye,
And þat ye besied you me to cloþe,
My life haþe sith me be full loþe.
The cloþes me liste neuer to chaunge,
This life to me hath be full straunge,
For all to-Rent and Roten they be.”
And with that worde Partonope
Fell in swonyng for hevynesse.
He lay þerin longe or it wolde cese.
Withoute comforte alone was he.

261

And þis wofull man Partonope
Atte laste fro swonyng did a-wake.
He was full seke, I dare vndirtake.
What for sorowe and for wepyng
Still he sate, full longe thinkyng
How best hym-self he myght sle.
But God wold not it shuld so be.
His ffrendes had hym so in watte,
Fro wepyns kept hym so stratte
That his purpose myght not be
Atte Bleys parfouremed; and þen þought he:
“To Arderne I wolde go, þe wilde foreste,
There may happe some wilde beste
May me devoure, and þat anoone.”
Thus purposeth he þider to gone,
And þen he seide: “He þat is false
To his love, right by þe halse
He shuld be hanged, and a foule deþ haue.”
Thus in wodenesse he begynneth to Raue;
And in þis purpose fully stonte he

262

To Ardern to go hym-self to sle.
Myn auctour in ffrensshe gynneþ now reprove
Thes olde clerkes þat treten of love,
That put in scripture to haue in remembraunce
Of olde tyme full hye myssgouernance,
Of women of whome they ofte write
Full febly and foule of hem endite,
Ayein whome euer I wole sey nay:
That Clerke is not on lyve þis day
That wole despute in þis matere,
I shall hym prove a lewde frere.
Thes Ioly singers comynly ben lecherouse,
They mowe not lyve with-oute paramourse.
And when his queen is to hym vntrewe,
And from hym chaungeth vnto a newe,
As swich strumpettes all day do,
Than þes prestes be so wo,
Theire lemans dedes they put in wryting,
To bryng after in mannes remembryng
To suppose all ben as they were,

263

And so to put men in feere
To mystrust women all.
Suche nyse clerkes foule hem be-fall,
And for her lemans myssberyng
All oþer women they haue mystrustyng.
But þese clerkes þat wele ruled be,
Of hem shall [ye] neuer know ne se
In speche, in dede, ne be writyng,
Any þing þat myght be reprovyng
To women þat wele ruled be.
For truly I sey as for me
In women is founden a gentilnesse,
Trewe love, and þerto kyndnesse,
Bountee, beaute, and eke plesaunce.
Therfore I pray God þat mysschaunce
On hem come þat lust to sey
Of women evill; for leuer to dey
I had þen to be founde in þat case,
Praying God to kepe me fro þat trespase.
But all þis matere I lete now be,
And speke I wil of Partonope.

264

This carefull lover with pite
Pensyfe, thoughtfull all day sitteþ he.
And when it drew wele toward Eve,
A childe þer come, þat in his sleve
A lofe brought of barlyche made,
And in his hande a picher he hadde
Full of water of þe welle clere.
This he brought to Parton[o]pe sopere.
Partonope was wonte to hym speke;
It did hym sorowe, his hert did breke.
“My frende,” he seide, “I shall þe sey,
I may not fayle hastely to dey
If I abide now longe here;
Fayne wolde I be elles-where.
Thou maiste me helpe if þou wilte.
I pray þe help I be not spilt.”
That yonge man wept for verray Ioy:
“Sir, your sorowe doþe me grete noy.
Fro you I will not departed be,
If comforte or eace may come by me,

265

And I may do you any plesaunce.
Though it be to me grete grevaunce,
I shall it do, and it be your eace,
Though I wist þerfore to lese
My life; and that I ensure you.
And þerfore tell pleynly now
What is your will þat I do.”
Partonope seide: “I will that þou go
When Evyn cometh, and make noone aray,
And prively gete me an hakeney
That is swyft and right wele aumblyng.
And when men ben all faste slepyng,
Then wil I ride into þe felde.
I wolde þat no man me be-helde.
This were to me a full hy comforte
Alone to haue þere my desporte.
And while þe moone shyneth bright,
There may I play me all the nyght.
Thou shalt go with me and no mo.
Now loke þat þis be wisely do.

266

Ayenst day, with-outen drede,
Homward ayein we will vs spede.”

This childe of þis is Ioyfull and glad,
And forto þat his mayster hym bad
He is rissen, and forþe is go.
He wolde for no good it happenyd so
Ere he were redy the houre were passed,
Which his lorde hym sette, and þerfore in haste
He made redy a fayre ambeloure.
In the Evyn, atte same houre,
A fayre palfray with hym he ledde,
And brought it to his lordes bedde,
Good and wele aumblyng with-outen nay;
This palfray was pomell gray.
In his armes his maister he vp toke
Fro bedde, as seith þe ffrensshe boke,
And in the sadyll softely he hym sette.
And right anoone a sporre he fette,
He sette it on his lordes hele,
And thought that all þing was wele.

267

In herte he was Ioyfull and gladde,
And forþe his lordes horse he ladde,
Wenyng that all þing shuld be right wele.
He maketh grete Ioy and levyth all dole.
But all day at Eye men mow se
They Ioyen of þing þat wil not be.

PArtonope is now forþe go
From Bleys, and þer-to come no moo
He thinketh neuer in all his life.
His childe cometh to hym as blyve:
“Sir,” seide he, “wheþer will ye ride?
Here is a place faste here beside,
Where as ye mow wele you desporte.
That to you shall be grete comforte
Vpon þe banke you to pley
Of Leyre the Ryuer till ayein the day.
Then shall no man vs aspye;
And thider I can you right wele gye.
This childes name is Gile-amoure,

268

Which for grete love kyng Sornegoure
Lente hym to Partonope,
To þis entent þat he shuld se
The maner of þe Reaume of Fraunce.
For to Sornegoure he was nye allyaunce,
No firþer but of his suster bore;
And his ffader heght kyng Fabore.
Right curteyse he was and Right bonayre,
Semely of persone, of visage fayre.
His name was Fursynne in his contree;
But his mayster and lorde Partonope
Into Gileamoure did it chaunge,
For Fursyn was his name right straunge,
And Gilamour was a grete dele light.
For Partonope did all his myght
To maken hym leve his hethen lay.
His answere þerto was euer nay.

269

Partonope hym trusteth a-bove all þing,
For euer he was glad to do his plesyng.
And þen he seide: “Good sir, wil ye
Haue good desporte, now folow me.
Go we to þe watir of Leyre.
There shull ye fynde an holsome heire;
There mow ye play and haue desporte.
To you it shall be an hye comforte.
Partonope fast gan hym be-holde
As he þat was of cares colde:
“My frende,” he seide, “me liste not pley.
I purpose me fully forto dey.
For into Ardern wole I go,
Ther shall be ffenysshid all my wo.”
Gileamour þen wept tendirly,
And seide: “Þan, sir, wole I
Into Arderne, with you wole I go,
And take my dethe with you also.”—
“Nay,” then seide Partonope,
“Thou shall go home into þi contre
And tell þin vncle, kyng Sornegoure,
How I am loste for euer-more.
For I shall dey, and þou shalt lyve.
My false treasone is put in preve
In so highe place, it moste nedes be,
And þou stondest not in þat degre.

270

Thou shalt go home and lyve in eace;
This may thou me highely pleace.”

“Sir,” seide Gilamour, “þis may not be;
For truly I wole go with the.
Wheþer life or dethe me be-tyde,
I will now renne be þi side.
Truly to serve þe I was swore,
I make no forse of sir Sornegoure.
But for þou shuldest þe more haue me
In trust and eke in chierte
I am redy, with-outen nay,
Cristen to be þis same day.”

PArtonope stode in grete diseace;
And his hert somwhat gan apeace,
When Gilamour seid he wolde be
Cristenyd; in þis wise þinkeþ he:
“I shall hym suffre with me wende
Till his cristnyng be brought to ende.
And after I wole full prively,
While he slepeth, stele sodenly
Awey from hym, he shall not wete
What contrey to drawe with me to mete.”
Then to þe child seid Partonope:
“If þou wilt convert and cristenyd be,
I wole þe trust a-bove all þing
And be right glad of þi dwellyng,

271

For departe wole we neuer.
This covenaunte I make with þe for euer.
And hye þe home to Bleys now faste,
And bryng with þe thyn horse in haste;
For in þis place þe wole I a-byde.
And þis may we in þe nyght-tide
Ride a good dele in oure wey,
Till it drawe nere vpon þe day,
Then in some wode we wole vs reste
All þe day, þis is þe best,
Till þat derke nyght come ayein.
And þen faste wole we fleen,
Till we ben all my contre paste.
Then shall we of no-þing be agaste,
But ride forþe opynly all þe day.”
This Gileamour seide not oones nay,
But for his hors þen ranne he faste,
And prykyng ayein he come in haste.
When he was come, grete payne had he
With his maister Partonope:
He myght not sitte on hors to ryde.

272

But as Gilamour yede be his side,
And held hym vp with all his myght,
Thus they Iourney all be nyght,
Till they were paste þe Reaume of Fraunce.
Then gane they a new purvyaunce
To ride forþe opynly all þe day,
For þer was no man þat wolde sey nay
To no-þing þat hem lust to do.
And forþe they ride boþe twoo
In grete sighyng and hevynesse.
And so it happenyd þat to a messe
At chirche they herde rynge.
Partonope þerwith maketh no lettyng,
But þider rideth, as I devyce,
Ther to here devyne servyce.
Myn auctour telleth þis chirch hight
The chirche of Albigis, þer it light.

This wofull man Partonope
Gilamour anoone to hym calleþ he,
And axed hym: “Wilt þou cristenyd be?”

273

He hym answerd and seide yee.
Then to þe provoste seid Partonope:
“Seest þou þis man þat stonde by me?
Cristene hym anoone, I the requyre.”
The provoste was curteyse and debonayre,
And goodly hym baptized, and þat anoone.
The Erle hym lyfte from þe fontestone.
And þere aforne, as seith myn auctour,
His name was called Gylamour,
Anselote named hym Partonope.
And in þis wise cristenyd was he,
As siker as dethe, with-outen nay.
At Albigis they Rest hem all day.
When Evyn come, they went to Reste;
Anselote þought it was þe beste.
When Partonope hym wist aslepe,
All softly hym-self vp lepe,
And to his hakeney streight he went.
His sadyll, his brydell in honde he hent;
His hakeney he made redy in haste,

274

With moche wo, and atte laste
Vpon his hakeney porely he lepe,
And lefte Anselote, his man, a-slepe.
In haste forþe rideþ þis Partonope,
And in his hert þis þought he:
“I haue leuer hym þus be scape,
Then oþer lyon, bere, or ape
In the forest shuld him devoure.
To purchase my deþe I shall labour.”
In-to þe forest he takeþe þe wey.
But Anselote anoone as it was day,
Gan buske faste oute of his bedde,
And toward his maister he hym spedde.
But when he founde his maister go:
“Allas,” he seide, “what shall I do?
My maister now hath be-trayed me.
[What is þi cause, Partonope?]
What is þi cause of my deserte?
But now I wote wele þe peynes smert
Of deþe in shorte tyme I mote fele.
But forsoþe, now wote I wele
Ye brought me hidder for þis fyne

275

My god to forsake, Apollyne.
O þis is a coynte pilgremage,
For I haue forsake in þis vyage
My god for þi love, Partonope,
And yelde me a cristen man to be,
And greed me fully to þin acorde.
But now haue I noþer frende ne lorde;
For to my frendes wole I neuer drawe,
I haue forsaken now myn owne lawe.
But I ne reche; for I wole go
There as I shall dey also.
But yete I wote, Partonope,
The cause why þat þou lettest me
In þis wise oute of youre company,
For I shuld now with you dey,
Ne þat I shuld not into þe forest
Yow folowe lest some wilde best
In your seruice shuld me sle.
For wele I wote that truly ye
For me now wepe full tendirly.
And in þe same wise mote I

276

Wepe and sorowe for you, my lorde,
And hastely dey be oone acorde.”

And with this þinkyng on hors he lepe.
He thought he wolde take good kepe
Off þe stappes of his maister[s] palfray,
To holde after hym þe streight wey
In hope he shuld hym ouertake.
What shuld I here sermone make?
Forþe he priketh vpon his hakeney
As longe as euer lasted þe day,
Till vpon hym fell þe derke nyght.
And þen anoone he loste þe sight
Of his maysters horse steppyng,
And þen anoone he fell on wepyng,
For he myght not overtake
His maister; and firþermore to make
Of his sorowe and of his wo,
All þat mater now let I go.
Fer here-after I shall you lere
Of his aventures and ye lust heere.
For now fully I purpose me
To tell you forþe of Partonope.

Forthe now rideþ þis Partonope
Into þe forest þat neuer he
Spareth to ryde, day ne nyght,
Till he passe knowleche and sight
Of all his frendes, more and lasse.

277

Now is he allone in þe wildernesse
Amonge wyuerse and serpentes.
With-oute craft of experymentes
He passed hem all with-outen diseace.
Lo! so gan fortune with-outen leace
Gyde a man right as hir luste,
For his comyng into þe forest
Was amonge the serpentes to dey;
Yite was þere noone ones caste hir Eye
On hym in malyce harme to bede.
Thus þis lorde þrough hem yede;
Yite þere to dey he hadde made covenaunt.
And forþe he rideth even to þe haunte
Where lyons and beres hadde her dwellyng.
There he thought was good a-bydyng
Till fortune wolde shape hym to dey.
He loked a-syde, and did espie
Where stode an holowe for-growen tree;
And of his hors right þere alight he.
He lete his hors go where hym luste.
That nyght he þought þere to Reste.
As a thing þat were for-lete
The hors yode forthe; for vnder his fete
Henge his brydell ygilte full bright.
The day gan passe, it drowe to nyght.
Thus nyght gan come, and day goon passe.

278

Overe a launde þat highe with grasse
Was growe, he sighe a lyon came lepyng.
He was lene and large and fierse in lokyng,
Of flesshe he semed pore and megre.
To take his pray he was full Egre.
He had espied Partonope's palfray;
He þought no firþer to seke his pray.
Toward the palfray he hyed faste
The hors espied hym and was agaste,
And faste for feere a-wey gan fle.
This lyon fiersly after hym did hye,
And ouere-toke hym, and þat anoone,
That flesshe and skyn of his hokebone
With his pawe he did arace.
The hors þerwith, as God yave grace,
With his hynder-fete at hym lete flyen,
And clevyd his for-hede be-twene þe Eyen.
He smote þe lyon with all his myght.
The lyon þerwith loste his sight
Of þe horse, with-outen nay.

279

And he with this grete affray
Ganne faste to ney and eke to renne,
As thoughe his tayle had bene to brenne.
Through thick and thyn he hyed hym faste,
Till all þe fforest he was paste,
And come vnto the see-stronde.
He myght no firþer for lak of lande.
Vpon þe seeside was all nyght trottyng
This ilke hors, and all-wey neehing.
The moone on hevyn sate full hye.
Then was no Cloude vpon þe skye
Encombred of wynde ne of derkenesse,
That letted any poynte of his brightnesse.
So gay he sate on his speere
That all þe welkyn of hym was clere;
And all þe contree, with-outen nay,
Was as light as it had ben day.
Soft and easy was eke þe see.
A man myght right wele here and se
Ferre on þe see and eke on londe.

280

Partonopes hakeney vpon þe stronde
Evyr was neyng to and to.
And vpon þe see it happened so
A shippe þer was be ankyr ryding.
After wynde and tide was his abyding.
So calme at þat tyme was þe see
No firþer sayle þen myght he.
In this ship̄p̄ a mayde þer was,
A fayrere, a semelier no-where nas,
The worlde to seke rounde a-boute.
Therto she was, with-outen doute,
Right curteise and þerto fre;
And of þis shippe chief lady was she.
Of hir was mervaylle be God a-bove;
She couþe neuer haue Ioy in love.
For of hir love was neuer man sure;
Ne paramours loved hir no creature.
This horse I spake of, euer was neyng;
And þerto so gretely reboundyng
It made vpon the see so cliere.

281

“Peace,” seide þis lady, “me þinketh I here
An horse ney now; how sey ye?”
And with þat worde all hir meany
Still they stode all wisely to here,
And first of all answerd a marynere.

MAroke was his name, I hote.
Of blew of Ypres was his cote.
White-heered he was and wele in age,
In his crafte wise, and of dyuers langage.
He couþe Enoughe, it nedid not hym to lere.
And þen he seide: “Me thinketh þat I here
An horse ney, and þat ferre henne.
Me thinketh it shuld be in Arderne,
The grete deserte þat on þis see-
Coste is; for it myght wele be
Some man for grete hevynesse
Is drawe to þat wildernesse,
Or elles some ship̄p̄ on þe see
With Tempest perisshed; so myght it be
Some þer-of now had his lyfe,

282

Be grace þe wawes myght hym dryve
And eke his horse vpon þe stronde,
And bryng boþe safe to lande.
If my felawes þat here in be
What þing it is lust forto se,
Into þe bote streight wole we gone.
The trouþe we will know right anoone.”

“LOrde mercy” seide þis lady bright,
“Perilous it were þis in þe nyght

[_]

A lacuna of 50 lines occurs in the British Museum MS. After line 7192 the text is taken from the University College MS.

To go I-wysse, ye shulld never escape
Fro berys, lyons and fro malicious ape,
So wode, so feerse on yow shuld be,
On lyve from hym neuer passe shuld ye.”—
“Madame,” sayde this goode marinere,
“And yow lyst to se dragon or bere,
The lyon, tygre, or the wyld ape,
I dare welle say ye shall wel escape
From hem wyth-oute bodely harme.
For truly, madame, I can a charme,
That none of nem shall no powere haue
Ones to move or stere, So God me save.

283

For thogh we dwelled there a yere,
Ther shuld neyther lyon, ape ne bere
So hardy ones [be] vs to assayll.”
Than sayd this lady: “Wythouten fayle
Wyth yow I woll go now therfor,
And namely whan they shall be so tame,
Hem to behold hit were a good game.”
Marok sayd: “I shall you shew
Merva[y]les many, and not few,
Of lyons, apes, and eke berys,
Dragons, olifauntez, and gwy[v]ers,
Beres, wolfes, and eke Serpentes,
And shall I wyth myn experymentz
Make hem be-fore yow for fere quake.
And whan me lust I [shall] hem make
Ryse and walke where-euer hem lust,
Thorw the forest were hem lyketh best.”
Than sayd the lady, “Wythouten lye,
This ys a passyng fayre maystre.
Haue,” she sayd, “the bote a-non
Oute of the Shippe, for I wyll gone
Streyght in-to this wylld forest
To se all mervelous bestes.”
Oute of the Shipe goth the bothe a-non
The lady and her meynee in gone,
As many as She myght well trust
Of hem that cowde row best.

284

Now fast Rowe they ouer the strond,
They sesyd neuer tyll they come to lond.
Whan they on the lond a-ryved were,
They Cowde not fynde certayn ne heere
Neyther horse ne man ne other Creature,
Of here desyre were they not sure.
The lady sayd: “What may this be?
No-thyng that lyfe bereth can we not se.”
Ther-wyth she comaundeth ryght a-non
Certeyn of her meyne for to gone
Ayen to Ship̄ her mule to fette,
And this was do wyth-outen lette.

[_]

The British Museum MS continues here

Maruk did his enchauntementes.
Anoone the dragons and þe serpentes
And all oþere bestes, with-outen nay,
With his Charme did so affray,
They myght not stirre, they couþe no good.
Maruk anoone did entere þe wode.
The mayde hym sewed, and þat anoone,
And all hir meany now euerichone.
Maruk shewed hir grete lyons,

285

Beres, apes, and also gryffouns,
Dragons, Wyuers, and eke serpentes,
That be crafte of his experimentes
Oute of hir place durst not stirre.
This yonge lady did neigh hem nere
Of hem to be-holde þe manere.
Hir herte of hem gan no-þing fere.
These bestes they be-helde by and by,
And atte laste they did espy
Where a lyon lay newe dede.
With blode enbrowded was his hede,
And fresshe I-slayne þer he lay.
And not ferre fro hym the se þe palfray,
Sadeled redy, wherof þe arsone
All blody was and eke his cropone.
Then seide Maruk: “I am certeyn
Þis blode is of hym þat hath slayne
This lyon truly with-outen any more;
And eke þe man is hurt full sore.
And after hym I wole folowe þe trace.
And, medame, ye shull in þis place
Abyde, and we shull sew forþ þis blode.”

286

Partonope þen in þe holow tre stode
Hem be-holdyng þere faste by.
This lady he be-held witterly;
And when he hadde hir longe be-holde,
His herte gan within hym colde,
And þerwith he siked full piteously.
This lady þat stode hym faste by,
In hir herte þought she than
The sighe trully was of a man.
And softely she hym come nere.
And what for hastynesse and for feere
His hede downe on his breste he caste.
Of hym somwhat she was agaste.
With hir his visage was ouergrowe,
And he was full pale of hewe.
This Coloure were þey þat love trewe,
Yite was he of bones large and longe,
Feble, megre, and no-þing stronge.
Atte laste of hym she had a sight,
And þen she thought: “Be God allmyght,
This man thinketh hym-self for-do,

287

Some Caytif loste for care and wo.
My ffrende,” she seide, “God þe se.”
To hir no worde speke wolde he.
A lytell hyer þen spake she:
“All-myghty God now save the.”
And þerwith he helde his hede an hye.
“And you also,” he seide, “fayre lady.”—
“Sir,” she seide, “for þe lordes love,
That all þing maketh and sitteth a-bove,
Tell me what is thy besynesse,
And what is cause of þi destresse,
And why þou arte so megre and pale,
And of þi woo vnbocle þi male,
And tell me all the verey trouþe.
Me thinketh of þe is grete rouþe.”

“LAdy,” seide þis Partonope,
“I cry you mercy, let me be,
And lette be all your conIuryng
For here euer shall be myn abyding.
Gothe hens, and lete me still be,
Till some beste haue devoured me.”

288

Grete pite hadde þis lady bright.
Downe of hir Mule she alight,
On fote þerwith to hym she came,
And of his chere grete hede she name.
And when she hadde of hym take kepe,
For verey pite she gan to wepe,
And þen she seide: “For Goddis love, haue mercy
On þi-self, and now tell me why
Thou arte here, and what disese
Is to þe falle; for yite some eace
Such cause myght be I may þe do.”—
“Wolde God,” seide he, “ye wolde now go
Forþe your wey, and let me be.
In shorte tyme God wole send me
More diseace þen I haue yite.
For I haue wele deserved it.
Of foule and Evyll deþe to dey
I haue deserved, and þerfore I
Desyre in no wise to haue comforte,
Ne to myn eace neuer make resorte.
Dethe I seke myght I hym fynde.

289

He wole not se me; I trowe he is blynde.
And þerfore, lady, now lete me be.
Go forþe your wey, and sew your meany.”—
“Nay,” seide þe lady, “þat wole I not do.
I wole neuer departe þe fro,
Till þi name þou haste tolde me.
Then wole I go and let þe be,
And right Even as thou lyst.
And soone I am syker some wilde beste
Shall come and devoure the.
Fro hem I wote þou mayst not fle.”

“LAdy,” he seide, “right fayre ye be.
But wote I neuer where þat ye
Be wife or mayden, with-outen doute,
But be þe meany þat is you a-boute,
Me thinketh of grete and highe degre
Be resone borne shuld ye be.
And ye a wonder occupac[i]on haue
So longe to stonde here be a knave,
A broþell, an oute-caste fro all þing,
To holde with such felony.

290

I were right worthy forto dey
On a rope on a galowe tre.
What shuld a lady of your degre
With suchone holde any talkyng?
It were more fayre to holde your walkyng.
But sith ye list to knowe my name,
All-though to me it be a shame,
I shall now tell you as it is:
A false traytour is my name ywisse.
That I be called So is grete skille.
Ye mow go walke when ye will,
And I neuer þe wiser of your name.”
Then answerd þe lady: “Be Seynt Iame,
My name I wole þou know wele,
And of my kynrede if þou wilt fele:
My ffader was an Emperour,
Which in his tyme bare þe floure
Of knyghthode; also he was right wise.
My Suster also is an Emperese,
And I a queen, and haue in honde
All a kyngdome; and þough I stonde

291

Here þis porely and speke with þe,
Yite wepe full sore þou hast made me.
But tresone I hate and it forsake.
My Right name forsothe is Wrake.”
When he herde so hir name,
He knew hir wele, and þen for shame
His colour chaunged and all his hew.
His grete sorowe gan to renewe;
And þerwith-all he wex so mate
That to þe grounde he fell flatte
On swone anoone, with-outen more.
Wrake þen be-helde hym sore.
Within shorte tyme wele knew she
That it was Partonope.
In armes she hent hym anoone right,
And comforted hym with hir myght.
“A lorde,” she seide, “Omnipotent,
This man hym-self hath foule shent.
Loke vp, loke vp, Partonope!
Where is your ffresshe colour?” quod she,
“Be-come, þat some-tyme was rose Rede,

292

And now is pale as asshen dede?
Why be your cloþes þus to-tore?
I haue se you in tyme here be-fore
Full fresshe arrayed, with-outen drede.”
Of all hir wordes toke he none hede.
Then of his dethe she gan to fere.
And þen she cried lowde in his Ere
A tale þat shuld be to hym pleasyng.
Anoone she forged a fayre lesyng,
And þen she seid: “Fayre Partonope,
My lady, my Suster, haþe sent me
You to seke full many a myle.
But blessed be þilk while
That at þis tyme I haue you founde.
A-boute Fraunce I haue sought you rounde.
She hath wele assayed your trouthe,
And of your sorowe now hath she routhe.
There fell forsothe a foule mysschaunce.
But now she knoweth your repentaunce
And þe sorowe þat ye haue take

293

She hath chosen you to be hir make,
Hir love, hir lorde, hir souerayngne.
I haue tolde you þe trouþe pleyne.
Lette be your wepyng, it is but nyssete.
To laughe right grete cause haue ye.
Rise vp faste, and come with me.
A place I haue, where þat ye
Shall be kept full pryvely.
My susters Castel is faste by.
A-wey þes heeres shall be shave.
Good mete and drynke ye shall haue,
And good baþes of herbes swete.
Then with my suster shull ye mete.
Goþe no firþer youre helthe to seche,
For my-self shall be your leche.
And I wole in no wise þat ye
Be sene of no creature but me,
Of man, ne woman, grome, ne page,
Till þe blode in your visage,
And fresshe coloure be come ayein,

294

Then wole I all folke you sene.”

