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+{"content": "I am now taken and stand under danger\nHold steadfast that I may not flee\nLet my song and all my notes be clear\nNow that I have lost my liberty\nNow I am thrall where once I was free\nAnd trust well while I am in distress\nI cannot sing nor make any gladness\nAnd though my cage were forged of gold\nAnd the pinnacles of berry and crystal\nI remember a proverb said of old\nWho loses his freedom truly loses all\nFor I had rather upon a small branch\nMerely to sing among the green woods\nThan in a cage of silver bright and shining\nSinging in prison has no accord\nDo you think I will sing in prison\nSinging proceeds from joy and pleasure\nAnd prison causes death and destruction\nRinging of feet is no merry song\nOr how should he be glad or Io Cundo\nAgainst his will that lies in chains bond\nWhat avails it to a lion to be a king\nOf beasts all shut in a tower of stone\nOr an eagle under strict keeping\nCalled also king of birds each one\nFie on lordship when liberty is gone Answers here to one who sings merily and not from the heart. If you wish to rejoice in my singing, let me go free from all danger. Every day I shall return to your lawer, and sing with clear, lusty notes under your chamber or before your hall. Whenever you call me, I shall be shut up and pinned under fear. Nothing agrees with my nature, though I be fed with milk and waste bread, and with cruddes brought to my pasture. Yet I would rather do my best cure early in the morning, to find my dinner among the small worms. The third is: Forget not, for treasure lost, which in no way, For who sorrows, should first reckon his loss, Of one sorrow he, After this lesson, the bird, In her escape, greatly rejoiced, And remembered also, Did first address the charle, Of her affray and of her, Glad that she was at large. Said to him, holding above his head, Thou art said to be a natural fool, To suffer me to depart from thy ladies. Thou oughtest in thy heart to complain and have great heaviness,\nThat thou hast lost such passing great riches,\nWhich might suffice in reckoning\nTo pay the ransom of a mighty king and son.\nComforteth the sorrowful, maketh heavy hearts light,\nLike the passion of sunny colors, bright.\nI am a fool to tell all catonians,\nOr to teach a jester the price of precious stones.", "creation_year": 1477, "creation_year_earliest": 1477, "creation_year_latest": 1477, "source_dataset": "EEBO", "source_dataset_detailed": "EEBO_Phase1"},
+{"content": "Contreries and disputes between persons were two or three,\nSought out the grounds to be recorded. This was the custom of antiquity.\nJudges were set that had authority. The causes conceived standing in different places between parties to give judgment.\nParties assembled of high and low degree were commanded to show in sentence, grounded in their quarrels, the law made them free, without exception, to come in audience.\nBe the president commanded first silence. Freedom given, parties not to spare, title of right their grievances to declare, upon this matter shortly to conclude, nothing your agoon as I rehearse shall.\nI find to propose a similitude, full craftily depicted upon a wall, Two sitting in royal estate,\nThe fierce lion, famous in all realms, and the imperial eagle perching on the beams,\nThese were the dreadful judges two, In their estate sitting, I took heed,\nThat heard the parties by and by complain, The horse the goose and the simple sheep,\nThe process was not to be profound. Of their debate, a fable was continued,\nRegarding which of them was most beneficial to man.\nEach, for his party, proudly proceeded\nTo assert himself as the record in scripture,\nAs seen and read by philosophers and clerks.\nThe prerogatives given by nature,\nWhich of these three, to every creature,\nIn republica, avails most to a man,\nFor his party, the horse began:\n\nThe horse,\nBriefly proceeding and not long to tarry,\nFirst, from the truth that I do not err,\nWhat beast is found in all things so necessary,\nAs is the horse, both near and far,\nAnd so notable to man in peace and war.\nHorses in chronicles, who so reads a right,\nHave saved often many a worthy knight,\nMarshall's prowess in particular,\nGod has given to warriors,\nThe record of Alexander, whose horse Bucephalus,\nMade him escape from many sharp shocks,\nThe golden chariot of old conquerors,\nTowards the triumph for knightly deeds,\nConceived it was with four white steeds,\nRemember Hector, the Trojan champion,\nWhose horse was once called Galathe. Upon whose back he played the lion,\nFull often fits he made the Greeks flee,\nThe stead of Perseus was called Pigase,\nWith swift wings, poets say the same,\nWas for his swiftness named the horse of fame,\nEquus ab equo is said in truth,\nAnd knight is said of chivalry,\nIn duke a rider is called a knight,\nAragon tongue does also specify,\nC\nIs named for worship and took beginning,\nOf spears of gold and chiefly of riding,\nThese emperors, these princes, and these kings,\nWhen they are armed in bright plate and mail,\nWithout horse, what were their mustering,\nTheir broad banners or their rich apparel,\nTo show before their enemies in battle,\nWithout horse. spear. sword. nor shield,\nCould little avail for holding a field,\nThe hardy pikemen on horseback,\nWere sent to find what ground is best to take,\nIn their ordinance that there be no lack,\nBe providence how they the field shall make,\nAn horse will weep for his master's sake,\nChawsord. ring. glass,\nWere presented upon a steed of brass,\nBetween two hills the prophet Zachary spoke. The first was red, in chariots four, the field to magnify,\nThe second black, no fear, its head,\nThe fourth diverse, colors strong,\nTo knighthood all these colors long.\n\nThe red horse, token of the hard,\nWhich belongs to every manly knight,\nThe coal-black hue, a sign of Parolles,\nTo help in their right,\nThe white milk steed, glad to the sight,\nSignifies that knighthood truly should intend,\nTo defend holy church, maids and widows.\n\nThe many-fold colors, in general,\nBe diverse virtues and conditions,\nAs the four virtues called cardinal,\nLonging to knighthood, their renouns,\nIn republica, called the champions,\nTruth to sustain and show themselves strong,\nBound by order to see no one have wrong,\nWithout horse, justices nor tournaments,\nCannot be held in war nor peace,\nNor in palace, no plays marshal,\nIf horse fails, may come to none increases,\nNo man truly dares put himself in press,\nWithout horse, for short conclusion. To achieve the palm of triumphal reward, it greatly profits every community. The plow and cart could not function without a horse. Daily, you may observe that horses were lost or we were without them. The busiest merchant, in his advantage, is likened to a horse. A ship is called the horse of the sea. Whoever can understand this, knows that a horse leads men and carries them across the sea, just as a horse does when it comes to land. The poor man also leads in a band, his little cart, his corn, and his meal to sell. When it is ripe, he brings it from the mill. In winter, he makes beer cheer. The horse is necessary for wood and turf to carry. Wine fruit and oil are brought to vintners and apothecaries. Diverse drugs and many a letuary are brought by the carriage horse. All provisions of the carriage horse have the travail. They cannot be carried from the fields nor to the granary nor to the barn without a horse. It is seen that without a horse, it cannot be carried to purpose. There is no beast as necessary as a horse is to man. August is a merry and glad month,\nWhen every tree is laden with new fruit,\nHorses return home with their draft,\nThat month passes, and the leaves begin to fade,\nWhich makes summer a pleasant, lusty shade,\nWhat do horses then but speak in plain words,\nThe second crop they carry home of ripe grain,\nBy horse draft from rivers and wells is,\nBoughs are brought to brewers for good ale,\nLarge timber is carried for building,\nWe bring to churches in truth this is no tax,\nWe bring cloth sacks and many a large male,\nAnd gladly summers are sent to foreign lands,\nWith guardians, how might horses be born?\nYou and the lion,\nWhat I have said wisely advises,\nWeigh this matter in your discretion,\nWhere goats or sheep openly dispute,\nOf their nature may in any way,\nJustly judge you, let it not be spared,\nLike a horse is the truth I have told, and no feigning,\nNo rational being can argue against it,\nGoats nor geese nor green gossiping,\nBut if they enter the bounds of envy,\nLet her come forth and speak for her party. Goose, I assure you, I will not spare\nLike how I feel compelled to declare\nWhereas thou hast unto thy pasture\nBut one place / to make in thy repair\nIt is granted to me by nature\nTo abide on water, land and eye\nNow among flowers and greens that be fair\nNow bathe in rivers swim me in many a pond\nFor storm or shower as dry as on the land\nThrough all the land of brutes Albion\nFor feathers arrows as I recall can\nGoose is the beast to make comparison\nExcept feathers of peacock and of swan\nBowe and arrow since the war began\nHave Englishmen remembered in story\nOf their enemies had many a victory\nHorses in the field may muster with great pride\nWhen they hear trumpets the bloody sow\nBut when an arrow has pierced his side\nHe goes and casts his master down\nEntering the field he plays the lion\nWhat follows after / his carcass stinks sore\nSave skin and shone there leaves no more\nMighty captains and knights in the field\nMake their wardens and their ordinance. First men in arms with poleaxe and shield\nSet in order to have the governance\nThose at Peters took the king of France\nThank you most be you given of right\nThose in the field so proudly took flight\nSloth of my flight for hasty negligence\nOf presumption, the ghost was left behind\nWhen the famous and worthy duke of Clarence\nRode on Bayard with his eyes blind\nFlight of my fathers was put out of my mind\nAnd because that day he set no force on me\nSo little or nothing what hindered him his horse\nBooks old remember well in sentence\nWhilom when Rome by its foot was taken\nThe capitol kept with great defense\nNoise of a gander, the captain did wake\nWhich remembered, they set up for his sake\nIn their temples wide and old\nA large gander forged all of fine gold\nHis waker's noise was their salvation\nBe which the captain ran upon the wall\nThus a gander was recovered was the town\nCalled of the world the city most royal\nCity of cities that day most principal\nWas ever horse in book that you can read In the book named \"Chevalier Destiny,\" the story goes that there were children of the royal line born with chains. When they grew up, they transformed into swans by enchantment. The truth is clear, and as swans they swam in the river. This story is very old and was compiled in French many times and read and seen by many. Of these chains, a cup of gold was made, which is still kept, as some say. It is said to belong to the heralds. Whoever reads this story carefully and truly will find it in the heralds, and similarly, not long will he remain here. I tell this tale for my part. There was a man born in Lombardy to a woman who was turned into a goose by the craft of sorcery. He lived with the duke of Milan for six years, and I will not lie. His writing stood him in good stead, and he served in the duke's household. Being of high degree and born of good blood and notable substance, his kin gave a goose as their livery. The Ram speaks for the sheep. The sheep was simple and reluctant to make an affair, like a beast disposed to meekness. The sturdy Ram acted as its advocate that day. With an exordium of Latin, he expressed: \"Vestite purpurea ut rectores regum. In duty are the rams of the flock. Of this notable royal lineage, the blessed doctor Augustine, as I read, was a man spiritually fair of figure. Of a meek sheep, he proceeds, called Maria, a maid in thought and deed, who brought forth a lamb of most virtue. The lamb of grace, whose name was Thesus, Augustine called this lamb in estate.\" There are several issues with the given text that need to be addressed to make it clean and perfectly readable. Here's the cleaned text:\n\n\"There are many fold records of scripture. The Rival Lamb of purplish color, who for mankind tends passion and tenderness, is born of a maid, bringing grace against nature. When he is mindful of her humility, he takes on the clothing of our humanity. Born by descent to be both priest and king, king by succession from David down the line, of purplish red was his rival clothing. This Agnus Dei, born of a pure virgin, washes away all venomous serpentine ways. You call him the Calvery, when he was man was dead, with his pure blood purplish and red. This Paschal Lamb without spot is all white. His passion was stained red in Bethlehem's stone. He who comes from Edom, this Lamb of delight, gave his body to man in the form of bread. On Good Thursday, before he was dead, was there ever found in scripture such a solemn figure of horse or goat? This Lamb is Christ, who lineally came from the patriarch called Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, down to Jesse. By the virtue of his humility, he is called the blessed Ihesu. For his meekness, the Lamb of most virtue.