Chapter II: Part 2

Ovide telleth in his bok Ensample touchende of mislok, And seith hou whilom ther was on, A worthi lord, which Acteon Was hote, and he was cousin nyh To him that Thebes ferst on hyh Up sette, which king Cadme hyhte. This Acteon, as he wel myhte, 340 Above alle othre caste his chiere, And used it fro yer to yere, With Houndes and with grete Hornes Among the wodes and the thornes To make his hunting and his chace: Where him best thoghte in every place To finde gamen in his weie, Ther rod he forto hunte and pleie. So him befell upon a tide On his hunting as he cam ride, 350 In a Forest al one he was: He syh upon the grene gras The faire freisshe floures springe, He herde among the leves singe The Throstle with the nyhtingale: Thus er he wiste into a Dale He cam, wher was a litel plein, All round aboute wel besein With buisshes grene and Cedres hyhe; And ther withinne he caste his yhe. 360 Amidd the plein he syh a welle, So fair ther myhte noman telle, In which Diana naked stod To bathe and pleie hire in the flod With many a Nimphe, which hire serveth. Bot he his yhe awey ne swerveth Fro hire, which was naked al, And sche was wonder wroth withal, And him, as sche which was godesse, Forschop anon, and the liknesse 370 Sche made him taken of an Hert, Which was tofore hise houndes stert, That ronne besiliche aboute With many an horn and many a route, That maden mochel noise and cry: And ate laste unhappely This Hert his oghne houndes slowhe And him for vengance al todrowhe.

Lo now, my Sone, what it is A man to caste his yhe amis, 380 Which Acteon hath dere aboght; Be war forthi and do it noght. For ofte, who that hiede toke, Betre is to winke than to loke. And forto proven it is so, Ovide the Poete also A tale which to this matiere Acordeth seith, as thou schalt hiere.

In Metamor it telleth thus, How that a lord which Phorceus 390 Was hote, hadde dowhtres thre. Bot upon here nativite Such was the constellacion, That out of mannes nacion Fro kynde thei be so miswent, That to the liknesse of Serpent Thei were bore, and so that on Of hem was cleped Stellibon, That other soster Suriale, The thridde, as telleth in the tale, 400 Medusa hihte, and natheles Of comun name Gorgones In every contre ther aboute, As Monstres whiche that men doute, Men clepen hem; and bot on yhe Among hem thre in pourpartie Thei hadde, of which thei myhte se, Now hath it this, now hath it sche; After that cause and nede it ladde, Be throwes ech of hem it hadde. 410 A wonder thing yet more amis Ther was, wherof I telle al this: What man on hem his chiere caste And hem behield, he was als faste Out of a man into a Ston Forschape, and thus ful manyon Deceived were, of that thei wolde Misloke, wher that thei ne scholde. Bot Perseus that worthi knyht, Whom Pallas of hir grete myht 420 Halp, and tok him a Schield therto, And ek the god Mercurie also Lente him a swerd, he, as it fell, Beyende Athlans the hihe hell These Monstres soghte, and there he fond Diverse men of thilke lond Thurgh sihte of hem mistorned were, Stondende as Stones hiere and there. Bot he, which wisdom and prouesse Hadde of the god and the godesse, 430 The Schield of Pallas gan enbrace, With which he covereth sauf his face, Mercuries Swerd and out he drowh, And so he bar him that he slowh These dredful Monstres alle thre.

Lo now, my Sone, avise the, That thou thi sihte noght misuse: Cast noght thin yhe upon Meduse, That thou be torned into Ston: For so wys man was nevere non, 440 Bot if he wel his yhe kepe And take of fol delit no kepe, That he with lust nys ofte nome, Thurgh strengthe of love and overcome. Of mislokynge how it hath ferd, As I have told, now hast thou herd, My goode Sone, and tak good hiede. And overthis yet I thee rede That thou be war of thin heringe, Which to the Herte the tidinge 450 Of many a vanite hath broght, To tarie with a mannes thoght. And natheles good is to hiere Such thing wherof a man may lere That to vertu is acordant, And toward al the remenant Good is to torne his Ere fro; For elles, bot a man do so, Him may fulofte mysbefalle. I rede ensample amonges alle, 460 Wherof to kepe wel an Ere It oghte pute a man in fere.

A Serpent, which that Aspidis Is cleped, of his kynde hath this, That he the Ston noblest of alle, The which that men Carbuncle calle, Berth in his hed above on heihte. For which whan that a man be sleyhte, The Ston to winne and him to daunte, With his carecte him wolde enchaunte, 470 Anon as he perceiveth that, He leith doun his on Ere al plat Unto the ground, and halt it faste, And ek that other Ere als faste He stoppeth with his tail so sore, That he the wordes lasse or more Of his enchantement ne hiereth; And in this wise himself he skiereth, So that he hath the wordes weyved And thurgh his Ere is noght deceived. 480

An othre thing, who that recordeth, Lich unto this ensample acordeth, Which in the tale of Troie I finde. Sirenes of a wonder kynde Ben Monstres, as the bokes tellen, And in the grete Se thei duellen: Of body bothe and of visage Lik unto wommen of yong age Up fro the Navele on hih thei be, And doun benethe, as men mai se, 490 Thei bere of fisshes the figure. And overthis of such nature Thei ben, that with so swete a stevene Lik to the melodie of hevene In wommanysshe vois thei singe, With notes of so gret likinge, Of such mesure, of such musike, Wherof the Schipes thei beswike That passen be the costes there. For whan the Schipmen leie an Ere 500 Unto the vois, in here avys Thei wene it be a Paradys, Which after is to hem an helle. For reson may noght with hem duelle, Whan thei tho grete lustes hiere; Thei conne noght here Schipes stiere, So besiliche upon the note Thei herkne, and in such wise assote, That thei here rihte cours and weie Foryete, and to here Ere obeie, 510 And seilen til it so befalle That thei into the peril falle, Where as the Schipes be todrawe, And thei ben with the Monstres slawe. Bot fro this peril natheles With his wisdom king Uluxes Ascapeth and it overpasseth; For he tofor the hond compasseth That noman of his compaignie Hath pouer unto that folie 520 His Ere for no lust to caste; For he hem stoppede alle faste, That non of hem mai hiere hem singe. So whan they comen forth seilinge, Ther was such governance on honde, That thei the Monstres have withstonde And slain of hem a gret partie. Thus was he sauf with his navie, This wise king, thurgh governance.