And with that worde Partonope
A dedely Eye on hir caste he,
And sodenly from hir his Eye did falle,
And pitousely he seide with-all,
With symple voyce and herte colde,
To Wrak he seide: “Þat ye haue tolde,
Ware I leve with full entent,
That my lady hath hir male-talent
Me for-gyven and so vtterly,
Sith þat I haue so traytoursly
With-oute cause did hir grete shame,
And made hir loste hir good name?
Lorde, where she wote, fayre Wrak,
That I haue þus moche sorowe make
For þe treasone and þe foule falsenesse
That I hir did, and þus hir kyndnesse
Have I Evill quytte? lorde, where she
In any wise couþe haue mercy on me?”

“Sir,” she seide, “To you to lye,
It were to me grete velany.

295

Ye ought to knowe hir as wele as I.
She couþe not suffre now truly
You to longe to be in hevynesse;
She is so full of gentilnesse.”
To hir seide þan Partonope:
“I beleve now soþely that ye
Haue me seide, is verray trouþe.
Hir herte is full of pite and rouþe.
For in þis worlde, I you ensure,
Was neuer brought forþe creature
More habundaunt in womanhede.
For in hir founde I, with-outen drede,
Curtesy, fredam, and gentilnesse,
Bounte, mercy, and eke mekenesse.
For þer is now no man on lyve
The goodnesse couþe discryve
That here-afore she did to me,
When my service she had in chierte.
Therfore þat ye haue seide, Wrake,
Fully I beleve, and þerfore take
Me all holy into your gouernaunce.

296

For yite I haue full good remembraunce
How gentill and how curteyse ye were
To me, when I my lady dere,
Your suster, hadde so foule be-trayed,
And for fere was so desmayed
Of hir meany, when they me sought,
Then þrow hem all ye me brought,
And helped me wele oute of þat contre.
This is þe seconde tyme þat ye
Haue me saved from horreble deþe.
Therfore while me lasteth breþe,
Your servaunt for euer wole I be,
Sith my life ye haue þis in chierte.
And forþe with you now wole I go.
But I not how þat I shall do:
I am ouercome with ffeblenesse;
For be þe Rotes of þe grasse,
Sith I come hidder, haue ben my levyng.
On knees and elbowes is now my goyng;
I have no power to go þre pase.
My songe may be allas, allas.”

297

Wrak of hym hadde grete pite.
Tendirly for his wo wept she,
And seide: “Þis was a grete cruelte
Of my suster to ordeyn þat ye
Shuld be brought in þis forest
To lyve by herbes as doþe a beste.
In þis,” she seide, “she had no reasone.”—
“Why,” seide he, “I did her treasone,
Wherefore I haue deserved wele
Euer to lyve in care and dole,
Till þat hir lust to for-yeve me,
For as she will so mote it be.
Hidder I brought an aumblere gray.
Full late he was faste by me;
Full lene and megre now is he.
I trow he is fledde to þe see.
If any-body wolde hym hidder fette,
Vpon hym I myght wele sitte.
Then myght I streight ride forþe with you.

298

But with all my hert I pray you,
To euery wight it [vn]knowe be
That my name is Partonope.
And lette me prively somewhere soiourne,
Where no man shall se me mourne,
Ne that my lady me euer se,
To haue þe more despite of me.”—
“Certeis,” seide þis good Wrak,
“All þis I darre wele vndirtake.”
As they were spekyng of þis array,
They sawe where come his palfray.
Anoone to hir þis hors was fette,
And Partonope on hym was sette.
Streight to þe bote boþe they ride.
Calme was þe see, fayre was þe tide.
The bote with good will þey rowe eichone;
Thus atte shipp they were anoone.

299

In goþe Wrak, and Partonope,
And in cometh after all þe meany.
Wrak Maruk to hir did calle:
“Which lande is next vs of all?”
Seith she, “now tell vs blyve.
There I wolde we myght aryve.”—
“Medame,” seith Maruk, “now truly,
Here is an Ile but faste vs by.
The lande of Salence men do it calle;
That londe is next vs now of all.”
To Maruk seide þis good Wrake:
“In all þis haste I pray the make
Thy shippe redy in all degre,
That vnder sayle in haste we be.”
Maruk biddeth his men a pase:
“Go hye you faste to þe wyndase,
And pull þe anker vp on haste!”
The sayle þerwith a-downe he caste.

300

A better shippe myght no man fynde
Atte sayle, at wedir, and at wynde
At will they had, I you plight;
And forþe they sayle all þat nyght,
Safe and sounde with-outen nay.
To Salence they come be þat day
Gan shew, and þe sonne gan spryng.
To Wrak þis was glad tithing.

Salence is but a lytell Ile.
Of length it is not ouer a myle
More þan it is now of brede,
A contre of plenteousnesse, as I rede,
Full of all maner swete delites.
There-in groweth dyuers spices.
Of corne and flesshe þer is grete plente,
Venesone, fresshe fysshe þer lakketh no deynte,
Wode, medowe, large in length,
Rounde a-boute in his strength.
Shorte tale to make with-outen more,

301

The Emprisse, feyre Melioure,
Yave it hir Suster, good Wrake,
To þat entent þerin to take
Hir playing while and hir desporte,
Amonge when she wolde þider resorte.
In this Ile she hadde a fayre castell,
Stronge walled a-boute and diched wele.
So erly in þat mornyng
When she was landed, she made bryng
Thidder so pryvely Partonope
Therof wist no life but only she,
And wolde in no wise suffre him mourne.
There she seide he shuld sogeourne.
She made hym haue all maner delite.
Within a while he gan haue apetite
To mete and drynke and eke to reste.
What he wolde haue he hadde þe beste.
Sorowe hadde hym enfebled so sore,
Many of his heeres were waxen hore,
Lee she made hym of a certeyn asshe,

302

And ofte his hede þerwith did wasshe.
The coloure amended þen hugely.
And þerto she fayned pryvely
Letters, as they though had be
Sent fro hir suster to Partonope,
Of love endited so wele and goodly,
That he gan wex all fresshe and lusty.
The coloure in his visage gan faste amende.
To be þus Releved he neuer so wende.
Of hym no man, I darre vndirtake,
Hadde knowleche, safe only Wrake,
And a mayden þat was fayre and fre,
Borne of hye and noble degre.
A kyng was hir ffadir, hir modyr a queen,
Cousyn to Wrake so bright and shene.
Wrake hir loved full passyngly,
She was right fayre and þerto goodly.

This maydens name was Persewisse.
Fayre shap she was, and eke wise,
Fre in gyvyng, curteyse in dalyaunce.

303

She couþe wele harpe, singe, and daunce,
But of love toke she noone hede.
For who so wolde, with-outen drede,
To hir speke of such matere,
Of hir shuld he haue no good chere.
Hir hert þat tyme was in such a plite,
To speke of love she had noon apetite.
In such daliaunce wolde she not spende
Hir speche; but after she may amende.
As seith myn auctour, full hardely she
Did it not oonly for chastite,
Though she loved neþer to kysse ne rage.
All þis was but tendirnesse of age.
Wherfore myn auctour seith truly
She shuld here-after more sharply
Of loves dartes fele þe prickyng,
Which shuld hir wittes full soone bryng
For euer to forsake hir chastite.
For comynly it is not sene they be
Herborowed to-gedre now in oon plase,
Beaute and chastite; for ouer grete space

304

They wolde take, as telleth myn auctour me.
For truly he seith how þat they be
Twoo contraries to-gedre [to] dwell,
For þe toone wole all-wey þe toþer sell.
For þat woman þat hath grete beaute,
And spendeth hir life in chastite,
Fairenesse on hir is evill be-sette.
For chastite in no wise should be knette
To beaute: for they mow neuer acorde,
To-gedre in plesaunce to serve þe worlde.
For she þat lyveth in chastite,
When folke pley, þen lowreth she.
She hath no Ioy of mery dalyaunce.
Let hir go forþe with mysschaunce,
And beaute of hir neuer, take hede!
Ye mow not acorde, with-outen drede.
For beaute loveth all gentilnesse,
Honour noble, and largesse,
Faire speche, and þerto full of plesaunce,

305

Lovyng boþe pley, to sing and daunce.
Chastite putteth beaute oute of array.
She will neuer suffre hir be fresshe and gay,
But shadowes hir euer with mournyng chiere;
Of hir she hath a full lewde fere.
For beaute desyreth to haue þe colour
Of þe faire fresshe rose floure,
And loveth also to lyve in Iolyte,
Desyryng to haue hye prosperite.
But þat foule þat may not haue
To hir love noþer knyght ne knave,
Gentilman ne yeman of no degree,
Lette hir þan lyve in chastite.
Yite vnknowe I love wele chastite
Better a grete dele þen she doþe me:
For if I speke to hir of any love,
Be God þat sitteth in heven a-bove,

306

To me she answereth so shortely,
That of hir wordes a-basshed am I.
For when I wolde some-tyme in counseylle
Shew my hert to hir somedele,
She answerd me in wordes so hye,
I hadde as lefe my counseylle crye
In London atte crosse in Chepe.
She giffeth me cause ofter to wepe
Then forto laughe, þis is no nay.
And sometyme when þat I assay
To gife hir a yifte, broche or Ryng,
That wole she not take for no-þing.
Thus rude is chastite and not curteise,
She hathe me greved in many wise.
But now wole I lette all ladies be,
And tell forþe of Partonope.

PArtonope hath now clene forsake
The wodwouse life, and haþe hym take

307

To þe gouernaunce all fully
Of ffayre Wrak and of Persewy.
And they be redy, I you plight,
Hym to comforte with all hir myght.
Bothe hym wesshe and lay hym softe.
She hym feyned letters full ofte
Of comforte endited so goodly,
And bere an hande þat truly
They were hym sent from Melyouore
To heale his wounde þat greved hum sore.
Certeis doublettes þey lete make hum fyne,
Gownes of Skarlette and eke of Satyne.
Hym lakked no-þing þat myght hym eace,
Full glad they were hym to pleace.
And þrow her grete cherisshyng
He wexe full fresshe, lusty, and lykyng,
And of his letters toke grete comforte,

308

Which were fayned to hym for desporte.
Were not þes ladies foule to blame
Thus to lye and make hym game
Of Meliors letters, and seide she hym sent,
Which on [n]eiþer side was ment?
But blameworþi were they noone,
Sith for þe best it was done.
But atte last þrow her desporte,
Hir fayre chiere, her fayned comforte,
He gan gedre to hym faste flesshe and blode,
And wexe lusty þat, by my hode,
When Wrak be-helde a-boute right wisely
His fressh coloure, his persone so semely,
She ganne so nye fall with hym in dotage,
Save þat wisdome restreyned corage,
And thought on hir Suster Mel[i]oure,
How truly he loved hir and hadde done yore.
It was, she thought, but nycetye,
And all þat fantasy she lete be.
Persewyse stode in þe same degre,

309

For she wan dalyaunce with Partonope.
His porte, his manere be-come so wele
Þat þough hir herte were made of stele,
No wonder it was þough it did melte.
The fyre of love so made it swelte
In lovyng of þis Partonope,
That almoste for-yete was chastite,
Save þat she wist wele and knewe
To þis lady Melyoure he was so trewe
Þat þough she loved, it myght not avayle,
And thought it was but loste travayle.
The hete of love hir herte did feynte;
With wise abydyng þe fyre she queynte.
Thus seith myn auctour after whome I write.
Blame not me: I moste endite
As nye after hym as euer I may,
Be it soþe or less I can not say.
But now I lette þis Partonope
And Persewise, þis mayden fre,

310

To-gedre in dalyaunce to haue in fere,
For now is come a messyngere
From the Empresse Melioure
To Wrak, hir Suster; for wonder sore
She desyreth with hir to speke.
Wrak in no wise will not breke
This grete ladies commaundement.
After hir shipmen now faste she sente,
And chargeth hem her shipp be redy faste,
To see she wole go in all þe haste.
Wrak þat is boþe redy and wise,
Is not aferde þough Persewise
At hir castell leve with Partonope;
For nedys coste leve moste she
Oon with hym þat knoweth þe counseylle.
Of Persewise she wote is no perell;
For she is wise, redy and stedfaste.
The lasse of hir she is a-gaste,
How longe fro home she euer a-byde.
Hir shippe is redy, fayre is þe tyde.
Leve she taketh of Partonope,

311

To hir shipp now streight goþe she.
Forþe seyleth Wrak, þis mayden fre.
In grete thought is Partonope.
Wrak wepeth gretely at hir departyng.
Partonope prayde hir a-bove all þing
She wolde to hym come soone ayein.
“Therof,” seid she, “I wolde be feyn.”
Wrake hath wedyr at poynte devise.
Full glad and mery is Persewise.
Forþe seyleth Wrak vpon þe see,
And in shorte tyme aryved is she
At Chief de Oyere, where as Melyore,
Hir fayre suster, hathe dwelled yore.

Now arne þes Susters mette in feere,
Eyþer to oþer make good chere.
Tappettes and quysshons to hem be fette.
In an herber full grene be they sette
There allone to take her dalyaunce.
I trow they lust neþer sing ne daunce,
For Mel[i]ore gan anoone to wepe.
Hir Suster Wrak toke grete kepe

312

Of hir maner governaunce.
Hir þought þis maner of dallyaunce
Was nyse what hir suster mente.
She wist not þe verrey entent
Of hir suster þat wept so sore.
And atte laste fayre Melyouore
Of hir wepyng gan a-brayde,
And to hir Suster þus she seide:
“Vngracious am I, be God above,
That euer I was encombred be love.
It hath—she seide—me noyed sore.
But of þis matere speke we no more.”
To hir answerd fayre Wrake:
“Trewly I neuer knew your make,
For wele I wote, be God above,
All your wepyng is for love.
Ye wolde feyne hide it from me
And disfigure youre nycete,
But ye can not þat experyment.
I knowe to wele your entent.

313

Love wolde fayne make you to speke,
But þan comeþ drede and makeþ you breke
Youre tale, and þat is hye folye.
For, Suster, ye wote right wele þat I
Love you a-bove all erthly þing
And gladly wolde do your pleasyng.”

“BE God,” quod þis lady, “þat is not so.
For ofte tymes ye haue me do
With your wordes full grete diseace,
And you full lytell me displeace.
Wordes of reprofe ye haue seide many oone
To me, and þerto a yere is full gone
Or more, sith ye laste se me.
Here come ye but a lytill parde.”

“FOr sothe,” seid Wrake, “it is ago
More þen xij. monþes þat we two
To-gedre in oon place mette.
A cause þer was þat me did lette.
For þe laste tyme þat ye se me
Or I you, forsoþe Partonope

314

Was here with you in þis place,
And for his trespase I neghed your grace.
Ye denyed in no wise to here me
For wepyng or knelyng, more þen I hadde be
A straunger to you and no-þing kynne.
This made [me] vtterly fro you fleene.
So vngoodly chere ye made me,
I toke my shippe, and wente to see
To haue passed many a straunge lande
And to se þe wondres in many a stronde.
And herde suche tithinges þat liketh not me.
For truly your owne love Partonope
Ye made lese his witte for aye.
This is verrey soþe, þis is no naye.
So moche sorowe for you he hath take,
Horne-wode he renneth for your sake.
For hym me nede no more to pray
Ne for hym knele, but o þing I say:
“Gete you a-noþer love, for he is gone.
It shall be longe or ye gete suchone.

315

And sith ye haue do so to hym,
Thus ye worship̄p̄ gretely your kynne,
This is þe cause þat I haue you fledde.
Partonope in þis worlde is but dede.”

When þe lady herde þat Partonope
For love of hir wode Ranne he,
A-boute hir hert she felt such peyn,
Moche wo she had hir to Restreyne
Fro swonyng, for loþe was she
That hir hevynesse aspied shuld be
Of Wrak, hir Suster, þat was hir dere.
But yit wist Wrake wele by hir chere
And be hir Colour bright and rede
That was chaunged into pale and dede,
That for love was all hir hevynesse.
Yite Meliore did all hir besynesse
To gete ayein hir fresshe hewe,
Hir dedely coloure did renewe,
And to hir Suster did she speke
And somwhat hir hert to hir breke:

“Suster,” she seide, “it may wele be
In grete disese lieth Partonope,

316

And if he were to me as chiere
As euer he was, I couþe you lere
To make hym as hole as euer he was.
That euer I hym knewe I may say allas,
So falsely as he hath be-trayed me,
Causelesse, Suster, þat wote now ye.
Yite for your love, not for thy,
A medecyne I shall you teche redely
That shall in haste all hole hym make.”
To hir answerd anoone Wrake:
“Nay, fayre Suster, be Seynt Iohn,
Therto haue [I] right layser noone.
Hele hym your-self if þat ye lust,
Ye knowe medecynes þat ben beste.
For I knowe wele, and þat do ye:
In Fraunce be-fore was Partonope
A man wele be-loved and of grete estate,
And your love hathe made hym chekmate.
Ye loved hym first, to sey þe trouþe.
Suster, þerof ye may haue rouþe.

317

Be crafte of false nygromansye
Hidder ye hym brought full cursedly.
And in your service he come ne hadde,
He shuld not now haue ronne madde.
Suster, he loved you twoo yere and more.
He sawe you neuer. Trow ye not sore
It greved hym, yis so mote I the,
All day with-oute company to be,
And neuer to speke with you but in þe nyght,
And yite of you þen to haue no sight?
Though after be his counseylle he
Shope hym fully you to se.
What clepe ye þis? shuld þis be treasone?
Me thinketh in þis haue ye no reasone.
But discrecon now telleth me
He loved you better þan euer ye
Did hym, þis is with-oute doute.
As a wilde beste he renneth a-boute,
Of mete ne drynke taketh he none hede,
Ne of slepe with-outen drede.

318

Which of you now haþe be-trayed oþer?
Ye hym. And if he were my broþer,
And he hadde his witte agayne,
O thing wolde I counseylle hym certeyn:
In love he shuld neuer do you seruyce.
He lyveth not þat can devise
A persone to haue more semelynesse,
More beaute, more streight, more largesse,
Þan he hadde; and ye, suster Meliore,
That haue made hym loste, and mych more,
Of þis ye may make a fayre a-vaunte.
Yite somwhat me thinketh ye be repentaunte
Wepe now a lytill I you pray.
God for euer I now reney,
If for hym I make request
To you; and some-tyme no gretter feste
In no wise ye couþe haue made me
Then of his sorow to haue pite;
But of my prayer toke ye noone hiede.
Therfore, suster, so God me spede,

319

And ye will hym hele or elles fynde,
Go seke hym vnder þe wode lynde.
There he renneth wode as any hare.
But no force I will neuer care
For you ne for hym, while þat I lyve.”
When Mel[i]ore herde þis grete reprove
That Wrake, hir suster, to hir hath tolde,
Hir hert within hir body gan to colde,
And þought hir love, Partonope
For euer in þis worlde loste hathe she.

“Suster,” seide fayre Meliore,
“The cause þat I wepe so sore,
For Partonope it is not sekyrly.
But I shall tell you þe cause why.
Suster, sith ye were laste with me,
Here hath ben a grete assemble
Of kynges, Erles, and eke barons,
And all þat holde castels and townes
Or any oþer lordshippe of me,
All they were in þat assemble.
Of all her counseylle þis was þe accorde

320

Þat I moste algate haue a lorde.
Some seide þe Emperour of Spayne,
And some seide the Emperour of Almayne,
And some seide, for nere alliaunce,
I shuld haue þe kyng of Fraunce.
But shortely to tell at oo worde,
All þes lordis myght not acorde
To eny of þes þre persones,
The fell at Travers all at ones.
Some speke shortely of hym of Spayne,
And some helde no-þing with Almayne,
Of the kyng of Fraunce they toke none hiede.
Thus they departed, with-oute drede.
Then was þere a knyght þat heght Arme[l]us,
A semely persone for þe nonys,
Longe and brode, and bigge of bonys.
He was no man of grete lyvelode.
He passeth many a man in manhode.
He was ronne wele in yeeres,
His hede was full of white heeres.
A man he was holde of grete renoune;
Men toke heede gretely of his resone.

321

‘LOrdynges,’ he seide, ‘and it be your pleasyng,
To gyve audience to my spekyng,
To all þat of þis counseyll be,
Myn entent I pray you here and se.
I am wele roune vpp in age,
Not borne of hye lynage.
Yite an olde proverbe seide is all day:
Of a fole a wyse man may
Take witte, þis is with-outen drede.’
‘Sey on,’ seyd all, ‘now God þe spede.’
‘Lordynges,’ he seide, ‘with-outen fayle,
I am not able you to counsayle.
For who shall a counseylle yeve,
Hym is good to be warre of reprove,
Leste me sey he is worþi no wage,
He counseyled þus for his owne a-vauntage.
Lordinges, the entent of þis matere
I will you tell, if ye lust to here.
Taketh it in no wise for no counseylle.
But if ye think it may not a-vaylle
Herith it, and þen leyeth it on syde.

322

Ye wote wele how large and wyde
My ladies lordshippes lye here a-boute.
To you it is not in grete doute
Þere is [no] lorde þat now is here,
But þat he is in lande a marchere
To some of þe lordes a-fore seide,
Eiche of hem þer-fore wolde be wele paide
To haue hym a kyng to whome he is a marchere,
Of hym to haue better lordship̄p̄ and chere.
Eiche man for his avauntage doþe chese,
Full litill heede take they of my ladies ease.
This is no resone me þinketh, be my life.
I wole make an ende of all þis strif,
And taketh good heed what I shall sey,
I shall shew you a new wey.
My lady is of grete honour,
And of beaute she bereth þe floure
Of all women, þis wote ye,
That in þis worlde I trow be.
She is þerto but right tendre of age.

323

Many cite, castell, and pore village
That ben vnder hir gouernaunce,
Many a pore man may she avaunce.
Of lordes, of knyghtis eke she is so stronge
That no [man] may do hir no wronge.
Wherfore me thinkeþ þat reasone wolde
Hir soueraigne lorde chose she sholde.
And if she chese a lorde for richesse,
If he lak manhode and prowesse,
This myght be mysschief to vs all.
Or it myght elles so be-fall
She chose a man of small degre,
So a gentillman borne þat he be,
Fre, curteise, stable, and debonaire,
Stronge, wele shapen, of visage faire,
Manly, trew, friendly with to dele,
Such a man shuld do right wele.
If such were founde be her owne chesyng,
To vs þis myght neuer be reprovyng.
And how þis myght In brought be
I shall you tell, as thinketh me:

324

At witsonetyde þe next yere,
Be writte lette be charged to be here
Marchauntes of all maner degre,
That of þe queen holde any maner fee,
Where they be fre or Elles bounde,
With her marchaundise vpon þe stronde,
And that a fayre here holden be
Of marchaundise of all maner degree,
And xv. dayes it shall be holden here.
There shall no man no custome bere,
To þe fayres avauntage þis gretely shall be,
Also peace þrow all þe contre
Be cried for straunger, as we devisen.
They piche vp her boþes, and þer in good wyne
Shall be to sell; it may not fayle
There moste be plente of all vitayle,
Hors, armour that longeth to Chevalry,
Wele beten Trappers, stedes to þe wey,
Sheldes, speres peynted full gay,
Sadels, helmes of all maner assay,

325

That longeth to turneyng, may not be behynde,
To be solde men moste þere redy fynde.
Be þen pore men her boþes vp haue
Her good þerin forto save,
And eke grete marchauntes her pavylone,
It shall seme a right wele fayre towne.
On þe toþer side ordeyned it mot be
Herodes to ride in euery contre
That bene vnder cristen lay,
To proclame vpon what day
A Royall turnement here þan shall be,
And it shall laste dayes þre.
Also to warne eich worþi knyght
To shew her knyghthode and her myght,
And how þe turnament shall be-gynne,
Who so euer happe þe gre to wynne,
On monday next after þe faire day.
And all þe ferre straungers with-outen nay
Shull be herborowed on þis side;

326

In þe faire all þe toþer shall a-bide.
And my lady herborowed shall be
In þe dongeon for more suerte.
Be hir also moste sitte þere
The lordes all þat shull bere
The charge of þe rightfull Iugement,
Who þat shall haue þe gree of þe turnamente.
Thre dayes þis turnament shall laste.
On þe fourte day þe Iuges moste caste
Which doþe beste to haue þe degre.
Of þes moste vj. or vij. be
Chosen oute of þe worthiest,
And which my lady liketh best
Hym she moste take for hir souerayne,
And here on þis medowe faire and playne
The turnament holden shall be,
Þat my lady and þe Iuges may se.
Hidder shall come many a Riche marchaunte,
Fro Venyse, fro Ypres, and fro Gaunte,
To wyn vpon her marchaundise.

327

Of þe turnament eke to haue þe prise
Hedir wole come many a worþi knyght,
And þis wole be a Royall sight.
Lordynges,' seide Armulus, ‘what sey ye?
My tale is tolde, and if not be
Agreable vnto all your entente,
In you lieth now amendmente.’

When Armulus had his reasone seide,
The lordes þerto agreed were and apayde.
Thus here shall be þis turnament,
And I am assented to her entente,
Which, Suster, to me is grete sorowe.
When I thinke þeron, Even and morowe,
I moste nedes fall in moche sighyng.
Also, good suster, of my wepyng
This is þe cause, and not Partonope.
But, faire suster, I wole þat ye
In þis mater knowe all my will.
To love Partonope I haue more skill
Then any of þo þat they wole chese,
Grete sorowe moste I haue þus to lese

328

My love, my Ioy, my Partonope,
For truly, suster, he moste nedes be
Moste in my thought, while I am alyve,
To you all holy I do me shryve.”—
“Ey, God helpe,” seide good Wrake,
“What woman of you may I make?
Ye be, me þinketh, full vnstable;
Youre herte is euer so chaungeable.
I haue grete mervaylle, be God a-bove,
Ye can Partonope boþe hate and love,
And þat oones and in oo day.
Grete Ioy of you haue I may.
Yite for litill your herte couþe chaunge,
I trowe, fro hym, and love a straunge.”
When Melior herde Wrake hir blame,
And to hir seide so moche shame,
For sorowe she wist not what to do,
But wept as þough hir herte a-two
Shuld haue broste; and þerwith she
Leyde hir downe on hir susters kne.
Longe after she seide full petiously:

329

“Wrake, good suster, I cry you mercy.
And for Goddis love, now conseylle me
My love to haue I myght beste be
Governed; for fully in you I trust,
And ye can counseylle me for þe beste.”