\" And to recall worldly commodities\nIn republics make no comparison\nThere is no best which in all degrees\nNeither tiger, elephant, nor griffon\nAll things reckoned through every region\nDo such great profit. hot, cold, nor swan\nAs does the sheep to the ease of man\nLate be thy boost, thou horse and thy jangling\nLay down thy trappings forged of plate and mail\nCast off thy saddle of gold so freshly shining\nWhat may thy bridle or bows now avail\nThis ghostly lamb has done a great battle\nBy his meekness he offered up for man\nClad in purple vestments, Satan has clad\nThe ghosts may mock the horse prick and prance\nNeither of them in process may avenge\nFor to be set or put in remembrance\nAgainst the lamb, though they disdain\nFor common profit he passes both twain\nWeigh and consider between poor and rich\nTo him in value they are nothing alike\nOf brutes, Alion's wool is chief richesse\nIn price outweighing every other thing\nSave grain and corn merchants all express. Wulle is the chief resource in this land, growing rich and beneficial to both rich and poor. This beast provides clothing. All nations affirm it highly in the entire world, as there is no better wool. Sheep also produce pelts and fleece in this land for great merchandise. Carried over the sea where men can sell it, the wool skins cause men to rise into great riches in various ways. Sheep also bring great profit by providing fur, black and white, for helping mankind. There is also made of the sheep's skin leather, gloves and parchment to drive away the cold, and good parchment for writing books and quills manyfold. The ram of Cholchos bore fleece of gold. The fleece of Gedeon with dew was delightful. It was a notable figure of Maria. His flesh is his natural restoration, as some men say, after great sickness. Rosted or sodden, roasted or boiled, it is nourishing after great access. The sheep, without a doubt, concludes its nature loving rest and peace. Nothing is cast away from the sheep. His horn for noses to hafts goes his bone, great profit does his turtle bring,\nHis talow serves for plasters more than one, for harp strings his ropes serve each one,\nOf whose head boiled with wool and all,\nThere comes a gel and an ointment real,\nFor the ache of bones and also for bruises,\nIt remedies and eases pain,\nBluebrings relief to men of strong joints,\nDead sinews restore life again,\nBlack sheep's wool with olive oil,\nThese men of arms with charms proved good,\nUnto the wolf contrary to nature,\nAs authors say, this humble beast,\nLoves no debate for which creature,\nFor its party, it would live in rest,\nTherefore, you Judges, I hold it for the best,\nPrefer public peace instead of right,\nAlways considering that peace is better than war,\nIn this matter briefly to conclude,\nPeace to prefer as to my decree,\nMany old proverbs show similarity,\nMake no delay, give the sheep the price,\nOf one assent since that you be wise,\nLay all war and strife be set aside. And upon peace do the sheep abide. The horse said, \"Your request is wrong. All things considered, I was loath to err. The sheep is the cause and has been for new struggles and mortal war. The circumstance, I list not to defer. Thy will was the cause and great occasion. Why that thy proud duke of Burgundy came before Calais with Flemings, not a few. Who gave the sacks and sarplers of the town to Ghent and Bruges, his freedom to show. Of thy wills / he called them possessions. His boisterous violence was first brought down. He himself, but thy wills, was the cause of this strife. Where riches are of wills and such good, Men draw thither that are reckless, As soldiers that have brains and wood, To get baggage they put themselves in press. Thus, thou causest war & sayest thou lovest peace. And if there were no war nor battle, Little or nothing great horse should a will.\"\n\nNo said the ghosts nor my white fathers, Without war, should none do any vaunting. Here is the cleaned text:\n\nNearly profitable is it for us to meet our enemies in disguise,\nAnd from them to save ourselves from harm.\nFlight of feathers despitesheep's [shepherd] each one\nShall defend us against our mortal foe.\nThe horse holding with the ghost.\nSo said the horse, as in my Iuward fight,\nWithout war afore as I told you,\nWe may not save nor kept our right,\nOur garisons nor castles old,\nBut here this sheep rustling in his fold,\nSet little store of sword nor arrow's stone,\nWhen he in peace may pasture on the green,\nIf it so stood that no war were,\nLost were the craft of armorers,\nWhat would avail poleax sword or spear,\nOr these daggers wrought by cutlers,\nBows. crossbows. arrows of feathers,\nAll these instruments for the war are wrought,\nIf wars were stinted they would serve for naught,\nTheir occupation should have no increase,\nKnightly virtue should not flourish in its estate,\nIn every country if there were peace,\nNo man of arms should be fortunate,\nI prove that peace is the ground of all debate,\nFor in five speeches like as is a wheel. All who consider the world begin with peace, which brings riches, and riches are the source of pride. Pride, in turn, causes strife because of a lack of righteousness. Hearts contrary in peace cannot coexist. Therefore, he who can contemplate and see, strife is the chief cause and ground of poverty. Poverty, brought about by strife, seeks peace again for lack of resources, save only this - he cries after peace and complains about the wars. He says that war brings about the loss of goods and can offer no recovery but griping and disdain. The world would gladly have peace again. Pride and riches, between the extremes of peace and poverty, are the cause of all debates and wars. Will bring in great abundance, where they abound as the people may see. If men will take heed, war is brought about only by the sheep.\n\nThe sheep replies:\nHere is a gentle reason from an horse,\nI suppose he has fallen into some dotage. Which of madness sets no force,\nFalsely affirming it does no advantage,\nVirtuous plente may do no damage,\nThe sheep bears its fleece - I told when I began,\nNot for himself but for the profit of man,\nDiverse commodities that come from a sheep,\nCause no wars, what men angle or muse,\nAs in her gilt yield / ye jugges take ye heed,\nWhat that I say their innocence excuse,\nOf covetous men falsely may muse,\nHer benefits and wrongly her atwit,\nOf such occasions, where she is not to wit,\nWhat is the sheep to blame in your sight,\nWhen she is shorn and of her fleece made bare,\nThough folk of malice for her will fight,\nCauseless to strive, fools will not spare,\nWhere peace resteth, there is all welfare,\nAnd since the sheep loves,\nGive ye for his part definite sentence.\n\nThe lyon and egle in youth, judgment.\nThe ryal egle and the lyon of one assent,\nAll things considered, rehearsed here before,\nOf all these three, be good advicement,\nOf horse and goose, and the ram with his horn,\nSee in re publica might none be forborn. \"Be short sentences to quell all discord, Cast a mean to set them at accord, This was the means to avoid their first strife And old grudges with their hearts made glad, Use these gifts and these prerogatives, To that end, to which they were made, Beware of presumption, let not your backs be loaded, Undermined in heart, will and thought, To deny her office as nature hath wrought, The horse is kind to live in travel, The goose with her goslings to swim in the lake, The sheep, whose wills do so much harm, In his pasture to graze and him merry make, Their comparisons by one assent forsake, Always remembering how God and nature Made every creature for a good end, That none to another should do wrong.\"\n\n\"The ravens, wolf the silly lamb to press, And though one be stronger than another, To the weaker do no unwarranted cruelty, All extortion is grounded on falseness, Will is now law, whether it be wrong or right, Truth is laid low, the weak put to flight, Odious of old are all comparisons.\" And of comparisons is hatred born,\nAnd all folk are not alike in conditions or disposed of will and deed.\nTherefore, this fable that you read\nWas composed to show that he who has the greatest share\nOf virtuous gifts should depart with his friend.\nFor all virtues are not in one man,\nAnd he who lacks one nature has given to another.\nThus, no man should despise another,\nFor charity should govern the other.\nAll in one vessel, let us speak in plain words,\nSo that no man should have disdain.\n\nThus ends the horse, the goose, and the sheep.\nIt is full hard to know any estate.\nDouble-dealing looks out of every hole.\nSecurity is lost, trust is past its date.\nThrift has taken its leave over the flood.\nThe law can do nothing without good.\nTheft has leave to go out at large.\nOf the common's misrule has taken charge.\nAnd you desire yourself to usurp.\nPoor or rich, be lowly and gentle in your governance. Good rule doubtless may prefer\nIf thou be gentle, hurt not thy degree\nAnd thou be poor, do all that thou can\nTo use good manners, for manner makes man\nAt thy meal be glad in countenance\nIn meat and drink\nBeware of surfeit and misgovernance\nThey cause men often to be unreasonable\nSuffer nothing be said at thy table\nThat any man may hurt or displease\nFor good meat and drink asks joy and ease\nIf thy goods to thee do not suffice\nConform ever to that thou hast\nGovern thy self in such a way\nIn thine expenses make no waste\nGreat excess causes unthrift in haste\nBeware before this be in thine heart\nMisrule makes often many men to smart\nBeware of novelties that be new brought\nThough they be pleasant, look fast thy lip\nAn hasty word may be too sore bought\nClose thy mouth lest thy tongue trip\nTo thyself, look thou make not a whip\nHurt not thyself, lest thou sore rue\nFor thine own ease, kept thy tongue in mew\nThe world so wide, the air so changeable\nThe simple man so little of stature The ground is so unstable and changeable,\nThe fire so hot and subtle in nature,\nNo creature made of these four elements\nCan endure steadily and survive in permanence.\nThe further I go, the more behind,\nThe more behind, the nearer my ways end,\nThe more I seek, the worse I find,\nThe lighter leaves, the heavier to follow,\nThe truer I serve, the farther from my mind.\nThough I go astray, I am bound by a sin.\nIs it fortune or misfortune that I find?\n\nA herd of hearts,\nA herd of deer,\nA herd of swans,\nA herd of cranes,\nA herd of wrens,\nA herd of all creatures,\nA nest of pheasants,\nA covert of partridges,\nA bevy of larks,\nA bevy of ladies,\nA bevy of quails,\nA bevy of rooses,\nA siege of bitterns,\nA siege of herons,\nA spring of teals,\nA sourd of malards,\nA dissimulation of lapwings,\nA muster of peacocks,\nA fall of woodcocks,\nA walk of snipes,\nA congregation of plovers,\nA courteous assembly of coots,\nAn unkindness of ravens,\nA murder of crows,\nA building of roosts,\nA clattering of choughs. A murmuration of stars, an host of men, an host of sparrows, a fellowship of yeomen, a gaggle of geese, a gaggle of women, a chirme of finches, a swarm of bees, an exaltation of larks, a discernment of woodcocks, a mutation, a cete of greyhounds, an earth of foxes, a berry of conies, a nest of rabbits, a litter of whelps, a route of knights, a route of wolves, a pride of lions, a leap of leopards, a sloth of bears, a lees of hounds, a brase of hounds, a kennel of reccles, a coppice of spaniels, a suite of a limb, a caste of hawks of the tower, a caste of breed, a flight of goosegeese, a flight of doves, a flight of cranes, a droue of nettes, a trippe of getes, a flock of sheep, a flock of lice, a besyness of flies, a herd of horses, a stud of mares, a rag of colts, a drift of tame swine, a sounder of wild swine, a trippe of hares, a trace of a hare, a skulk of foxes, a skulk of freres, a skulk of thieves, a pontifical of prelates, a state of princes, a dignity of canons, a truth of barons, a charge of curates, a lordship of monks, a suppliance of nuns. A priest, school of fish, school of scholars, cluster of grapes, cluster of notes, cluster of carles, cluster of tame cats, destruction of wild cats, Boast of soldiers, Thirty of courters, Laurers of hostelers, Glosing of taverners, a Promise of tapsters, a Soolding of keepers, a Fighting of beggars, a Disworship of stottes, a Rascal of boys, a Rafull of knaves, a Thrave of thrashers, a Lass of carters, a Trynkette of turbaners, a Bleche of sowters, a Smere of coryers, a Pyte of prisoners, a Glorifying of liars, a Lyng of pardoners, a Hastiness of cooks.\n\nAn hare in its form is shouldering or leaping.\nA dove sits.\nA heart is herberted.\nA knight is herberted.\nA buck is lodged.\nA squire is lodged.\nA roo is bedded.\nA yoman is bedded.\n\nIf a heart stands, it stalls.\nIf a buck stands, it hearkens.\nIf a roo stands, it fears.\nA deer broken.\nA goose rides.\nA swan lifts.\nA capon saws.\nA hen spoils.\nA checkyn frights.\nA malard unbrases.\nA cony unlaces.\nA heron dismembers.\nA crane displays.\nA pecock disfigures. A curlew vented, a bittern unwatched, a feasant eyed, a partridge eyed, a woodcock thyed, all small birds thyed, a pigge headed & sidied. A heart if he be chased he will desire to have a river. Assigne as he takes the River he sues, / if he takes over the river he crosses, Yif he returneth he recrosses, And yif he takes with the stream he flees, yif he takes again the source me he beats or else breaches, yif he takes the land he flees. Explicit.", "creation_year": 1477, "creation_year_earliest": 1477, "creation_year_latest": 1477, "source_dataset": "EEBO", "source_dataset_detailed": "EEBO_Phase1"},
+{"content": "I. In thought, I was constrained and grieved by pensiveness and high distress.\nII. This other night, I went to bed,\nIII. When lucina, with her pale light,\nIV. Was joined last with Phoebus in Aquarius,\nV. Amidst December, when January's kalends,\nVI. The dark dyane, horned and nothing clear,\nVII. Had her beams under a misty cloud,\nVIII. Within my bed, for cold I drew myself,\nIX. Alone, desolate due to the constraint of my woe,\nX. The long night, wavering to and fro,\nXI. Until at last I began to take heed,\nXII. My body did suddenly succumb to a deadly sleep,\nXIII. Within which I thought I was,\nXIV. Raised in spirit into a temple of glass,\nXV. I knew not how far in the wilderness,\nXVI. That was founded, as it seemed,\nXVII. Not upon a stone, but on a craggy rock,\nXVIII. Like ice, frozen, and as I drew near,\nXIX. Against the sun that shone so clear,\nXX. As crystal and ever near and near,\nXXI. As I came near this grisly, dreadful place,\nXXII. I was astonished; the light began to strike,\nXXIII. So persistently upon every part,\nXXIV. Wherever I went, that I could not do\nXXV. As I wished. About me consider and behold\nThe wonder of the sun's brightness until the last certain skies have given\nWith wind chased, they had their tours gone\nTo fore the streams of Titan and they blended\nSo that I might behold within and without\nWherever I would look about\nTo report the fashion and manner\nOf all this place that was circular\nIn compass wise / round by entail wrought\nAnd when I had long gone and sought\nI found a wicket and entered in as fast\nInto the temple and my eyes cast\nOn every side now low, then aloft\nAnd right away as I began to walk softly\nIf I the truth a right report shall\nI saw depicted upon a wall\nFrom east to west many a fair image\nOf diverse lovers like as they were of age\nThey sat in order after they were true\nWith living colors wonder fresh of hue\nAnd as I thought I saw some sit and some stood\nAnd some kneeling with bills in their hand\nAnd some with complaints woeful and pitiful\nWith doleful cheer to put to Venus\nSo she sat fleeing in the sea\nWeeping for her woe to have pity. And I first saw there Cartage's queen, Dido, so beautiful in face,\nLamenting her adventure and her woes,\nHow she was deceived by Aeneas,\nDespite his entreaties and his sworn oaths,\nShe sighed, \"Alas, that I was ever born,\nAnd saw this day when I must die.