Wherof, my Sone, in remembrance 530 Thou myht ensample taken hiere, As I have told, and what thou hiere Be wel war, and yif no credence, Bot if thou se more evidence. For if thou woldest take kepe And wisly cowthest warde and kepe Thin yhe and Ere, as I have spoke, Than haddest thou the gates stoke Fro such Sotie as comth to winne Thin hertes wit, which is withinne, 540 Wherof that now thi love excedeth Mesure, and many a peine bredeth. Bot if thou cowthest sette in reule Tho tuo, the thre were eth to reule: Forthi as of thi wittes five I wole as now nomore schryve, Bot only of these ilke tuo. Tell me therfore if it be so, Hast thou thin yhen oght misthrowe?

Mi fader, ye, I am beknowe, 550 I have hem cast upon Meduse, Therof I may me noght excuse: Min herte is growen into Ston, So that my lady therupon Hath such a priente of love grave, That I can noght miselve save.

What seist thou, Sone, as of thin Ere?

Mi fader, I am gultyf there; For whanne I may my lady hiere, Mi wit with that hath lost his Stiere: 560 I do noght as Uluxes dede, Bot falle anon upon the stede, Wher as I se my lady stonde; And there, I do yow understonde, I am topulled in my thoght, So that of reson leveth noght, Wherof that I me mai defende.

My goode Sone, god thamende: For as me thenketh be thi speche Thi wittes ben riht feer to seche. 570 As of thin Ere and of thin yhe I woll nomore specefie, Bot I woll axen overthis Of othre thing how that it is.

Mi Sone, as I thee schal enforme, Ther ben yet of an other forme Of dedly vices sevene applied, Wherof the herte is ofte plied To thing which after schal him grieve. The ferste of hem thou schalt believe 580 Is Pride, which is principal, And hath with him in special Ministres five ful diverse, Of whiche, as I the schal reherse, The ferste is seid Ypocrisie. If thou art of his compaignie, Tell forth, my Sone, and schrif the clene.

I wot noght, fader, what ye mene: Bot this I wolde you beseche, That ye me be som weie teche 590 What is to ben an ypocrite; And thanne if I be forto wyte, I wol beknowen, as it is.

Mi Sone, an ypocrite is this,— A man which feigneth conscience, As thogh it were al innocence, Withoute, and is noght so withinne; And doth so for he wolde winne Of his desir the vein astat. And whanne he comth anon therat, 600 He scheweth thanne what he was, The corn is torned into gras, That was a Rose is thanne a thorn, And he that was a Lomb beforn Is thanne a Wolf, and thus malice Under the colour of justice Is hid; and as the poeple telleth, These ordres witen where he duelleth, As he that of here conseil is, And thilke world which thei er this 610 Forsoken, he drawth in ayein: He clotheth richesse, as men sein, Under the simplesce of poverte, And doth to seme of gret decerte Thing which is litel worth withinne: He seith in open, fy! to Sinne, And in secre ther is no vice Of which that he nis a Norrice: And evere his chiere is sobre and softe, And where he goth he blesseth ofte, 620 Wherof the blinde world he dreccheth. Bot yet al only he ne streccheth His reule upon religioun, Bot next to that condicioun In suche as clepe hem holy cherche It scheweth ek how he can werche Among tho wyde furred hodes, To geten hem the worldes goodes. And thei hemself ben thilke same That setten most the world in blame, 630 Bot yet in contraire of her lore Ther is nothing thei loven more; So that semende of liht thei werke The dedes whiche are inward derke. And thus this double Ypocrisie With his devolte apparantie A viser set upon his face, Wherof toward this worldes grace He semeth to be riht wel thewed, And yit his herte is al beschrewed. 640 Bot natheles he stant believed, And hath his pourpos ofte achieved Of worschipe and of worldes welthe, And takth it, as who seith, be stelthe Thurgh coverture of his fallas. And riht so in semblable cas This vice hath ek his officers Among these othre seculers Of grete men, for of the smale As for tacompte he set no tale, 650 Bot thei that passen the comune With suche him liketh to comune, And where he seith he wol socoure The poeple, there he woll devoure; For now aday is manyon Which spekth of Peter and of John And thenketh Judas in his herte. Ther schal no worldes good asterte His hond, and yit he yifth almesse And fasteth ofte and hiereth Messe: 660 With mea culpa, which he seith, Upon his brest fullofte he leith His hond, and cast upward his yhe, As thogh he Cristes face syhe; So that it seemeth ate syhte, As he al one alle othre myhte Rescoue with his holy bede. Bot yet his herte in other stede Among hise bedes most devoute Goth in the worldes cause aboute, 670 How that he myhte his warisoun Encresce.