“Suster,” seide Wrake, “as þinkeþ me,
Ye haue sett your-self in good degre,
And as now moste for your beste.
Ye mow chese whome euer ye liste
Of such complexion ye mowe take
Of browne, of bloye, or elles of blake,
As is moste to your plesaunce.
Wherfore desyre ye a fayrere chaunce?”

“Good suster,” þen seide Melior,
“Ye make myn herte wonder sore.
And hardely, suster, grete syn haue ye
Thus vngoodly to rehete me.
Grete synn haþe þat list to displeace
A lady for love lieth in diseace.”—
“That is soþe,” seide good Wrake.
“It is grete almes, I dar vndirtake,

330

A lady to sle a gentill knyght
That loveth hir truly with all his myght.”
Then seide þe lady: “I fele wele
In loves daunger ye are neuer a dele.
But God may ordeyn here-after þat ye
In loves daunse caught may be.
Then all þes Iapes wole ye leve,
Then shull ye fele somwhat my greve.”

ÞEn seide Wrake: “I will neuer more
To you speke, sith þat so sore
My wordes to you grevaunce be
For when God will, suster, mow ye
In love here-after full truly,
And þen I hote you þat neuer shall I
Hym þat I love for no-þing hate,
For þat were an vngoodly debate.”

Then seide Melior: “Þis may wele be.
But when God of love and ye
Haue ben to-gedre þat ye hym serve,
And he you bynde till þat ye sterve,
Thus fro his servise neuer parte shall ye.

331

Then shull ye wele tell me
To love ne to hate shull ye haue no power,
But as ye may be to hym moste pleasire.”
Then seide Wrake: “If love me bynde
Hym to serve in such a kynde,
What þing shall make me my love to hate?
Be-twene vs rise shall neuer debate.
Truly, suster, I sey for me
Of his servise haue I no deynte.”—
“Be þe feith, suster, þat I hym owe,”
Seid Melior, “ye shull wele knowe
Boþe þat and moche oþer þing more
Ye felte [neuer] sith tyme ye were bore.”
Then seide Wrake: “Love ye on faste!
Hym to serve haue I no haste:
For suster ye can neuer tell me
Where I love paramours in any degre.”—
“Ye, suster,” þen seide Meliore,
“Ye know þat is a-go full yore.
Where my herte was sette to love,
There it is all-wey, be God a-bove.

332

And, suster, ye speke euer of oo þinge,
Ye can neuer make þerof Endyng.
And as touchyng þis parlement,
What my lordes þerin haue ment,
And what euer they meane, so mote I go,
As me list beste so will I do.”
Then seide hir suster Wrake:
“Þough ye litill heede here-of take
In suche place ye be now brought,
Be ought or be it nought:
He þat wynneth þe turnament,
Ye moste haue hym by Iugement.”—
“Suster,” she seide, “I shall neuer take
For hem all none oþer make
But such as hathe all hole my herte,
How sore þerof þat euer I smerte.”—
“I wote neuer whome ye love beste,
But wele I wote ye haue skill moste
To Partonope, whome [-euer] ye chese,
Who euer yow he shall lese.”
Then seide Melior: “It is not so.
I love hym truly and no mo.

333

What euer þe Iuges deme a-bove,
I yeve hym fully all my love.”—
“To late þes wordes ye haue seide.
Ye moste nedes holde you paide
To haue hym your lorde þat be Iugement
Hath borne hym beste in þe turnament.”
Then seide Melior: “Ye sey now soþe.
But siþe to me þis is so loþe,
I shall make hem leve her entent
And anulle all þis turnement.”
Then seide Wrake: “Þis may not be.
It is proclamed in many a contree
That agreed ye be fully þerto;
What euer ye sey it moste be do.”
All wepyng answerd Meliore:
“It hath be spoke so ferre afore
To all þe worlde is now hidder comyng.
Of nought it serveth all my repentyng!”
Then seide Wrake: “It wole not be.
All þis wepyng for Partonope,
Lette þis go for euer with-outen fayle,
Thus is, suster, my full counseylle.”

334

Ayein answerde faire Meliore:
“Nedes moste my herte be sore,
Sith þrow myn owne foly
Myn hertes Ioy þus loste haue I.”

“Suster,” seide Wrake, þis faire mayde,
“Thes wordes be now to late seide.
For no doute þis ye shull not se
At þis turnament Partonope.
And þis is þe moste wo of all:
In your power it may not fall
To chese your love þere as ye luste,
But where your Iuges likeþ beste.
To hym ye moste yeue all your herte,
Though it do so youre herte smerte.
They shull chese, but ye moste love.
Þis mariage, me þinketh, may not prove.
For who þat shall love, as þinketh me,
The choyse all in hym moste be.
Of þis it nedeth not to speke more.
But when I kneled and wept full sore,

335

Praying you to for-gyve Partonope,
Then herde in no wise myght I be.
But þis is a full olde sawe:
Nede hathe no maner of lawe.
Therfore my counseylle is atte leste:
Taketh hym to your love þat turneþ beste.”
Now with þes wordes þes susters two
Ben risen, and into a chambre go.
And in shorte tyme þis fayre Wrake
Of hir suster hir leve [hath] take.
She þinketh full longe, while she is þere,
She wolde full fayne be Elles-where.
Now shortely to speke, þis good Wrake
Of Melior hir suster leve haþe take.
And Melior prayeth fayre þat she
With hir atte turnement wil be,
And she hir graunted with good chere,
Saying: Suster, I wole be þere.”

Of hir leve takyng no more I make.
But streight to shipp goþe Wrake.
Wynde and weder haþe she at will.
To Salence she comeþ full softe and still,
Fro shippe to castell streight goþe she.
When ware of hir was Partonope,
Atte chambre dore sone he hir mette,
And full gladly eiche oþer grette.
Of hir comyng full glad was he,

336

And of his helthe moche Ioy made she.
And with hym come faire Persewise
To welcome hir lady be good avise.
And of þe turnement Wrake hym tolde,
And what þe cause is why it shuld be holde;
And seide his love hym worde sente
If he come not to þe turnement,
Melior his wife neuer shuld be.
Then to Wrake seide Partonope:
“And Godd gif me life, with-oute doute,
I shall go forþe amonge þe Route.
But what shall I do? I haue none armoure.”—
“Care ye nought, for I you ensure
Ye shall none lake,” seide good Wrake.
“For fayrere ne better, I dare vndertake,
Beth not to selle þis day in Parise,
Of strenger assayes ne better avise,
Stronge sheldes, fayre sadels with cropers,
Light and faire shapen, and myghty colers,
Hauberk, hosen of mayle full bright,
And helme of fyne stele þat hath good sight.
A stede I shall gyve you which is cole blak;
In hym I trowe ye shall fynde no lak,
Wele rennyng and redy atte honde,

337

A better shall be founde in no londe.
Therfore sett fully your entent
To be at þat grete turnament;
For amonge thousandes of armed men
A ffressher ne a better armed shall ben
Man in þe felde þat ilke day
Then ye shull be; and þerfore assay
Of þe turnement to haue þe degre,
For all your armyng I take vpon me.
For and ye liste hem to se nowe,
They shull be brought afore you;
And at leyser ye shall hem assay.
And what is not good to your pay,
It shall be amended at good eace.”
And þerwith anoone with-oute lese
Fresshe harneys afore hym was brought.
What hym lust haue þere lakked nought.
This hareneis he liked wonder wele;
He se neuer fayrere of Iren and stele.
The hosen of stele he did assay
If they were shape wele to his pay.
And Persewise with hir fresshe face
A-boute his legges gan hem lace.
Thes hosen of stele þat were so bright,
Were wele shapen vnto his sight,
In hem defaute couþe he none fynde,
And Persewise þat was so kynde,
Brought him an hauberk fresshe and gay,
If it were mete to assay.

338

This hawberk vpon him he did caste:
Of beaute hym þought þat paste
All þo þat euer he had sene be-fore.
This faire Persewise with-oute more
With a girdill of golde hym girde a-bove,
Wele sette with perle; for somewhat love
This fayre mayde hath brought in suche plite,
Partonope to pleace was all hir delite.
And forþe anone with-outen faile
A-boute his neke a faire ventaile
She did lace, with-oute oþes moo.
And faire Wrake hym brought þo
A bright helme bourened fyne of stele,
With golde and perle sette full wele.
And right anoone with-oute lette
Vpon his hede Wrak it sette,
And knytte þe gower a-boute his waste,
And to his shulders made it faste.
Wrak brought hym a swerde anoone.
Though þrow þe worlde a man shuld gone
A passyng good swerde to fynde,
He wolde not haue lefte þat be-hynde;
And þerto it was so bright and kene,
When he had it naked sene,
He seide he se neuer such anoþer;
Of golde þat was worþ wele a foþere.
Wrake with þis swerde so bright
A-bove his hareneis anoone right

339

She wolde haue gyrde, but he seide nay.
“Why?” seide Wrake, “I you pray.
What is your cause, for God all-myght?”
Then seide Partonope anoone right:
“I wole you tell why I it do.
For on a tyme it stode so
I stode wele in my ladies grace,
And were to-gedre in a place
Where I toke leve fro hir to go,
This was þe charge she gave me þo,
That neuer woman shulde girde me
With my swerde; for truly she
Seide she shuld a-boute me þat swerde do.
And I prayde hir hertly it might be so.
I haue you tolde now þe cause why
Ye may not girde me truly.”

Wrake þat was boþe curteise and hende,
To hym answerd and seide: “My frende,
If it happe you, Partonope,
In bataylle þat in grete prese ye be,
And your swerde be any þing to longe,
Girde you with þe shorter thonge.
And I couþe yite ordeyne þat ye
Of hir with swerde to girde be,
And she of you shuld have no knowyng.
For I darre vndirtake you to bryng

340

Into a place where þat ye
At right good leysere hir shuld se.”

“Faire lady,” seide Partonope,
“There is no man on lyve þat may be
More be-holde to any creature
Then I am to you; þerfore what I endure
On life, your man I moste nedes be.
And if þis beheste ye haue made me,
Ye wolde parfourme as ye may say,
Of all myn heale ye bere þe keye,
To bryng me in place þere I myght be
Myn hertly Ioy þus forto se,
And I vnknowen of any wight,
This were to me a blessed sight.”

Then seide Wrake: “Sith my be-heste
To you may be so grete a feste,
I will do all my full power
To brynge you to haue þis leyser.”
Therwith she brought hym a fayre shelde
So ffresshe ypaynted þat a felde
Of þe beaute myght enlumened be.

341

Grete [wonder] þer-of had Partonope.
Large, stronge it was, deffensable in fight,
And þerto it was passyng light.
And sith she made to hym brynge
A gitone of golde beten, all glitteryng,
And nayles of golde it forto takke
Vpon a grete spere peynted blak.
This spere I speke of, was not longe;
But when þis getone þer-on did honge
A ffresher devise couþe no man se.
The shelde anoone Partonope
So gay a-boute his neke did henge.
Vpon his stede þo gan he sprynge,
With-oute Stirope full fresshly.
His spere in his hande he toke lustely.
Out of þe castell þo did he ride,
Into a medowe þat was longe and wyde,
His hors, his hareneis þer to assay,
If it were easy, acordyng to his pay.
Stronge, swifte, wele bridled þe stede founde he.
Grete Ioy hadde þes maydens to se

342

With hym-self how feire he ferde.
A-forne hadde they neuer sene ne herde
Of man yarmed so moche beaute sey,
Hym to se grete Ioy hadde they.
Armed he was passyng semely.
Downe of his stede he lepe lustely,
When all his assaies he hadde do.
Into a chambre streight did he go
Hym to vn-arme, with-outen more.
Wrak be-thought hir how Melior
With swerde moste girde Partonope.
In all þe haste to shippe gothe [s]he,
Toke of hym leve and þat full goodly,
Chargeyng his wardeyns tendirly
They shuld hem kepe; and what hym lyste
He shuld not faile to haue of þe beste.
Now good Wrake and faire Persewise
Bene vnder sayle, and at poynte devise
They have the wynde and weder at will.
Hir be-heste she þinketh to full-fill.
Forþe sayleth her shippe in good array,
That within a nyght and half a day

343

Vnder Chief de Oire is she come.
The londe full prively haþe she nome,
That of hir comyng is no man wise,
Save she allone and Persewise.
The privey posterns, I vndertake,
Of þe paleys wele knoweth Wrake.
And þrowe a gardeyn, þat was full privey,
Cometh Wrake and faire Persewy
Streight vnto þe chambre-dore,
Where as the maydens of Melior
Were a-slepe faste; and vp she nome
The lache of þe dore, and in she come.
“A-wake, a-wake!” she bade hem faste.
Oute of theire slepe they breyde in haste.
They were a-wake so sodenly
That they wist neuer redely
In what place þo that they were,
And in þis stakeryng they gonne fere.
Of þis affray had Wrake game,
And than eich woman by hir name
She called and seide: “Be not a-gaste.
I am come hidder in grete haste

344

To speke with my lady and suster dere.”
Anoone the women made hir good chere,
And brought hir þere the lady lay,
And þen anoone, with-outen nay,
To bedde they yede euerichone,
And lete þes ladies to-gedre allone.

Anoone as Melior wist þat Wrake
Hir suster was come, she gan to make
Grete Ioy, and seide: “Welcome be ye.”—
“Medame,” seide Wrake, “I come to se
“How it is with you, and how ye fare.”—
“Allas!” seide Melior, “haue I grete care!
For in my wittes I can not se
How þis turnament myght anulled be.”—
“Nay of þe anullyng speke ye no worde.
That is determyned by all þe acorde
Of your lordes and eke of you,
Wherfore I am come hidder nowe
To knowe and wete þe full entente
Which shuld holde þis turnemente

345

Within, and who shall be with-oute.
This is my comyng, with-oute doute.”
The lady þerwith gan so sighe,
And toward God in heven an highe
Full petousely hir Eyen did caste.
And when þat was somwhat paste,
She aforsed hir to loke vp lightly,
That hir suster shuld not espye
That in any hevynesse she were.
Wrake in no wise myght for-bere
Hir susters sothes algate to telle,
She thought she wolde rynge hir belle:
“Lorde God! suster, what do ye mene?
Your olde maners be turned all clene.
I wote wele for love ye sorowe.
Your gladde chere of feynyng ye borowe,
Youre sighes ye murder within your breste.
Lete hem breke oute, lete hem be wiste
Of me þat am your suster dere.
Or telle me wheþer to go or where
I myghte your love verely se.

346

Ye can not hide þis crafte for me.”

“Suster,” seide þis lady Melyor,
“The cause of my sorowyng long be-fore
Ye know wele. What nedeth ye
This vngoodly to rehete me?
My pride I wote wele truly
Hathe brought me so, þat fayne wolde I
Be dede, and oute of þis worlde be brought.
I am so full of hevynesse and þought
To thinke þat I did such reprefe
To my love as he hadde be a thefe,
And he lowly me mercy did crie.
Yite me liste not to caste vp myn Eye
To do hym grace, but despitousely
Voyded hym myn house. Allas þat I
Hadde deied in þe same place,
Sith myn herte couth do no grace
To þat gentill, þat meke, þat hardy,
That wept vpon me so tendirly,
That faire, that swete above all swetnesse,
And sawe hym for sorowe at grete distresse,
And on hym couthe I have no pite!

347

Grete reasone it is þat euer I be
In sorowe and care with-oute delay.
I may wele curse þat ilke day
That I into þis worlde was brought,
Sith I of my love so litell rought
That he is loste, and I lyve in sorowe,
My care all like boþe Even and morowe.
Therefore to dey I gretely desyre.
I wolde give dethe right grete hyre
To bryng me oute of care at ones!
Yite for me to deye but ones
It were not rightfull Iugement
Sith þrowe me þus is shente
That gentill, worthy Partonope.
Therfor my rightfull Iudgment shuld be
Ofte to dey and neuer full dede.”
Therwith piteously she wagged hir hede:
“Allas, faire suster, good Wrake,
Hadde I youre good counseylle take,
I hadde not loste my Partonope!”
And with þat worde in swone fell she.

348

When Wrake sawe hir swone for woo,
She was in poynte for pite þo
To give hir comforte of Partonope.
And she be-thought hir and lete be,
Thinkyng: “Of all þis she shall be hayle,
She shall not knowe yite my counseyle,
For I thinke, or we departe a-two,
A fytte or tweyn she shall haue moo
Of þis pley for Partonopes sake.”
To þis lady þen seide Wrake.
“Medame,” she seide, “how fare ye?
Be your diseace I can wele se
This grete sekenesse is all for love,
And I fele wele, be God a-bove,
All þis fayne ye wolde holde fro me,
And ofte ye speke of Partonope
To make me weene it were for hym,
And yite your herte is on a-noþer pyn.
Ye haue chose some new thinge,
And wolde put me in wenyng
That it were for good Partonope.

349

Medame, lete all þes Iapes be.”

“Iapes, allas!” seide Meliore,
“My sorowe encreseth more and more,
Sith I fayne of you wolde haue comforte,
And me semeth it is your disporte
To se me deye with þis turnement.
Of you I am litill be-ment.
Full litell haue ye deled with love.
A man myght in þat wele prove,
Sith, suster, þat ye wote wele
For love all þis wo now I fele,
And in þis matere so rude ye be,
Ye cane no mercy now haue on me,
Therfore in you it is wele sene
That in þis daunce ye haue not bene.
But yite it may here-after happe
Love in his daungere may so you clappe,
That my diseace shall ye wele fele,
Though youre herte be now as stele.
Then shull ye fele in your mode
Where suche Iapes may do you good.

350

For and euer ye love as wele as I,
Ye shall wele wete full sikerly
Ye shall haue nede of good comforte.
Now me to scorne is your desporte.
Of o þing, suster, I make you be-heste,
That God of love to such a feste
Can you bryng as I now haue.
As wisly God my soule save,
I wolde neuer dey, till I myght se
You in such plite as ye se me.”

“MEdame,” þen seide faire Wrake,
“My wordes I pray you ye ne take
In Evill, for truly I meene not so.
But þis is my menyng, medame, lo:
For you to þinke on Partonope,
I holde it but foly and vanyte.
For he is dede, with-outen fayle,
And it is ordeyned be your counseyle,
And ye agreed be eke þerto,
That who in turnement best happe to do,
Hym shall ye haue þen to lorde.

351

This is of your counseylle þe full acorde,
And all þis fully agreede ye be.
It shall [not] be interrept for me.”

This lady answerde sore wepyng:
“I may make semblaunce to hym, wenyng
Be her counseylle I wole take a lorde.
But I may not for all þe worlde
My love yove fro Partonope.
And yite þis turnement moste I se,
And as hem luste a lorde me chese,
And lete hem all her travayle lese.
For hote fyre to colde asshes me brenne,
If eiþer counseylle or my kynne
Make a lorde or housbonde me take,
Sith for euer now is loste my make.
For wele I wote my Partonope
Full harde dethe hath suffred for me.
I haue hym slayne, I wole hym quyte,
If I may fynde a knyfe wole bite
Throwe-oute my breste into my herte.
I shall not spare for no smerte
To sle my-self, be God a-bove,

352

Sith he is dede þus for my love,
Er euer any oþer to housbonde I take.”
Hir ffresshe coloure þerwith gan slake.
In swone efte sones she felle anoone,
And lay as dede as any stone.
For sothe Wrake, as þinketh me,
Was gretely to blame, when þat she
Se hir suster so grete sorowe take,
And wolde no better chere hir make,
Ne gife her comforte of Partonope.
Ayein hir suster grete wraþe bare she,
As though fell and angry she hadde be,
That sethe a woman in suche degree,
Þat love hath brought in grete diseace,
And knoweth how she may hir eace,
And lust not. Lorde God! what herte hadde she?
Truly and god I sey now for me,
And I knew any in that degre,
On suchone couthe I haue grete pite.
I not what hertes oþer folkes haue.
For me I sey, so God me save,

353

And I knewe any in þat plite,
Hir to comforte were my delite.
For God made euery creature,
Man and woman, be nature
To love, and eke to loved be.
To women beaute þerfore gave he,
And of vertues grete habundaunce,
Curtesy, fredome goodly in dalyaunce,
Therfore in soþe, as þinketh me,
Women in herte gretely hath he.
God loved hem gretly with-outen nay,
And so do I, nyght and day.
For and tho creatures þat so faire be,
Come neuer in heven, I holde me
Quyte of paradise. What shall I do?
But then Wrake knew wele þo
Hir suster for love hadde grete diseace.
Grete [pite] she hadde, and yite hir to pleace
Wolde she not, ne of hir counseylle
Make hir privey for all þat a dele.
But seide: “Medame, I crye you mercy.

354

Why be ye turmented so gretely?
My counseylle is þat neuer ye
Thinke þat þing þat may not be,
But lette it passe, it is þe beste,
And sette your herte in eace and reste.”
“Nay suster,” she seide, “it was neuer sene
One that loveth in eace to bene,
Ne in peace, ne in Reste, [for] in soþe resone,
With hote lovers neuer acorde moone
Ne right counseylle, witte ne skill.
Save only to haue her owne will.
All þe witte of þe worlde they sett at nought,
But fully a-greeth hem to her owne thought.
Therfore þis is a full olde sawe:
Who may give to a lovere lawe?
For þough reasone wolde make a lovere se
That all his foly, yite can not he
The wofull bondes wele vnbynde.
In my-self now all þis I fynde.
Therfore to love may I not chese,
Though I my wittes þerfore lese.

355

These wordes be soþe as I you say,
No wondere þough lovers be in foly ay.”

Wrake hir suster answerde þo:
“Evill is he at eace þat lyveth so,
For who so make love his Iustice
He may not a-vaunte hym of no ffraunchise,
But raþer of bondage, as þinketh me.
In þat servise kepe I neuer to be.
But of þis matere speke we no more.
I pray you, medame, telle me afore:
When shall be-gyn þis turnement,
And which lordes shall gife Iugement,
And which be within, and which with-oute.
All to wete with-oute doute
I come hidder, and you also to se,
And to wete whedir þat ye
At þis tyme any knyghtis make.”
This lady sate still, for full a-wake
Oute of þis traunse was she not yite.
Overecome be feyntnesse still she sette,
Till longe and late, and atte laste

356

A piteouse sighe from hir she caste.
Somwhat hir hert is comen ayein.
Pitousely tho spake þe queene.
With voyce full feble she tolde hir reasone,
As thoughe she hadde be come from prisone.

“Suster,” she seide, “þis Ermulus
Of Merbien, þat wiked Ar[c]ous,
Be whome þis turnement ordeyned is,
Fourtene nyght a-go he tolde me ywisse
Of all þe kynges þat shuld be þere,
And of her loggyng all þe manere.
He seide here shall be þe sawden of Perce,
That to Cristes lawe is aduerse,
And levith on Mahounde and Appollony.
With hym cometh a comberouse meany.
I sawe in his rolles he hath also
xv. kynges hethen and mo,
That for my love all cristen wole be.
To herborowe in his rolles also hath he
Of Emperoures and kynges of Cristes lay
xxiiti., that will þat day

357

Be at þis turnement with her powere.
Of all her lordshippes boþe ferre and nere
Many oone in mariage þen wole be here,
And many oone þat hathe no fere
Wolde be gladde to se þat day
To wynne worship̄p̄ if þat he may.
Then is ordeyned by þis Ermulus,
That þis turnement hath ordeyned þus,
All Cristen on þis syde herborowed shall be,
The heþen on þe toþere side, and so may we
Be in suerte, what so euer be-falle.
For when þes peple bene gedred all,
Full grete Envy amonge hem shall arise.
It semed better at my devyse
To bene a bataylle þen a turnement.
Þerfore, suster, I haue full ment
To haue on oure side þe cheveteyne,
Þe grete Emperour of Almayne,
And with hym they of Denmarke,
Þat grete werre held in þe marche
On sklaueyns, þat perilous men bene.

358

The kyng of Poyle and Sisile full kene
Shull with þe Emperour be in þis towne,
And all þat longe to my regione.
Now haue ye herde of cristyans;
Now shall I tell of saresynes:
Hedir shall come þe sauden of Perce,
The kyng of Ynde, which is perverce
To Cristes lawe, and eke shall be
The kyng of Mede and Parte, parde,
And eke the faire kyng of Sire,
That so gretely me doþe desire.
Yite of hym haue I no deynte.
The kyng of Ermony here shall be,
Þat hath a contre full delectable:
The planettes þeron be full stable.
Þe dayes ben euer clere and mery,
The feldes florisshed fresshly.
In þat rested þe ship of Noy,
When þe flode had done þe worlde noye.
Hidder comeþ the kyng of Palest
With grete power arrayed full honest,

359

And lordes of Egipte and Libye,
Then can mych crafte of astronomy.
The kyng of Fraunce, with-oute doute,
He cometh to govern hem with-oute.
He wole not haue me to wife.
But if þer rise debate or strife
Full but he wole be ayeinst me.
The cause is, he seith, for Partonope
Þrow me is loste, þat was his cousyne.
Of his comyng now þis is þe fyne
If he may be venged on me.
But I hope to be strenger þen he.
He hath done his men to vnderstonde
How his comyng into my londe
Is not to venquysshe þe turnement,
And to wedde me is not his entent.”
But when she named Partonopes name,
What for sorowe and what for shame,
She had no power it ones to sowne,
But fell in a new sodeyn swone.
When to hir-self she come ayein,
And wolde haue seide Partonope fayne,

360

“Parto—Parto—” she seide at ones,
And full febly she seide efte sones:
“Nopee,” þat with voyce tremblyng.
And þerwith anoone fell in swonyng
Vpon hir bedde, and lay full still.
And atte laste, as was Goddis will,
From hir disese she rose ayein.
Full piteousely þen seide þis queen:
“In wraþe comeþ hidder þe kyng of Fraunce,
And with hym bryngeth his allyaunce,
Grete noumbre of Erles and barons,
Folke of Payto and all þe Gascoignes.
The kyng of Bretayne eke þer shall be.
He is not right riche, but yite shall he
Bryng with hym many a worthy knyght.
They haue be proved in many a fight.