\"\n\nNext, I saw Medea's complaint,\nHow she was falsely accused by Jason,\nNearby, I saw Venus seated on Athene's throne,\nAnd how she mourned and suffered enough,\nFor him whom she loved.\n\nI also saw Penelope,\nLong denied the sight of her lord,\nPale and green in color,\n\nNext came the chaste queen,\nI mean Cressid, the noble, true wife,\nAnd how she lost her life for Admete,\nAnd for her truth, if I shall not lie,\nHow she was transformed into a daystar.\n\nThere was Griselda's Innocence,\nHer meekness and patience,\nIsodae and many others,\nAnd all the torment and cruel wooing\nThat she endured for Tristram all her life,\nAnd how Tisbe's heart was given to him\nWith the sword of Sir Piramus.\n\nNext, I saw Theseus. The mythological tale of the house\nCreated by the craft of Daedalus\nWhen he was imprisoned in Crete\nAnd how Philomel's festival of love's heat\nThe great fire of Demophon, allas\nAnd for his falsehood and for his trespass\nOn the walls were depicted men\nHanging upon a willow tree\nAnd many a story more than I can recount\nWere in the temple / and how Paris won\nThe fair Helen, a lovely queen\nAnd how Achilles was slain unfairly within Troy town\nI saw all this walking up and down\nThere I also saw the whole tale\nHow Philomela was turned into a nightingale\nAnd how the Sabines in their manner honored\nThe festival of Lucresia yet in Rome town\nThere I saw also the sorrow of Palamon\nThat he felt in prison and all the pain\nAnd how through his heart\nUnfairly he was hurt by casting an eye\nOn fair, fresh, the lovely young Emelye\nAnd all the strife between him and his brother\nAnd how one fought with the other\nWithin the grove / until they were rescued by Theseus. According to Chaucer's tale, I saw how Phoebus was wounded by a golden arrow from Cupid's envy. I beheld how Diana was torn from a laurel tree when she fled. I observed how Jupiter changed his cloak for the sake of Europa's beauty, and how he assumed the form of a bull. I saw how Jupiter, hurt by Love's dart, could not escape. I witnessed how Mars was captured by Vulcan and bound with invisible chains. There was also the poetry of Mercury and all philosophy. And how she, for her wisdom, was married to the god of eloquence. The Muses obediently conveyed this lady high into heaven. With her song, she was magnified and starified beside Jupiter. Furthermore, men could see the depiction of these events. With her ring, the fair Canace\nUnderstood every falter, the lyrics and song\nAs she walked among them, and how her brother\nWas often helped in his mischief by the brazen one, and furthermore,\nIn the temple, there were thousands of lovers here and there,\nIn various ways, ready to comply\nTo the goddess, of her woe and pain,\nHow they were hindered by envy,\nAnd how the serpent of false jealousy\nHad put many a lover in a difficult position,\nAnd caused them needless suffering,\nAnd some were planning absence,\nWho were exiled and put out of favor,\nThrough wicked tongues and false suspicion,\nWithout mercy or any remission,\nAnd others, too, spent their service in vain,\nAnd her lady was not loved in return,\nAnd others, too, who for poverty\nDared not reveal or confront her great adversity,\nLest she have contempt for him. And some also that put right great wrongs\nOr double lovers who love new things\nThrough whose falseness hundreds are true\nAnd some there were as it is often found\nThat for her lady many a bloody wound\nEndured in many a region\nWhile one other had possession\nOf all his lady and bears away the fruit\nOf his labor and of all his fruit\nAnd others complained of riches\nHow he with treasure does his business\nTo win against all kind and right\nWhereas true lovers have no force nor might\nAnd some there were as maidens young in age\nWho complained so with piping and rage\nThat were coupled against all nature\nWith crooked eld that cannot long endure\nFor to perform the lust of love's play\nFor it does not fit to fresh may\nFor to be coupled to old January\nThey are so diverse that they must vary\nFor elder is grueling and malicious\nFull of ire and suspicious\nAnd youth intends to joy and lust\nTo mirth and play and to all gladness\nAlas that it should ever fall. So sweet figure these young people were to the gallows. They cried often, praying to Venus for remedy for this misdeed and shape. And right away I heard others cry with weeping tears and pious supplication to the goddess, constrained in their youth and childhood, entering religion or they would have had years of discretion. Their whole life could not but complain in wide copes, covering their smarts and showing the contrary of their hearts. Thus I saw many a fair maid weep, laying all their wit on their friends. Next, I saw them in great rage, married in their tender age without freedom of free election. Where love had seldom dominion, leave had little sway. For love at large and at liberty would freely choose and not with such treaty. And often I saw them weep and wring themselves, finding such varying men, leaving a season while beauty flourishes and after, by disdain, so unfairly scorns. On her, whom he called his lady dear,\nWho was so pleasant and entire to him,\nBut lust with fairness is overgone,\nAnd in her heart, truth abides none.\nAnd some also I saw in tears flow,\nAnd piously on God and kindness pray,\nThat ever they would place such beauty\nUpon a woman to give occasion,\nA man to love, to his confusion,\nAnd especially there, where he shall have no grace,\nFor with a look forth by, as he paces,\nFull often falls through casting an eye.\nA man is wounded, he must needs die,\nWho never afterward shall set his heart on her.\nWhy will God do such great cruelty\nTo any man or to his creature,\nTo make him endure so much woo,\nFor her, perchance, whom he shall in no way rejoice,\nBut lead his life till he be grave,\nFor he dared not of her mercy crave,\nAnd painfully though he dared and would,\nHe cannot find where he should find her.\nI saw there also, and had I mirth,\nThat some were slain by covetousness and slough'd. And some also for their hastiness and other for their recklessness, but lastly, as I walked and beheld, beside paths with her crystal shield, before the statue of Venus set on a height, there knelt a lady in my sight. To fore the goddess, who, as the sun, passes the stars and also the storms, and Lucifer, to widen the night's sorrow, in clarity passes early the morrow, and so, as may have the sovereign of every month the fairness and beauty, and as the rose in sweetness and odor surmounts all flowers and bane of all liquor, has the prize, and as the ruby bright of all stones in beauty and in sight, so this lady with her goodly eye and with the streams of her look so bright surmounts all through beauty in my sight, that for to tell her great semblance, her womanhood, her port, and her fairness, it was a marvel, howsoever that nature could in her works make a creature so angelic and so goodly to see, so feminine or passing of beauty. Who's son is shinier than goldwire,\nLyche Phoebus beams shining in his sphere,\nThe goodness also of her fresh face,\nSo replenished with beauty and grace,\nSo well renewed by nature and art,\nAs rose and lilies to gather were meant,\nSo equally by good proportion,\nThat as I thought by my inspection,\nI began to marvel how God or work of kind\nCould find such a treasure of beauty,\nTo endow her with such passing excellence,\nFor in good faith, through her high presence,\nThe temple was enlightened around,\nAnd to speak of her condition,\nShe was the best that might be on five,\nFor there was none that could with her contend,\nTo speak of bounty or of gentleness,\nOf womanhood or of lowliness,\nOf courtesy or of goodlihed,\nOf speech or of cheer or of semblance,\nOf poverty, benign or daliance,\nThe best taught and therefor of playsance,\nShe was the well also of honesty,\nAn example and mirror also was she,\nOf secrecy, truthfulness, and faithfulness,\nAnd to all other ladies and mistresses,\nTo show virtue who so list to learn. And so I saw this lady, humbly bearing herself,\nKneeling before Venus, goddess of all delight,\nEmbroidered all over with pearls and stones,\nSo richly adorned that it was a joy to see,\nWith various rolls on her garment,\nTo signify the truth of her intent,\nTo show fully that for her humility,\nAnd for her virtue and her steadfastness,\nShe was worthy of all womanly grace.\nTherefore her words, without variation,\nWere adorned as one could see,\nMore and more with pearls,\nThis is to say that she was so benevolent,\nHer heart surrendering from better to better,\nAnd all her will to Venus, the goddess,\nWhen she sought to redress her harms.\nFor I thought, from her appearance,\nShe had great desire to complain,\nIn her hand she held a little bill,\nTo declare the sum total of all her will,\nAnd to the goddess her quarrel to show,\nThe effect of which was in few words,\nO Lady Venus, mother of Cupid,\nWho in this world holds the governance,\nAnd hearts high that are proud by pride. \"Earnestly to your obedience,\nCause of joy, Rees of penance,\nWith your streams canst thou discern all things,\nThrough heavenly fire of love that is eternal,\nO blessed star persistent and full of light,\nOf beams glad, deity of darkness,\nChief comfort after the black night,\nTo void woeful hearts out of their heaviness,\nTake heed, lady and goddess,\nSo that my petition may gain your grace,\nRedress to find what I complain of,\nFor I am bound to that which I do not want,\nFreely to choose their lack I lack,\nAnd so my heart would want what it will,\nThe body is knit, though my thought is free,\nSo that I must outwardly resist my heart's desire,\nThough we are one in death, we must vary,\nMy worship saves me if I fail election,\nAgainst all right, both of God and kind,\nBound under subjection,\nFor when they are out of my mind,\nMy thought goes forth, my body is behind,\nBetween two, I hang in balance,\nDivine of joy, of woe I have plenty.\" What I desire is that which I cannot possess.\nFor that which I dislike, I am ready to endure.\nAnd that which I love, I fear to express to my desire,\nFor my desire's contrary is my reward.\nThus I stand divided between will and deed,\nBound in a chain.\nFor though I burn with fervor and heat\nWithin my heart, I must complain of cold.\nAnd though I sweat and am sweet,\nI am not bold to complain to any one.\nOf all my pain, alas, the hardness endures.\nThe hotter that I burn, the colder is my wound.\nFor he who holds my heart faithfully\nAnd keeps my love in all honesty,\nWithout change, secretly,\nI have no space with him to be.\nO lady Venus, consider now and see,\nTo the effect and complaint of my plight,\nSince life and death I put in your will,\nAnd though I thought the goddesses inclined,\nGently bending their heads and softly began to express,\nThat in short time her torment should end,\nAnd how of him for whom all her distress\nContinued and all her heaviness,\nShe should have joy and from her purgatory. Be helped soon and live forth in glory,\nAnd daughter, for your sad truth,\nYour faithful meaning and innocence,\nThat planted in you without any sloth,\nIn your person conveyed all offense,\nSo have they reached our audience,\nThat with our grace you shall be released,\nI entreat of all that have grieved you,\nAnd because you are ever of one intent,\nWithout change or mutability,\nAnd in your pains be so patient,\nTo take lowly your adversity,\nAnd that so long through the cruelty,\nOf old Saturn my father unforeseen,\nYour woe shall now no longer be continued,\nAnd thinketh this within a little while,\nIt shall a swift and overpass soon,\nFor men by laziness pass many a mile,\nAnd often after a drooping moon,\nThe weather clears and when the storm is done,\nThe sun shines in his spear bright,\nAnd joy wakes when woe is put to flight,\nRemember also how never yet a wight,\nCame to worship without some debate,\nAnd people rejoice more in light,\nThat they were wrapped and mated in darkness.\nNo man's chance is always fortunate. No one understands the sweetness of sugar,\nBut they must have tasted bitterness first.\nGryssylde was sworn in full,\nWhich turned into an increase of joy.\nPenelope also began, for she was dull,\nBecause her lord remained so long at Troy.\nAlso, the torment could not overcome,\nThe flour of Dorigen from all of Britain.\nThus ever joy is the fine and end of pain,\nAnd I trust this for a conclusion.\nThe end of sorrow is joy void of fear,\nFor holy saints through their passion\nHave won heaven with their sovereign medicine,\nAnd plenteously follow after need.\nAnd so my daughter, after your grief,\nI beg you shall have full pleasure,\nFor in love the manner and the guise\nIs to hurt his servant and to wound,\nAnd when he has taught them his enterprise,\nHe can in joy make them to abound.\nSince you have been bound to me in my last will,\nWithout grumbling or rebellion,\nYou must have consolation.\nThis doubts never a little,\nThat you shall have full possession,\nOf him that you now cherish so well,\nIn an honest manner without offense. By cause I know your intention is truly set in party and all\nTo love him best and most in particular,\nFor he whom you have chosen to serve\nShall be to you such as you desire\nWith no change, fully till he departs\nSo with my brown hair I have set a fire\nAnd with my grace I shall him so inspire\nThat his heart will be right at your disposal\nWherever you list to save or to spoil\nFor unto you I shall his heart so low\nWith no spot of any doubleness\nThat he shall not escape from the bow\nThough that himself by unsteadfastness\nI mean of Cupid that shall him so distress\nUnto your hands with the reward of gold\nThat he shall not escape though he be bold\nAnd since you list of pity and of grace\nIn virtue only his youth to cherish\nI shall by aspects of my benign face\nMake him taste every sin and vice\nSo that he shall have no manner of spice\nIn his heart to leave things new\nHe shall to you so plainly be found and true\nAnd when this goodly fair, fresh of hue\nHumble and benign of truth crop and rot. Conceived had how Venus began\nTo reward her prayer plainly to do good\nTo change her bitter actions into sweet\nShe fell on knees of high devotion\nAnd in this way began her prayer\nHighest of high queen and Emperor,\nGoddess of love / of good yet the best,\nThrough your beauty without vice,\nOnce you conquered the apple act,\nJupiter through his high request\nAssembled the gods above celestial,\nIn his paschal most imperial,\nTo you my sad upholder of my heart,\nI thank you as I may suffice,\nThat you list now with heart's entry,\nSo graciously for me to devise,\nThat I sue with humble sacrifice,\nUpon your altars your feast year by year,\nI shall incense cast into the fire,\nFor of your grace I am fully reconciled,\nFrom every trouble unto joy and ease,\nThat sowas is be from me exiled,\nSince you my lady list now to appease,\nMy pains of death and fully my disease,\nInto gladness so suddenly to be born,\nHaving no cause from thence forth to mourn. And of your bounty so graciously to grant,\nThat he shall not vary, though he may wish,\nFor now and ever, O lady, my benign,\nI dedicate my heart and intellect to you,\nIn heartfelt thanks for your grace and visitation,\nThat humbly you would condescend to convert,\nFully to be at my submission,\nWithout change or transmutation,\nTo his last, now laud and reverence be,\nTo your name and excellence,\nThis all and sum and chief of my request,\nAnd whole substance of my full intent,\nI thank you ever for your grant and best,\nBoth now and ever that you have sent me grace,\nTo conquer him who shall never repent,\nMe to serve and humbly to please,\nAs final treasure of my heart's ease,\nAnd then anon Venus cast down\nInto her lap, braaches white and green,\nOf hawthorn that went around\nAbout her head, such joy to see,\nAnd bade her keep them honestly and clean.