And in comparisoun Ther ben lovers of such a sort, That feignen hem an humble port, And al is bot Ypocrisie, Which with deceipte and flaterie Hath many a worthi wif beguiled. For whanne he hath his tunge affiled, With softe speche and with lesinge, Forth with his fals pitous lokynge, 680 He wolde make a womman wene To gon upon the faire grene, Whan that sche falleth in the Mir. For if he may have his desir, How so falle of the remenant, He halt no word of covenant; Bot er the time that he spede, Ther is no sleihte at thilke nede, Which eny loves faitour mai, That he ne put it in assai, 690 As him belongeth forto done. The colour of the reyni Mone With medicine upon his face He set, and thanne he axeth grace, As he which hath sieknesse feigned. Whan his visage is so desteigned, With yhe upcast on hire he siketh, And many a contenance he piketh, To bringen hire in to believe Of thing which that he wolde achieve, 700 Wherof he berth the pale hewe; And for he wolde seme trewe, He makth him siek, whan he is heil. Bot whanne he berth lowest the Seil, Thanne is he swiftest to beguile The womman, which that ilke while Set upon him feith or credence.

Mi Sone, if thou thi conscience Entamed hast in such a wise, In schrifte thou thee myht avise 710 And telle it me, if it be so.

Min holy fader, certes no. As forto feigne such sieknesse It nedeth noght, for this witnesse I take of god, that my corage Hath ben mor siek than my visage. And ek this mai I wel avowe, So lowe cowthe I nevere bowe To feigne humilite withoute, That me ne leste betre loute 720 With alle the thoghtes of myn herte; For that thing schal me nevere asterte, I speke as to my lady diere, To make hire eny feigned chiere. God wot wel there I lye noght, Mi chiere hath be such as my thoght; For in good feith, this lieveth wel, Mi will was betre a thousendel Than eny chiere that I cowthe. Bot, Sire, if I have in my yowthe 730 Don other wise in other place, I put me therof in your grace: For this excusen I ne schal, That I have elles overal To love and to his compaignie Be plein withoute Ypocrisie; Bot ther is on the which I serve, Althogh I may no thonk deserve, To whom yet nevere into this day I seide onlyche or ye or nay, 740 Bot if it so were in my thoght. As touchende othre seie I noght That I nam somdel forto wyte Of that ye clepe an ypocrite.

Mi Sone, it sit wel every wiht To kepe his word in trowthe upryht Towardes love in alle wise. For who that wolde him wel avise What hath befalle in this matiere, He scholde noght with feigned chiere 750 Deceive Love in no degre. To love is every herte fre, Bot in deceipte if that thou feignest And therupon thi lust atteignest, That thow hast wonne with thi wyle, Thogh it thee like for a whyle, Thou schalt it afterward repente. And forto prove myn entente, I finde ensample in a Croniqe Of hem that love so beswike. 760

It fell be olde daies thus, Whil themperour Tiberius The Monarchie of Rome ladde, Ther was a worthi Romein hadde A wif, and sche Pauline hihte, Which was to every mannes sihte Of al the Cite the faireste, And as men seiden, ek the beste. It is and hath ben evere yit, That so strong is no mannes wit, 770 Which thurgh beaute ne mai be drawe To love, and stonde under the lawe Of thilke bore frele kinde, Which makth the hertes yhen blinde, Wher no reson mai be comuned: And in this wise stod fortuned This tale, of which I wolde mene; This wif, which in hire lustes grene Was fair and freissh and tendre of age, Sche may noght lette the corage 780 Of him that wole on hire assote.

There was a Duck, and he was hote Mundus, which hadde in his baillie To lede the chivalerie Of Rome, and was a worthi knyht; Bot yet he was noght of such myht The strengthe of love to withstonde, That he ne was so broght to honde, That malgre wher he wole or no, This yonge wif he loveth so, 790 That he hath put al his assay To wynne thing which he ne may Gete of hire graunt in no manere, Be yifte of gold ne be preiere. And whanne he syh that be no mede Toward hir love he myhte spede, Be sleyhte feigned thanne he wroghte; And therupon he him bethoghte How that ther was in the Cite A temple of such auctorite, 800 To which with gret Devocioun The noble wommen of the toun Most comunliche a pelrinage Gon forto preie thilke ymage Which the godesse of childinge is, And cleped was be name Ysis: And in hire temple thanne were, To reule and to ministre there After the lawe which was tho, Above alle othre Prestes tuo. 810 This Duck, which thoghte his love gete, Upon a day hem tuo to mete Hath bede, and thei come at his heste; Wher that thei hadde a riche feste, And after mete in prive place This lord, which wolde his thonk pourchace, To ech of hem yaf thanne a yifte, And spak so that be weie of schrifte He drowh hem unto his covine, To helpe and schape how he Pauline 820 After his lust deceive myhte. And thei here trowthes bothe plyhte, That thei be nyhte hire scholden wynne Into the temple, and he therinne Schal have of hire al his entente: And thus acorded forth thei wente.