The kyng of Englonde, þough he be ferre,
Wole be as sone here as he þat is nerre.
He is a rightwise man and full sage;
Somewhat he is cropen in age.

361

Many a knyght hider wole he brynge,
That wele in chambre can daunse and singe.
And as þe lyone ferse in the felde
Wele dare they feght vnder shelde,
Semely men, curteyse and plesaunt,
Though they of hem-self make none avaunte.

There shall be eke þe Emperour
Of Spayne, þe noble turneour,
That worthy is and full of beaute.
His heþen lay he wole leve for me.
Many knyghtis come in his company,
And many good hors þat be lusty.

The kyng of Navern, þe kyng of Valens,
The kyng of Garnat with hem of Palens,
And moche folke þat take no wage,
And many moo kynges þat ben sage,
Of whome I can not wele þe name,
But Ermulus hem all tell can.
But suster, ye asked also of me
If any knyghtis made shuld be
A-fore þe turnement, and þat ordre take

362

Of myn hande. To-morowe I shall make
Be tyme an hundred and many moo,
So I am avised þat it shall be do.
And who shall be Iuges of þe turnement,
Thes lordes are chosen be myn assent:
The first is þe kyng of Affrike,
For his grete witte and his retorik.
He is wele lirned, and can many science,
He moste nede gyve good sentence.
And what euer he speke, it moste be
Shewed in faire termes, for certeynly he
Hath witte ynow and grete discrec[i]on,
[And fayre endyted shall be his reson]

The toþer shall be [þe] kyng of Cartage,
A rightwise man, for gretely in age
He is ronne; and anoþer shall be
Kyng Clarins; grete werre hath he
Vpon þe saresynes yere be yere.
Bernard of Grece shall be his pere

363

He is now named þe þrid kyng;
Of all lawes he can moche þing.
The fourte shall be olde Genors,
The wise, þe hardy kyng of mors.
The v. shal be kyng Corsabre,
That hath þe kyngdome of Notabre.
The vj shall be of Getule kyng.
In his contre is full wonder þing:
It is full of apes, tigres, and beres,
Serpentes, wyuers, and eke lesers.
He hath no plente of castell ne toures.
He is called kyng Amforus.
The vij. kyng hette Gondrede,
And his kyngdome is called Noemede.
Thes kynges shall be [chyef] Iugeoure;
They shall be with me in þe toure.
Olde Ermulus eke shall be with me
To take hiede who is worþi degre.
Now haue I tolde you, suster, truly
Of þe turnement þe avise by and by.”

“Now,” seith Wrake, “all þis is wele;
I can enpugne it neuer a dele.

364

Now slepe I pray you hertly,
For I wole go now full prively
To shipp vnwetyng of any wight.
Home I shall come vpon þe nyght,
And if it like you, to-morow tyme
I wole be with you hardely or pryme.”—
“I pray you, suster,” þo seide þe queen,
“Be tyme to-morowe þat ye bene.”
In þis wise hath Wrak take her leve.
Persewise anoone she toke [be] þe sleve,
And into ship̄p̄e to-gedre they gone,
And to her castell they come anoone.
Then mette they with Partonope.
With Ioyfull herte he[m] welcomeþ he.
And Wrake hym [tolde] all þe entent
Of þe Emperesse and of þe turnement,
And how she shuld on þe morow make
Knyghtes; and þerfore faire Wrake
That nyght of slepe toke litell hiede.
For besy she was, with-outen drede,

365

To arme hym in þe fresshiste wise.
And longe or þe sonne gan rise,
To courte she brought Partonope,
[Her-self and Persewyse, and no mo meyne.
And in-to a chambre where as she
Was wont to be herboured, Partonope]
Vnwetyng of any wight they hym lede.
And þere full prively vpon a bedde
They made hym rest till it was day.
And right sone after, with-outen nay,
The sonne hir beames oute fresshe spredde.
It made þe vnluste to leve his bedde,
And rise and cloþe hym fresshe and gay
For Ioy of þat Ioyfull, mery day.

To courte þo come ridyng full bright
Wele Iarmed þo þat ordre of knyght
Shuld take of þis fayre Meliore.
And all they light anoone atte dore
Of þe chambre where as Partonope

366

Was herborowed, and faste a-slepe was he,
For þrow þat chamber lieth þe wey.
Wrake anoone brought forthe the key,
And þerwith she wakened Partonope.
To opyn þe dore streight goþe she.
In come they all, with-outen lese.
Partonope prively in þis prese
She maketh go with-outen more,
There as þis queen, faire Meliore,
In hir estate stonte full Royally.
Then was þe custome sikerly,
Who so euer shuld take þe ordre of knyght,
In stele he moste be armed bright,
Bothe hede and fote and all in feere.
Also þat tyme þis was þe manere,
His swerde aboute his neke shuld honge,
Were it shorte or were it longe,
Till they it fro hym shuld take
That þerwith hym knyght shuld make.
Þerfore all þes yonge men bene
Fresshe yarmed be-fore þe queen.

367

Amonge hem stonte Partonope.
Full hevy and thoughtfull is he,
Be-holdyng þe beaute of his lady,
So fayre, so fresshe, and so semely,
Stondyng be-fore hym gay arrayed.
No wonder þough he were dismayed
To þinke how lovyng to hym she had be,
And þrow his deffaute all loste had he.
His heere gan warpe, his colour gan chaunge,
Seyng his lady to hym so straunge,
That at his will was wonte to be.
Sore a-basshed on hir þo loked he,
Thinkyng how he had hir be-trayed.
Gretely þerof was he dismayed.
Yite neuer þe latter, with-outen lese,
To þis lady he gan to prese
Forto haue prayde hir of mercy and grace
Before all folke in þat place.
Wrake aspied wele be his manere
And be þe chaungyng of his chere,
He was a-boute to play foly.

368

Vpon a stole she dressed hir hye,
And hoved ascaunse: “Take heede of me,
And þinke what I haue charged þe.”
But all for nought he toke noone heede
Of hir counseylle, ne of hir rede,
But was in purpose his lady fully
Of his trespase þer to aske mercy,
And openly þere to haue know be.
But yite it happed þat lette was he:
Hir beaute so highle gan encrese
In all þe sight of þis grete prese,
That they so þikk a-boute hir stode,
Þoughe Partonope for love had ben wode,
He myght not hir come to in no wise.
His felawes hir beaute gan so devise,
Takyng grete heede of hir semely-hede,
Vpon a benche an highe as she stode,
Euen þere vp right atte deyse,
That all men þat were in þe paleyse,
Of hir myght haue full þe sight,

369

Erle, baron, squyer, and knyght.
Cloþes of golde a-boute hir were sprede;
Hir to be-holde eiche man was gladde.
Now wole I tell you how she was cladde:
A mantill honerable vpon she hadde
Of rede satyn full good cremesyn,
Furred wele with fyne Ermyne.
A kyrtill of þe same she hadde vndre.
Hir to be-holde was grete wondre,
That with beaute euer nature
Wolde so enbelice ony oo creature.
For þat euer longed to full beaute,
In hir persone a man myght se.
It nedeth not of array more to tell,
When þat of beaute she was þe bell.
In myrrour to loke hadde she no nede
Ne of ffresshe atyre, with-outen drede.
For were she slepyng or elles a-wake,
Of beaute had she no make.
All þis while stant Partonope,
Of his lady be-holdyng þe beaute.

370

No new love bout olde remembraunce
Maketh hym stonde in such a traunce,
That sodenly he was brought in such a case,
He wist not wele where he was.
And of þis haue ye no mervaylle.
For all his felawes, with-outen fayle,
Were so highely caught with hir beaute,
That nye in þe same plite were he.
What for shame and basshednes
Partonope darre not þrow the prees
Passe to his lady þe ordre to take.
Who was þen wo but good Wrake?
So with grete feere atte laste
A-shamed to þe grounde his hede he caste,
That Melior in no wise shuld se
How he, þat false Partonope,
What with shame and with grete fere,
To his lady he neghed nere.
From his nekke she toke his swerde,
A-boute his medle þo it gyrde,
And in suche a wise hir girdyng he felte,

371

His herte as metalle þen gan melte.
When from hir departe shuld [he],
And þough[t] it myght none oþer wise be,
His Eyen on hir sorowfull he caste,
And oute of hir presence he hiede faste.

This ladye toke heede of his chere.
She thought his porte and his manere
Likened moche to Partonope.
But ayeinward þen thought she:
“To þinke þis I haue grete wronge,
For sith he deyed it is go longe.”
And þerwith she turned hir to Wrake.
“Suster,” she seide, “be Goddes sake,
This knyght truly, as þinketh me,
Resembleth of stature and beaute
That worthy, þat semely—” and perwith she
Of speche stinted, for in no degre
His name to sowne had she no myght.
Hir herte so gretely was of þe sight
Of hym distraught, þat as a lefe
With wynde yshake, so quoke hir brethe,

372

Hir herte, hir lymmes eke so tremeled,
His name in no wise couþe she rede.
Thus stode þis lady amonge hem all.
Ofte was she in will hym to call,
But o þing made hir stonde in drede:
It hadde ben ayeinst hir womanhede.

Now is Partonope, þis new knyght,
Gone to his chambre, and haþ þe sight
Of hir loste þat he now loveth beste.
His herte is sette in lytill reste.
For olde love and new desyre
Hath sette his herte so hote on fyre,
That all his sprites with hym be
So troubled þat to bedde goþe he,
And leyth hym downe þer to reste.
Now may he þinke what hym liste.
Many mervelouse þought þinketh he.
“Now, lorde God,” seide he, “when shall be
This turnement, þere as I myght
Prefe my-self to be a knyght?
Lorde, wheþer I shall lyve to þat day

373

Then wote I wele, with-outen nay,
I shall be at þat Turnement.
For herte and strength, þat God haþ lente
To me, I shall spende, be I neuer so sore
Hurte; for wele I wote and knowe a-fore,
I shall þere se my souereyn leche.
And hir beaute shall so me refresshe,
That in armes me shall teche,
Thoughe my stroke be harde or nesshe,
Of myn enemeys I wole not sette a risshe.”

Thus lieth this knyght Partonope,
Hym-self avauntyng faire and fre,
And in presumpc[i]on falleth sore,
He weneth to haue þe degre þerfore.
All þis made love, I vndertake.
To hym þerwith come Wrake,
And to a privere chamber hym ledde,
And þere hym made reste on a bedde.
There was he saufe and oute of sight,
And þere a-bode till it was nyght.
Oute of þe halle gothe Meliore.

374

Hir hede, she seide, oke full sore,
With hem myght she no lenger bide.
She seide: “Wele mote ye all be-tyde.”
And toke hir leve in curteyse wise,
Better þen I can tell or devise.
Love-seke she was, with-outen doute,
Grete grefe she felt all a-boute.
The fyres darte of love so smerte
So þrilled hadde hir meke herte,
That flesshe and blode, bode and veyne
Was fullfilled with grete peyne.
Therfore myght wele fayre Meliore
Sey hir hede oke þan full sore.

The day is paste, and now cometh Eve.
Of hir suster Wrake toke hir leve.
Hir meany metith with hir anoone.
Partonope she Cleped, and forþe they gone
To þe haven, where as þe shipp of flote
Was she founde redy, and þen a bote
Hir meany calle, and þat in haste.
The bote to hir they rowed faste.

375

The shipmen hir heylen with good chere,
To shippe they rowe all in fere.
The shipp when they were entred all,
The maister maryner his men did call
And bade hem faste þe ankere vp hale.
The saile þerwith they made avale,
And forþe they sayle afore þe wynde.
A better saylere can no man fynde,
Then was þat shipp at my devise.
With Wrake þer was Persewise,
That loved some folke þer full wele.
But so frowarde turned fortune his whele,
That was not be-loved agayne,
Þanked be fortune, so may we seyne.
For she þat I love with all my herte,
Gifeth litell forse how sore I smerte.
The ship̄p̄ I spake of, was full good.
Full faste he sayleth þrow þe flode,
So þat within a litell while
They be come save into þe Ile
Of Salence with-oute any affray,
On morowe be þan it was day.

376

Oute gothe þe ankere, downe goþe þe saile.
Wrake hath ouercome wele hir travaylle.
To bote they gone and streight to londe.
The maryners they leve on þe stronde.
Wrake bade hem ofte fare wele,
And forþe she gothe to hir castell.
With all hir meany þere she mette.
On knees louly they hir grete,
And of hir comyng were full gladde.
To stonde vp-right hem all she bade,
And into hir chambre streight she gothe.
In shorte tyme after borde and cloþe
Was leide, for it drew faste to pryme.
Sone after Wrake come in to dyne,
And with hir brought Partonope;
Of mete þere laked no deynte.
Thus day be day they fare right wele.
But Partonope makeþ grete dole,
So longe comyng is þe day.
His armes ofte doþe he assay.

Vpon a day, soone after þe asscenc[i]on,

377

When þe sonnes light hath foysone
Of hete, after dynere faire Wrake
Yode to hir chambre, and þought to take
Her reste, till þe hote were a-go,
And toke Persewise with hir and no mo.
But so did not good Partonope.
Of any reste litill heede toke he.
Were it be desteny or be sorte,
Vnwetyng of Wrake him to disporte
To þe see went, and toke a bote.
The see was fayre, þe weder was hote.
And forþe he sayleth vp in the see
A-fore þe wynde; but when þat he
Homward wolde a turned ayein,
The wynde was contrarie, it wolde not bene.
And þerto it blew so sturdely,
That perisshe hym dredde full hugely.
Shipmen seide they couthe not se
But þat they moste serve þe see.
So hidousely þo the wynde gan blowe,

378

The coste on no side couþe they knowe.
So within a lityll while,
Magre her hede, into an Ile
They were dryve, where as they moste
Aryve, or elles they ben but loste.
This Ile was named Tenodoen,
Where they all arryved bene.
The lorde þerof hight Armaunt,
A devill and a cursed tyraunt.
Large was he of body and a worthy knyght.
His moste Ioy was euer to fight;
To Iust and turney was all his play.
Grete Ioy hadde he þen to assay
To sle or mayme whom euer he myght
And if it happed hym a worthy knyght
To hurte or sle or elles mayme,
Þerat wolde he laughe, and was full fayne.
And if he put any man in prisone,
Oute shuld he neuer for no Raunsone.
When Partonope and his meany were
In þat londe aryved for grete feere
Of þe hidouse tempest on þe see,

379

And anoone in haste they arested be
Of men of þe contre, and forþe ladde
To þis Tyraunt; and þen full gladde
Of hem was he; and full despitousely
On hem he loked; and þen full sodenly
With-oute talkyng or speche more
Into a toure, where as full sore
They were fetered and stoked faste.
On hem the dorres were shitte in haste.
Lo! how sodenly fortune her whele
Hath fro hym turned euery dele,
And chaunged wele into sorowe.
Lytle wende he þat day be þe morowe
To haue sowped in prisone of þat tiraunte.
Lytell ought a man to make a-vaunte
Of wordly prosperite or þerof Ioy have,
For he þat is destyned to be a knave,
Lyveth more in suerte þen doþe a lorde.
This is sene all day, and so gothe þe worlde.

380

But now wole I tell of good Wrake
And of Persewy, þat now bene a-wake
Fro slepe, and faste after Partonope
Calle and clepe; but where þat he
Is become can no man sey.
Wrake for sorowe is poynte to dey,
And Persewise also maketh moche moone.
Hym forto seke is eiche man gone;
But all for nought it wole not be.
Loste fro hem is now Partonope.
With hem is boþe Eve and morowe
Wepyng and wayling and moche sorowe
For þis knyght þat þus is loste.
This life they endure vnto Pentecoste.

This lady queen Melior
Wrake hir suster haþe sent fore
With hir to be at þis grete feste.
Hir commaundment ne her heste
Will she not breke, but maketh hir redy.
And forþe she gothe, and also Persewy
Taketh with, and forþe they wente,

381

Partonope gretely euer be-ment.
Hevy they were and dull of chere.
Meliore sawe wele be hir manere
They were in hevynesse, and þen þought she:
“All þis sorowe is now for me.”
Therfore wole she make no question
Of hir diseace, ne wete þe enchesone.
Fro þat day vnto þe turnement
In wo her lyfe euer they despent.

Armaunt þat þus hath in prisone
Partonope, and þinketh for no Raunsone
He shall neuer be delyuered oute,
Faste maketh hym redy, with-outen doute,
To se þis turnement, þis grete feste.
And for he wole know atte leste
With hym he taketh speres xven
To gete hym prise, if it wole bene.
To ship̄p̄ he gothe, as I writen fynde.
The tide is fayre; atte will he hath þe wynde.
In prisone feterid lieth Partonope.
Armauntes wife grete haste haþ she

382

Till þes prisoners she haue sey.
The Iayler she biddeth bryng þe key,
And in she gothe hym forto se.
She prayeth þen faste to Partonope
To be of good comforte and of chere.
To hir answerith þis prisonere:
“Gladde in herte shall I neuer be,
Sith þis turnement I may not se.”

This Gentill lady hadde grete pite
Of his hevynesse, and þen seide she:
“My faire frende, ye wote wele how
Armaunt in prisone haþe put you,
And gif in charge highly to me
That ye be put in such suerte
That when he is come home ayein,
In his prisone ye founde bene.
Therfore I darre not lette you go
In no wise, but it wer so
Ye myght me fynde good suerte,
Fro shame and harme to save me.”—
“Medame,” he seide, “I wole you swere
Be þe ordre of knyghthode þat I bere,

383

Gife I scape from þens on lyve,
Ayein to prisone I shall come as blyve.
Oþer hostage fynde I ne can,
But swere here to be your liege man.”
And with þat worde he fell on kne.
The lady of hym hadde grete pite,
And wept full tendirly, and seide þo:
“Sir, rise vp, for ye shull go
With-oute othe makyng or suerte.
For ye seme truly forto be
A gentill man, whens euer ye come.
Be your semelyhode a man may deme
Your comyng ayein as my suerte.
I put all in you. And if so be
To prisone ye yelde you not ayein,
Come Armaunt home, þen shall I bene
To-drawe or brente or elles slayne.
And siþ that I am now so fayne
To do for you þat you may pleace,
Do so agayne þat I haue no diseace,
Ne lese me life; for in his cruelte

384

He rekketh lityll þough I slayne be.
At þis tyme for you þis wole I do.
Arme you right wele, and lette you go.
A stede ye shall haue þat is so wight.
Be then ye knowe hym, grete delite
Will ye haue on hym to ride.
A better stede may no man [stride].
A sadyll to hym he shall haue mete,
The bridell and þe croper with golde ybete.
Of bright syluer shall be your shelde,
A better shall noone come in þe felde.
A spere shall ye haue, and þeron a getone,
Wele I-bete with siluer, þat passeth þe arsone.
It shall hange of þe sadill þat ye in ride.
A swerde ye shall haue be your side,
And for your love I wole [you] it lene,
Harde and pliaunte and eke right kene.
And if God sende you þat grace
Fro þe turnement on lyve into þis place

385

Saufe and sounde to Retourne ayein,
In my kepyng þen shall ye bene.
And be ye ones in disposic[i]on,
I hope to gete you oute of prisone.
And if in turnement ye happe to deye,
My Ioy is gone, þen may I sey,
And Armaunt come home ayein,
With his swerde he wole me slene.
Thinketh what I do for your love nowe.
My life, my dethe lieth all in you.”
Highly hir thanked þen Partonope
But I can not wele sey where she
Hath wisely done, or as elles a fole.
Sith he is þus passed þe Iayle
His armour to hym delyuered hath she.
In þe nyght to shipp streight goþe he,
And to Chiefdoiere, where as þe turnement
Shuld be holde, þidder hath he ment
To sayle; he was lothe to be by-hynde
But wele with hym was not þe wynde,
Whereof hym-self gan faste dismay.
The shipmen seide they wolde assay

386

To Chief-doiere right wele hym bryng.
And if the wynde wolde for no þing
Serve hem wele to bryng hem þere,
They wolde aryve then elles where
Fro þe turnement but x. myle,
Where he on londe in shorte while
He myght it ride, and þen Partonope
Prayde hem all it myght so be.

Of the lady hath he take leve;
His hye trouþe now wole she prove.
He sayled forþe, and or mydnyght
To þat porte he come full right,
Where as nedes he moste aryve.
He maketh no tarying, but as blyve
Gothe to londe, and armeth hym bright.
Into his sadile he lepeth full light.
The shipmen all he biddeth fare wele,
And forþe he rideth armed in stele.
To Chief-doire he hath ten myle.
Be then he hadde riden but a while,
He was entred into þe foreste,

387

Where as he full many a beste
Was full wilde he hadde made tame.
There-in to hunte was all his game.
All þat was, it is go full yore.
Therein he hath sley many a bore.
The wey to þe castell he knew þo wele.
Yit hadde he in his herte boþe care and dole,
Thinkyng of þat was passed to-fore,
Which þrow his lewdnesse he hath lore.

Forth on his wey rideth Partonope,
Hangyng his hede, as þough þat he
Of wordely Ioy had yove right nought.
And as he rode þus in a thought,
A knyght þat was full large of body,
His lymmes wele shape and þat passyngly,
His heere was bloy, I-medled some dele
With white heeres, þat wonder wele
Be-come his visage, and þen he hadde
A Rody berde and Eyen right gladde,
There as the way was somwhat turnyng,

388

On a gray stede he come fresshe ryding.
In þis maner wise arrayed is he,
As he come coursyng with his meany,
On stedes trapped full fressh and gay.
Eiche hadde in honde, with-outen nay,
A spere all rede depeynted wele,
A getone þeron of rede sendele,
Wele beten with golde of his devise.
After hem came ridyng squyers of prise,
Fyve, and eiche man bare a shelde,
So fresshly depeynted þat all þe felde
Enlymed was of þis fresshe array.
Thus rideth þis knyght toward this tournay.
So ffresshe in his wey forþe rideth he,
Till atte laste he had of Partonope
A sight and goodly he seide
To his squyers: “Ye moste a-byde,
And ride softely; for yonder I se
A man Iarmed, what so euer he be.
If I hym knowe wete wole I.
Loke ye come after full softely.”
From his meany he prikked faste,

389

And to Partonope he come in haste.
He be-helde his persone right wele
But he knewe hym neuer a dele,
And then he seide: “Sir, wele ouertake!
And he þat all þis worlde did make
Of nought þe save! and sir, tell me
Whens ye come, and whedir wole ye,
What man ye be, and what is your name?”
Therof, thought Partono[p]e, myght rise grame,
My name to discouer now so hastely.
And forþe he rideth full soberly,
And eke he thought “right loþe were me
To make a lesyng,” and þen seide he:
“Sire, of ferre contre borne am I,
But þens þat I come is faste by
A place, where as I purchased me
Hors and hareneys, as ye may se.
Thow I be not fresshe and gay,
Yite fayne wolde I se þis toureney.
My name is cleped Partonope.
What is your name now telleth me.”

390

“Sir,” seide the knyght, “truly
Gaudyns le Bloys called am I.
Of huntyng and hawkyng I can skill.
Amonge lordes and knyghtes I am know wele.
Borne am I of Spayne and of Castile,
That is hens full many a myle,
Sone I am, with-outen nay,
To a Riche man, but on Cristes lay
He leveth not, and gone it is
More þen xxx wynter Iwisse
That I toke þe ordre of knyght.
And streight into Fraunce þo I me dight,
For þere was werre þat tyme so stronge,
There was I a sawdioure longe.
At Toures, in þe mynster of seynt Martyn,
Ther fore-soke I Mahounde and Appollyne,
And Cristendome toke in þe fonte stone!
Of my kynnes men there made I my foone.
And sith I haue lyved as a sawdeoure,
A pore man, but no purchasoure.

391

And now am I toward þis turney,
Here be-hynde comes myn array.
With all myn herte I am gladde nowe
That I haue ouertaken you.
For mery it is to haue company,
And it semeth to me full truly
That ye be a man of worship̄p̄;
Þerfore of you wole I take kepe.
I haue a pore house here faste by
There as shall be holde þe turney
Þerfore I pray you, sir, þat ye
Wole now herborowe with me,
And I wole be your bachelere,
With all myn hert to do you pleasire,
And be your servaunt day be day,
As longe as shall laste þis turney.”—

TO hym tho answerd Partonope:
“With all myn hert I thanke the
And eke þat lorde þat made vs mete.
Your Company in no wise wole I lete.
Youre knyght to be is myn entent,
I am at your commaundment.”

392

Then forþe to-gedre they ride in fere,
Eiche to oþer maketh good chere,
Till they come in a right fayre vale,
Fayre with floures to make shorte tale,
There as they boþe herborowed shall be.
From hors þen lighteth Partonope.
They wolde not herborowe in house ne towne.
Her men pyght vp a pavylone
Enbrowded with golde boþe fresshe and gay,
Right faste be the felde þere as the turney
Shuld be holde, with-outen faile.
They hadde plente of good vytaile,
Her men were besy hem to glade,
And eiche to oþer good chere made.
To sopere they gone and sitte to reste.
On morow when þe sonne in þe easte
Hir gan shew as rede as fyre,
Thes two knyghtis þat had desyre
To se worshipp and grete manhede,
Risen, and in þe ffreshest wede

393

That longeth to armes they ben dight.
And forþe they yede anoone right
Masse to here with good entent.
Her oþer meany þere whiles went
To make redy all her array.
When masse was done, þe soþe to say,
Toward þe turnement they ride,
Fresshe y-armed at þat tide.
Her squyers be-fore hem he sente
Into þe place of þe turnement,
Ledyng her stedes trapped wele
In mayle made of fyne stele.
Grete speres they bere and helmes bright.
Of hem it was a good sight.
After come þes knyghtis softly ridyng,
And of þis tur[ne]ment prively talkyng,
Where they with-oute shuld first be gynn,
Or elles they þat be with-in.