\nWhich should not fade nor ever way old,\nIf she would keep her bidding as she has told,\nAnd as these bows are both fair and sweet. Follow the effects that they specify\nThis is to signify, both in cold and heat,\nBe you of one heart and of one fantasy,\nAs are these leaves which may not die\nBy any force of storms that be keen,\nNo more in winter than in summer green,\nJust so, by example of joy or woe,\nFor joy, torment, or for adversity,\nWhether fortune favors or is unkind,\nFor poverty, riches, or prosperity,\nThat you keep your heart in one degree,\nTo love him best for no thing that you find,\nWhom I have bound so low under your chain,\nAnd with it, the goddess shook her head,\nAnd was mute and spoke as though no more,\nAnd therewith, all full of fear, she sighed,\nI thought this lady signed and said again,\nLady, that may restore\nHearts in joy from their adversity,\nTo do your will more willingly,\nThus ever sleeping, dreaming as I lay,\nWithin the temple, I thought I say,\nGreat press of people with wonderful murmur,\nTo crowd and shout, the temple was so full,\nEach one busy in his own cause,\nI saw described all the rites and the guise. And I wanted to know how some were with blood, incense and milk,\nAnd some with flour, sweet and soft as silk,\nAnd some with sparrows and white doves,\nWho began to offer them with sighs and prayer,\nTo the goddess, for the release of their deepest desire,\nI went my way through the crowd,\nIntending to refresh one person by myself,\nAnd as I went in among them, I stayed a while,\nI saw a man who walked alone,\nSeeming heavy-laden and sorrowful,\nHim to comfort, that he walked so alone,\nWithout the sight of any other person,\nIf I should describe him truly,\nIf he had not been in sorrow,\nI thought him to be, in appearance,\nIn shape, form, and also stature,\nThe most beautiful and passing,\nThat nature ever made,\nAnd like a man,\nWith a face and countenance the most gracious,\nTo be loved, happy, and envied. That he complained for lack of his desire,\nI heard him make a lamentation,\nAnd said, \"Alas, what thing is this,\nThat now am bound that once was free,\nAnd went at large at my election,\nNow am I caught under subjection,\nTo become a true homager\nTo God of love, wherever I came here,\nFelt in my heart, nothing of love's pain,\nBut now, of new, within her fiery chain,\nI am embraced so that I may not strive,\nTo serve and love While I am alive.\nThe godly fresh in the temple yonder,\nI saw right now, that I had wonder,\nHow ever God, to reckon all,\nMight make a thing so celestial,\nSo angelic on earth to appear,\nFor with the streams of her eyes clear,\nI am wounded even to the heart,\nThat from death I may not assert,\nAnd most I marvel that so suddenly,\nI was so young to be at her mercy,\nWithout more, I must obey her lust,\nWhether she lists me to give or die,\nAnd take meekly my sudden adventure,\nFor since my life, my death, and also my cure,\nIs in her hand, it will not avail. To grasp again, for this battle,\nThe palm is hers, and plainly the victory,\nIf I rebelled, honor and glory meant nothing to me,\nI could not in any way achieve,\nSince I am bound, how should I prove it,\nTo turn away, I know it will not be,\nThough I am loose, at large I may not flee,\nOh god of love, how sharp is now thy arrow,\nHow cruelly and narrowly thou dost wound,\nAnd takest no heed my sorrows to find,\nBut like a bird that flies at its desire,\nUntil suddenly within the panther's grasp,\nShe is caught, though late she was at large,\nAnother tempest now foretells my barge,\nNow up now down, with wind it is so blow,\nSo am I possessed and almost overcome,\nDriven in darkness of many various waves,\nAlas, when will this tempest abate,\nTo clear the skies of my adversity,\nThe lodestar when I may not see,\nIt is so hidden with clouds that it is black,\nAlas, when will this torment abate,\nI cannot wait, for who is hurt anew,\nAnd bleeds inward till he becomes pale of hue. And his wound is unwarily fresh and green,\nAnd he is not accustomed to the harm's keen\nMighty Cupid, who can so daunt hearts,\nThat no man may boast in battle but only by meekness.\nFor struggle and sturdiness avail not.\nSo I may say that with a look I am old,\nAnd have no power to fight, though I would.\nThus I stand ever between life and death,\nTo love and serve while I have breath.\nIn such a place where I dare not complain,\nLike him who is in torment and in pain,\nAnd knows not to whom to confide,\nFor there I have most earnestly set my cure,\nI dare not well for fear and for danger.\nAnd how shall I tell the fire\nOf love's brand, kindled in my breast?\nThus I am murdered and slain, act 2,\nSo secretly within my thought.\nO lady Venus, whom I have sought,\nShow me now what is best for me to do,\nWho am distraught with myself so,\nThat I care not what way to tear,\nSave by myself alone for to mourn.\nHanging in balance between hope and fear,\nWithout comfort, remedy, or advice. For hope I pursue and try,\nAnd fear answers nay,\nNow with hope I am set aloft,\nBut fear and danger hard and not soft\nHave overcome my trust and brought me down,\nNow at my large / now fettered in prison,\nNow in torment / now in sovereign glory,\nNow in paradise and now in purgatory,\nAs man despaired in a double state,\nBorn up with hope / and then anon danger,\nDraws me along / and says it shall not be,\nFor when I of my adversity\nAm bold sometimes to ask for mercy,\nThey come despair and teach me to learn\nA new lesson to hope full the contrary,\nThey are so diverse they will do me vary,\nAnd thus I stand dismayed in a trance,\nFor when hope would likely me entice,\nFear makes me tremble and dare not speak,\nAnd if it be that I do not outbreak,\nTo tell the harms that grieved me so sore,\nBut in myself I increase them more and more,\nAnd to be slain fully delights me,\nWhen of my death she is nothing to write.\nFor unless she plainly knows my pains,\nHow should she ever on my pains rue. Thus often I am urged\nTo tell her all / how I am grieved\nAnd to be bold and ask for mercy, but fear then awakens me\nAnd despair answers me again,\nThat it would be better for her to have disdained me\nTo die unknown to any sight\nAnd there with all, she bids hope arise\nAnd be bold and pray for grace\nAnd may all virtues be portrayed in her face\nIt is not sitting that pity would be behind\nAnd right away within myself I find\nA new plea imposed on me with fear\nThat so masters me that I see no progress\nBecause he says that my blood is hardened\nI am so simple and she is so good\nThus hope and fear within me will not cease\nTo plead and strive to remedy my harm\nBut at the hardest yet or I am dead\nOf my distress since I can no longer read\nBut stand dumb and still as any stone\nTo before the goddess I will hasten on\nAnd complain without further sermon\nThough death be fine and full conclusion\nOf my request, yet I will try\nAnd right away I thought I would say\nThis woeful man as I have memory. Enter an oratory and kneel down in full humility before the goddess, beginning at once with a pitiful plea:\n\n\"Redress of sorrow, O Citherea,\nYou who delight in the streams of your playful heat,\nGladdest the mount of all Cyrene,\nWhere you have chosen your palaces and seat,\nWhose bright beams are wetted and wept in the river of Elycon, the well,\nHave now pity on what I shall tell you,\nAnd do not despise me, your benevolent one.\nMy mortal woe, O lady, my goddess,\nOf grace and bounty, and merciful pity,\nBe graciously inclined to help and to redress,\nAnd though I cannot well express\nThe grievous harms that I feel in my heart,\nI have never yet had the less mercy of my pain.\nThis is to say, O clear heavens, light,\nNext to the sun, serene, have your spear,\nSince you have hurt me with your dreadful might\nBy the influence of your beams clear,\nAnd that I, by your service so dear,\nBrought me into this malady,\nBe gracious and shape the remedy,\nFor in you, in whom all this faith is holy.\" And I know best my sorrow and all my pain,\nFear of death keeps me from asking mercy or complaining,\nNow with your fire, her heart so constrains me,\nUnless I die at least, so she may know my request,\nHow I desire nothing in this world but to serve fully to the end,\nThat goodly fresh, so womanly of her,\nWithout change while I have life and mind,\nAnd that you would grant such grace,\nThat she would not despise my service,\nSince I may not restrain myself from serving her,\nAnd since hope has given me courage,\nTo love her best and never repent,\nWhile I live with all my infirmities,\nTo fear and serve, though danger never asserts,\nHere upon you know my intent,\nHow I have vowed fully in my mind,\nTo be her man, though I find no mercy.\nIn my heart printed is her shape, form, and semblance,\nHer port, her cheer, her goodness more and more,\nHer womanhood and also her gentleness,\nHer trough, her faith, and her kindness,\nWith all virtues each set in her degree. There is no lack, only pity's lacking in her constant demeanor.\nHer look benign and pleasing to all,\nA playful mirror to those who will be stable,\nDiscreet, prudent, full of wisdom,\nA mirror of wit, ground of governance,\nA world of beauty contained in her face,\nWhose persistent look races through my heart,\nAnd over this wonder, secret and true,\nA well of freedom and right bounteous,\nEver increasing in virtue new and new,\nOf speech goodly, and wonder gracious,\nDevoid of pride, not pouring out contemptuously,\nAnd if I shall not soon feign,\nSave upon mercy I make no complaint,\nWhat wonder the one, though I am with fear,\nInwardly surprised to ask for grace,\nFrom her who is the queen of womanhood,\nFor well I know in such a high place,\nIt will not be, therefore I withdraw,\nAnd take lowly what woe I am ordered,\nUntil she of pity takes me to her care,\nBut one thing I openly declare here,\nWhether she grants me life or death,\nI will not grumble, but humbly accept it,\nAnd thank God and willingly obey. For by my truth, my heart shall never deny,\nLife or death, mercy or danger,\nTo be at her desire, as true as Antony to Cleopatra,\nOr Pyramus to his beloved Thebes,\nWho was faithful till they both met their deaths,\nRight so shall I be, until Antropos kills me,\nFor as long as her faithful man is found,\nTo my last, like my heart is bound,\nTo love as well as Achilles to Polyxena,\nOr Hercules to Deianira who felt the sharp shot,\nRight so shall I speak, meaning what I say,\nWhile I live, fearing and serving her,\nFor lack of mercy though she may torment me,\nNow, Lady Venus, to whom nothing is hidden,\nNeither high nor low,\nMay nothing be concealed from your privacy,\nFrom whom my meaning is not now secret,\nBut know fully that my intent is true,\nAnd like my truth, now pay the penalty.\nFor more grace than presumption, I ask mercy,\nAnd nothing of duty,\nHumbly I submit, without offense. That you incline your benevolence,\nYour audience to my humility,\nTo grant me that to you I call\nSome day release yet of my pains all,\nAnd since you have the reward and the meed\nOf all lovers plentifully in your hand,\nNow of grace and pity take heed,\nOf my distresses / that am under your bond,\nSo lowly bound / as you well understand,\nIn that place where I took first my wound,\nOf pity, suffer my health may be found,\nThat like as she me hurt with a sight,\nRight so with health let her sustain me,\nAnd as the streams of her eyes bright,\nWhom once my heart with wounds sharp and keen,\nThrough persed have and yet be fresh and green,\nSo as she me hurt, let her me succor,\nOr else certainly I may not long endure,\nFor lack of speech I can say you no more,\nI have matter but I cannot express,\nMy wit is dull to tell all my sorrow.\nA mouth I have / And yet for all my pain,\nFor want of words I may not now attain,\nTo tell half / that does my heart grieve,\nMercy deferred / till she me releases,\nBut this the effect of my matter final. With death or mercy to find, for heart, body, thought, life, and all,\nWith all my reason and full mind I bind,\nFive wits of one assent I bring,\nTo her service with no strife,\nAnd make her princess of my death or life.\nNow I pray, in truth and pity,\nO goodly planet, O lady Venus bright,\nThat your son, Cupid, with his might,\nAnd with his clear brand of light,\nSet her heart aflame and mark,\nAs once you kindled me with a spark.\nMay each one and with the same fire,\nShe be hit, as I now burn and melt,\nSo that her heart be inflamed with desire,\nThat she may know by feeling how I suffer,\nFor surely, plainly, if she felt,\nThe very heat that does my heart inflame.\nI hope, in truth, she will do me grace,\nAnd there with Venus, as I thought,\nToward this man, full benevolently,\nCast her eye, like as she tore,\nOf his disease, and said, \"Since it is so,\nThat thou so humbly with our beasts dost obey.