Now lest thurgh which ypocrisie Ordeigned was the tricherie, Wherof this ladi was deceived. These Prestes hadden wel conceived 830 That sche was of gret holinesse; And with a contrefet simplesse, Which hid was in a fals corage, Feignende an hevenely message Thei come and seide unto hir thus: “Pauline, the god Anubus Hath sent ous bothe Prestes hiere, And seith he woll to thee appiere Be nyhtes time himself alone, For love he hath to thi persone: 840 And therupon he hath ous bede, That we in Ysis temple a stede Honestely for thee pourveie, Wher thou be nyhte, as we thee seie, Of him schalt take avisioun. For upon thi condicioun, The which is chaste and ful of feith, Such pris, as he ous tolde, he leith, That he wol stonde of thin acord; And forto bere hierof record 850 He sende ous hider bothe tuo.” Glad was hire innocence tho Of suche wordes as sche herde, With humble chiere and thus answerde, And seide that the goddes wille Sche was al redy to fulfille, That be hire housebondes leve Sche wolde in Ysis temple at eve Upon hire goddes grace abide, To serven him the nyhtes tide. 860 The Prestes tho gon hom ayein, And sche goth to hire sovereign, Of goddes wille and as it was Sche tolde him al the pleine cas, Wherof he was deceived eke, And bad that sche hire scholde meke Al hol unto the goddes heste. And thus sche, which was al honeste To godward after hire entente, At nyht unto the temple wente, 870 Wher that the false Prestes were; And thei receiven hire there With such a tokne of holinesse, As thogh thei syhen a godesse, And al withinne in prive place A softe bedd of large space Thei hadde mad and encourtined, Wher sche was afterward engined. Bot sche, which al honour supposeth, The false Prestes thanne opposeth, 880 And axeth be what observance Sche myhte most to the plesance Of godd that nyhtes reule kepe: And thei hire bidden forto slepe Liggende upon the bedd alofte, For so, thei seide, al stille and softe God Anubus hire wolde awake. The conseil in this wise take, The Prestes fro this lady gon; And sche, that wiste of guile non, 890 In the manere as it was seid To slepe upon the bedd is leid, In hope that sche scholde achieve Thing which stod thanne upon bilieve, Fulfild of alle holinesse. Bot sche hath failed, as I gesse, For in a closet faste by The Duck was hid so prively That sche him myhte noght perceive; And he, that thoghte to deceive, 900 Hath such arrai upon him nome, That whanne he wolde unto hir come, It scholde semen at hire yhe As thogh sche verrailiche syhe God Anubus, and in such wise This ypocrite of his queintise Awaiteth evere til sche slepte. And thanne out of his place he crepte So stille that sche nothing herde, And to the bedd stalkende he ferde, 910 And sodeinly, er sche it wiste, Beclipt in armes he hire kiste: Wherof in wommanysshe drede Sche wok and nyste what to rede; Bot he with softe wordes milde Conforteth hire and seith, with childe He wolde hire make in such a kynde That al the world schal have in mynde The worschipe of that ilke Sone; For he schal with the goddes wone, 920 And ben himself a godd also. With suche wordes and with mo, The whiche he feigneth in his speche, This lady wit was al to seche, As sche which alle trowthe weneth: Bot he, that alle untrowthe meneth, With blinde tales so hire ladde, That all his wille of hire he hadde. And whan him thoghte it was ynowh, Ayein the day he him withdrowh 930 So prively that sche ne wiste Wher he becom, bot as him liste Out of the temple he goth his weie. And sche began to bidde and preie Upon the bare ground knelende, And after that made hire offrende, And to the Prestes yiftes grete Sche yaf, and homward be the Strete. The Duck hire mette and seide thus: “The myhti godd which Anubus 940 Is hote, he save the, Pauline, For thou art of his discipline So holy, that no mannes myht Mai do that he hath do to nyht Of thing which thou hast evere eschuied. Bot I his grace have so poursuied, That I was mad his lieutenant: Forthi be weie of covenant Fro this day forth I am al thin, And if thee like to be myn, 950 That stant upon thin oghne wille.”

Sche herde his tale and bar it stille, And hom sche wente, as it befell, Into hir chambre, and ther sche fell Upon hire bedd to wepe and crie, And seide: “O derke ypocrisie, Thurgh whos dissimilacion Of fals ymaginacion I am thus wickedly deceived! Bot that I have it aperceived 960 I thonke unto the goddes alle; For thogh it ones be befalle, It schal nevere eft whil that I live, And thilke avou to godd I yive.” And thus wepende sche compleigneth, Hire faire face and al desteigneth With wofull teres of hire ije, So that upon this agonie Hire housebonde is inne come, And syh how sche was overcome 970 With sorwe, and axeth what hire eileth. And sche with that hirself beweileth Welmore than sche dede afore, And seide, “Helas, wifhode is lore In me, which whilom was honeste, I am non other than a beste, Now I defouled am of tuo.” And as sche myhte speke tho, Aschamed with a pitous onde Sche tolde unto hir housebonde 980 The sothe of al the hole tale, And in hire speche ded and pale Sche swouneth welnyh to the laste. And he hire in hise armes faste Uphield, and ofte swor his oth That he with hire is nothing wroth, For wel he wot sche may ther noght: Bot natheles withinne his thoght His herte stod in sori plit, And seide he wolde of that despit 990 Be venged, how so evere it falle, And sende unto hise frendes alle. And whan thei weren come in fere, He tolde hem upon this matiere, And axeth hem what was to done: And thei avised were sone, And seide it thoghte hem for the beste To sette ferst his wif in reste, And after pleigne to the king Upon the matiere of this thing. 1000 Tho was this wofull wif conforted Be alle weies and desported, Til that sche was somdiel amended; And thus a day or tuo despended, The thridde day sche goth to pleigne With many a worthi Citezeine, And he with many a Citezein.

Whan themperour it herde sein, And knew the falshed of the vice, He seide he wolde do justice: 1010 And ferst he let the Prestes take, And for thei scholde it noght forsake, He put hem into questioun; Bot thei of the suggestioun Ne couthen noght a word refuse, Bot for thei wolde hemself excuse, The blame upon the Duck thei leide. Bot therayein the conseil seide That thei be noght excused so, For he is on and thei ben tuo, 1020 And tuo han more wit then on, So thilke excusement was non. And over that was seid hem eke, That whan men wolden vertu seke, Men scholde it in the Prestes finde; Here ordre is of so hyh a kinde, That thei be Duistres of the weie: Forthi, if eny man forsueie Thurgh hem, thei be noght excusable. And thus be lawe resonable 1030 Among the wise jugges there The Prestes bothe dampned were, So that the prive tricherie Hid under fals Ipocrisie Was thanne al openliche schewed, That many a man hem hath beschrewed. And whan the Prestes weren dede, The temple of thilke horrible dede Thei thoghten purge, and thilke ymage, Whos cause was the pelrinage, 1040 Thei drowen out and als so faste Fer into Tibre thei it caste, Wher the Rivere it hath defied: And thus the temple purified Thei have of thilke horrible Sinne, Which was that time do therinne. Of this point such was the juise, Bot of the Duck was other wise: For he with love was bestad, His dom was noght so harde lad; 1050 For Love put reson aweie And can noght se the rihte weie. And be this cause he was respited, So that the deth him was acquited, Bot for al that he was exiled, For he his love hath so beguiled, That he schal nevere come ayein: For who that is to trowthe unplein, He may noght failen of vengance.