Vpon the toure of Chief-deoire
Ouere þe brigge sitteth Meliore,
The fayre, the ffresshe, þe goodliest
That was in hir tyme, and eke þe beste,

394

And with hir Wrake and Persewise.
Of hir beaute now in no wise
Canne I speke, for boþe they be
In grete sorowe for Partonope.
They haue so wept, they be all pale.
Forþe will I now tell my tale.
A-bove in the toure with Melior be
The seven lordes þat þe degre
Of þis turnement moste give algate;
Lordes they ben of grete state.
Thes be her names with-outen more:
Corsoul, Gernalz, Claryns, Genor,
Cursabir, Anffrons, and Goundred,
And olde Arcus, with-outen drede.
Thes sitte to-gedre be-holdyng þe felde,
Many a bright helme and many a shelde,
Fresshly depeynted with grete bendes.
Knyghtes come ridyng with many þousandes.
Into companyes departed they be.
Two fayre reynes ordeyned han he,
Wherein þes lordes shull turney.

395

Lette se who shall begynne þe play.

Now Gaudyn þat is to Partonope
Boþe servaunt and felawe, now þinkeþ he,
For who so euer þe turnement be-gynne,
Be he withoute or within,
They will hym fyrst assaille,
This is Gaudyns first counseylle.
Also they thought þat they wolde bene
First in þe felde to be wele sene.
Therfore anoone her stedes they take,
On with her helmes and redy hem make.
Vp afore hem her speres borne be,
And after cometh Gaudyn and Partonope,
Into þe Reynes ridyng avisely.
Kyng Corsoul þat on þe toure an hye
Sate as a Iuge be fayre Melior,
Aspied þes knyghtis ferre afore
Or any of his felawes þat sate hym by.
And þan he seide: “Sires, truly,
Yonder I se come knyghtis tweyn

396

That in her hareneis hem faire demene,
And better þen many oþer þat I se.
Worship-full knyghtis þei seme to be.
Of hem first lette vs take hiede
In þe begynnyng how they spede.
If they do wele, þen wole we
Do axe what knyghtis they be.”
Now sitte they still, and sey no more,
But se how men full harde and sore
In þe Reynes her horse to renne assay
Vnder Trappurs with golde bete full Gay.
And soone after into þe felde
All þe worlde is come in helme and shelde.
And then þe Iuges with-outen doute
Thought þat they þat were with-oute
Were not so stronge as they within.
Harde were for hem to be-gynne.
They within, [with]oute lese,
On hem with-oute faste ganne prese.
That se þei that were with-oute.

397

They thought for all þe grete route
That was within, they wolde a-bide,
And fresshly to hem they ganne to ride,
And manly putt hem In a-yee,
Then seide Gaudyn to Partonope:
“Go we hens, no lenger wole we abide.”
Into þis prese þen gan they ride
As faste as here hors myght hem bere.
Eiche hadde in honde a grete spere.
Throw the prese withoute lette
Her hors hem bare, and þen they mette
With tweyn, and Gaudyn smote þe tone,
That from his hors he voyded anoone,
And flatte fell vpon þe grounde.
Partonope in þe same stounde
With his felawe so sore mette,
That oute of his sadill withoute lette
Atte spere poynte he hym smote,
That to þe grounde wele I wote
He fell flatte. [What] wole ye more?
This cours he Ranne so faste and sore,
His spere brake, it myght not laste.

398

The tronchone awey from hym he caste,
And therwith he pulled oute his swerde,
And as a fiers lyon þen he ferde,
And leide on þicke hym rounde a-boute.
Thre to hym assayled of þe route,
And hew on his helme and on his shelde.
But oone of hem into þe felde
Oute of his sadill he made lepe,
It was no tyme for hym to slepe.
The tother two on hym leide faste,
But þrowe the Reynes from hem he paste,
Gaudyn smote oone of þe þre,
That from his hede he made þan fle
His helme of stele bourned bright,
And forþe he passed þrow þe fight,
And to Partonope streight he went.
They that be-gann þis turnement,
Seide þe knyghtis hadde wele do.
And a while breþen hem tho.

“LO,” seide Cursoule, “I wist wele
Thes two knyghtis couþe good skill

399

On þis crafte; so first seide I.”
Tho seide þe queen: “Cousyn, truly,
So softely as they come In afore,
Now they haue hem wele ybore.
And namely he with þe siluer shelde
Fareth faire with his hareneis in þe felde.”
She thought she sholde knowe hym wele,
But she couþe not remembre neuer a dele.
Thinketh she wher þis be Partonope,
With his gouernance wele pleased is she.

Of turneying now gyn they reste.
And soone after they made hem preste
The turnement to be-gynn ayein.
The Emperour of Almayn þer myht ye sene,
A manly cheveteyn in þe felde;
With hym was many helm and sheld.
The soudan of Perce was þere also
With the Emperour, and they two do
Moche wo to hem þat be with-oute.
The soudan is full proude and stoute.

400

He is a lover, what wole ye more?
His souerayne lady is Melyore.
On his manhede moste trusteth he,
And þerto he haþe a grete meanye,
That waiteth vpon hym euer-more.
He wenyth to wynne faire Meliore.
He is yonge, and darre wele fight,
Stronge, lusty, and a semely knyght.
Oute of noumbre richesse hath he.
He þinketh no man his felawe shuld be.

And in þo dayes wele wote ye
Men wonne her ladies in dyuers degre,
Some with manhode and chevalry.
Some þrow beaute and curtesy,
Some with faire speche and richesse,
Some þrow strength, some be largesse.
All þat is go with-outen nay,
The worlde is turned a-noþer way,
For neyþer richesse ne beaute
Ne fayre speche in no degre
May make a man his love to wynne,

401

They be so sore a-ferde to synne.
Of fredame, curteisy, ne of largesse
They take noone hiede; for holynesse
Hath so caught hem in his service,
Of wordly lustes now in no Wise
Take they hiede, but only to wyrche,
Þat they may pleace God and his chirche.
For euery day yerly they rise.
To chirche they gone to here servise
Of God, and hardly þere they be
Till it be noone; for dame chastite
Governeth now hem in such wise,
From knelyng hem luste not ones to Rise.
To go to her dyner haue they none haste;
They Reke neuer how longe they faste.
Of ffresshe array take they none hiede;
They go cloþed in homely wede.
They wole not swere neuer an othe
But nay or yee, it is sothe.
But in olde tyme ladies wolde
Haue mercy on lovers þat in cares colde
Loved, and for love had grete diseace.

402

Some tyme ladies such folke wolde pleace;
But in þes dayes it is no-þing so.
For be a lovere neuer so wo,
His lady list not hym make chiere.
For his compleynt þei wole not here
Neþer be speche neþer letter writyng,
They wole not rede it for no þing.
All þat men sey they take in grief;
I trow chastite hath made hem defe.

Of þis matere speke we no more,
But I wole now of Meliore
Tell forþe all myn entent,
And of þis lusty turnement.
The soudan is now in þe felde
Richely armed, þat of spere and shelde
Canne skill ynowe, with-outen doute,
His meany wele armed hym aboute.
He hath wele Iusted with-outen nay,
Many a knyght þat ilke day
And squyer eke to grounde hath caste.
To mete with hym men be agaste.
Bothe feerse and cruell also is he

403

His men a-boute hym so thicke be
A-fore and be-hynde with-oute faile,
That no man hym darre wele assaile.
The lordes þat I spake of be-fore,
Þat on þe toure be Meliore
Sitte to gife þe Iugement,
Prayse hym gretely by one assent.
This soudan, þus lusty knyght,
Enforceth his hert with all his myght
To wyn his lady Meliore.
A grete spere in hande with-oute more
He taketh, and in hys reste it caste.
And þrowe þe Reynes he Ranne faste
As euer his stede hym myght bere.
Men of hym þo had such fere,
And of þe meany hym aboute,
Þat þe soudan þrow þe route
Rode to and fro; no man hym mette
Of his Iustyng hym ones [to] lette.

All þis beheld Partonope,
And in his hert þo þought he:

404

“Be thow as prowde as Lucefere,
I shall assay on þe my spere
To breke anoone, if þat I may.”
And forþe he rideth in þat array;
Of his course no man hym lette.
The sauden and he to-gedre mette.
So fiersly on peces her speres flie,
Yite þer was no man couþe se
Who hadde þe better, for her bakkes did bende,
And after oþere speres anoone they sende.
Ayein to-gedre now do they go.
At þat course they mette so,
Eiche gafe oþer suche a stroke,
As though þer had ben an oke
With a Crakke had made a falle,
Such a noyse it made with-all.
Her speres to-braste, and they boþe two
Kept her sadels right wele þo.
The soudan like a wilde beste
For angre Coupe haue no reste.
And þerwith anoone in his hete
For a spere full passyng grete

405

He sente, and in his reste it caste.
Partonope þerwith in grete haste
Of Gaudyn toke a grete spere þo.
Therwith þe soudan he it so
Into þe vpper of þe shelde
That tissewe and bocle into þe felde
Fley and all to peces brake.
The spere a fote þrow þe shelde stake.
The Soudan hym hit tho ayein,
Þat his shelde he made flene
From his shuldre into þe layre.
Betwene hem be-gynneth a sharpe fayre.
Partonope hereof was shamefast,
The soudan gladed, and forþe passed
Þrow þe reynes wele faryngly.
Kyng Claryns in þe toure an hye
Seide the soudan þe better hadde.
Cursolote hym answered with wordes sadde:
“The white shelde is now at grounde,
But his maister on hors is founde.”
Cursolote at þat tyme seide but lite;

406

For after he thought he wolde quyte
Kyng Claryns, when Partonope
Hadde mette þe Soudan in such degre,
That he were quytte amyd þe felde.
Melior hym herde, and eke be-helde
The turnement and all þe route.
Lytell Ioy þerof, withouten doute,
She hadde, for fewe of hem she knewe.
In lovyng her hert was euer trewe.

Parton[op]e asked a sheld in haste
Gaudyn þat on hym lokeþ faste,
Full fressh y-paynted of siluer bright.
It was right sure and þer-to light.
A spere he toke boþe grete and fyne.
Therwith he ranne to a saresyne,
Armauns he hight with-oute more,
Partonope to hym Ranne so sore,
And in þe shelde so hym hitte,
That in his sadile lenger to sitte
Hadde he no power, but oute he flye,
And fell to grounde, alle men it se.
This Armauns was holde a worþi man.

407

Partonope forþe on hors-bak ranne
Throw þe Reynes right to þe soudan.
And þere he smote a knyght called Logan
That þe soudan loved wele þan,
And to grounde gothe hors and man.
Atte soudans fote all þis was do.
The soudan was wode for angre þo,
And his spere þen toke in haste,
And to Partonope rideth as faste
Þrow þe prese hym forto fynde,
And throw the ventaylle in his necke be-hynde
He hym smote with his spere þo,
That all to peces it brake a-twoo.
His swerde þerwith þo pulled he
And smote vpon þe helme of Partonope.
When he aspied þat it was he,
His swerde he pulled oute anoon Right.
On hym he leide with all his myght,
And on his helme suche strokes gafe he,
The rede fyre þer-of did oute flie.
And thus they hurle þrow þe prese,

408

Till Partonope, with-oute any lese,
Was passed þe Reynes of þe soudan,
So ferforth till þat he came
To þe walles of þe toure
Wherin sate faire Meliore.
And atte laste þen Partonope
Aspied how ferre passed was he
Throw þe strength of þe soudan,
Tho hym to þinke he be-gan
How he hadde folyle ydo,
For many a saresyn on hym þo
Leide on right faste and blyve,
That it was wonder how he on lyve
Might passe þat grete þronge.
But Gaudyn of herte full stronge
Sawe at mysschief Partonope,
And in his reste his spere leide he,
And fiersly into þe prese he passed.
A saresyn from hors-bak he casted,
A worþi knyght þat hight Bry.
The saresynes sette vp a devill crye.
To þe morreis kyng he was a good poste,

409

For he was constable of his oste.
His spere brake, oute gothe his swerde;
As a lyon fierse he ferde.
Armaunt he smote, anoþer knyght,
So from his hors-bak he made hym light.
His helme was þe ferst þat came to grounde.
Grete strokes he yave in þat stounde.
So manly at þat tyme soþely was he,
That rescowed was good Partonope
With-oute mayme or grete wounde.
Wele quytte hym Gaudyn þat stounde.
But boþe achafed were right wele,
And many a stroke ganne þey fele.

The soudan hurte was somdele.
That kyng Corsolot aspied wele,
And gladde is he of his declyne.
Thes wordes he seide to Claryne:
“Þe soudan hoveth as hevy as lede,
The toþe-ache I trow be in his hede.
Sir, be not wroþe of þat I sey,
The white shelde þinketh not to dey

410

At þis tyme in the soudans dette,
For skillfully with hym haþe he mette.”
Gaudyn and eke Partonope
From þe turney with-drawen be
Vnto an haue-thorne hem to avente;
Of gothe her helmes be one assente.
The kyng of Fraunce be-helde hem wele,
And then he knew hem neuer a dele.
To þe Emperour of Spayne þen seide he:
“These two knyghtis full good men be,
And beste in þe turney haue done þis day.”
Seide the Emperour: “Þat is an easy assay.
In the be-gynnyng they peyn to faste.
Comenly suche men mow not laste;
Prysaunteres such folke called be.
Þat allday men may soþely se
Such laste not but lytill while.—
Therwith þe Emperour gan smyle—
But wole ye make a good assay,
Take [hede] of hem þe þrid day.”

411

Þe kyng of Fraunce answerde ayee:
“On þe þrid day, how euer it be,
Of þis day they wole haue þe prise,
They moste nedes be myn avise.”

Gaudyn and also Partonope
After her refresshyng boþe be
Into þes reynes turned ayein.
Fresshe and lusty yarmed they bene.
Eiche of hem toke hym his shelde,
Many a man þo hem be-helde.
Into þe Reynes they come fresshly,
Eiche hadde in hande a spere full sturdy.
They spare no man þat hem wole byde,
They were right lusty at þat tide.
Full wele they Iust þat ilke day.
Þere was no man durste hem assay,
But of hym they hadde þe victory,
So sore her aduersaries they did wry.
The day gan faste drawe to an ende,
That eiche man þought home to wende,
And turney no more as for þat nyght.
The kyng of Syre he made a fight,
Comyng in sodenly with his meanye.
A worthy and a noble knyght was he.
When eiche man wende home forto go,
He and his meany despitousely tho
On euery syde gan ley on faste.
Men toke her sheldes to hem in haste.

412

Gaudyn anoone with spere and shelde
Turned ayein into þe felde.
Þe duke of Loreyn anoone hym mette;
Eiche be oþer full litell they sette.
Good knyghtis they were boþe two.
But yite Gaudyn myshapped þo.
For þe kyng of Syre in þat felde
So fiersly hym hitte in þe shelde,
That from his hors he made hym light.
When Partonope sawe þat sight,
That Gaudyn his frende was atte grounde,
With a spere boþe grete and rounde
He Ranne to the kyng þan of Syre,
And hym hitte with so grete an Ire,
Oute of his sadile he made hym lepe.
Gaudyn þer-of anoone toke kepe
And fresshly sesed the kynges stede.
But or he myght hym any firþer lede,
The kynges meany to hym so raught,
Þat of hem many a stroke he caught.
And in þis meane while a saresyne
Is lept to þe hors of Gaudyn.

413

Partonope þat hym neuer fayled at nede,
[Thought to gete ayen his stede],
Leide on so faste rounde a-boute,
He hathe hym rescowed from all þe route,
That harmelesse escaped boþe they be.
For besy is all þe kynges meanye
Of Syre hym þrow þe place to lede
On fote; for loste he hadde his stede.

All folke herwith departed anoone
From þe turnement and streight gone
To her loggeyng in grete haste.
The nyght falleth on hem wonder faste.
The herowdes crye: “A hostell, a hostell!”
Partonope and Gaudyn þat right well
In þe turnement haue bore hem þat day,
To her loggeyng they ride in fresshe array.
Cursolote sethe hem boþe two
To her loggyng harmelesse go.
He seide: “God blessed þou be
Boþe my ffrendes yonder I se

414

To her herborowe go saufe and sounde.
I wolde it hadde coste me an hundred pounde,
Be so I wiste what they were.
But wele I wote, he þat doþe bere
The white shelde, be myn avise,
Of þis day is worthy þe prise.”
All þo þat hym herde, seide not ones nay,
Save kyng Claryns; for to his pay
In no wise þes wordes were seide.
“The þrid day shull we knowe þe breide.
Be þat tyme moche þing may falle.
Ye be to hasty now forto calle
Hym beste þat bereþ þe white shelde
Of all þat were to-day in þe felde.
Full yore it is now ago
I haue herde sey, and oþer mo,
That who so yeveth hasty Iugement
Moste be þe first þat shall repent.”
Þerwith þes knyghtis boþe two
Of þes þinges more speke þei not þo.
But Partonope and gentill Gaudyne

415

Arne at her soper and drynke þe wyne
As fresshe as to hem may be brought.
Of her grete strokes they rekke nought.
Gaudyn beholdeth wele Partonope,
And gretely mervayleth of his beaute,
How semely he was, how longe, how brode.
Hym to be-holde full longe he stode.
And he thought euer in his corage:
He myght not be borne of pore lynage.
And wele he sighe þat he was pensife,
He þought his herte was in grete strife.
Of þis grete mervaylle þo hadde he,
What cause or what it myght be
That made hym in suche hevynesse.
Hym thought he hadde cause of gladnesse.
Hym to comforte in his herte he caste,
And merely he brake oute atte laste,
And seide: “My ffrende Partonope,
What is þe cause þat ye mow be
In hevynesse fall so sodenly?
I trowe for ye haue so manly
Now borne you in þis turnement,
Ye are aferde leste þe Iugement
To haue þis lady shuld falle on you.
Be gladde man, loke vpp lightly nowe,
And bere þe wele þe þrid day.

416

And þen I darre savely say
Thou shalte haue hir and moche more.”
Partonope þer-with sighed sore,
And seide: “I were wele, hadde I þat!”
Gaudyn þerwith on his bedde sate,
And made hym redy to take his reste.
To do þe same Partonope made hym preste.
To bedde they go for þat nyght.
On morrowe as sone as þe sonne bright
Ganne shewe her beames oute of her spere,
They ben rissen masse forto here.
And þen after arme hem be oone assent,
And made hem redy to þe turnement.
Thidder be they come with her squyers
Fresshly ryding vpon her dextreres.
Into þe felde they do as they mowe.
Curselote hem seeth, and then he lowe.
And Claryn seide: “Lo, yonder I se
Be the morowe now come be
Thes tweyn þat yestir-evyn full late
Caught þe laste stroke; and yite algate
It semeth they wole þe first wynne.
Lette se who shall þis game be-gynne.”

TO felde is come þe fierse soudan,
In his company many a lusty man,
And faire renge hem in þe felde.
Herawdes hem nombred a thousand sheld.

417

This sawdan, þis lusty knyght,
Taketh his shelde anoone right,
Sette helme on hede, and taketh his spere.
Partonope þat hoveth from hym ferre,
Was redy anoone withouten lette.
This soone to-gedre they mette
Full fresshly, men myght se, I trowe.
The soudan bare his spere to lowe.
There he hadde wente to haue smytte Partonope
Amyddes þe shelde, it happed þat he
Smote his sadill in þe fore arsone.
The spere so lowe dissended a-downe,
Þat it into peces fley into þe felde.
Partonope hym hitte amydde þe shelde
So sturdely in all his myght,
That fro his hors he made hym light,
And leide hym flatte þen in þe mede.
Partonope þerwith sesed his stede,
But it was not for hym to abyde.
And þen he seide: “Who lust to ride
Lepe on his bake, take hym anoone.”
To þe rescowe come of þe sowdan
A thousand Knyghtes and many moo.
Who lust to laughe but Cursolote þo?
And þen he seide to kyng Claryne:
“This game is be-gonne wele a-fyne.”
Full besy nowe all þes knyghtes be

418

Her maister to rescowe, and Partonope,
Seith to þe soudan he myght no more do.
The prese was so grete a-boute hym þo.
He wele be-thought hym, and atte laste
Fresshly into þe prese he þraste.
And a saresyn he yave suche a dynte,
To þe grounde he fell; he was but shent.
Partonope on hym no-þing a-bode,
But fiersly þrow þe prese he rode,
And manly þrow þe prese he paste.
Or he was warre, he come as faste
Vnto þe gate which was þe toure
Where as Meliore, þe fresshe floure,
Sate in a wyndowe and loked oute.
Anoone as Partonope with-oute doute
Aspied his lady and sawe hir þere,
He spared at þat tyme for no fere,
But salowed his lady full piteousely,
And seide: “Of your servaunte now haue mercy,
And take þis token now of me!”
And þer-with-all good Partonope
Putt vp his spere and proffered his getone,
Seing þe felde and all þe towne.
Vpon his getone she did loke,
And fro þe spere to hir she it toke,
And seide to hym: “Tell me ayein

419

What ye seide and what ye meane.
I vnderstonde not, and þer-fore tell me.”
But at þat tyme it myght not be,
He was in grete perell of his life sanȝ faile.
Thre men of armes did hym assayle
With grete speres on euery side.
It was for hym no lenger a-bide.
His swerde he pulled oute delyuerly,
And bete all þre fro hym full manly.
And forþe into þe Reynes he þraste,
And a-boute hym leide on faste.
In perell of his life nede moste he.
For in-myddes his Enemeyce full but was he,
And þrow the meany he moste nedes passe,
For all his felawship̄p̄ be-yonde hem wasse.
Gaudyn seeth Partonope in grete doute,
And boldly loketh hym a-boute,
And feersly amonge hem In gothe he
And leide on faste, Ioy it was to se,
As he that couþe wele of þat crafte.
And þus in helpe Partonope he rafte
From his Enemeyce hondes with-oute doute,
And harmeles are scaped þrowe þe route.
This is wele, what wole ye more?
Lete vs speke of faire Meliore,
For she hath now take his getone

420

Of Partonope, but what þe enchesone
Or cause he hadde it hir [to] take,
She can not wete [ne] for whose sake.
She wolde it hadde be a devill wey
Þat she so lewde was in þat aray.
On þe spere it was fastened,
And she þer-fro it vndede,
Wherof men speke þan dishonour,
And seide þat man was hir paramour.

Though a lady for þe best a þing do,
Men haue such Ioy to lye so,
They wole it turne all for þe worste,
They haue no Ioy to sey the beste.
Suche mennes tonges gone euer on wheles.
This is þe cause, for moste with kelys
Is her dalyaunce and her comenyng.
And for they mowe hem lightly bryng
To be foles at her commaundment,
Þerfore they gife suche Iugement
On all oþere, and wene they were
Of such condicions and suche manere.
Of þes ladies it fareth not so:
Chaungeable in love they be neuer mo,
Of trouþe in stabilnes they bere þe floure,
In hem is peynted gentilnes and honour.
Therfore all men þat be so light of tonge

421

That as a grete bell þat longe is ronge
Noyse her lesynges. God gife hem grace
Not amonge ladies to dwell any space.

Now lete [us] speke of faire Meliore,
That hath taken into þe toure
Partonopes geton from his spere,
That into þe felde was sene full ferre.
And evill tonges þerof speke faste,
And for þe worste they euer it caste,
And she wiste neuer what he was.
And if she hadde, she wolde haue percase
Full gladde [be] to haue done hym eace.
For whome shuld a lady be glad to pleace
But hym on whome hir herte is sette?
For and they hadde be to-gedre mette,
No man wolde blame hir, as trow I,
Though she had pleased hym hertely.
For who so euer love, I you plight,
Of hym-self he hath but litill myght.
Therfore, lordynges, as þinketh me,
In no defaute þan hadde she be,
Though she hadde shewed hym solace and game,
And he to hir do also þe same.
The emperesse Partonope not vndirstode.
But Wrake þat faste be hir abode,
Herde and wiste wele what he seide.
And þerwith sodenly þis faire maide
Chonged hir fressh colour rede
Into pale or wanne as asshes dede.
Persewise þerof toke grete hiede.
Wrak with Persewise and no mo
Into þe batilment to-gedre go
In counsyale to haue her talkyng,
Where they spake many dyuers þing.
Atte laste seide Wrake to Persewise:
“Tell me now fully your avise,
What man þat was þat right now late
Hoved on hors-bak here atte yate,
And profered my lady his gay getone?
What suppose ye was his enchesone?

422

What seide he to my lady, herde not ye?
Serteyn, Persewise, it was Partonope,
Our ffrende, wolde God he were here
Prively, þat we myght make hym chiere.
Thanne shulde we here of new tithinge,
Sith we se hym, where his a-bidyng
Hath be, and how þat he came here.”
Ye may axe me, lorde, what chere
Was with Persewise, þis faire maide,
When Wrake þes wordes hath seide,
And yite it shall hir neuer avayle,
Wheþere she make it open or counsaylle.
Thus many a man his love be-sette,
To hym it were a grete dele bette
To be a recluse or elles a frere,
Or elles be dede and leide on bere,
Where he shall dwelle for euer-more,
Then hathe he an ende of his sore.
“Fayre suster,” tho seide the queen,
“Of counseylle to I not what I meen.
My wittes be destroubled in many wise.
For in my herte I can not devise
Who or what man it myght be,
That armed atte wyndowe seide to me:
‘Wo be þe tyme þat I euer you sighe.’
T[h]o wordes to my herte sitte so nyghe
Þat be all-myghty God sittyng above,
They made me þinke vpon my love.
And þerwith myn olde sekenesse toke me.
Me thought be his speche it shuld be he.
And þan to me he put vp his spere,
Me thought þan I durst wele swere
It hadde bene he. Lewde fole þat I am,
And yete I knowe wele þat many a man
Wote wele he is dede, and I wote also.
Allas, good suster, what shall I do?
I ame but dede, my peynes be so sore.”
Wrake þo hadde pite of Meliore,

423

And thought þo she wolde tell euery dele,
For to hir suster she had not quytte hir wele,
And seide: “Medame, I you beseche
In louly wise and with herte meke
To forgife me þat I haue me mys-take
To you my lady, for Cristes owne sake.”—
“Sey on, suster,” þo seide þis queen.
“Be-twene you and me shall be no meane
But ye your-self; what euer be mysdo,
I it you foryeve, and lette it go,
And eiche of vs lette oþer truly trust.
Ye shull fynde it for þe beste,
For I am to you boþe suster and queen.
Tell me oute fully what ye meane.”