\" Toward thy help I will soon apply,\nAnd my son Cupid, who is so blind,\nHe shall be fully helping to perform,\nThy whole desire, that nothing be behind,\nNothing left, so we shall reform,\nThis pitiful complaint, which makes thee mourn,\nThat she, for whom thou sorrowest most in heart,\nShall through her mercy release all thy pain,\nWhen she sees time, through our persuasion,\nBe not hasty, but suffer all things well,\nFor in abiding, through lowly obedience,\nLies full redress, of all that thou now feel,\nAnd she shall be as true as any steel,\nTo thee alone, by our might and grace,\nIf thou wilt humbly abide a little space,\nBut understand that all her cherishing\nShall be grounded upon honesty,\nThat no wight shall by any compacting\nDamage her in any degree,\nFor neither mercy, ruth nor pity,\nShe shall not have nor take of the none head,\nFurther than belongs to her womanhood,\nBe not astonished by any willfulness,\nNor despised by this dissolution,\nLate reason bridle lust with buxomness,\nWithout griping or rebellion. For joy shall follow all this passion.\nWho can endure torment and suffering but shall follow his cure.\nShe shall love best of all for this reason.\nI will inspire her in her breast, in an honest way with full intention.\nThrough tender affection, her heart shall be fully turned towards you.\nBecause I know that you mean truth.\nGo now to her, where she stands aside.\nWith humble demeanor, put yourself in her grace.\nBeforehand, let hope be your guide.\nAlthough fear may accompany you, it shall not hinder your pace.\nIt sits well, but look that you do not despair and give up\nBefore reaching her presence.\nMercy shall pave your way.\nAnd sincere meaning should precede your message.\nTo awaken pity in her heart.\nAnd secrecy shall further your journey.\nWith humble demeanor, approach the wise one.\nShall men be with me, and I myself also.\nFortune shall favor, or tell your tale.\nGo forth promptly, and be of good cheer.\nSpeechless, nothing may help you. Be good and trustworthy, and be nothing in the way as I help in this need. At least for her good head, she shall incline her audience and lower them to you until you finish your tale. For well you know if I shall not feign. Without speaking, you may have no mercy. For whoever wishes to alleviate his private pain, he must humbly draw out his heart, disclose his wound, and show it to his healer, or else die for lack of speech. For he who is in misfortune recluses himself, and I hold him a wretch. And she may not bring her heart to peace unless your complaint stretches to hers. Would you be cured and not seek salvation? It will not be, for no one may attain bliss if he chooses to live in pain. Therefore, go forth in a humble manner and before your lady, kneel down and in truth devise your words, so that she may have compassion. For she who is of such high renown, in all virtues as a queen and sovereign, in womanhood shall rue your pain. And when the goddess had told me this lesson,\nI beheld a man standing in a trance,\nTo see the manner and appearance,\nAnd all the cheer of this woeful man,\nWho was of hue deathly pale and wan,\nWith fear suppressed in his own thought,\nMaking countenance as though he felt nothing,\nOf life or death or whatsoever befall him,\nSo much fear he bore on every side,\nTo put him forth to tell his pain,\nTo his lady or others to complain,\nWhat woe he felt, torment or disease,\nWhat deadly sorrow his heart did see,\nFor the sake of which his woe as I recount,\nMy pen I feel quake as I write,\nOf him I had such great compassion,\nTo rehearse his lamentation,\nThat unless I with myself strive,\nI want the skill to discern his pains.\nAlas, to whom shall I call for help,\nNot to the Muses, for they are all,\nHelp in joy and not in sorrow,\nAnd in matters that they delight in also,\nWherefore they will not, as now, direct my style,\nNor inspire me. Alas, the hard while,\nI can no further but to the sibyl,\nAnd to her sister, to call help upon. That be goddesses of torment and pain,\nLet your tears into my ink flow,\nWith woeful words my paper to blot,\nThis woeful matter not to paint but spot,\nTo tell the manner of this dreadful man,\nUpon his complaint when he first began,\nTo tell his lady when he began to declare,\nHis hidden sorrows and his evil fare,\nThat at his heart constrained so sore,\nThe effect of which was this without more,\nPrincess of youth and flour of gentility,\nExample of virtue grounded in courtesy,\nOf beauty, root queen and also mistresses,\nTo all women how they shall behave,\nAnd sincere mirror exemplify,\nThe right way of port and of womanhood,\nWhat I shall say, of mercy take heed,\nBeseeching first unto your high nobles,\nWith quaking heart of my inward fear,\nOf grace and pity and not of right wisdom,\nOf berry route to help in this need,\nThis is to say, O well of goodly head,\nThat I need not like though you do me die,\nSo ye list first to hear what I say,\nThe dreadful stroke, the great force and might,\nOf god Cupid that no man may rebel. \"I cannot counsel, nor appeal to any greater power, my hidden wound or my heart, but am bound to serve you until last. For life or death, I am entirely yours, as the mighty goddess Venus would willingly be when I made my vow. She compelled me without change to serve you and never deny. Wherever you list to grant me ease or pain, I can only cry for mercy from you, my lady, and change for no new reason. Before I die, may you have pity on my true and secret self, for I will be found serving you as best I can, and with all humility in every degree. To you alone, as man has ever been to his lady, from the time I began, and shall continue without deceit. While I live, by God and by my truth.\" For I had to yield suddenly\nThan you offend in any manner way\nAnd suffer pains inward privately\nThan my service as now you should discard\nFor I right not will ask in any way\nBut for your servant you would accept me\nAnd when I transgress / goodly me correct\nAnd for to grant of mercy the prayer\nOnly of grace and womanly pity\nFrom day to day that I might learn\nYou to please / and therewith all that you\nWhen I do amiss / list for to teach me\nIn your service how that I may amend\nFrom henceforth and never you offend\nFor unto me it does now suffice\nThat for your man you would receive me\nFully to be as you list devise\nAnd as further as my wits can conceive\nAnd therewith all likewise as you prove\nThat I be true / to reward me of grace\nOr else is to punish after my transgression\nAnd if so be that I may not attain\nUnto your mercy / yet grant at the least\nIn your service for all my woe and pain\nThat I may yield after my behest\nThis is all and some the end of my request\nOtherwise your servant to save Or I may be mercifully buried,\nAnd when this benevolent one in earnest conceives\nThe complaint of this man,\nJust as the fresh red rose new begins\nTo grow in color from her true heart,\nHer blood was astonished, and it flowed\nThrough genuine fear, she was abashed,\nAnd humbly she cast her eyes toward him,\nOf her benevolence,\nSo that no word passed her lips,\nEither for haste or fear, mercy or pity,\nFor so she seemed in honesty,\nUnyielding in anything from her start,\nSo much reason was contained in her heart,\nUntil at last she revealed,\nWhen she felt truth and meaning,\nAnd to him she spoke most beautifully and said,\nOf your command and your meaning, well,\nAnd your service so faithful and every day,\nWhich you now offer me so humbly,\nWith all my heart, I thank you for your kindness,\nThat for so much your intent is set,\nOnly in virtue, you have bridled under fear,\nYou must, by right, fare the better,\nOf your request, and the swifter speed.\nBut as for me, I may, because of womanhood. I grant you no further authority in my intention,\nThan as my lady Venus consents. For she well knows I am not able,\nTo do anything but by her command. I am drowned under her dreadful charge,\nHer pleasure to obey without variation,\nBut for my part, it is a pleasure,\nTo the goddess, indeed, in your service,\nI accept you fully into my service,\nFor she has my heart in submission,\nWhich is yours and will never repent,\nIn thought or deed, in my choice.\nWitness Venus, who knows my intention,\nFully to submit to her judgment and domain,\nAs she sees fit to dispose and ordain,\nRightly as she knows the truth between us two,\nUntil the time that Venus sees fit to provide,\nA way for our hearts to find ease,\nBoth you and I must humbly submit,\nAnd take it in good grace, and not of our disease,\nTo grumble again until she sees fit to appease,\nOur hidden woe that constrains us,\nFrom day to day and our hearts suffer pain,\nIn enduring woe and all affray,\nWho can endure it is found a remedy,\nAnd for the best, delay is often made. Er men be healed of their malady\nWherefore, as Venus lists this matter to proceed,\nLet us agree and take all for the best\nTil her pleasure, see both our hearts in rest\nFor she is that bindeth and can constrain\nHearts in one, this fortunate planet\nAnd can release lovers from her pain\nTo turn fully her bitter into sweet\nNow blissful goddess, down from thy seat\nUs to fortune cast thy streams, shine\nLike as thou knowest, we truly mean\nAnd there with all as I mine eyes cast\nTo perceive the manner of these two\nTo fore the goddess meekly as they past\nI thought I saw with a golden chain\nVenus, anon embrace and constrain\nHer both her hearts in one, for to persevere\nWhile they live and never to disperse\nSaying right thus with a benign cheer,\nSince it is so, ye be under my might\nMy will is thus, that ye, my dear daughter,\nFull accept this man as it is right\nUnto your grace anon here in my sight\nThat ever hath been so lowly you to serve\nIt is good skill your thanks that he deserves. Your honor and your lady,\nHim to cherish, it sits you right well,\nSince he is bound under hope and fear,\nAmidst my chain that is forged of steel,\nYou must show mercy, that he may feel,\nIn you some grace of his long service,\nAnd that in haste, as I shall devise,\nThis is to say that you should heed,\nHow he is most faithful and true to you,\nOf all your servants, and asks for nothing in return,\nFrom you he asks but that you may rue,\nFor he has vowed to change for no new,\nFor life or death, for joy or pain,\nAlways to be yours, as you may ordain,\nWherefore you must, or else it would be wrong,\nTo your grace fully receive him,\nIn my presence, because he has been yours for so long,\nHoly be yours, as you may conceive,\nThat from your mercy, if you pardon him,\nI will myself record cruelty,\nIn your person, and great lack of pity,\nLate find him for his truth than again,\nFor long service, reward him with grace,\nAnd late show pity, put down his pain,\nFor time is now dangerous to delay,\nOut of your heart, and mercy in its place. And love for love the world well besmeared,\nTo give again, and this I plainly deem.\nAnd as for him, I will be his borrower\nOf lowliness and busy attendance.\nHow he shall be both even and moreover,\nFull diligent to do his observance,\nAnd ever intending you to do playance.\nWherefore, my son, listen and take heed,\nFully to behold as I shall the rede.\nAnd first of all, my will is that thou art\nFaithful in heart and constant as a wall,\nTrue, humble, meek, and therewith all secret,\nWithout change in part or in all.\nAnd for no torment that the fallen shall\nTempest thee not, but ever in steadfastness\nRoot thy heart, and void doubleness.\nAnd furthermore, have in reverence\nAll these women for thy lady's sake,\nAnd suffer never that men do them offense\nFor love of one, but evermore undertake\nThem to defend whether they sleep or wake,\nAnd ever ready to hold them party\nAgainst all those who envy them.\nBe courteous always and lowly of thy speech,\nTo rich and poor alike, always fresh and well seen,\nAnd ever busy in seeking\nAll true lovers to relieve of her pain. You are one, without reproach, for love has the power to daunt hearts and bring them close. Be merry and void of all sadness. Take no thought but to be joyful and not pensive for any sorrows. Let gladness chase away sadness when wooing approaches, and let mirth be abundant. Manhood aids, and though you feel pain, do not let many know of your heart. Seek all virtues and shun vices for the love of one. Do not let tales cause your heart to remember. Words are but wind that will soon pass. Here she stands, demanding that you pay this debt. Whether you are absent or present, let no other beauty enter your heart but mine. Since I have given her beauty beyond all others, in virtue to shine, consider how men are wont to prize such pure gold. Delay no longer, put it to the test. But time will come, and you shall endure for your suffering. Be wise and take for your reward\nYour life's joy and all your sufficiency\nSo that good hope ever leads you\nLet no despair hinder you with fear\nBut always trust in her mercy's ground\nSince none but she can heal your sorrow\nEach hour and time. week, day and year\nBe like, faithful, and never vary\nWait a while and then of your desire\nThe time is near that shall delight you most\nAnd let no sorrow in your heart bite\nFor no delay, since you for your reward\nShall rejoice in peace, the flower of womanhood\nThink how she is this world's sun and light\nThe star of beauty, the flower also of fairness\nBoth and root and also the ruby bright\nHearts to gladden, troubled by darkness\nAnd how I have made her your hearts' empress\nTherefore be glad to be under her bond\nNow come near, daughter, and take him by the hand\nUntil this time that after all these hours\nOf his torment he may be glad and light\nWhen by your grace you take him to be yours\nFor even more, soon here in my sight\nAnd I will also, as it is right. Without further delay, in my presence, kiss him anon, so that there may be release from all your old pains, assuredly under joy. Let one look be of your both hearts, shut with my key of gold so well purified. Only in sign that you have recovered your whole desire in this holy place, within my temple in the year of grace, eternally be bound by assurance. The knot is tied / that may not be untied. And moreover, the gods of this alliance, Saturn, Jove, and Mars, as it is found, and Cupid who first wounded you, shall bear record and moreover avenge, on which of you his truth first breaks. Therefore, set your places fully, while you have life and mind, of one accord unto your lives' end. If the spirit of newfangledness in any way assails or moves you to bring in doubleness. Upon your truth to give a battle,\nLet not your courage nor your force fail,\nNor any assaults you flee or remove,\nFor unassailed no man may prove truth,\nFor white is whiter if it be set by black,\nAnd sweet is sweeter after bitterness,\nAnd falsehood ever is driven and put back,\nWhere truth is rotten without doubleness,\nWithout proof there may be no secrecy,\nOf love or hate and therefore of you two,\nShall love be more, for it was bought with woo,\nAnd every thing is had more in dignity,\nAnd more of price when it is there bought,\nAnd love stands more in security,\nWhen it is to fore with pain, woo, and thought,\nConquered was first when it was sought,\nAnd every conquest has its excellence,\nIn its pursuit as it finds resistance,\nAnd so to you more sweet and agreeable,\nShall love be found. I do you plainly assure,\nWithout grudging that you were sufferable,\nSo lowly, meek, patiently to endure,\nThat all atones I shall now do my cure,\nFor now and ever your hearts so to bind,\nThat naught but death shall the knot unwind. In this matter, I should no longer dwell,\nCome atone and do as I have said.