And ek to take remembrance 1060 Of that Ypocrisie hath wroght On other half, men scholde noght To lihtly lieve al that thei hiere, Bot thanne scholde a wisman stiere The Schip, whan suche wyndes blowe: For ferst thogh thei beginne lowe, At ende thei be noght menable, Bot al tobreken Mast and Cable, So that the Schip with sodein blast, Whan men lest wene, is overcast; 1070 As now fulofte a man mai se: And of old time how it hath be I finde a gret experience, Wherof to take an evidence Good is, and to be war also Of the peril, er him be wo.

Of hem that ben so derk withinne, At Troie also if we beginne, Ipocrisie it hath betraied: For whan the Greks hadde al assaied, 1080 And founde that be no bataille Ne be no Siege it myhte availe The toun to winne thurgh prouesse, This vice feigned of simplesce Thurgh sleyhte of Calcas and of Crise It wan be such a maner wise. An Hors of Bras thei let do forge Of such entaile, of such a forge, That in this world was nevere man That such an other werk began. 1090 The crafti werkman Epius It made, and forto telle thus, The Greks, that thoghten to beguile The kyng of Troie, in thilke while With Anthenor and with Enee, That were bothe of the Cite And of the conseil the wiseste, The richeste and the myhtieste, In prive place so thei trete With fair beheste and yiftes grete 1100 Of gold, that thei hem have engined; Togedre and whan thei be covined, Thei feignen forto make a pes, And under that yit natheles Thei schopen the destruccioun Bothe of the kyng and of the toun. And thus the false pees was take Of hem of Grece and undertake, And therupon thei founde a weie, Wher strengthe myhte noght aweie, 1110 That sleihte scholde helpe thanne; And of an ynche a large spanne Be colour of the pees thei made, And tolden how thei weren glade Of that thei stoden in acord; And for it schal ben of record, Unto the kyng the Gregois seiden, Be weie of love and this thei preiden, As thei that wolde his thonk deserve, A Sacrifice unto Minerve, 1120 The pes to kepe in good entente, Thei mosten offre er that thei wente. The kyng conseiled in this cas Be Anthenor and Eneas Therto hath yoven his assent: So was the pleine trowthe blent Thurgh contrefet Ipocrisie Of that thei scholden sacrifie.

The Greks under the holinesse Anon with alle besinesse 1130 Here Hors of Bras let faire dihte, Which was to sen a wonder sihte; For it was trapped of himselve, And hadde of smale whieles twelve, Upon the whiche men ynowe With craft toward the toun it drowe, And goth glistrende ayein the Sunne. Tho was ther joie ynowh begunne, For Troie in gret devocioun Cam also with processioun 1140 Ayein this noble Sacrifise With gret honour, and in this wise Unto the gates thei it broghte. Bot of here entre whan thei soghte, The gates weren al to smale; And therupon was many a tale, Bot for the worschipe of Minerve, To whom thei comen forto serve, Thei of the toun, whiche understode That al this thing was do for goode, 1150 For pes, wherof that thei ben glade, The gates that Neptunus made A thousend wynter ther tofore, Thei have anon tobroke and tore; The stronge walles doun thei bete, So that in to the large strete This Hors with gret solempnite Was broght withinne the Cite, And offred with gret reverence, Which was to Troie an evidence 1160 Of love and pes for everemo. The Gregois token leve tho With al the hole felaschipe, And forth thei wenten into Schipe And crossen seil and made hem yare, Anon as thogh thei wolden fare: Bot whan the blake wynter nyht Withoute Mone or Sterre lyht Bederked hath the water Stronde, Al prively thei gon to londe 1170 Ful armed out of the navie. Synon, which mad was here aspie Withinne Troie, as was conspired, Whan time was a tokne hath fired; And thei with that here weie holden, And comen in riht as thei wolden, Ther as the gate was tobroke. The pourpos was full take and spoke: Er eny man may take kepe, Whil that the Cite was aslepe, 1180 Thei slowen al that was withinne, And token what thei myhten wynne Of such good as was sufficant, And brenden up the remenant. And thus cam out the tricherie, Which under fals Ypocrisie Was hid, and thei that wende pees Tho myhten finde no reles Of thilke swerd which al devoureth.

Fulofte and thus the swete soureth, 1190 Whan it is knowe to the tast: He spilleth many a word in wast That schal with such a poeple trete; For whan he weneth most beyete, Thanne is he schape most to lese. And riht so if a womman chese Upon the wordes that sche hiereth Som man, whan he most trewe appiereth, Thanne is he forthest fro the trowthe: Bot yit fulofte, and that is rowthe, 1200 Thei speden that ben most untrewe And loven every day a newe, Wherof the lief is after loth And love hath cause to be wroth. Bot what man that his lust desireth Of love, and therupon conspireth With wordes feigned to deceive, He schal noght faile to receive His peine, as it is ofte sene.