“Medame,” she seide, “not longe ago
I shope me with certeyn men to go
Vnto þe see forto disporte and play,
And to Arderne I helde the streight way,
And vnder þat forest I did aryve.
Therin I yede and þen as blyve
Amonge þe wilde bestes þere I fonde
Partonope crepyng on knees and honde,
The moste pitouse and vgly creature
That God gave to any fygure.
Herebes and grasse to seke for his levyng,
Olde, roten and torne was his cloþing.
Full bare his body, eich man myght se
In þat ferefull place, whereof I hade pite.
And ofte tyme he sighed wonder sore,
And þer-with he seide: ‘Allas, faire Meliore!’
And nere I come of hym to haue knowyng.
But I couthe not knowe hym for no-þing,
Till atte laste welny dede was he,
Than me þought it shuld be
Be his persone þis Partonope.
And hadde I not seide to hym þat ye
Grete hym wele with all your herte,
He hadde suffred elles deþes smerte.
Shorte to sey, I brought hym forþe with me
Home to Salence with fayre trete.

424

Hym haue I kept full tenderly.
A Ioyfull man hym full ofte made I,
Seying to hym ye grete hym ofte wele.
That made his sorowe fro hym go euerydele,
And so was lusty as he euer was be-fore.
Fayrere was he neuer sith he was bore.
Into your courte I brought hym prively,
And bade hym prese to you boldly
To be gyrde of you as oþer were.
Full ofte tyme chaunged þen his chere.
Amonge oþer with swerde ye hym girde,
And þerwith me thought ye ferde
As thoughe ye hadde not be wele at eace.
And þen truly, with-outen leace,
I voyded hym soone from your presence,
And he with me into Salence
Yode ayein, where as he come fro.
ix dayes a-fore þe Assenc[i]on þan happed þo
He yede his way, where he be-come I nyste,
Wherfore I wepte full ofte, and wronge my fiste.
And sith I swere you be my fey,
I sawe hym neuer till þis same day
Ne wheþer to go him to seche.
And now I knew hym be his speche.
For hym full ofte I haue wrought you wo,
Now lieth in you mercy hym do.
I haue bore you on honde þe cowe was wode,
His peyn to avenge it did me good.”
Lorde, and many a man hadde be þere,
And of þese ladies sene þe manere,
As longe as I haue tolde my tale,
Some of hir colour should haue wex pale,
Hir wryngyng, hir grete wepyng.
They couþe no place fynde of restyng,
But euer wandryng to and fro,
And many a sighyng euer put þer-to.
For trusteth as siker as any day
In hote lovyng is but litell play.

And when Meliore shuld yeve answere,
She couþe in no wise for-bere

425

But wept and sighed to and to,
And seide: “Suster, grace ye me do!
Tell me truly if he it were,
Þat at a windowe proffered his spere,
And me with his getone mercy asked so?”
Then seide Wrake: “Medame, so mote I go,
It was he, it nedeth not to swere þerfore.”—
“A lorde!” seide þis queen, faire Meliore,
“What he is hardy, gentill, and meke,
Þat þrowe his Enemeyce þus wolde me seke.
The lorde above merveyles can wele done,
That can herborowe so in oo persone
A lyons herte and a lambes also.
How louly cried he mercy me to
Of þat I haue to hym foule mysdo,
And put his life in perell þer-to.
Who euer thinketh his lady to conquere,
Go to my love; for he can hym lere
How forto love; myn herte can acorde,
For he hath conquered many a lorde.
O good God in heven! where þat Partonope
Of þis turnement shall haue þe degre!
Trewly as yete he is not in þe felde
Proved so worthy vnder helme and shelde.
So seide kyng Cursolote yester-day,
And trouþe þerof he may wele say.
Go we, suster, to hym and that anoone,
He canne wele telle how all shall gone.”

Now is þis lady risen from þe place
Where as she sate, for in trouble case
Be hir wittes, and in hevynesse
Stondeth hir herte and grete distresse.
Place she can none fynde in to a-byde.
Hir trouble in no wise can she hide,
But to and fro she goþe and sometyme sitte,
In moche dyuersete stonde hir witte.
No wonder it is, for in grete dispayre
Hath she be longe of hir loves repayre.
For she wende fully dede þat he were,

426

And now on lyve she may hym here.
Wetith wele þat many a dyuers þought
The sight of hym hath in hir herte brought.
Atte laste to hir hir suster she toke
Be the hande, as seith þe frenssh boke,
And forþe they yode boþe in fere,
Till they [were] þere þe kynges were.
And right anoone, with-oute any more lettyng,
Be kyng Cursolote þis lady was sittyng,
For he was goodly, somwhat to hir entent.
Anoone she asked hym of the turnement,
Who turneth beste and who shall haue þe prise.
“For soþe,” seide Cursolote, “as be myn avise,
He þat armed is vnder þe white shelde
Hath borne hym beste yite in þe felde.
Se how manly he doþe tournay,
And in [the] prese how brode he maketh wey.
Se how many he þroweth to grounde,
Se what strokes he leyeth a-boute hym rounde.
Me thinketh grete [Ioy] it is hym to se.”
Claryns sate still as he hadde be
Defe, or þat he hadde no luste to here
Cursolote þis prise, it semed to be his chere.
But þen seide Claryns: “I se be þe Soudan,
Amonge þe barbarens how he takeþ on.
Neuer þe lattere I sey he with þe white shelde
Dothe Inly wele amonge all þe felde.”

This faire queen, lady Meliore,
Of her talkyng toke hiede no more,
But fully purposeth to be-holde and se
How wele hir love dothe, Partonope.
Hym to be-holde was all hir Ioy.
Now lete vs speke of Gaudyn le Bloy,
That euer was redy in all degre
To waite wele vpon Partonope,
And he on hym with all his myghtes.
Boþe they were full noble knyghtes.
Now cometh on faste þe þrid day

427

That degre shuld be yeve of þis turney.
The kyng of Fraunce his spere hathe take.
Fresshe Iustes þinketh he to make,
He wolde make hem of hym to speke.
Many a faire spere þo did he breke.
The Emperour of Almayne þis be-helde,
And in grete haste henge on his shelde,
And charged a certeyn of his men,
Were it a dosen, twenty or ten,
That on her feithe and her liegeaunce
They shull sette on þe kyng of Fraunce,
And þrowe hym to grounde, if they myght.
The Emperour hym-self anoone right
Vpon the kyng of Fraunce doþe prese
With all his meany in þat rese.
From hors they þrew hym on þe grounde,
Grete strokes on hym they leide rounde.
His state Royall wolde they not spare.
Anoone hereof Partonope was ware,
He cried Moun-Ioy with all his herte.
His spores made his stede to smerte.
Angre his herte so sette on fyre,
That to þe Emperour in grete Ire
He ranne, and with his spere hym hitte,
That in his sadill he couthe not sitte,
But from his hors he voyded anoone.
There was not þanne a lytell to done,
And Meliore þe queen þis wele be-helde.
There myght men se a besy felde
Of ffrensshe, Bretons, and eke normans,
Was besy to rescowe þe kyng of Fraunce.
After þes contrees made her assemble,
Perelous and sharpe was þe medle.
The prese wes grete, men myght not se
Who was the beste in no degre.
But yite Partonope bare hym so,
That all men knew wele þo
That he was cause of þe kyng of Fraunce
Rescowe, where as in ballaunce
Lay his worship̄p̄; wherfore þat he

428

Thanked full ofte Partonope,
And seide full ofte: “Sir, gramercy!
For þrow youre helpe rescowed am I.”
And full softely answerd Partonope:
“Ofter þan þis tyme so haue I be.”
What he seide þe kyng Right witterly
Vnderstode [not], for he so softely
Tho wordes seide, þat noone shuld here,
The ffrenssh-men to hym gan prese nere
Hym to be-holde, and all eichone
Preised hym for a semely persone,
And seide a ffrensshe man myght [he] wele be.
In grekes tonge þo answered he,
For he wolde þat they hym not knewe.
Gaudyn le Bloyse, þat was full trewe
To Partonope, þan he come anoone:
“Me mervayleth gretely, be Seynt Iohn,
Why with þis folke ye hove here.
It were your worship̄p̄ to be elles-where.
What hove ye þus? What is your entent?
Thinke ye to holde here a parlement?
It were more worship̄p̄ to you, I gesse,
To aspie where any worþinesse
Were on handlyng, and þer to be.”—
“Ye sey me sothe,” seide Partonope.
Gaudyn wolde not lette hym reste,
But into þe turnement amonge þe beste
Made hym to go hye worshipp to wynne.
He loved hym þo as he had be of his kynne,
For if he a-life wele wiste he
Might from þe turnement scape, shuld be
Chosen of all persones oone of þe beste,
The prise for to bere of þat feste.
Thes Iugeours, the kynges two,
All þis doyng be-helde wele þo,
How þat rescowed was þe kyng of Fraunce,
There as his worship̄p̄ lay in ballaunce,
And how cause hereof was Partonope.
Euery wight þat myght wele se.

429

Tho seide Cursolote to kyng Claryne:
“Þis white knyght þat I call myne,
Bereth hym wele. How þinketh ye?”
Then seide Claryn: “Right wele haþe he
Borne hym truly at þis rescowes,
For þis medle was right perilous.
But yite I shall it not sey
That he is beste of this tourney.”
Meliore to þis fayne wolde haue spoke.
Her herte for hete was on a smoke,
That Claryn liste not better to say
Of Partonope at þat day.
His wordes made dede hir herte,
Love full sore maketh her smerte.
Who chaunged colours but Meliore þo?
She durst not answere full þerto
All as she þought, for womanhede.
For Evill tonges hadde she drede.
Yite to hem seide þis lady þo:
“Sires, me þinketh, so mote I go,
Who so hath do beste doþe right wele.
Litell wote we what they fele.
The white shelde haþe do wele þis day,
No man hym like, it is noo nay.”
The kyng of Fraunce is right anguysshous,
With Partonope to speke eke desyrous.
But Gaudyn wolde not lette hym soiourne,
But into þe turney made hym retourne,
Where as he leide on so on euery side,
His Enemeyce dare not hym a-bide.
What shull we of hym more sey:
Throwe þe thikest he maketh suche a wey,
Þat where were hundre[d]s he made pleyne.
Here-of despite hath þe Emperour of Almayne,
And þought he wolde take vengeaunce.
He sette his men first in ordenaunce,
And hadde hem into a place of þe felde.
A stronge man was he with spere and shelde.
Gaudyn toke hiede of þis assemble.
“Be-holde,” he seide, “my herte doþe tremble.

430

Yondre men þinketh to make array.
On hem þou maiste þi-self wele assay.”

Partonope, þis yonge lusty knyght,
Is so reioysed of þat faire sight,
And of his lady in þe hye toure,
That þere is neþer duke ne Emperoure
But þat he dare myghtely assaylle,
Be it in turnement or in bataylle.
The allmayns herewith made a crie,
And all þe ffrensshe with a voice defye,
And on hem at ones with a grete hete,
So oute of þe Reynes [þe] frensshe-men bete.
Anoone with þis sawe Partonope
And Gaudyn his felawe, anoone they be
With-drawe a-side and toke her grounde.
Her meany aboute hem drowe full rounde.
Nowe is Gaudyn and Partonope
Faire bataylled in þe felde with her meanye.
Anoone as the Ermyns euer redy were,
Where þat þey sene þe frensshe banere,
With all her myght hem wolde assaile.
The duke of Bauoire þen wolde not faylle
Hem to helpe with all his myght.
Partonope sette on hem anoone right,
And with þe duke so sore he mette,
With a grete spere on hym he sette,
That to þe grounde he leide hors and man.
Þat he lefte hym and forþe he ranne,
And with þe same course he hit Besone,
That of his sadill he voyded þe arsone.
Nevew he was to the Emperour,
He hadde be þat day in many a shoure,
And bore hym wele and eke manly.
Gaudyn le Bloys sette on þo fiersly.
He mette with oone hight Franke le graunt.
He gafe hym a stroke þat made hym avaunt.
Fro hors to grounde he made hym light;
His helme fley fro hym in all her sight.
This Gaudyn and þis Partonope

431

Leide a-boute hem, Ioy it was to se.

Now cometh þe Soudan with all his route
With many a gay shelde and spere stoute.
He a-voweth to Mahounde and Appollyne
Of þis medelere he wole make a fyne.
And forto holde his grete suerte
In þe reste anoone his spere caste he.
To Gaudyn so fiersly he ranne þo,
And in þe shelde hym hit so,
He made hym voyde in haste his sete,
And leide hym at Partonopes fete
Shamefaste, sory, and all dismayed.
Partonope here-of was not wele paide.
He shope hym fiersly to þe Soudan ride,
And with his spere amydde þe side
He hym hitt, with-outen faille,
That oute of his sadill he made hym saile
Amyddes his felowes and þat eichone.
But they on hors-bake hym helpe anoone,
And Gaudyn despitously they haue take,
And fiersly ledde hym toward þe stake
Or to þe stondarte, where euer it be,
That men wiste descomfite was he.
That is statute of þe turnemente.
Partonope all þis sore lemente,
For neuer in oo day sith he was bore,
Was he so hevy neuer be-fore,
Ne neuer his herte brought in such care.
Tho to ley on he wolde not spare.
With his spere he ranne to a saresyne,
That in his armes held faste Gaudyne,
And hym hadde leide ouerthwarte his hors nek.
Partonope herwith mode gan pekke.
Fersely to þe saresyne ranne he þo,
And with his spere hym hit so,
That in his sadill myght he not bide.
His spere hadde he loste in his side.
Therwith þe shafte all to-refe;
Of his grete Ire he made a good prefe.

432

Partonope in haste his swerde þo drowe,
Harde, fayre, and bright, and sharpe enowe.
Therwith he leide so faste a-boute,
Tho þat he hitte were in grete doute.
For here lay oone and yonde anoþer.
Of Iren and stele full many a foþer
He made in shorte tyme lye atte erthe.
As a lyon þat wode was he ferde,
That hongry was and lakked his pray,
So ferde he when þat he sey
He myght not rescowe gentill Gaudyns,
So þikke a-boute hym were þe saresynes.
But þan did he a mervelouse dede:
To þe Soudan fiersly he yede,
And aboute þe medill hym caught.
For all þat þe Soudan couþe fight
Oute of his sadill he hym lifte,
And all his strength fro hym refte,
And on his sadill-bowe hym be-forne
He hym leide, in entente to haue hym borne
Hym a-wey, and þer-with anone
The saresynes lefte Gaudyn eichone.
To rescowe her lorde faste they wente.
Gaudyn þe stede be þe bridell hente
Of þe Soudan, as yode astraye,
Iarmed and trapped full fresshe and gay,
And into þe sadill lightly he lepe.
Now is no tyme for hym to slepe.
Oute his swerde fiersly he caught,
Manly þerwith he did fight.
Then myght men sore fight þere se:
Some smyte þrow þe legge, and some þe knee,
Some lay atte grounde gronyng full sore,
Many oone þer hadde his hors for-lore.
There was to-broke boþe helme and shelde.
Many men did lye in þe felde,
Many to þe standarte were I-bore,
For they hadde that day her worshipp lore.
But speke we now forþe of Partonope.
In grete perell forsothe stante he.

433

He weneth þe Soudan a-way to bere.
On hym þere light many a spere.

Wherwith cometh in þe kyng of Fraunce,
And vnder his arme a myghti launce.
He come in helpyng of Partonope.
Knyghtly and manly bore hym he.
A proude Saresyne þo he slowe,
Wherfore I trowe Partonope loughe,
For he was þe first þat be-ganne
To make rescowe vpon þe Soudan.
And ne hadde þe Soudan rescowed be,
Dede hadde be þanne Partonope.
The kyng of Fraunce did right wele þo,
And a-fore eke þat it happed so
That his meany for wery with-drowe.
The medle forþe on game wexe full rowe.
Yite blessed be God, Erle Partonope
Saufe fro all perell scaped is he.
Now are þe ffrensshe harde be-sette
And oute of þe felde all to-bette.
This be-helde wele þe kyng of Fraunce,
Þat his men wente to myschaunce.
Withoute counsaille allone stode he,
And þan he drew hym to Partonope,
For he knew and wiste wele afyne
But if þe helpe were of Partonope and Gaudyn,
Þe worship̄p̄ of Fraunce shuld come to nought.
Therfore þe kyng Partonope be-sought,
And þat tyme he wolde be his comfortoure,
In Saluac[i]on of his grete honoure.
“With right good will,” seide Partonope.
His spere and his shelde to hym taketh he
Girde in amonge hem and cried “Mon Ioy!”
When þe ffrensshe herde crie þe kyngis worde,
To hym they fell by oone acorde.
Foure thousand and moo with þat crie
Sette on her aduersaries so hardely,
Þat from her grounde they put hem to flight,
More þan a bowe-shote as to her sight.
To turney þei wolde all new be gonne.

434

But weste so ferre was drawe þe sonne,
That “al hostell” þe herodes gan crie.
Eiche man to his logyng þen gan hye.
But Gaudyn and fresshe Partonope
Laste in þe felde of all wolde be,
And first as so yerly by þe morowe.
It neded not hem of manhode to borowe.
Now fro þe felde go they to her loggyng.
Of hem toke hiede Cursolote þat worþi kyng,
Where as he Sate an hye vpon þe toure.
God he þanked hyely of her honoure,
For in þe be-gynnyng alwey seide he:
“Worþi men they seme forto be.”
And namely þat bare þe white shelde
He lyked best of any man in þe felde.
Many sey wele of hem þat wele haue do,
And many oone hathe Envye þerto.
The good alwey liste wele to sey,
And evill tonges lust but Iape and play.
Of þis false worlde þis is þe gouernaunce,
Good and Evill haue dyuers purvyance.

But who trow ye sighed now so sore
As did þis queen, faire Meliore?
That hir love all day wele be-helde,
And now seeth hym go oute of þe felde,
And she may with hym neiþer speke ne se,
Ne where his loggyng is wote not she,
Ne wheþer she shall se hym ayein.
She stonte in doute, and þus her spirites bene,
As I suppose, in grete troublenesse.
Ye ladies þat haue love, ye knowe, I gesse.
For I deme and she hadde good leysere,
With hym to speke, it [had] bene her pleasire,
And elles mervayle me þinketh it had be,
Sith for hir love so moche sorowe hath he,
And his desyre is euer fresshe and newe
Hir to serve and be full trewe,
And put his body eke to grete laboure
For hir sake to wynne worshipp and honoure.

435

But as þe frensshe boke now telleth me,
Hevy and pensyfe and in grete care is she.
For when he departed oute of hir sight,
Hir coloure þat was wonte to be fresshe and bright,
Was wexe pale and like a dedely hewe.
It semed þerby þat in love she was trewe.
Thes two kynges of hir toke leve anoone,
And she and they to her loggyng was gone.
Gladde was she þat she myght be allone,
For she kept þat no wight hadde know hir moone.

And þen she seide: “Lorde God, of hevyn kyng,
Of þis arraye what shall be þe endyng?
Good lorde, haue ye now no pite
Of hem þat in grete hevynesse be?
Faire lorde, wole ye haue no mercy
Of folke þat in disese be, and þat am I?
Haue ye no pite now of þat herte
That for love suffereth peynes smerte?
My fell herte hath so gouerned me,
What for wilfullnesse and his cruelte,
When I my love myght haue hadde in peace,
Of all my Ioy he made me a foule releace,
For on my love I founde suche noblenesse,
God yave neuer woman so hye a richesse
As he yave me, while þat I hadde hym.
What woman such one couþe wynne?
He and I were fully of oone acorde.
I helde hym for my souereyn lorde.
Of all worþi he is þe worþiest,
The semeliest, and also þe gentilest.
And allas! how tendirly he on me wepe
With his faire Eyen, and yite but litell kepe
I toke þer-of, and yite þis worþi also
Me mercy cried full mekely þerto.
Lo! þe vnstabilnesse of my vnkynde herte
Couþe not se what shuld falle hereof, allas.
For now I can se and fele wele in my thought

436

That he hadde tresspassed litell or elles nought.
But I arrette in hym gile and eke false treasone.
But now in þat I wote I hadde no reasone.
So highely of me þat tyme rebuked he was,
That in wanhope euersith leved he was,
And þought vnable hym-self to haue Ioy of me.
Yite þrow his Enemeyce þe laste day come he,
And of his spere proffered me þe getone,
As a prisoner þat gladly wold his raunsone
Yolde to his maister and his souereyne.
Wherfore my herte telleth me agayne
He hopeth yite to stonde in my grace.
But where he is be-come or in what place,
Allas, it is vnknowe now to me.
And if it were my faire Partonope,
I wolde yow sewe, and ones with you speke.
Allas, for wo my herte will to-breke.
And yite [I] wote, if I shuld hym sewe,
That were a thing done of þe newe.
For womanhode wole not þat it be so,
And if it wolde, sone wolde I be a-go.
But allas it may no-þing so be.
For a woman þat paramour loveth,” quod she,
“Moste kepe counseylle, leste she falle in blame,
Hir privey thoughtes for blemysshyng of hir name.
For þough she love a man with all hir myght,
Of whate estate he be, lorde, squyer, or knyght,
Of hir governaunce so wise she moste be,
That no man espie þat she hath any deynte
More of hym þen of any oþer wight.
Thus moste she governe hir in mennes sight.
And if þat fyre of love brenne hir so,
As ofte happeth, and if she þen any þing do
Be loke, or speche, talkyng, or be play,
So þat he þat she loveth þinke in any way
He cane fynde cause of love to hir to speke,
And all his herte þerwith to hir doþe breke,
And seith he loveth hir beste of any wight,
Though she wole þen swere and trouþe plight,

437

She hadde neuer Ioy, be God þat sitteth a-bove,
Of any man þat speketh to hir of love.
For of such wordes take I neuer cure,
Though she love hym full hote oute of mesure.
What maketh þis but verey shame?
She wolde for no-þing þat hindred were hir name.
But men forsoþe they live in grete eace.
For þough love bryng hem in diseace,
For shame they lette not, but goþe forþe boldly
To make compleynte to her souerayne lady,
And þat is dayle; hardely they do not cese.
They spare not for tonges ne for prese,
Or elles letters sende day be day.
Thus besely her ladies wole they assay,
And go and come and euer mercy crie.
What woman is þat euer can denye?
And on her ladies þus they crie and crave,
Till atte laste all her will they haue.
Men mowe speke and sende with penne and Inke
What they wole, and women mow but þinke.
Men full hote of women loved haue be,
Which was neu'er spoke of in noo degre.
Why was þat? for they wolde neuer descouere
Her hevy thoughtes; wherfore I you ensure,
Thought hath so encombred hir meke herte,
That they haue of dethe felte þe peynes smerte.
Allas, wreched caytife þat am I!
That euer womane I was, wele-a-wey!
How shall I do? how shall I love haue?
Where is he nowe I not, so God me save?
Wheþer I shall go now my love to fynde.
That may not be; in þis case love is blynde.
So now he moste nedes be fro me.
I am a woman, and all men shuld se
My hye foly, and sey þat I were wode.
My love also þerof shuld þinke no good.”
An hundred such wordes haþ þus seide Meliore,
And þought an hundred þousand þoughtes more,
For in lovers herte mo þoughtes dwelle

438

Then an hundred thousand tonges wele telle.
Meliore is þoughtfull and hevy as lede,
And for sorowe she [is] nyhande dede.
But Wrake of hir þen toke good keþe.
That nyght she hadde but lytill slepe,
Ne Partonope, hir love, neuer þe moo
But þat he was ouer-travelid soo.

A morowe yerly boþe risen now be,
Gaudyn le Bloys and Partonope.
To Partonope þen seide gentill Gaudyn:
“Of all your labour now cometh þe fyne,
Ye haue wele be-gonne, with-oute faile,
But all þat certeyn may litell avayle,
As sey þes olde men, but if þe ende
Be wele parfouremed in þe same kynde.”
To hym þo answerde Partonope:
“Thes wordes ye seyn full trew they be,
Thing wele ended is wele be-gonne,
To bene a maister and yonge men lere,
How they shull governe her shelde and spere.
Here-of recorde bere wele may I
That ye be a maister, and þat full sturdy,
Ye wole not suffre your prentise to be,
A cowarde in his crafte in no degree.”
Now they ben cloþed and gone to messe,
Her servauntes at will, boþe more and lasse,
All þing make redy ayeins masse be do.
Then be they armed, and streight þei go
To hors, and fressh rideth forþe to felde.
Kyng Curselote in þe toure hem be-helde,
And knewe wele þat they hadde be euery day
The first in þe felde of all þe array.
Meliore of hem toke good hiede also.
Toward þe castell come Partonope þo,
With his meany ridyng lustely.
Anoone as Meliore gan þat espie,
Hir herte in hir body gan to qwape,
She rose and on hir fete gan to stappe.
Hir Ioy was hym to se algate.

439

He hoveth a-fore þe castell yate.
It was þo shitte for yerly day.
Anoone as euer Parton[o]pe say
The gates vndoyng wele aferre,
To hym he toke boþe shelde and spere.
And happed þat Armans his mortall fo
First oute atte yate did go
Of all oþer men, and þat in haste.
Partonope his spere in þe Reste caste,
And to þis Armans fiersly he rode,
And fro þe stede þat he be-strode
Oute of þe Sadill he hym caste.
Partonope sesed his stede in haste.
Within þe castell was do þis þing.
For Partonope þere was noone abiding.
To þe gate þerfore turned he ayein.
On hors-bak armed þen knyghtes þer bene
The stede to lede oute hym forto lette.
But Gaudy[n] le Bloys so with hem mette,
That magre her hedes þe yates passed he,
And þis is rescowed Partonope
Through Gaudyn his ffrende, þat worþi knyght.
All þis did Partonope in his loves sight.
Kyng Cursolote, oone of þe chief Iugeoure,
That with Meliore a-bove in þe toure
Sate first of all men, þo seide he:
“Thes men þat vnder þe white shelde be,
Certeys ben worþi, be myn avise,
Of þis turnement to bere þe prise.”—
“Ye haste you to faste,” seide kyng Claryn.
“The prefe of all wole be in þe fyn.”
So eich man seide what hym lyste,
But Meliore þought he did beste,
She durst not speke, yite she wolde fayne,
But Claryns wordes liketh she not certayne.
She loved better Cursolote, for all-wey he
Like[d] wele euer gentill Partonope.
Still now sitteth Meliore, and dare not speke.
To no man darre she hir herte breke,
But holdeth in hir þoughtes full prively.