\nMy daughter, who is of a bountiful well,\nIn heart and thought be glad and well pleased,\nTo grant him grace who has and shall obey,\nYour desires, and I will do the same,\nBound and undertake, as they stand before,\nThe gods, this fair and well-pleasing one,\nHer humble servant took kindly by the hand,\nAs he before her meekly knelt,\nAnd kissed him, fulfilling every request,\nFrom end to end in full thriftiness,\nAs you before have heard Venus decree,\nThus is this man to enjoy and all pleasure,\nFrom heavens and from his old pains,\nReconciled and has sufficient grace,\nOf her who ever meant well and would,\nIn good faith, I tell you, should\nThe inward joys did her heart's embrace,\nFor all my life to tell would be too little space,\nFor he has won her, the one he loves best,\nAnd she, in grace, has taken him in pity,\nAnd thus their hearts are both at rest,\nWithout change or mutability. And Venus has confirmed all that I shall longer tarry these two in one and never to vary. For the joy in the temple about this accord, there was laude and honor within and without, given to Venus and to the delight of Cupid. Caliope and all her sisters in their harmony soon magnified the goddesses with songs. And all at once with loud and sharp notes, they honored her and showed reverence. Orpheus among them, with his harp, began to touch the strings with diligence. And Amphion, who had such excellence in music, always did his best to please and quench Venus the goddess. Only because of the affinity between these two, not lusty to separate, every lover of love and by degree, prayed to them from thenceforth and ever, that the love may persist without end in such a way as they desire, and more increase that which was hard for woman. The goddesses hearing this request, as she who knew the pure intention of both, made a behest. Perpetually, by confirmation,\nWhenever they live of one affection,\nThey shall endure; there is no more to say,\nNeither shall they have reason to complain,\nSo furthermore, in our eternal sight,\nThe goddesses have in our presence,\nFully devised through their delight,\nAnd holy concluded by her influence,\nThat by their might and just prudence,\nThe love of them, by grace and also fortune,\nWith no change shall forever continue,\nOf which grant the temple this envision,\nThrough their high comfort of those that were present,\nAnon was begun with a melodious sound,\nIn the name of those that truth in love meant,\nA new ballad in full good intent,\nTo forewarn the goddesses with notices clear,\nSing right this anon as you shall hear,\nFair stars that with your pure light,\nAnd with the sherry-singing of your clear streams,\nCause hearts to be light,\nOnly by chinning of your glad face.\nNow, lord and lady, dear one,\nBe to your name that has without sin,\nThis man fortunately won his lady,\nWilliam planet, O Esperus, so bright. That woeful hearts can appease and quiet,\nAnd ever be ready by your grace and might,\nTo help all those who by love so dear,\nAnd have the power to set honor on fire,\nHonor to you of all that are here,\nThat have this man's lady made to win,\nO mighty goddess day star after night,\nGladdening the morning when you appear,\nTo banish darkness by the freshness of your sight,\nOnly with the twinkling of your pleasant cheer,\nTo us we thank lovers that bring here,\nThat you this man and never for to part,\nFortune has / his lady for to win,\nAnd with the noise an heavenly melody,\nWith that they made in her harmony,\nThroughout the temple for this man's sake,\nOut of my sleep I did awake,\nAnd for astonished knew not as though no redemption,\nFor sudden change oppressed with fear,\nI thought I was cast in a trance,\nSo clean a way was then my remembrance,\nOf all my dream; whereof great thought and woe,\nI had in my heart and knew not what to do,\nFor heaviness, because I had lost the sight\nOf her that I all the long night\nHad dreamed of in my mind. I made great lamentation because I had never in my life before seen anyone so fair since I was born. For love of whom I can express, I purpose here to make and write a little treatise and process in her price, for women only for her sake. I command them to come to her presence as it is fitting and right. I pray to her who is so bountiful, full of virtue and gracious, of womanhood and merciful pity. This simple treatise I will take in hand until I have leisure to present my vision to her high renoun. I will expound my aforementioned vision and tell in plain the significance as it comes to my remembrance. So that she may look upon it after my lady. Now go your way, you little rude look, to her presence as I command, and first of all recommend to her and to her excellence, praying to her that it may not offend. If only a word in the aforementioned be mine, I will correct it when she pleases to direct me again. I mean that benign and good-looking. Now go thy way and put the in her grace\n.Explicit the temple of glas.", "creation_year": 1477, "creation_year_earliest": 1477, "creation_year_latest": 1477, "source_dataset": "EEBO", "source_dataset_detailed": "EEBO_Phase1"},
+{"content": "When I reflect on the many people who err grievously in the way of virtuous governance, I have supposed in my heart that I ought to advise and counsel them prudently to be virtuous in their living and bring themselves into honor. Therefore, my dear child, I shall now tell you how your soul should be acquainted with its good and virtues in every way. Read and understand, for he who reads and knows not what it means is wasting his time on empty words. Pray to God and praise him with all your heart. Reverence your father and mother, love them well, and may you never come to harm. To listen to men is counsel, but keep their teachings until you are called upon to be clean without offense. Greet gladly him who is more worthy than you, and yield your place to him. Fear your master. Keep what belongs to you. Be ever mindful to love your wife. Please be gentle with your words, keep your promises as your life, be temperate with wine and do not be excessive, your wife's words hold no authority, in folly sleep no more than necessary, read books, learn what you read, in good books you shall find redemption, and what you read in your mind you shall keep, do not let anyone make you angry, do well to God and He will reward you, do not be wicked nor associate with the wicked, stand in the place of confession, judge rightly and be advised by the wise, trust in luck, flee from danger, keep your promises, never regret, speak few words at feasts, look for your vengeance to be with the least, remember those who have done good, love every person and this shall advance you, consider my master this little treatise, which is full of wit and wisdom, accomplish this matter, think it is translated for your reverence. Enroll yourself therefore in your awareness, and desire to know what Catherine meant,\nWhen you have read this, let not your heart be thence,\nBut do as this says with all your whole intent.\n.This is the end of the little Catherine's book.\nIdaeus is among us to sing songs,\nThis one in particular should be revered with a pure mind,\nFor God is in the wit of man and gives him understanding,\nAs the poets say, therefore, you shall subdue\nYour heart to your sovereign lord and king,\nAnd primarily a bull all other things,\nGiving him praise / honor and reverence,\nWhich has endowed him with excellence,\nAlways be vigilant, never given to sleep,\nNo long rest gives sustenance to vices,\nAwake, my child, and love no sloth,\nIn much sleep look thou never delight,\nIf you purpose to worship, to remain long in sleep and sloth,\nVices are excited in men.\nIt makes men dull, it makes them unprofitable,\nIt fosters up filths of the flesh,\nIt pales also and wastes fresh blood.\nVirtue is the first thing to be restrained by the tongue,\nThe one next to God who knows reason should keep silent. Trusteth we truly the first of virtues is to be still and keep thy tongue in check,\nFrom speaking much harm may fall.\nLeave me well, this is as the gospel true,\nWhoever can endure temptation to forswear,\nAnd rest with reason, this is the true text,\nTo God above, a man is next in worth,\nSpurn, opposing thee, thou contrarian be,\nIt will profit none who disagrees with himself,\nAdvise thee well, that thou never transgress,\nThy own sentence, for thereof bring shame,\nSay not one thing and then the contrary repeat,\nSuch contradiction will make thy worship lame,\nWhere steadfastness will cause thy good fame,\nFor he shall never agree with man in life,\nWho with himself will always repugnate and strive,\nConsider the lives of men and manners also,\nBoth of thyself and other without,\nIn midlife thou shalt find him\nWho in some part is not virtue's fool,\nBlame not him therefore if thou dost right,\nSince on earth lives no one without fault. If you have things that seem dear, set aside their usefulness in due time.\nIf you suppose that they will drown and grieve you, though they be expensive and great in price,\nDiscard such things if they hinder your profit,\nIf you want to rule wisely,\nAvoid them in every way, for it is wiser in true poverty to prefer profit to such riches,\nBe constant and lenient as the situation demands,\nA wise man changes his ways to fit the times,\nIt is a good lesson for the unwise,\nA man should be tempered with constance,\nAnd be glad and merry afterwards,\nNot always sad or light of countenance,\nA man may be cheerful and often find advantage,\nAt each time as the thing requires,\nSo the wise man looks at and cherishes this,\nDo not believe your wife's servants too readily when she asks,\nA woman, who is your wife, often loves what she hates,\nDo not always give credence to your wife,\nFor with a sharper tongue than a sword or knife,\nShe may scold your servant, though he has done no offense,\nYou will find in him a good lesson for this sentence. The wife will hate and cause harm\nTo him who loves his husband dearly.\nCome what may, do not hesitate to warn him,\nEven if he grumbles and frowns in response,\nAnd threatens you with three.\nYet do not hold back for all such displeasure,\nTo teach him to amend his behavior.\nAs you began, it is a mistake.\nAnd this is a friendly teaching I know.\nDo not contend with verbose people with words.\nWisdom is given to all, but only a few understand.\nAgainst wordy people, you will find them full of wind.\nDo not strive with them, it may not be profitable.\nSuch rash people are blind in their conceits.\nThe wiles of words avail not a bit.\nIn many words there is often much wisdom.\nFor to every person is given speech.\nAnd yet the wise are often seeking.\nLove others as yourself,\nSo be good to the good, lest evil follow you.\nLove other men and keep them in good favor,\nExtend your love most to yourself.\nLook upon no person as more dear. Than thy estate for that thou shalt offend\nAnd hurt thyself and other people amend\nBut ever cherish other and love them so\nThat to thyself thou findest no foe\nRumors flee and do not begin anew author\nNo man is harmed by silence, it is beneficial to have spoken\nNew tidings that bring sorrow as the wind\nEscaping my child with all thy diligence\nBe never busy seeking new tidings\nSuch novelty often causes offense\nIt is not wit, it is not significance\nIt harms not a man to be at peace\nBut it does harm to put his tongue in press\nRemember the promise you made, do not break it\nRare is faith, therefore many speak much\nDo not make a promise of other men's words\nRemember well that a promise is uncertain\nBut if thou keep thine, thou shalt be the least\nTo serve thy behest, do thy best care\nTrust not the word of every creature\nSome man's faith is easy to break\nFor many people think not as they speak\nBe mindful of any man who praises thee as judge\nTrust in thyself more than in others\nWith flattering words when falsehood feeds thee\nBe not blind for his false flattery. Late thou own ne'er reason always thy judgment be,\nAnd in effect, if thy estate be high,\nThough fuel with his craft will smile more than the eye,\nIn all thy life thou ne'er give credence\nMore to thyself than to thy conscience,\nOfficium alterius memorare memento,\nAnd to others when thou hast benefited, be thou also,\nWhen thou seest another man is desert,\nAs for his good deeds commenceable,\nIn every place be prevailing or a part,\nSuch a man with thee good word enable,\nAnd though he have been away,\nYet of thy good deed make thou no advance,\nAnd then shall other men thy name envelop,\nMultorum cum factis et dictis resenseris,\nFac tibi fuccurrant iuvenis que feceris ipse,\nAnd if thou live long an old man shalt thou be,\nAge will approach maugre who says nay,\nThen perceive, behold about, and see,\nHow aged folk are treated with all day,\nAnd so provide for thyself a say,\nInto stooping age when thou art crept,\nThing mayest thou help thee in thy youth was kept,\nNe cures si quis tacito sermone loquatur,\nConscius ipse sibi de se putat omnia dicere. Charge not though you see men speak softly,\nNo change your countenance oft, it is best,\nIn secret wise to speak than cry aloud,\nA man should see always where he is set,\nAnd after that, so should he speak or let,\nBut to the suspicion of harm it seems,\nMen speak of him who none other deems,\nCome forth, you falcon,\nNo last respond like first,\nWhen fortune has given the felicity,\nAnd set you on high, then beware of a fall,\nThen sue often such sharp adversity,\nFalse fortune turns as does a ball,\nIn her trust have thou no certainty at all,\nHer perilous play turns sometimes to grace,\nFor the end is woe that began that game,\nCome dubious and fragile is our borrowed life,\nDo not place hope in the death of him,\nWho may the future chance favor,\nExigun. Remember to praise gently and fully one who gives a little gift with goodwill,\nFrom a friend who lives in poverty.