Forthi, my Sone, as I thee mene, 1210 It sit the wel to taken hiede That thou eschuie of thi manhiede Ipocrisie and his semblant, That thou ne be noght deceivant, To make a womman to believe Thing which is noght in thi bilieve: For in such feint Ipocrisie Of love is al the tricherie, Thurgh which love is deceived ofte; For feigned semblant is so softe, 1220 Unethes love may be war. Forthi, my Sone, as I wel dar, I charge thee to fle that vice, That many a womman hath mad nice; Bot lok thou dele noght withal.

Iwiss, fader, nomor I schal.

Now, Sone, kep that thou hast swore: For this that thou hast herd before Is seid the ferste point of Pride: And next upon that other side, 1230 To schryve and speken overthis Touchende of Pride, yit ther is The point seconde, I thee behote, Which Inobedience is hote.

This vice of Inobedience Ayein the reule of conscience Al that is humble he desalloweth, That he toward his god ne boweth After the lawes of his heste. Noght as a man bot as a beste, 1240 Which goth upon his lustes wilde, So goth this proude vice unmylde, That he desdeigneth alle lawe: He not what is to be felawe, And serve may he noght for pride; So is he badde on every side, And is that selve of whom men speke, Which wol noght bowe er that he breke. I not if love him myhte plie, For elles forto justefie 1250 His herte, I not what mihte availe.

Forthi, my Sone, of such entaile If that thin herte be disposed, Tell out and let it noght be glosed: For if that thou unbuxom be To love, I not in what degree Thou schalt thi goode world achieve.

Mi fader, ye schul wel believe, The yonge whelp which is affaited Hath noght his Maister betre awaited, 1260 To couche, whan he seith “Go lowe,” That I, anon as I may knowe Mi ladi will, ne bowe more. Bot other while I grucche sore Of some thinges that sche doth, Wherof that I woll telle soth: For of tuo pointz I am bethoght, That, thogh I wolde, I myhte noght Obeie unto my ladi heste; Bot I dar make this beheste, 1270 Save only of that ilke tuo I am unbuxom of no mo.

Whan ben tho tuo? tell on, quod he.

Mi fader, this is on, that sche Comandeth me my mowth to close, And that I scholde hir noght oppose In love, of which I ofte preche, Bot plenerliche of such a speche Forbere, and soffren hire in pes. Bot that ne myhte I natheles 1280 For al this world obeie ywiss; For whanne I am ther as sche is, Though sche my tales noght alowe, Ayein hir will yit mot I bowe, To seche if that I myhte have grace: Bot that thing may I noght enbrace For ought that I can speke or do; And yit fulofte I speke so, That sche is wroth and seith, “Be stille.” If I that heste schal fulfille 1290 And therto ben obedient, Thanne is my cause fully schent, For specheles may noman spede. So wot I noght what is to rede; Bot certes I may noght obeie, That I ne mot algate seie Somwhat of that I wolde mene; For evere it is aliche grene, The grete love which I have, Wherof I can noght bothe save 1300 My speche and this obedience: And thus fulofte my silence I breke, and is the ferste point Wherof that I am out of point In this, and yit it is no pride.

Now thanne upon that other side To telle my desobeissance, Ful sore it stant to my grevance And may noght sinke into my wit; For ofte time sche me bit 1310 To leven hire and chese a newe, And seith, if I the sothe knewe How ferr I stonde from hir grace, I scholde love in other place. Bot therof woll I desobeie; For also wel sche myhte seie, “Go tak the Mone ther it sit,” As bringe that into my wit: For ther was nevere rooted tre, That stod so faste in his degre, 1320 That I ne stonde more faste Upon hire love, and mai noght caste Min herte awey, althogh I wolde. For god wot, thogh I nevere scholde Sen hir with yhe after this day, Yit stant it so that I ne may Hir love out of my brest remue. This is a wonder retenue, That malgre wher sche wole or non Min herte is everemore in on, 1330 So that I can non other chese, Bot whether that I winne or lese, I moste hire loven til I deie; And thus I breke as be that weie Hire hestes and hir comandinges, Bot trewliche in non othre thinges. Forthi, my fader, what is more Touchende to this ilke lore I you beseche, after the forme That ye pleinly me wolde enforme, 1340 So that I may myn herte reule In loves cause after the reule.

Toward this vice of which we trete Ther ben yit tweie of thilke estrete, Here name is Murmur and Compleignte: Ther can noman here chiere peinte, To sette a glad semblant therinne, For thogh fortune make hem wynne, Yit grucchen thei, and if thei lese, Ther is no weie forto chese, 1350 Wherof thei myhten stonde appesed. So ben thei comunly desesed; Ther may no welthe ne poverte Attempren hem to the decerte Of buxomnesse be no wise: For ofte time thei despise The goode fortune as the badde, As thei no mannes reson hadde, Thurgh pride, wherof thei be blinde.

And ryht of such a maner kinde 1360 Ther be lovers, that thogh thei have Of love al that thei wolde crave, Yit wol thei grucche be som weie, That thei wol noght to love obeie Upon the trowthe, as thei do scholde; And if hem lacketh that thei wolde, Anon thei falle in such a peine, That evere unbuxomly thei pleigne Upon fortune, and curse and crie, That thei wol noght here hertes plie 1370 To soffre til it betre falle. Forthi if thou amonges alle Hast used this condicioun, Mi Sone, in thi Confessioun Now tell me pleinly what thou art.

Mi fader, I beknowe a part, So as ye tolden hier above Of Murmur and Compleignte of love, That for I se no sped comende, Ayein fortune compleignende 1380 I am, as who seith, everemo: And ek fulofte tyme also, Whan so is that I se and hiere Or hevy word or hevy chiere Of my lady, I grucche anon; Bot wordes dar I speke non, Wherof sche myhte be desplesed, Bot in myn herte I am desesed: With many a Murmur, god it wot, Thus drinke I in myn oghne swot, 1390 And thogh I make no semblant, Min herte is al desobeissant; And in this wise I me confesse Of that ye clepe unbuxomnesse. Now telleth what youre conseil is.