440

Therfore þis proverbe is seide full truly:
Þought to a man is euer ffre;
What euer he luste þinke may he.
With-oute speche þat is an eace,
Yite there-while his herte is in diseace.
The enpression of þoughtes of all maner þing
In mannes hert haþ his abidyng,
Be it hote love or any þing elles.
To all þes þoughtes þe chief ledere is
The Eye, and namely of lovers crafte.
For þrowe þe sight is ofte rafte
Fro man boþe herte, wisdame, and resone,
As longe as of þoughtes lasteth þe sesone.
Some man loveth his lady for beaute,
And if þat lak þat semely is she.
If thei lak beaute and semelyhode,
Yite may be loved, for they haue good.
And some for they be goodly with-all to dele,
And some for they can wele syng and revell,
And some for her skynne and for her handes eke,
And some for they can wele loke meke,
And so for dyuers causes all loved be.
God for-bede þat all men shulde sette hem in beaute,
For in the worlde þan shuld be moche to done,
Eiche man shuld be besy to love oo persone.
And I dare sey truly as for me,
I love oon in þe worlde, where euer she be.
Bounte, beaute, curtesy, and gentilnesse,
Estate, fredome, womanhode, and such richesse,
God hath departed with hir so habundauntly,
That in þe worlde I dare sey sikerly
Anoþer such one liveþ not as she is.
In hir can I se no-þing amysse,
Save oo þing, truly, þat liketh not me:
In hir herte she can not fynde in noo degre
Me forto love as I hir truly do;
Wherfore ofte she maketh me þinke so,
Which wole be cause hastely me to bryng,
There as I shall haue my longe abidyng.

BE-gonne wele now is þe turnement.

441

Eiche man mervaileth of þe hardyment
That is in þe persone of yonge Partonope.
He Iusteth, he turneyth, þat mervaylle is to se.
And Gaudyn also in þe toþer syde
To euery man fiersly doþe he ride,
That eiche man sey: “Be-holde yonder knyghtes twoo.”
And with her fyngers show where they go.
And so hem govern forþ thilke day,
That of hem speketh all þe hole turney.
Oute of þe castell now is come Armaunt
On hors-bak armed with proude semblaunt,
And to þe Soudan þo streight gothe he,
And hym salowed and seide: “Sir, se ye
Yonde proude maister with þe white shelde?
He seith hym-self he haþ scomfite þe felde.
The better of you he seith he haþe also.
I herde hym sey þat with myn Eeres two.
Go we,” he seide, “let vs avenged be
On þat proude lossell, þat all men mow se
Oute of þe felde anoone he shall be bete.
I my-self shall yeve hym þe firste hete.”
In þis wise answerd þe soudan Armaunt:
“Sir, when herde ye hym make þis avaunt?
Of hym I trowe to-day atte castell yate
Full yerly he mette with you þer-ate.
Herde ye þes wordes with hym þo,
When he oute of þe castell ayein shuld go?
With hym I wote wele he ledde your stede.
Giffe ye hym now þis for his mede.”
When Armaunt herde þe soudan hym scorne,
Tho was he wodder þan he was be-forne.
He seide no more, but turned ayein
Fro þe soudan with all his meane.
Amydde þe turnement is Partonope.
Faire dedes of armes now doþe he.
Now he is In, and now he is oute.
Whome he euer mette of þe route
To grounde gothe oþer hors or man,
Or elles boþe so fiersly he ranne.
Armaunt be-helde wele all þis.

442

“What me happe,” he þought, “I-wisse
I wole me shape with hym to mete.”
His stede he sporreth þo with grete hete.
His grete malice may he not hide,
But shapeth fully on þe wronge side
With a stronge spere to haue hit Partonope.
Yite as God wolde, þer-of warre was he.
He bleynt a-side, and lete hym go by.
In his retourne Partonope full spitousely
With Armaunt mette, and hym so hitte
That in his sadill he myght not sitte.
Throw all his harneis and his shuldre-bone
His spere at þat course he made gone.
Partonope on hym þo turned ayein.
Armauntes men so þik a-boute hym bene,
That of þis shorte tale now to make,
Her lorde they haue rescowed and take,
And with hym faste to his loggeyng wende.
Partonope elles of hym hadde made an ende.
Now Armauntes wounde is serched and sought,
Wele tented and bounde all for nought.
Armed in no wise myght he be.
But on an aumblere now sitteth he.
In his loggeyng no lenger wole he bide,
But into þe felde now doþe he ride,
And streight gothe to þe kyng of Sire,
That Meliore to haue had grete desire.

Now seith Cursolote kyng: “Yit þinketh me
The white shelde is worthy to haue þe gre.
For soþe to sey now and not to lye,
His felawe is not in þis company.”—
“God save hem all,” þen seide Meliore,
And with þat she sighed full sore,
And to hir-self seide full softly:
“All-myghty God send hym the victory.”

Now to felde is come þe kyng of Syre
And þe kyng of Meede, whos herte of fyre
Is sette full sore for Meliore sake.
All her retynewe anoone they take
Fresshly in bataylle in þat felde.

443

And Gaudyn le Bloys hem faste be-helde,
And to hym he called Partonope,
And þan he seide: “Be-holde and se
Which a meany stoute, faire in bataille.
My counseylle is not hem to assaille.”
Anoone as Partonope þes wordes herde,
As a wode lyon fiersly he ferde.
With hym þat tyme was noone a-bode,
In amonge thes meany fiersly he rode.
The kyng of Mede was armed in blewe.
From his hors ferre he hym þrewe,
And as he turned in ayein,
He hit anoþer which in certeyn
Was nevewe to þe kyng of Sire.
He hym hit þan with so grete Ire,
That of his sadill he made hym voyde þe arsone,
The firste þat come [to] grounde was his crowne.
This be-helde wele all þe kynges meane,
On Partonope all wode they be.
Now ley they on [on] euery side,
To Partonope fiersly they ride,
And with a spere oone so hym hitte
Vpon þe side he myght not sitte
In his sadill, but downe he lepe.
Anoone here-of Gaudyn toke kepe.
He was so sory he wist not what to do.
His swerde Partonope drew oute þo,
And leide so sore hym rounde aboute,
From hym he voyded all þe route.
Now on fote is yonge Partonope.
Armaunt for angre nye wode is he,
And on þe meany faste gan crie:
“What ayleth you fro hym so faste to hye?
Turneth in ayein!” and þerwith he
Come prikyng nere Partonope.
Anoone Partonope knewe it was he,
His swerde anoone at hym lete flye,
And on þe hede on hye hym hitte,
That hede and visage to þe shulders slitte.
Fro his hors to grounde dede fell he.

444

On his hors þo lepe Partonope,
And manly þo pryked þrowe all þe route,
And come to Gaudyn þat stode in doute
Of his owne life, for sore faught he
To rescowe his frende Partonope.
Now is Partonope and Gaudyn mette,
Eiche for oþer haue be wele bete.
And now they hove hem to a-brethe
With all her meany vpon þe hethe.

Now is þe soudan come to þe felde.
He brought but few speres ne shelde,
Lytell ouer an hundred of archers and all.
Partonope to hym Gaudyn did calle:
“Lo, where yondere hoveth þe soudan,
That so moche worþiness in armes can.
Of all this turnement þe worþiest is he.
He wole from vs all haue awey þe gre.
He is so grete a lorde of valour,
In armes can no man be his pere.
Therfore it semeth me verely
He shall haue of vs þe victory.”—
“What!” seith Gaudyn, “stonte þe wynde in that dore?
Is your herte wexe so pitouse and pore
That sodenly ye yive it vp all at ones,
And sey so worthy a man here noone is?
So moche leuer hadde I with hym to mete,
Than for his manhode cowardly hym lete.
Who hath ouersette you of your worde? I-wisse,
It semeth ye haue take with him truesse.”

All hevy and sory stante Partonope,

445

When of his ffrende scorned is he,
And thought Gaudyn shuld knowe and se
Esy truese be-twene vs two be.
He drewe hym toward þe Soudans side.
“O course,” þought he, “to hym wole I ride.”
In þe reste anoone he caste his spere.
As faste as his stede myght hym bere
Toward þis hethen lorde he ranne,
And to hym as fiersly come þe soudan.
And at her metyng it happed so,
Of Partonope þe Soudan failed þo,
And Partonope þan so sore hym hitte
That power in his Sadill forto sitte
Hadde he noone, but to grounde [fill] flatte.
And when Partonope was warre of þat,
From his hors anoone he light,
And halpe vp þe soudan with all his myght,
And be þe bridill delyuered hym his stede.
Men seide þat was a gentill dede.
On his hors þo lepe Partonope,
And or in his sadill downe set was he,
The Soudans men with hym so metten,
That of hem he was full sore beten.
Gaudyn a-boute hym leide sore on þo.
The hethen men mette with hym so,
That all to-clatred was his shelde:
On peses it flewe into þe felde.
Right Evill and sore bothe bete they be.
Grete thanke amonge her Enemeyce haþe he.

Full amerouse and lusty is Partonope.
The soudan stonte in þe same degre.

446

Love haþe hem sette in oo place boþe,
Wher-fore ofte they haue be wroþe,
And Meliore her lady, þe fresshe floure,
A-fore hem sitteth an hye in þe toure,
Which maketh her hertes boþe so lusty,
That eche of hem to oþer is hardy.
Now they putt boþe two all her myght,
Bothe Partonope and þe hethen knyght.
Eiche oþer assaille they full manly,
Therfore to-gedre full despitousely,
Noone of hem now doþe oþer spare.
In her hertes haue they grete care
That þe sonne westwarde doþe wende.
The day full faste draweth to þe ende,
Which day is ordeyned be full assent
To make an ende of þe turnement.
Now as wode bores or lyons two
Partonope and þe soudan gan go
With spere, with Gisarne, and with swerde.
As they hadde be wode boþe they ferde,
Now is [þe] turnement on eiche side mervelouse
And to be-holde wonder perilouse,
For eiche man doþe nowe what he may.
Nyght cometh on, faste passeth þe day.
The mynstralles pipen and sownen þe claryon.
Fro þe hors into þe felde is he þrowe downe.
In gone þe speres sadly vnder þe arme,
Many oone go to grounde and yite cache no harme,
The good hors men now fiersly they ride,
Through hauberke gothe þe spere into þe syde,
Oute with swerdes a-boute helmes rounde,
He þat smytten from the hors lyeth on þe grounde.
Oute gothe þe mases, stirop, and þe gesarne,
Some is broke þe shuldre-bone, and some þe arme,
Some is broken þe thye and lieth gronyng sore,
Some hath Iusted fresshly and may no more.
There come in stedes trapped all in maylle,
Faire with her felawes, þat bakward they do saile
And for wery of fight some are I-take

447

And magre her hede ben ladde to þe stake.
Ye wote wele of all þing moste be an ende,
The Day is nye ydo, þe sonne doþe faste wende.
Herawdes faste “all hostell” now done crie.
The Soudan for all þat fro felde wolde not hye.
In he prikketh faste and gyveth many a dynte,
And þought he wolde be-gynne a newe turnement.
The kynges from þe toure be fayne to come downe.
Vnnethe þe turnement departe þei mowne.
Now hath faire Meliore made torches light,
For fayne of Partonope wolde she haue sight.
Longe this lady Partonope be-helde.
She knew hym be no-þing but be his shelde,
That [is] for-clatred and so for-bete,
Þe moste dele þerof henge at his fete.
And when she hadde hym longe be-holde,
She thought in hir body hir herte gan colde,
That she ne myght with hym a spoke,
Þe hevynesse of hir herte fully to haue broke,
And if she wolde not to save hir honour,
And eke to nye hir stode þe Iuegour.
And with þis anoone departed be
The Soudan and Partonope.
Within þe castell is herborowed þe soudan,
And Partonope with-oute, wherfore a sory man
Is he; for after hym is shitte þe yate
Of þe castell; and þus scomfite and mate
Is he ridden vnto his logeyng.
He can haue Ioy of no maner þing.
His herte is so encombred with Ielousy,
That all his ymaginacions bene foly.
For þus in his herte he þinketh fully:
“In þis tur[ne]ment þe sowdan haþ do better þan I,
And he of astate is so grete a lorde,
That all hir counseylle be one acorde
Of þis turnement wole gyve hym þe degre.
Thus haue I loste my love,” seide he.
And yite he þought a gretter foly.
His herte in þis matere tolde hym pleynly
That þe Soudan she hadde chose to make,

448

And he wiste wele þat he was for-sake.
Also he demyd it was hir pleasire
To parfourme all þe soudans desyre,
And þat she loved hym in suche maner,
That lovely to bedde thei yode in fere.
Þus was his herte enpressed with Ielousy,
That all his wittes were desposed to foly.
Ya wode and wors hardely was he
To þinke his souereyn lady shuld be
Of þo condicions or such gouernaunce.
Fye, me thinketh þis was a foule mysschaunce.
Therfore beste is to leve þis matere,
And of þe soudan lete vs now here.

Now is þe soudan to his herborow gone.
He is so hevy þat what to done
He ne wote; but þus demeth he
The prise of þe turney haþe Partonope,
And loste for euer is his lady bright.
As for hym þus lieth he all nyght
Sighyng, sorowyng, and wepyng sore.
And on þe toþer side queen Meliore
Thinketh þat neuer shall she
After þat tyme se Partonope,
Supposyng þat þe Iuggeours wolde deme
That she þat is so highe a queen
Shuld not agre hir to so pore a knyght,
And eke what he was þere knew no wight,
Saue she and her suster good Wrake.
Thus she is aferde to lese hir make.
Castyng perelles many now to and fro,

449

This lady is all nyght in care and wo.
A sory nyght haue now þes þre,
Meliore, þe soudan, and Partonope.
All nyght they lye faste musyng
In whate plite fortune will hem bryng.

Lytell reste þat nyght haþ Partonope.
Therfore on morowe erly riseth he,
And Gaudyn fro slepe is now awake.
Love hadde no power hym to make
For-bere his slepe not half a nyght.
Partonoþe seide to hym anoone right:
“Myn owne broþer, gentill Gaudyn,
Sith of þis turney is made a fynne,
Me moste go vnto Tenedon
Agayne to yelde me þere to prisoun.
To Armauntes wife so I be-hight,
To parfourme þis my trouþe I plight.
I wolde for no good false holde be.”
Here-to seide Gaudyn: “I me a-gree.
It were a shame þat a litell sloug[t]h
Shuld make a knyght to breke his trouth.”
To hym þo seide this Partonope:
“Ye moste nedes go forþe with me
In hope I shall þe better spede.
To youre helpe I haue grete nede.
Through your mediac[i]on it may so be
Þat of prisone she wil make me fre.”
The wey they conne, it nedeth no gide,

450

Toward þe castell to-gedre þe ride.
Now thidder they boþe comen be,
Gentill Gaudyn and Partonope,
And with þe lady soone they mette.
Full goodly in langage hir do they grete,
And she hem welcomed with good chere.
To hir seide Gaudyn in þis manere:
“Medame, it is not to you vnknowe
That gone it is but a litell þrowe
In þis londe þis knyght was take
And brought to Armaunt þat is your make,
And also lorde chief of þis contree,
Which þrugh tiranny and his crueltee
Causeles commaunded hym to prisone
Perpetuelly, and not for raunsone.
When Armaunt was gone to þe turnement,
That was your lorde, and yite be your assent,
Ye suffred þis knyght vpon his suerte
To go and þis turnement to se,
On þis condic[i]on he shuld not soiourne
Long þere, but soone make retourne
Ayein to prisone to yelde his body,
Leste Armaunt your lorde shuld sodenly
Be wroþe with you, and þat wonder were.
He is now dede and lieth on bere.
And not for thy þis trew knyght
Is come to holde þat he be-hight,
That is nowe his body to prisoun
Praying now þat for Raunsone
Delyuered fro prisone he may be,
As custome is of euery contree.”

“Sir,” seide þis lady, “God helpe me so,
That he was prisoned I was full wo,
And þat he wote as wele as I.

451

But, sir, I tell you full truly,
Sith he is nowe at my governaunce,
God forbede þat cruelte or vengeaunce
In any woman founde shall be;
A foule illusion it were to se,
For in hem moste euer be mercy and rouþe.
And sith þis knyght hath kept his trouþe,
And his fredame stant all in me,
Of prisone I will þat euer he be fre.
For as a knyght he hath kept his heste.
And þerfore, sir, where euer ye liste,
Ye shall haue leve to go for me.”
And þerwith-all þis Partonope
Thanked hir hyely of hir good grace,
And after þat they taried no space,
But toke leve of þat lady fre.
Full gladde and Ioyfull now boþe they be.
Thei take her hors and homewarde thei ride,
Eiche of hem to oþer is true gyde.
And so within after dayes þre
Into þe forest come they be,
There as her loggeyng a-fore was.
Right in a launde full grene of gras
Her men anoone þere pight her tente.
There they abide be oone assent
Of þe Iugement to here and se
To whome thei wole give þe degree
Of þis turnement, for they be swore
Who so hath þe prise shall haue Meliore.

At nyght to bedde boþe gone be,

452

Gaudyn and eke Partonope.
Thei hadde travailed, tyme was to reste.
Yite some of hem had litill liste
To slepe, and þat was Partonope.
For all nyght sighyng with sorowe was he,
Turnyng and walowyng, carying faste,
For euer in herte he was a-gaste
His lady to lese, þat he loveth so;
He wote not what is best to do.
Thus lieth þus man all nyght wayling,
Till þat þe gray day ganne sprynge.
And when he sey it was day-light,
Vpwarde he dresseth hym anoone right.
He called Gaudyn and bade hym rise.
To hym he seide þan in þis wise:
“Rise vp, broþer, and go we henne,
Leste we be laste of all menne.
Go we and waite vpon þis Iugement,
For in tarying vs myght repent.”—
“What!” seide Gaudyn, “how may þis be
That so yerly a risere becomen are ye?
For as long as euer lasted the turney,
I rose þan firste and called euery day,
And now myn office on yow ye take.
I holde me peide ye conne þis a-wake.
Yite after my counseylle doþe nowe a lite.
All-þough ye haue noone apetite
Neiþer to slepe ne reste take,
It his full yerly for vs to a-wake.
This morowe give vs leisere to slepe,
For I darre vndirtake to kepe
The tyme and þe houre of Iugement,
For when þe queen and lordes be present,
For vs þan is tyme þidderwarde to ride.
We wole be sene on euery side.
When all folke be come, þen come wole we,
We shall þe better a grete dele sene be.
On hors we wole sitte armed bright,
Oure speres in oure hande redy to fight.

453

For as a-fore we come to þe turnement,
Right so wole we come to the Iugement.
For fresshe vpon oure hors wole we ride,
Oure meany a-boute vs on euery side.
Oure getons desplayed betone so bright.
And þerfore I pray you with all my myght,
Lette vs a while oure reste take.
And afterwarde when we bene a-wake,
We wole rise and masse here,
And after we wole dyne in feere.
For firste to slepe and aftirward dyne,
Will make þi coloure full fresshe and fyne
To a-pere, and shewe in thy visage
Where þou be yonge or elles in age.
For many oone shall on you loke and se,
Anoone as ye vnarmed be.”
To Gaudyns counseylle good Partonope
With all his herte a-greed is he.
As they haue seide right so they done.
When they haue dyned, forþe thei gone
Fresshly armed to þis Iugement,
Where as thei fynde be-fore hem present
Mel[i]ore þe queen with all her counseylle,
Which that day with-outen fayle
Moste ordeyne what þe dome shall be
Of þis turnement, and how þe degre
Shall be demenyd, and in what wise.
Full harde it were now to devise
How many dyuers thoughtes made þer be
In þe herte of noble Partonope,
That hoveth on hors I-armed bright,
Full fresshly in his ladies sight.
In clothe of golde þat was all white
His stede was trapped, and grete delite
All men hadde on hym to se.
Now of Gaudyn speke wole we,
That on hors sitteth full lustely
Trapped in cloþe of golde full fresshly,
That as scarlete as rose was rede,

454

His helme of stele vpon his hede.

Now all þe Iuges assembled be
To-gedre, as thei mow se
Of all þe felde þe full array.
Thei mow no firþer, þis is þe day
Assigned laste of all þe dayes þere
To gife Iugement, boþe ferre and nere,
To hym þat haþ I-borne hym beste.
Now is þe soudan þere all preste,
With huge peple hym a-boute
To putt þe Iuges in feere and doute,
Þat they shuld be fayne to gife þe gre
To hym, and yete forsothe stode he
Be-twene hope and drede his lady to lese,
Or elles to haue hir if he myght not chese.
All þe felde be-holdeth þe Iugeoure.
And Meliore þe queen is in a toure,
Where as she wepeth and maketh grete moone,
For fere þat she shuld euer for-gone
Hir love, hir Ioy, hir erthly make.
And on þe toþer side sighed Wrake,
And soroweth as moche as doþe she,
For fere to lese good Partonope.
Thei canne in no wise her care with-drawe,
Of loves servauntes suche is þe lawe.

Cursolote the kyng beholdeth full wele
Thes ij knyghtes armed in stele.
Be-fore he was full hevy and pensife.
The sight of hem hath apesid the strife.
He knew hem wele be herre array,
For to þe turnement day be day
He se hem come in þe same wise.
Anoone from his chaire þo did he rise
And departed þe peple here and þere,
And made þes knyghtes to come nere.
When þe peple departed was,
And they be comen into þe place,
Where as Cursolote commaund hem be,
From hors þan lighteth Partonope.
And Gaudyn also, his owne make.

455

To her men her hors then thei take.

Thes lordes þat shall give Iugement,
They acorded be oone assent
Þis faire queen, this fresshe floure,
Moste come downe oute of hir toure,
And sitte in place where as she
May wele sene hem þat chose be
To haue the gre of þis turnement.
And on þe toþer party is redy present
This noble knyght called þe Soudan,
And with hym many a worþi man.
With hym is come þe kyng of Sire,
That loveth ladies of ffresshe atire.
And with hym is of Eremeny þe kyng,
That loveth faire ladies a-bove all þing.
The kyng of Spayne, þe kyng of Libie
For love of ladies reche not deye.
There is also þe kyng of Valence,
Þat euer hath Ioy to be in presence
Of faire ladies fresshe and bright,
And þerto he is a worthi knyght.
The kyng of Meroby is þere also,
Þat love hath done full moche wo.
And eiche of þes wole leve her lay,
If Meliore liketh, þis is no nay.
Yite all mow not be Iugement
Haue þe degre of þis turnement.
Eiche leveth in drede, yite hope they wele,
And loke how fortune wole turne her whele.

Now cometh þe queen downe fro þe toure,
Eiche man is gladde to do hir honoure.
She leveth in hope, yite hath she drede,
Leste of hir love she shuld not spede.

456

Eiche man is gladde on hir to se,
They mervaile gretely of hir beaute.
She is faire shapen and ffresshe cladde,
Hir porte womanly, hir chere sadde.
This was sone after þat morow [gan] sprynge,
Men seide she was an hevenly þing.
It were Impossible, thei seide, þrugh nature
Might be brought forþe suche a creature.
Therfore they seide to shew her coloure
For hir love downe vnto þe toure
Were comen þe sonne from hir spiere,
Of kynne they supposed thei were right nere.
The cristens þat chose were for þe degre
Speke myche þing of hir grete beaute,
And seide þere was neuer sene be-forne
In erth so faire a creature borne,
Safe only she þat was modir and maide,
With whome þe trenyte was so wele paide,
He deyned to sende his blessed sone
Be þe holy goste in hir to wone.
Whan Gaudyn hir beaute hadde wele sene,
In þe worlde he wende hadde noone such bene,
But after when he hadde sene faire Wrake,
The prise of Meliore gan faste a-slake.
In his hert, for þen þought he
Hir suster Wrake was fairere þen she.
Lo, how sodenly love hath sette on fyre
His herte and put all his desyre
Vpon Wrake, hir to serve a-bove all þing.
Now hoppe if he can, he is come to þe ringe.
There he be-forne hath slept full softe
He shall now walow and turne full ofte.
Now cometh Meliore þrow all þis prese,
And on þe right side with-outen lese
She is ladde of Cursolote þe kyng,
Whome she trusteth of all men levyng.
And on hir lifte side gothe kyng Claryn
To lede hir to a place where tappett and cusshen
Of clothe of golde were faire yspred.

457

To preise hir beaute eich man is gladde.
In hir no defaute couthe men se,
Save þat she semyth pensif to be.
All þis tyme stonte Partonope
So of his lady be-holdyng þe beaute,
That þe herte in his body swalt for wo,
For of þe Soudan he dredeth hym so,
Leste he were chosen to haue the degre,
And þat his lady loste hath he.
Thus stondeth he euer ymagynyng
Þat from hete he falleth into a quakyng,
As thoughe he were in þe ffeuer agewe.
Euery trew louer on hym ought to rewe.
Partonopes wo now wole I lete,
And speke of Meliore þat to hir sete
Is brought be-twene þe kynges two,
And with-outen any wordes moo
On þe benche thei downe hir sette,
And on knee eiche lorde hir faire grette.
And on benches euery where a-boute
Thei ben sette with-oute any doute,
The kynges and þe lordes be oone assente
Þat deme now þis turnement.

Kyng Anferus þo speke first be-gan,
For of scole he was a lerned man,
And þerto he was wele ronne in yeres.
Rody was his face, and white was his heeres.
He was wele taught and þerto curteise.
Next to þe queen he be-gan þe deise:
“Medame, of your highe excellence
And it like you þat in your presence
I reherce what þe cause may be
That here is now so grete assemble
Of all estates boþe riche and pore.