\nReceive such a gift with right good cheer; it is enough and that should suffice.\n\nA naked infant, which nature created,\nRemember to bear patiently the burden of the poor.\nSince nature, which is your first teacher,\nBrought him into the world in this state,\nAlthough you can never accomplish riches,\nYou are always held in poverty's snare.\nYet no force makes nor causes too much care.\nTake patiently poverty for the best.\n\nRiches are not of nature but of the earth increased,\nFear not her who is the last end of life.\nYes, death is the end of every creature,\nAnd no one on earth shall escape from her.\nYet do not let death trouble you with over-anxious care.\nTo live on earth is but a jest.\nIf you shall always after death so desire,\nConsider it well to die, but modify your thought. Or elde thou live away the right night?\nIf to thee no friend answers for thy merits,\nDo not accuse but restrain thyself.\nFor thy desert, if no friend thanks thee,\nI mean when thou hast done thy force and pain\nTo other people, friendly to be,\nIf they cannot return thanks for the same,\nWithdraw thy hand and so restrain thyself.\nBlame not thy god for their unkindness,\nBut for such men do less afterwards.\nGive not thyself what thou seekest to withhold,\nThat which thou hast may it always serve thee.\nSince no rich man leaves any where,\nIf he consumes all and wastes,\nBut poverty will grieve sore and dearly,\nTherefore, my child, such goods as thou hast,\nLet not them soon out of thy hand be taken,\nLest thy good hereafter will fail.\nWhat thou canst give, do not promise twice,\nBe not fickle while thou wouldst be good,\nBe not hasty to lend a thing twice,\nAnd fail him once, that is but villainy,\nIf thou mayst lend, do it in friendly way,\nSuch a boon from a friend both to be wise. Of thy good deeds clamor thee, be not windy nor overly wordy. If you wish to appear a good man and seem so, let not your words and heart be unfaithful friends. You too act in a similar manner, for art is deceived by art. And if you find a man of doubleness, the false one dissimulates if you see: with printed words and a heart full of falsehood, you cannot better betray his eye than to serve him with your own treachery. With words fair and friendly to depart, you seem the same and are beguiled by art. Do not trust men too much with sweet speech. The flute plays a sweet tune but deceives the bird with its art. Prove you never a man by overly fair speech. For under fair words is often annexed guile. The word is gay, but friendship is to be sought. As it is said, such craft is in this Isle. Yet, think if when they come together, the whistling foul makes a merry song. And so the bird beguiles him among them. When you have obtained children, instruct them so that they can defend their lives when they have neither wealth nor arts. Look in her youth rather than appearance, so that they may learn\nIn some craft and mastery that they may acquire\nHer living and defend also, her life which ever needs it, and that they may attain virtue, for he who has no craft can\nOftentimes needs it and is in danger of every man\nQuod: it is vile to covet what is vile, put it not in your mind\nSo you will not know the covetous or the greedy man\nHave this thought, for it is often seen\nA thing of great value is often hated for its price\nAnd things of little worth benefit\nIn time coming may rise to great worth\nRemember well this and it always advises\nThus shall you best name the vice of chastity flame\nAnd other men shall not judge you ungenerously\nYou alone are to blame if you accuse yourself\nIt is shameful for a doctor to reprove himself\nAdvise well, let reason be your guide\nWhen you are among other people to blame\nThat such a default in them is not seen\nFor if it is, then you will have the shame\nA man's honor such a thing will reclaim\nIt is foul when a man would teach\nIf his deeds are against his words he preaches. Seek what is justly asked or appears honest\nFor it is foolish to ask for what can be rightfully denied\nLet your desire be grounded in right\nAnd ensure it never transgresses honesty\nThose who are misruled, interrupt them and inflict much woe\nWicked wrath engenders only hate\nServe obedience to the guilty one, even when he regrets his wrongdoing\nYou, in turn, should moderate yourself to be able to spare\nWhen your servant commits a fault\nEven if he cannot excuse his negligence\nYet, in your anger, do not make a hasty retaliation\nBut with your greater talent, take a pledge\nThus, you will find relief if you act thus\nand always by such measure\nThat you save those who are under your care\nHe who can be surpassed, sometimes conquers by force\nMaxima etem\u0101 morum semper pacientia virtus (Latin: The greatest virtue in morals is always patience)\nSuffering eases what was long ago said\nSuffer and maintain your intent\nThough you may overcome, do not act cruelly\nConquer through suffering and be patient\nBut never follow cruelty, for it is called a virtue with excellence. A person should live in humble patience\nConserve more than what has been obtained through labor\nLabor increases in damage when mortal\nDo not be stingy or prodigal\nConserve your things acquired through true labor\nIt is fair to be called liberal\nBut always avoid waste and be not extravagant\nDo not consume all your treasure in one hour\nWhen from your labor comes no advantage\nPoverty will assail you in haste\nBe friendly with dear friends and kind neighbors\nWhen you are fortunate, always be near to you\nDo not be like Senola, who would eat\nWith every man and feed him at his feast\nBut no man might taste of his food\nOr no one come to him but he to me\nBe free of your food but look that it is abundant\nDo not go further than you easily can reach\nBe ever your own friend, as Cato says certainly\nTake heed, sir, and see how this clerk\nEnters men with virtuous doctrine\nThe first part of this comprehensive work\nShines clearly in worship how they should\nGuide renewal straight as a line\nWhose precepts to observe if that you\nCan. And to his council, incline your hearts right in your old age. It shall be known to you, the virtuous form that men should convey,\nLo, in this life as a bride does a best,\nA man does not err here in this perilous way,\nStabilizing him as does a steadfast rest,\nAnd as sure guides that men worthiest,\nMann's living here to set in governance,\nThis sage Caton puts in remembrance:\n\n\"If you, Eluris, wish to know the cultus,\nRead Virgil's work, if you can,\nHerba:\n\nIf you, my child, wish to set your heart's delight,\nIn the earth to know the tillage and the culture,\nAnd if you will be perfect in knowledge,\nWhy some is arable and some also pasture,\nWhy some is fresh like flowers in picture,\nI advise you to study sadly for a while,\nIn the laureate poet, great Virgil,\n\n\"If you, Jupiter, wish to know the Roman wars,\nSeek Lucan, who describes Mars' battles.\"\n\nAnd you, having a desirous fresh courage,\nTo hear of Romans' noble worthiness,\nHow they vanquished the Carthaginians,\nAnd many other things through manly prowess. Than red Lucius well can he express\nWho bore him best in town and in the field,\nAnd who performed marvels under Mars' shield.\nSi quis amare libet vel discere amare legendo (If anyone loves to learn to love by reading)\nNaso, Macer, or Lucan, bring forth that which delights,\nAnd who, in this way,\nReveals the love songs of harp, pipe, and dance,\nSome in reading and other things of pleasure,\nSome courting love secretly and not revealing it,\nAnd some writing thus outside,\nBy observing certain ways it is deduced.\nBut yet, my left child, if in fortune\nYour heart is given to no such thing,\nOr it is not for your pleasure,\nThat Virgil, Macer, Lucan, or Naso brings.\nYet, so that you may be wise in your learning,\nIf you wish to give me audience,\nI shall show you the doctrine of wisdom.\nErgo ades que s (Therefore, my child, come near to me and learn)\nAnd I shall show you the true treasure\nOf wisdom if you wish to listen and hear,\nAnd how you shall endure in good estate,\nAnd lead your life holy according to God's pleasure. Therefore approach and learn this reading,\nTo be a man ever virtuous in living,\nSi potes, ignotis ecquo prodesse memento,\nIt is more useful to aid merits in a friend,\nThere is no one who can report further\nOf thy good deeds than a stranger can,\nMake him always welcome and show him cheer,\nAnd he shall with honor ever remain here,\nFor the unknown it profits sometimes to test,\nFriends now have it, it is a better thing\nThan enmity, any man to be a king,\nMitte arcana dei celum niquirere quid sit,\nSince thou art mortal, what are mortal cares,\nOf God's mystery and also of his working,\nMake never my child to go in inquiry,\nIt is folly for any man to muse on such things,\nDispute thou never upon thy gods' pursuing,\nFor all things must be under his governance,\nAnd since thou art a man clad in mortality,\nDispute thou of such things as,\nHe who fears death loses the joys of life,\nThe fear of death that is inordinate,\nI mean to fear it always and never cease,\nBeware of that I advise thee altogether,\nFor this is true as the gospel doubtless is. Whoever ponders death is always cheerless,\nWhen fear of death troubles any man,\nHe wastes his time and shortens his life,\nDo not strive in doubtful matters,\nAnger does not allow the mind to see the truth,\nFor what is uncertain to you,\nWhen you are angry, look not at it,\nBut first you should know the matter well,\nFor there is no person alive on earth but has a soul and is blue,\nAs quickly as wrath has kindled him in fire,\nThen can he not distinguish the truth for anger,\nLet sumptuous things be provided when they are desired by themselves,\nTime and the matter at hand demand it,\nAs time requires, make your expenditure,\nMeasure your hand according to the profit,\nOf time and also of the presence,\nSo that you spend no more than is necessary,\nAnd that spend like your heart is free,\nA man should weigh cost and make his spending,\nConsidering time and also the reward of cost,\nHe who flees from small things is carried away by a great river. The man is good and most commendable\nWho stands firmest here in this living\nWith a man's estate that holds him great\nPlenty and power to a degree are not tolerable\nFor then is the ship in the sea most secure\nWhat time the tide is most submissive\nQuod pudeat socios prudens celare memento\nNe plures culpant id quod tibi displicet uni\nIf you know anything that may bring shame\nKeep it secret and for nothing let it betray\nBe never too eager such things to proclaim\nOr publish as you know others will reprehend\nMake not all men guarantee on it and cry\nLest you make them suspect you to other unknown\nFor such false deals you may find now\nNolo putes prauos homines peccata lucrari\nTemporibus peccata latent et tempore patent\nIf you espie and see or perceive a transgression\nAnd also a scoundrel of misgovernance\nTrust well that sometime shall come an hour\nWhen for his deeds he shall suffer penance\nAccursed deed asks for wretch and vengeance\nThough wickedness for the time be\nYet at last it will be discovered. Corporis exigui vires contemnere noses,\nConsilio pollet qui vim natura negavit.\nThough sometimes nature has been unkind,\nAnd gives a man a small stature,\nYet remember, my child, and keep in mind,\nThat you should never despise that creature.\nFor God may send him fortune and good luck,\nAnd often they are allied with good counsel,\nTo whom nature has denied great strength.\nHoc faciunt stulti quos gloria vexat inanis.\nThou thyself also look not to praise or blame,\nBut let others alone, always after prudence.\nFor thy avowed honor shalt thou get none,\nBut have a fool as soon as thou art gone.\nA man to praise himself, as the school says,\nOr to despise much is a sign of a fool.\nLitis preterite noli maledicta referre.\nPost inimicicias iram meminisse malor.\nWrath of old should be kept out of mind,\nBe not about to make it live anew,\nBut the envious one has a kind of nature.\nSuch malice, my child, look you never revive,\nFor such malice of old wrath makes a strife,\nAnd he who remembers old enmity. A wicked man is he,\nLabors with insignificant time a long-lasting birth,\nWhen it is time for cost and great expense,\nBeware of waste and spend always in measure,\nHe who has no distinction between keeping or spending,\nMakes his goods not last long,\nFor the old proverb says, \"Measure is true,\"\nRemember, son, your goods may slip away,\nThat before were gained in many a Sunday they may,\nBeginning be with time or things demanding,\nFolly is similar to wisdom in its place,\nIt is no wisdom for a man always to be at rest,\nBut sometimes to be busy and feign to be silent,\nHe who has this disposition will find advantage,\nWhen time and things demand that,\nAnd then dissimulate, great policy is,\nFor sometimes to be unwise in appearance,\nAmong the wise is called high prudence,\nFlee luxury and avoid it,\nThe crime of avarice is not without contraries,\nThe filthy flesh struggling,\nThat fights ever against,\nBy the force of its instigation, liberal,\nEschew, my child, and keep yourself from it,\nArt and grace are set far apart,\nAnd eschew always from avarice, the wicked same. These two are the ones causing evil names. Do not believe everything referred to you by some. Exigua [e\u0304] trust little faith, for many speak much. Believe not lightly in every one's sight. Some report things otherwise than they were thought or done. Some also have it as a custom and manner to feed people with flattery and lies. Therefore give vital trust to such fair speaking, for many people speak untrue things. Quod potu peccas, ignore your own faults not. Nam nullum crimen vinum sed culpa bibentis. If you surfeit in drink, do not forget that. Advise the well-being that comes after you do not come in the snare. Withdraw your head, feed not your throat to be fat. Drink that which suffices and look that you spare. To much drink makes men of wit full bare. And yet the wine itself is not to blame. To blame is the drinker who makes himself lame.\n\nConsil: Commit to a trusty friend that is secret to you. Show your counsel and your need. For a trusty friend is the chest of privacy. But it is great happiness to have such friends to see,\nCry out one among all a company,\nAnd take to the cure of your body such a leech,\nThat is trusty and sure.