Mi Sone, and I thee rede this, What so befalle of other weie, That thou to loves heste obeie Als ferr as thou it myht suffise: For ofte sithe in such a wise 1400 Obedience in love availeth, Wher al a mannes strengthe faileth; Wherof, if that the list to wite In a Cronique as it is write, A gret ensample thou myht fynde, Which now is come to my mynde.

Ther was whilom be daies olde A worthi knyht, and as men tolde He was Nevoeu to themperour And of his Court a Courteour: 1410 Wifles he was, Florent he hihte, He was a man that mochel myhte, Of armes he was desirous, Chivalerous and amorous, And for the fame of worldes speche, Strange aventures forto seche, He rod the Marches al aboute. And fell a time, as he was oute, Fortune, which may every thred Tobreke and knette of mannes sped, 1420 Schop, as this knyht rod in a pas, That he be strengthe take was, And to a Castell thei him ladde, Wher that he fewe frendes hadde: For so it fell that ilke stounde That he hath with a dedly wounde Feihtende his oghne hondes slain Branchus, which to the Capitain Was Sone and Heir, wherof ben wrothe The fader and the moder bothe. 1430 That knyht Branchus was of his hond The worthieste of al his lond, And fain thei wolden do vengance Upon Florent, bot remembrance That thei toke of his worthinesse Of knyhthod and of gentilesse, And how he stod of cousinage To themperour, made hem assuage, And dorsten noght slen him for fere: In gret desputeisoun thei were 1440 Among hemself, what was the beste. Ther was a lady, the slyheste Of alle that men knewe tho, So old sche myhte unethes go, And was grantdame unto the dede: And sche with that began to rede, And seide how sche wol bringe him inne, That sche schal him to dethe winne Al only of his oghne grant, Thurgh strengthe of verray covenant 1450 Withoute blame of eny wiht. Anon sche sende for this kniht, And of hire Sone sche alleide The deth, and thus to him sche seide: “Florent, how so thou be to wyte Of Branchus deth, men schal respite As now to take vengement, Be so thou stonde in juggement Upon certein condicioun, That thou unto a questioun 1460 Which I schal axe schalt ansuere; And over this thou schalt ek swere, That if thou of the sothe faile, Ther schal non other thing availe, That thou ne schalt thi deth receive. And for men schal thee noght deceive, That thou therof myht ben avised, Thou schalt have day and tyme assised And leve saufly forto wende, Be so that at thi daies ende 1470 Thou come ayein with thin avys.

This knyht, which worthi was and wys, This lady preith that he may wite, And have it under Seales write, What questioun it scholde be For which he schal in that degree Stonde of his lif in jeupartie. With that sche feigneth compaignie, And seith: “Florent, on love it hongeth Al that to myn axinge longeth: 1480 What alle wommen most desire This wole I axe, and in thempire Wher as thou hast most knowlechinge Tak conseil upon this axinge.”

Florent this thing hath undertake, The day was set, the time take, Under his seal he wrot his oth, In such a wise and forth he goth Hom to his Emes court ayein; To whom his aventure plein 1490 He tolde, of that him is befalle. And upon that thei weren alle The wiseste of the lond asent, Bot natheles of on assent Thei myhte noght acorde plat, On seide this, an othre that. After the disposicioun Of naturel complexioun To som womman it is plesance, That to an other is grevance; 1500 Bot such a thing in special, Which to hem alle in general Is most plesant, and most desired Above alle othre and most conspired, Such o thing conne thei noght finde Be Constellacion ne kinde: And thus Florent withoute cure Mot stonde upon his aventure, And is al schape unto the lere, As in defalte of his answere. 1510 This knyht hath levere forto dye Than breke his trowthe and forto lye In place ther as he was swore, And schapth him gon ayein therfore. Whan time cam he tok his leve, That lengere wolde he noght beleve, And preith his Em he be noght wroth, For that is a point of his oth, He seith, that noman schal him wreke, Thogh afterward men hiere speke 1520 That he par aventure deie. And thus he wente forth his weie Alone as knyht aventurous, And in his thoght was curious To wite what was best to do: And as he rod al one so, And cam nyh ther he wolde be, In a forest under a tre He syh wher sat a creature, A lothly wommannysch figure, 1530 That forto speke of fleisch and bon So foul yit syh he nevere non. This knyht behield hir redely, And as he wolde have passed by, Sche cleped him and bad abide; And he his horse heved aside Tho torneth, and to hire he rod, And there he hoveth and abod, To wite what sche wolde mene. And sche began him to bemene, 1540 And seide: “Florent be thi name, Thou hast on honde such a game, That bot thou be the betre avised, Thi deth is schapen and devised, That al the world ne mai the save, Bot if that thou my conseil have.”