458

Medame, ye arne desyred so sore
What for your richesse and your beaute,
Þat þrow þe worlde so named be ye.
Ye mow not lyve with-oute a lorde,
Wherfore ye wote wele be all þe acorde
Of your baronage in playne parlement
Was ordeyned to crie a turnement.
Who so euer þat worþiest hadde þe degre
Your souereyn lorde shuld be.
And so be all youre lordes avise
They þat ben worþi to haue þe prise
Of þis worshipfull turnement
Here they stonde be-fore you present.
And as wissely God helpe me so
There is noone chosen of all þo
For affecc[i]on of love ne of drede,
I dare wele say, ne for no mede.
Now shall I tell you what thei be
That are chosen to haue þe degre,
Whens they be bore, and of what lynage,
And wheþer thei be yonge or elles of age,
And where they be bore to heritage or no,
And of what condic[i]on thei be also.
For what they ben I knowe full wele,
The trouþe I haue enquered euery dele.
When I haue tolde of meste and leste,
Whome euer your herte can like beste
Good reasone is þat ye hym chese.
I trowe þat shall be moste your eace.

459

Lo, all þes þat stonde on þis side,
The worlde to seke þat is so wide,
Worþier knyghtes can no man se,
And þes be þe persones þat chosen be.
But of your counseylle þis is þe avise,
To vj. of þes they yeve þe full prise.
Of cristen men be chosen thre,
And as many of hethen now þer be.
Of cristen þe names first I wole telle
And then her condicions, and where they dwelle.
Þe first is þe kyng of Fraunce.
If ye liste knowe of his alyaunce,
And ye wole þe sege of Troy rede,
There ye shall fynde, with-outen drede,
Þat he is of þe ligne of kyng Priam,
That reigned in Troy; of hym he came,
Which kyng of Troy loste þe honour
For Parys, his sone, þat he did ffavour
In þe Ravesshyng of feire Eleyne,
Which matere is declared full pleyne
In the boke called þe sege of Troy.
And if ye liste ye may haue Ioy
The kyng of Fraunce to haue to lorde.
I dare wele sey þrowe-oute þe worlde
Knoweth no man levying a semeliere
Ne of condicions more gentillere.
Right-full, hardy and trew is he,

460

Mercifull, louly to euery degre.
Richesse and youthe haþe withall.
Kyng Lohers men do hym calle.
The toþer cristen is called Gaudyn.
Litell prise of hym hath kyng Claryn.
Yite is he right worþi for the nones,
Semely he is and bigge of bones.
I can not wele tell of what lynage
He is come, but wele in age
He is ronne, as be his heeris,
He passeth more þen fifti yeris.
Pore man he is and borne in Castile.
He hath rid full many a myle
To se contrees and gete him honoure.
His levyng he getith be his laboure,
For a worthy knyght he is of his honde,
He hath hym so preved in many a londe.
An hethen man borne was he.
Sith amonge cristen he hath be
Cherisshed and worshipped many a day.
That he hath forsaken hethen lay,
And be-come cristenyd, God blessed þou be.
Thus in þis wise come forþe is he
Be his honde of worþinesse,
Whiche is more worship þen richesse.
But he hath a maister here and souereyn
Whome he hath full and pleyn
Gyven ffrute of his travaile and labour.
That what to hym shuld falle of honour

461

He ffoucheth safe his maister it have.
Wherfore me thinketh, so God me save,
It nedeth of hym to speke no worde;
But lete vs nowe speke of his lorde,
Which was armed vnder a shelde
Of siluer bright, and in þe felde
Eiche day he was first of all,
And Partonope men do hym call,
That in tur[n]ament many did greve,
And euer he in þe felde was laste at Eve.
A worþier knyght, be my savioure,
Sawe I neuer in felde, ne better his honour
Couthe save þen he now hath do.
And of his tacches to speke also,
He is fre, curteys, gentill and meke.
There is no bounte in hym to seke.
And forto speke of his kynrede,
To þe kyng of Fraunce, with-outen drede,
He is nye cousyn, wete right wele,
I haue enquered þis nowe euerydele.
And forto speke of his lifelode,
Two Erldomes he hath riche and good.
Of londe forsothe he hathe no more,
But he is riche ynowe of tresoure.
Now haue I tolde you of þe cristens þre,
And I wole tell which þe hethen be.
The first of þe hethen is þe Soudan.

462

Mervaile it is þat euer any man
Might haue so hye a ffrende of nature.
For she hath done all hir myght and cure
Of hir tresoure to gif hym so grete foyson,
That þere is no man can sey be reasone
Þat any þing lakketh in hym of wele,
For riche Enowe he is and trew as stele,
Semely of persone, stronge and yonge.
Of faire shappe hym lakketh no-þing,
Light and delyuer, mery and gladde,
And amonge his counseylle wise and sadde.
Of his be-heste he is full stable,
And in domes all-way merciable.
All-þough in bataille he be chevalrouse,
To hem þat hym offende he ys despitouse.
And forto telle of his kynrede,
Loke which of you þe bible can rede,
And fynde who made þe arke of Noye,
Of his lyne come downe is he.
And of his nobley to make a fyne,
All is wele, save þat a saresyne
Is he borne, and yite seith he
To haue my lady christened will be.
Þis lordes name is called Margarise,
Of all bountes he bereþe þe prise.

The seconde heþen is fresshe and yonge.

463

His name is Sades, of Syre þe kyng.
Semely he is, curteise and chevalrouse,
Rightfull, free, and passyng vertuose.
Of olde and gentill kynrede is he,
As eiche kyng moste nedes be.
But forto tell of his alyaunce,
So olde it is oute of remembraunce.
The þrid hethen hight Anpatrys.
He is yonge, semely and right wise,
Lorde and kyng of þe londe of Noby.
With swerde he come to þat seignyorye;
Wherefore hem þought it was þe beste,
Sith he wan þat reaume be conqueste,
To haue hym her governour and lorde,
And so chosen hym kyng be one accorde.
He is right worthy, of grete richesse,
But of þe turnement, as I gesse,
He loketh no-þing after þe degre.
To þe soudan his lorde hath he
Gyve all his service and his laboure,
For at þis tyme he is his soudyoure.
Now, Medame, I haue you tolde
Of the vj chosen, which bene olde,
And which yonge, and how they be
Borne of blode, and of what contre,
And what they be of condic[i]on,
And how thei bene of reputac[i]on,
And how þat Gaudyn and Anpatrise

464

Haue dismytted hem clene of þe prise,
So of þe chosen yite foure þere be.
Wherefore I counseylle fully þat ye
Of theire persones take good hede;
For I haue seide, so God me spede,
All myn entent full and pleyne.
Now lete vs here anoþer certeyne.”
Thus hath Amphorus made conclusion
Of his tale, but now to his reason
Of all þes lordes answere none,
But still thei sitte as any stone.
And so it semed be her chiere
They were acorded all in fere
Þe Soudan shuld haue fully þe degre,
Save only Cursolote, that Partonope
Loved wele, but what myght he do?
Of all þe Iuegours þere were no mo
That list hym forþer in any wise.
Kyng Claryn of all first gan rise,
And seide playnle þat þe Soudan
He held of all þe worþiest man,
And beste hath deserved þis degre,
“Wherfore, medame,” he seide, “moste ye
Giffe hym your love and take hym for lorde.
What is my cause in shorte worde
I shall you sey, for ayein the toþer þre
Sette his semlyhode and his bounte,
And richesse he hathe of all þing,

449

This lady is all nyght in care and wo.
A sory nyght haue now þes þre,
Meliore, þe soudan, and Partonope.
All nyght they lye faste musyng
In whate plite fortune will hem bryng.

450

“Sir,” seide þis lady, “God helpe me so,
That he was prisoned I was full wo,
And þat he wote as wele as I.

451

At nyght to bedde boþe gone be,

452

453

454

His helme of stele vpon his hede.

455

To her men her hors then thei take.

Now cometh þe queen downe fro þe toure,
Eiche man is gladde to do hir honoure.
She leveth in hope, yite hath she drede,
Leste of hir love she shuld not spede.

456

457

458

459

460

461

462

The seconde heþen is fresshe and yonge.

463

464

465

More þen hath any oþer kyng.
And þerto for your love wole he
A-fore vs all now cristened be,
And all his peple saunȝ doutaunce.
Þis were to God an hye plesaunce.”
Now hath Claryn seide his will.
He sette hym downe, and þen full still
Sitte all þes lordes and sey no worde.
It semeth they ben all of oone acorde
Fully to parfourme Claryns entent,
Forto do his dome thei be fully consent,
And no man hym contraried in no wise.
Lorde, what herte couþe now devise

The grete sorowe þat hath Meliore?
Within hir herte feleth she grete sore,
Sith all hir lordes be oone assent
So fayne to gyve trew Iugement,
And she to lese euer hir love also.
What mervaylle is it þough she were wo?
This lady hadde leuer to deye
Þen Claryns Iugement to obeye.
For be Meliore it sheweth full wele
That ladies in love be trewe as stele.
For she in no wise hir love wole lese
The worþiest knyght in þe worlde to chese.
Neþer for bounte nor for richesse,
Ne fore all his prise of nobilnesse
Wolde she haue þe Soudan of Perce.
Hir herte to hym is all-wey perverse.

466

Now God, þat all ladies hath made,
Gyve hem grace in herte to be glade,
And þat all tonges moved may be
That speke lightly of ladies in any degre.

Now Arnolfe þe olde, þat first in parlement
Meved and styrred to haue þis turnement,
And ordeyned lordes domes-men to be,
Of which for certayne oone was he,
On his fote stode vp to sey his reasone,
For þe toþer lordes sate all downe.
Semely of stature for sothe was he,
His visage was manly on to se.
Worthie he was, and white was his heerys,
Olde, right-wise, and þat askith such yerys.
For love ne hate wole he not leve
The trouþe to sey, whome euer he greve.
And þen seide he: “It is not vnknowe
To all you lordes, as I now trowe,
That in þe laste parlement
It was acorded all be oure assent
Certeyne lordes chosen shuld be
Of þis turnement to give þat degre,
Which to-gedre now be here.
And though þat I vnworthy were,
Chosen I was to be one of þ[o].
Wherefore I thinke, so mote I go,
In þis matere pleynly to quyte me.
For ye all, me thinketh, enclyned be
Fully to kyng Claryns sentence.
Hym ye haue gyve full good audience,
And no man, me þinketh, answerith þerto.

467

This proverbe was seide full longe a-go:
‘Who so holdeth hym still doþe assent.’
But I wole sey nowe myn entent,
Wroþe þerwith so who euer be:
His dome in no wise pleaseth me.
Gaudyn and Anpatris ben put oute
The gre to haue, þis is no doute.
Yite they haue bore hem full wele,
Better were neuer armed in stele.
And boþe in þis wise acorded be,
Thoughe they hadde deserved þis degre.
To her lorde thei haue gyve her honoure,
Þei holde hem paide of her laboure.
Now forto speke of þe kyng of Sire,
I sey we owe all forto desyre
He be put fully fro þis degre.
And þis is my cause þough þat he
Be full stronge, semely and desyrous,
Yonge, hardy, and full corageous,
And in bataile neuer so chevalrous,
Yite oone vice shent all, for he is despitouse,
That when he hath no werre but is in peace,
To þe pore peple can he not cese
But euer do extorc[i]on and tyrannye.
This is verrey soth, I wole not lye.
Neþer for love, drede, nor hate,
He can not lyve with-oute debate.

Now forto speke of þe kyng of Fraunce,
Of kyn is he and grete alyaunce.
But forto make hym oon of þe gre
I can not acorde þerto now, parde,
For þat moste nedes be for worþinesse,
Neþer for state ne for grete richesse.

468

And forto make hym passyng worthy,
I sey for me, I wote neuer whye.
For in bataille when he is a-bove,
His grete manhode þen wole he prove,
And when to hym turneth contrarie,
That he is put of so myghtely,
And in any wise rebewked is he,
So gretely abasshed he wole be,
That all his myghtes so hym faile,
Of litell defence is he in bataile.
Þerfore to chese hym one of þe prise
Ye shall not haue myn avise.

Of þe soudan now forto sey
I can not fynde be no way
To tell of his tacches ne of his lynage,
Ne in bataylle more of corage,
Þen Anphorus be-fore hath seide.
Of his reasone I holde me wele peide;
For on bataile he is fiers in assaylyng.
Though he be rebuked, yite in his deffendyng
He is hardy, myghty, and wole not fle.
So in knyghthode may no man be
Worþier alowed in no wise,
And in grete turnementis full ofte þe prise
Hath he hadde, þat wote I wele,
A worþier was neuer armed in stele.

But here stonte armed a semely knyght
Vnder a shelde of siluer bright,
Whos name is called Partonope.
Of þe Erldome of Bloys lorde is he.
And his condicions here to reherse,
I dare wele say the soudan of Perse,
Ne þe kyng of Syre, ne noone of all,
Be-gynne fro þe grettest vnto þe small,
Of condicions is more vertuouse,
Ne in armes more hardy and chevalrouse.
With-outen cause shall he neuer-more
Be founde despitouse to riche ne pore,
And he is goyng into his best[e] age.

469

And to speke of his naturall [ly]nage,
In cristendome is none worþier kynrede
Then he is come of, with-outen drede.
In many a mortall battaille haþe he be.
In listes often eke fought haþe he,
And euer of his Enemeyce þe better haþ hadde,
In many grete perelles he haþ be stadde.
For when he hath ben in so harde plite
That many of his meany haþ be descomfite,
Þen he his knyghthode haþe wele proved,
For manly he hathe hem all releved.
The ffrensshe men know wele all þis,
For it is not go full longe I-wisse,
Her kynges worship̄p̄ in all oure sight
Oft he saved, wherfore a knyght
Worþiest of all proved is he
To haue euery-where [þ]is degre.
What þough þe soudan [haue] more of prowesse,
My lady nedeth not to his richesse;
Of wordly goodes she haþe grete plente.
And if to-gedre they wedded be,
If hym luste to holde werre,
He may not faile ynowe to conquere,
For I-nough he hath and haue shall.
The soudans parte shall be full small
Þat he shall haue of þis degre.
Though Claryns sey þat he wole be
Cristened now for my ladies sake,
And all his peple, wherfore we make
Of his proffre so grete deynte,
It is but easy, as now þinketh me,
For eiche man may þinke in his thought
For Goddes sake it is right nought,
But onely for luste and covetise,
And Evill shuld chief þat emprise
Þat were not do for Goddes sake.
For when he hadde full possession take

470

Of lady and shepe all in feere,
He wolde dresse all þing on his maner,
And make vs Cristes lawe forsake,
Or sle vs, þis dare I vndirtake.
Þerfore chese we Partonope,
For vnder Cristes lawe bounde is he.
Be hym may fall no grevaunce.
And if it be my ladies plesaunce,
Lette hir wedde hym be oure assent,
This is fully my Iugement.
I not where I deserve þanke or magre
Of my lady, but trewly þe gre
He hath beste deserved of þis turnement.
The sothe I wole sey you, þough I be shent.
A semelier ne more worþi couþe ye not fynde,
Though ye sought hens into Ynde.”

When Armulus hadde his tale tolde,
Thes kynges thought he was to bolde.
All her ententes forto contrarie,
And from her Iugement to make hem vary.
But when Meliore herd þat he
Nempned hir name, and seide þough she
Were wrothe or paide, he wolde be trewe,
More rody somwhat she wexe of hewe.
“Armulus,” she seide, “I wote þat ye
My desyre had neuer so in chierte
To leve a trouþe and se[y] þe wronge,

471

Þoughe ye hadde magre or elles þonke.
Ye were neuer wonte to vuse gabbynge
In no matere forto do any pleasyng
Of what persone, so euer he be.
And I dare sey wele, as for me,
Yite come neuer in myn entente
But ye shuld yeve trew Iugement
And so ye do, I dare sey truly.
The trouþe þerof enquered haue I.
What woman euer an housbonde take,
That man hir lorde she moste make,
Þis is a thing þat euer is stable.
Duryng her lyves it is not variable.
Therfore a lady ought right wele be
Avised vnto what persone þat she
Shuld give hir body with hir honoure,
Of hir Garlande fairest is þat floure.
The ffrensshe I wote wele is [fu]ll of bounte,
But vnarmed wolde I hy[m se].
And if I like wele his persone,
Then wote I what is to done:

472

I wole be his, and he shall be myn,
What euer ye deme, þis shall be þe fyn.
And if he be not to my pleasyre,
The soudan to haue is my desire.
He seith pleynly for þe love of me
He wole be cristened and all his contre.
Armulus,” she seide, “I wote wele þat ye
My desyre had neuer so in chierte
To leve a trouþe and sey a wronge,
For men wole sey ye lyve to longe.
Armulus, to worship̄p̄ good hede take,
And ye lordes all for Goddes sake,
For ye shull neuer fynde þat I
Fro worshipfull a-warde voyde truly.
But Cursolote, I haue mych mervaile þat ye
In þis mater so dull to be.
What euer they sey ye sey right nought,
My worship̄p̄ lieth no-þing in your thought.
As longe as þis turney did laste
I herde you preise wonder faste
O persone prisely amonge hem all,

473

And now it semeth þat he is fall
Oute of your prise. What may þis be?
In soden chonge now falle are ye.
But chongeth as often [as] ye liste,
Where I wole be I wote beste.
But shame it were to you to varye
From your beheste or it contrarye.
Wherfore I thinke not of all þis yere
To make you vary for my prayer.”—
“Medame,” seide Cursolote þe kyng,
“The cause of my still sittyng
Is to here and knowe Armulus reasone;
This is all now myn enchesone.
For truly, as be myn avise,
The ffrenshe is worþi to haue þe prise.
For when we þe Iuges to-gedre were
A-bove in þe toure, for love ne fere
We shull not spare be oone assent
But to gife a trew Iugement.
Some of vs ben acorded fully
The soudan shuld haue you truly,
And some holdeth now þe contrary,

474

Þerfore in Iugement we do vary.
But, medame, wole ye do wisely,
Examyneth hem now a-sondry,
And þat in-to þe toure ye gone,
And sendeth after vs one be one,
And charge euery man be his fay
Þat he to you oweth, and lete hym say
Pleynly to you all his entent
How they wole gife her Iugement,
And that they not spare for love ne drede
Ne for grete profers of mede,
Þan shall ye wete of hem prively
That they spare now to sey openly.
And commaundeth hem boþe two
That vnarme hem faste thei do,
Þen shull ye knowe wele be sight
Which is þe semelier knyght,
And lete your Eye your Iuge be.”—
“Ye sey þe beste, for God,” seith she.
“He ought wele lyke me be reasone and skill
That shuld haue my body and good at will.
And þerfore what some euer ye deme,
I ame your lady and your queen,
My choice lieth in þe semelyhede of [þe] two;
The kynges in no wise may varry here-fro.
To whome my herte can beste acorde,
Hym will I chese to be my lorde.
The kynges may not gretely mervayled be,

475

Þough I chese hym þat liketh me.”
And herwith-all commaundeth she
Þes lordes vnarmed faste to be.

The soudan vnarmed hy[m] in haste,
And riche cloþes on h[ym do]þe caste.
A sercle of gold full of pr[ecio]us stones
On his hedde he hadde, þat no-where oon is
Richer ne fayrere to any mannes sight.
He was a passyng semely knyght.
Now is he come be-fore þe queen.
All þe hym preise þat hym sene,
And seide pleynly þat conquered hath he
Of all þis tur[ne]mente þe prise and gre.
The kynges hym preise wonder faste.
Þe dome to gyve thei made grete haste,
And seide: “What shuld we lenger tarye?
Oure Iugement can no man contrarie.”

Soone after cometh Partonope
Amonge þes prese, and but esely is he
Arraied, as for [to] speke of cloþing,
Save as he had grete eace of oo þing:
She þat was lady of þat place,
He hoped wele to stonde in hir grace.
His beste frende save she was Gaudyn.
A kyrtell of Skarlete he had on fyne.

476

A-bove he was gyrde with a gyrdill,
Wele harneised with golde aboute his medill.
A-bove þat he had vpon a mantill
With dyuers bestes embrowded full well
Of golde of Sipres and eke of Venyse.
Of his clothing more to devise
It nedeth not sey, all þat wete we
Þat oute of prisone streight comeþ he
To þis turney worshipp to wynne.
He founde þere neþer frendship ne kynne
Hym to refresshe in any degre,
Save only Gaudyn, with hem mette he
Throw Goddes grace vpon þe way,
And he hym cloþed in such aray
As for hym-self he had þere.
It was but of þe homely manere.
But what þat euer his aray be
Be-fore his lady now stonte he
And Gaudyn to-gedere honde in honde.
But when he hadde a while stonde
All vnarmed his lady to se,
Full gretely a-basshed þo waxe he,
Seyng his souereyn lady there.
That a-fore had made hym grete chere
With all herte, body, and myght,
And he as an vntrew knyght
Had hir deceyved and broke hir suerte.
In suche despoynte þo stode he,
That ofte þe coloure in his face

477

Waxe suddenly rede for fere of hir grace
He had for euer offended so highely,
That his rosy colour paled sodenly.
Thus in grete fere stonte Partonope.
Of thousandes of peple be-holden is he,
And eiche man seide as hem liste.
But all they conclude þe semeliest
Of þo two persons certeyn was he,
Wherfore þe kynges þe prise and degre
Hym yove fully be oone assent,
And made ende of her Iugement.
Of þo lordes þat loved þe soudan
Contraried þe Iugement not oo man,
And all þe peple cried be oone assent:
“This is nowe a trew Iugement.”

Armulus de Marbury vp anoone stode,
And seide the Iugement was right good.
To þe kynges he seide: “Sires, what sey ye?”
Thei hym answerd and seide: “We be
To þis Iugement acorded full playnly,
If it be pleasaunt vnto my lady.”
And as I trowe and dare sey truly,
Ayeinste Meliore his herte it yode not gretely.
For though gretely trespassed hath he,
Hir herte was full of mercy and pite.
To Armulus yite seide she þo:
“Myn owne choise ye haue put me fro.

478

For my will was to haue had þe Soudan.
Ye haue yove me to anoþer m[an].”—
“Medame,” seide Armulus, “for lo[ve n]e drede,
Ne plesaunce of you, so God me sp[e]de,
We haue at þis tyme yove þe degre.
For only beste deserved it hath he.”
Lo, þis lady in herte was gladde
Of hir Iugement; yite she made
As though she had no deynte
That to hir was Iuged Partonope.
And yite if thei chose anoþere,
She had leuer be raunsoned for many a foþere
Of golde, þen to haue loste Partonope so.
Thus wele and better can ladies do.
Therfore I counseylle now euery lovere
To his souereyn lady so truly hym bere,
Þat he may worthely of hir aske grace.
For þough it happe hym in some place
Of hir to be answerd full lightly,
Yite loke he hir serve perseverantly.
For in longe service it may happe þat she
Wolde shew hym of hir benignyte.

Now lete vs speke of þis Soudan,
That stonte still as a mased man,
Carefull, pensife, and hevy of chere,
That chonged clene is all his manere,
Loste for euer is his plesaunce,
Wherfore he þinketh hie vengeaunce.
To take on homward turned is he,
With all his oste into his contre.
Thus full of care departeth þe Soudan.
And Partonope abideth as a glad man,
And Cursolote by þe hande anone hym taketh,
And of hym to Meliore a present maketh.

479

Wherof so glad and Ioyfull is she,
That to-gedre in armes clasped thei be,
And kysse and talke and make good chere,
And is for-yete þat done is ferne yere.
Rehersed is no-þing, but all gladnesse.
The hertes þat a-fore were in distresse,
Be now at large and oute of prison[e].
Ioy is come, paide is þe Raunsone.
For Partonope haþ now all his d[es]yre.
And all þing þat may be to his plesyre
To hym ayeinward now doþe she.
Þus in endlesse blisse baþed thei be,
The good hertes of þes lovers two.
Ya, who can tell þo Ioies now
That they bene In? forsoþe not I.
But þe sorowe and þe care full truly
That longeth to love, þat can I tell.
Thei are in heven, and now I in hell.
Now lete vs tell of Partonope
And of his lady, þat to-gedre be
In Ioy and welthe with plesaunce.
Now hath Partonope cause to daunce.
For into a chambre now is he ladde,
And in riche cloþes full wele y-cladde.
The day of mariage in haste is sette,
To chirche royally þei be boþe fette.
A patriarche doþe the solempnyte;
Knytte in wedloke to-gedre thei be.
Of mariage no lenger wole thei abide,
For longe abidden hath he þat tide.
The patriarche, with-oute any more lete,
On eiþer of her hedes a crowne he sette
Of golde, full riche of stones and perrie.
And þus hath now Partonope
Receyued þe dignyte of a kyng.
Lo, what it is to be true in lovyng.
He is a kyng, and she also a queen,
Knytte to-gedre in Goddes lawe they ben.

480

Many trompe now doþe þer sowne,
Also taketh vp many a claryoun.
Pipes and makers so many assemble,
As though all þe worlde shuld tremble.
The feste is holde full royally,
And also served they be stately,
As suche persones oweth to be.
Of mete þere laketh no deynte.
It nedeth not to make reheresynges
Of þe names þat ben þe[r] of kynges,
Ne of dukes, Erles, n[e of baro]nny,
Ne of þe nombre of grete ch[i]valry,
Of patriarkes and Erchbisshoppes also.
I lete bisshoppes, abbotes, and priours go.
What nedeth it to speke of trechetours?
Of her nyse playes or of gestours,
Or of chauntours þe grete maisters,
Or of herawdes, rebawdes, or wyne tasters?
But lete us tell, when þe feste was do,
How þes hote lovers to chamber go,
And after how they ben brought to bedde,
And how þat nyght her life they ledde,
And in what Ioy then they be.
But þis may not be declared for me,
Ne what her Ioy was, ne her delite,
For I was neuer yite in þat plite.
But in hye plesaunce I lete hem be,
And pray to God of love þat he
His seruaunte departe so of his grace,
That they may stonde in þe same case
In which faire Melior and her love hath be.
And þus Endeth þe Romans of Partonope.

University of Virginia Library

Partonope of Blois.