Florent, whan he this tale herde, Unto this olde wyht answerde And of hir conseil he hir preide. And sche ayein to him thus seide: 1550 “Florent, if I for the so schape, That thou thurgh me thi deth ascape And take worschipe of thi dede, What schal I have to my mede?” “What thing,” quod he, “that thou wolt axe.” “I bidde nevere a betre taxe,” Quod sche, “bot ferst, er thou be sped, Thou schalt me leve such a wedd, That I wol have thi trowthe in honde That thou schalt be myn housebonde.” 1560 “Nay,” seith Florent, “that may noght be.” “Ryd thanne forth thi wey,” quod sche, “And if thou go withoute red, Thou schalt be sekerliche ded.” Florent behihte hire good ynowh Of lond, of rente, of park, of plowh, Bot al that compteth sche at noght. Tho fell this knyht in mochel thoght, Now goth he forth, now comth ayein, He wot noght what is best to sein, 1570 And thoghte, as he rod to and fro, That chese he mot on of the tuo, Or forto take hire to his wif Or elles forto lese his lif. And thanne he caste his avantage, That sche was of so gret an age, That sche mai live bot a while, And thoghte put hire in an Ile, Wher that noman hire scholde knowe, Til sche with deth were overthrowe. 1580 And thus this yonge lusti knyht Unto this olde lothly wiht Tho seide: “If that non other chance Mai make my deliverance, Bot only thilke same speche Which, as thou seist, thou schalt me teche, Have hier myn hond, I schal thee wedde.” And thus his trowthe he leith to wedde. With that sche frounceth up the browe: “This covenant I wol allowe,” 1590 Sche seith: “if eny other thing Bot that thou hast of my techyng Fro deth thi body mai respite, I woll thee of thi trowthe acquite, And elles be non other weie. Now herkne me what I schal seie. Whan thou art come into the place, Wher now thei maken gret manace And upon thi comynge abyde, Thei wole anon the same tide 1600 Oppose thee of thin answere. I wot thou wolt nothing forbere Of that thou wenest be thi beste, And if thou myht so finde reste, Wel is, for thanne is ther nomore. And elles this schal be my lore, That thou schalt seie, upon this Molde That alle wommen lievest wolde Be soverein of mannes love: For what womman is so above, 1610 Sche hath, as who seith, al hire wille; And elles may sche noght fulfille What thing hir were lievest have. With this answere thou schalt save Thiself, and other wise noght. And whan thou hast thin ende wroght, Com hier ayein, thou schalt me finde, And let nothing out of thi minde.”

He goth him forth with hevy chiere, As he that not in what manere 1620 He mai this worldes joie atteigne: For if he deie, he hath a peine, And if he live, he mot him binde To such on which of alle kinde Of wommen is thunsemlieste: Thus wot he noght what is the beste: Bot be him lief or be him loth, Unto the Castell forth he goth His full answere forto yive, Or forto deie or forto live. 1630 Forth with his conseil cam the lord, The thinges stoden of record, He sende up for the lady sone, And forth sche cam, that olde Mone. In presence of the remenant The strengthe of al the covenant Tho was reherced openly, And to Florent sche bad forthi That he schal tellen his avis, As he that woot what is the pris. 1640 Florent seith al that evere he couthe, Bot such word cam ther non to mowthe, That he for yifte or for beheste Mihte eny wise his deth areste. And thus he tarieth longe and late, Til that this lady bad algate That he schal for the dom final Yive his answere in special Of that sche hadde him ferst opposed: And thanne he hath trewly supposed 1650 That he him may of nothing yelpe, Bot if so be tho wordes helpe, Whiche as the womman hath him tawht; Wherof he hath an hope cawht That he schal ben excused so, And tolde out plein his wille tho. And whan that this Matrone herde The manere how this knyht ansuerde, Sche seide: “Ha treson, wo thee be, That hast thus told the privite, 1660 Which alle wommen most desire! I wolde that thou were afire.” Bot natheles in such a plit Florent of his answere is quit: And tho began his sorwe newe, For he mot gon, or ben untrewe, To hire which his trowthe hadde. Bot he, which alle schame dradde, Goth forth in stede of his penance, And takth the fortune of his chance, 1670 As he that was with trowthe affaited.

This olde wyht him hath awaited In place wher as he hire lefte: Florent his wofull heved uplefte And syh this vecke wher sche sat, Which was the lothlieste what That evere man caste on his yhe: Hire Nase bass, hire browes hyhe, Hire yhen smale and depe set, Hire chekes ben with teres wet, 1680 And rivelen as an emty skyn Hangende doun unto the chin, Hire Lippes schrunken ben for age, Ther was no grace in the visage, Hir front was nargh, hir lockes hore, Sche loketh forth as doth a More, Hire Necke is schort, hir schuldres courbe, That myhte a mannes lust destourbe, Hire body gret and nothing smal, And schortly to descrive hire al, 1690 Sche hath no lith withoute a lak; Bot lich unto the wollesak Sche proferth hire unto this knyht, And bad him, as he hath behyht, So as sche hath ben his warant, That he hire holde covenant, And be the bridel sche him seseth. Bot godd wot how that sche him pleseth Of suche wordes as sche spekth: Him thenkth welnyh his herte brekth 1700 For sorwe that he may noght fle, Bot if he wolde untrewe be.

Loke, how a sek man for his hele Takth baldemoine with Canele, And with the Mirre takth the Sucre, Ryht upon such a maner lucre Stant Florent, as in this diete: He drinkth the bitre with the swete, He medleth sorwe with likynge, And liveth, as who seith, deyinge; 1710 His youthe schal be cast aweie Upon such on which as the weie Is old and lothly overal. Bot nede he mot that nede schal: He wolde algate his trowthe holde, As every knyht therto is holde, What happ so evere him is befalle: Thogh sche be the fouleste of alle, Yet to thonour of wommanhiede Him thoghte he scholde taken hiede; 1720 So that for pure gentilesse, As he hire couthe best adresce, In ragges, as sche was totore, He set hire on his hors tofore And forth he takth his weie softe; No wonder thogh he siketh ofte. Bot as an oule fleth be nyhte Out of alle othre briddes syhte, Riht so this knyht on daies brode In clos him hield, and schop his rode 1730 On nyhtes time, til the tyde That he cam there he wolde abide; And prively withoute noise He bringth this foule grete Coise To his Castell in such a wise That noman myhte hire schappe avise, Til sche into the chambre cam: Wher he his prive conseil nam Of suche men as he most troste, And tolde hem that he nedes moste 1740 This beste wedde to his wif, For elles hadde he lost his lif.