\n\nSuccessus, do not bear the unworthy annoyance of Indignos,\nIndulge Fortuna to lead as she can,\nWith yourself, grief never to grieve excessively,\nThough something may sometimes befall you,\nDismay not in a hasty way, therefore,\nFor your adventure needs you to endure,\nFortune may not always be on your side,\nWith harm following you relentlessly, it waits,\nTo test men well, wealth, honor, and prosperity,\nLook upon those who come, for these things to be borne,\nFor a lighter burden is that which we have borne before,\nIn your own self, keep in mind that which will follow,\nIt does not annoy or grieve as much as other things will,\nSudden chances cause most harm,\nThey hurt less and are in a better state,\nWhere a man can prudently have foresight,\nDo not submit your mind to adversities,\nDo not abandon hope, for hope never abandons one until death. And thou art wrapped in adversity,\nFor wanhope look thou be not lost nor shed.\nLet never despair thy wit bereave thee,\nBut abide the time that better shall be.\nHope is she who shall make thee be set,\nHope leaves not a man till man leaves her breth.\nRemember thou what thou knowest, do not let go,\nFront-haired one, after this opportunity bald,\nWhen men profit then than is time to retain,\nTake away anything while they are in season.\nMany profit now that after will repent,\nFor yonder is plenteous, will afterward be gone.\nTherefore take away in time, as reason counsels,\nFor the bald head was once full of hairs,\nWhich is now bare without raze or shave.\nQuod sequitur specta quid inminet ante videto,\nImitate him who looks at both parts,\nProvide thyself and have deliberation,\nAdversity, my child, in thy remembrance,\nAfore and after about every side,\nFollow that God will and let him be thy guide,\nWho hath all things only in his go,\nFortune, feature, and all that is present. Forcior ut valeas interduere parcior esto (Be more forcible than you seem to be modest)\nPauca voluptati debentur plura saluti (Few pleasures should be given in exchange for many benefits to health)\nIt is a tedious task to receive superfluous things and do excesses\nUntil his receipt ages again from him return\nContent thy nature and flee from greediness\nKeep foul lusts under foot and repress\nFeed not thy lust with all that she will crave\nIf in health the desire is to prolong life\nTherefore take especial care of thine own health\nDo not blame the times when they cause thee to sorrow\nAlso take heed of thine own estate\nTo rule thy body well with good diet\nIn time look thou be not at debate\nThrough thine own rule and sufficiency\nThough sickness and sorrow have given thee pain\nThe time is good and no day is dismal\nBut if men make it so for themselves\nSomnia nae cures hominem quod optat (Sleep does not cure man as he hopes)\nDum vigilat sperat somnium cernit idipsum (While he is awake he hopes to see the dream itself)\nFear not dreams, as the Roman de Romance says\nFor dreams are often caused by various complexions\nSome of imaginations and many a nice fancy\nFor dreams are often deceit and false illusion Or elde of blood or superfluous repetition,\nWhen they are waking they desire and think\nUpon that thing they dreamt when they wink,\nIudicium populi never disregard one,\nNor do you wish to disregard many,\nWhen a multitude has given a decree\nOr concluded anything a gain,\nThou shalt not traverse it yet, nor the complainer,\nFor if thou dost, thou shalt be sore punished,\nDisdain not a loan the people's judgment,\nIn any event thou pleasest them not one,\nWhile thou wouldst traverse them every one,\nAbide, sir, and go no further yet,\nFor to redeem them is of no benefit,\nTo no man but he who unravels the knot,\nTherefore set all your heart and all your mind aside,\nAnd look what lies beneath the boisterous exterior,\nAnd I dare say of wisdom and wit,\nPlenty and fruitfulness therein you shall find,\nRefreshes your spirits with this wholesome diet,\nThat fosters virtues and keeps a life,\nTo your person I think it is quite fitting,\nTo receive such a nourishing sustenance,\nWhich your estate shall always preserve in life,\nIn great honor and keep you from annoyance. Out of the danger of vices, if you work according to this ordinance, and in particular, ensure that your deed bears true witness and testifies to the matters that you behold and read, look upon them with both your heart and your eye. Therefore, I say that you shall see something in this work that will move your heart. Apply yourself continually to rule according to these deeds.\n\nHe who desires to read this in my diet shall find something. With it, he may foster and nourish his soul. He seems to feign joy outwardly, but he can anoint both your ears twice with the oil of pleasure in great abundance. But keep yourself away from this poison.\n\nFlee sloth, negligence, and idle dulness,\nAnd lassitude that causes one to be negligent,\nFor an idle soul makes the body weak. There is no greater argument in earth to conclude your mortal body unwrapted, than your soul in idleness being wrapped. Comforts may entice many a beast, but that thing you spurn, you will find profitable and steadfast in your soul. Forsake it not near from your heart, lest if you exclude this lesson from your mind, you are barren and blind from virtues and therefore do not know me. Since my son is the default in another's word or deed, do not criticize the similar without consideration. Let not the example decide you otherwise. It is hard to please every person, displease none by deeds or words, nor even for right reasons. As you displease them behind your lack, so men will make a mockery of you. For the contrary, though men may have sworn it, the scorner shall be rewarded always with sedition. What your last sort is called fate, is good and pleasant after thine. This is me I love what thou art,\nRecord all thy goods that God hath given thee,\nAnd suffer them not recklessly to be spent,\nFor great riot will cause thy feeble frame to fail,\nCome to thee, riches and prosperity, a long time thou art,\nAnd hast riches and prosperity: great liberality be,\nThen think well thou hast enough and sufficiency,\nLet not thy good be ever in thy power,\nBut govern and distribute it always with thy friend,\nfor when thou goest hence it may not go with thee,\nUseful counsel the Lord, do not despise thy servant,\nIf thou contemnest the sense of any man, thou wilt never prosper,\nGrace is given to man in many various ways,\nSome have wisdom and some have eloquence,\nThe poor people also sometimes are full of wisdom,\nA servant sometimes may be of great wisdom,\nThough he may have little reverence.\nReward his wit if it is worth the while,\nFor virtue is hidden under many a vile habit,\nIf things and in sense are not what they were before. \"Be content with what life provides, for this world's wealth is ever changing. No one is as stable as April. Though you may have lost something, do not be dismayed. Be content with what you have for a while. Some have neither cross nor pile, yet they have good fortune. He is near to none, and yet none may know his worth. Do not marry a wife for her inheritance, for she will often cast it in your face. And if she is noisy and full of complaints, confine her never to remain in your yard. Of chastisement, it is a cursed sword, to keep one who will always complain. Learn from the examples of many. The life of others is a strange master. Conform yourself to that which most men do. What you should do and what you should be, a better fate you cannot contravene. In all that pertains to your teaching.\" Make of other men a rule for your leaving. If you ask for it, try the work lest it overpowers you. Do not attempt anything that surmounts thee in finishing. Then you will stand firm in your soul above his power. Whoever lusts with shame must needs hide his work. Refrain your tongue with all your best care. Do not fear your husband's angry words. No woman lays traps with her tears. Some women weep from pure femininity. When they cannot express their intent in another way, they achieve but beware of such sweet pity. Your manly reason should not be blended. For such weeping your heart should never relent. Some women are ever weeping and under that they can both prick and sting. Turn away from those whom your own consumption follows the departure of the alien. When you have come to your worship, use it. What profit is riches without honor? To spend always good and refuse to worship is no point of profit or help. Therefore, if you have obtained it with true labor, do not consume it in misuse lest you do harm. Ofte one must remember that which has wasted another:\n\"It is not for you, {pro}, for the penis, that death is not to be feared.\nWhat good is it if that is not the end, yet it is good for the good ones?\nImprint my child deeply in your mind:\nDo not be so afraid of death, which you have led for so long,\nA life perhaps unprofitable to God and man.\nYet it makes an end, both of the bad and the able.\nIf your wife's language is frugal, remember:\nFor evil, one does not want to suffer nor can one keep silent.\nYou suffer and take in her words,\nWhen it avails for your benefit, it may.\nShe is often of great prudence and should be allowed, this is no nay.\nSuffer her and her conceit to try,\nFor it is hard when you cannot be still.\nOr yet, you can have the will to suffer her.\nLove not the weak with pitiful affection,\nDo not offend your mother, for it is good to be a good son to your parents.\nGoods that are given to you from nature\nCome to you from your progenitors.\nTherefore, my child, with all your force and care.\" Love them: cherish them at all hours,\nFor they nourished and kept you in youth,\nYour mother, my dear child, especially,\nYet you do never offend at all,\nYour good to spend but at your leisure,\nLove the penny as for your convenience,\nNot for the hoard to heap it up,\nFor it was made from the prince's ordinance,\nNot for it to be still and sleep,\nBut it should always be among them and leap,\nIn their exchange, and he who keeps it in,\nAs for the form is always subject to sin,\nCome, the rich man has many nuances,\nWhen you have plenty and are wealthy,\nI mean when you have great sufficiency,\nOf money, foster and help but small,\nThen spend your money and yourself advance,\nKeep never the coin and live in grief,\nThe sick man has silver in full excess,\nBut of himself he has no certainty.\nWhen you have taken up the words, sometimes you will learn from your masters,\nFlee your father's command when his words turn to anger.\nThough sometimes you suffer the great sharpness. Of behaving yet always thy master's chastisement,\nReceive it well with humble lowlines,\nSince it is done but all in good intent,\nIn case to learn and wisdom to acquire.\nHis words are full of anger, yet suffer the talent of that fire.\nRemember to avoid again the things where error exists and there is no certain hope of reward.\nAlso, my child, you shall always occupy yourself,\nTo do things that are profitable.\nBut look never to things that may not be available,\nTo keep a thing that is not profitable,\nBy wit or strength, it is great error.\nDispersed hope is the end of such labor.\nQuod: you can give freely to one who asks,\nNam recte fecisse bonis in parte lucrosum est: it is right to have made a profit from good things,\nWhen you shall give, give in a friendly way,\nFriendly contentment, thou a prayer or a request,\nFor a thing given by time is given twice,\nSuch glad cheer makes gifts richest,\nWhoever yeus a loan that he may forbear,\nQuod tibi suspectus est, coestim discute quid sit: if it seems suspicious to you, examine what it is. Namely, those things that are initially neglected can cause harm. When you have a suspicion about a thing, hold it in suspicion to discover if anyone harms you. For at the first instance, when such a thing is rejected, it is easy to correct what was not initially set. Inwardly disposed to Venus' acts, express your courage. Do not let your flesh lustfully exceed, for great diet makes your flesh outrage. Measure might cause it to subside, and gluttony is called the chief promoter. It leads the flesh to wantonness and vice. When you present animals to fear, one in particular, a man. The rampant lion and the tiger are to be feared. The Iris bore the hound full of envy, and many more beasts than need be told. Men fear them greatly and their tyranny. And well they should, for one beast is most especially to be feared by you. When vigor prevails in your body, beware of this. The virtue called fortitude stands in the strength of the body,\nTo be eager, mighty, strong, and rude.\nBut in the soul it must be surely\nIf you will fortify your soul\nAnd him within a quiet mind with wisdom,\nThen truly you will be strong in\nAuxilium, seek help if you labor hard\nWhat thing on earth you shall take in bond,\nAnd your support shall be in friendliness.\nNo strange man alive is nearer you than your known friend, my child, this is expressed.\nOf the stranger you have no certainty.\nFor when all others are seeking,\nThe faithful know that a friend can best be your healer.\nCum is himself harmful, he dies for your sake.\nStupidity is to hope for salvation in another's death.\nThe death of unreasonable beasts,\nAs by custom and right of sacrifice,\nTo purge the impure is no great thing.\nDo not also trust in getting your revenge,\nFor those who trust in this are fully unwise.\nBy the death of beasts, God will not be quenched,\nAnd a man may remain still in his iniquity. When you seek a friend, be it a companion or a servant,\nFortune is not the one you should question.\nWhen you would choose a friend for trustworthiness,\nMake no inquiry into his fortune.\nFor fortune is the mistress of changeability.\nBut ask about his deeds and his governance.\nFor that is proven of greater sufficiency\nThan fortune, which is casual.\nA man's life excels his fortune.\nFlee names of wealth, if you seek profits,\nIf you are poor, what good are riches to you?\nUse well the riches that you have in quest,\nEschew the wicked fame,\nLet not your good lie hidden,\nKeep not your treasure and stuff shut in mews,\nSuch old treasure will make your shame new.\nWhat profit is plenteousness and great treasure,\nAnd in poverty a wretch ever to endure?\nIf you wish to preserve a good reputation among the living,\nFlee those things that bring evil joys to life.\nMy son, if you desire to rejoice in your fame,\nLive honestly while you remain here,\nEschew things that may cause your shame,\nAnd lay licentious lusts on one side,\nAnd also things that appear greatly enjoyable. Thy joy is often full depleased\nBe wary of joy that hinders good life\nCome, be wise, let not the elderly laugh at us\nIn the old there is no childish sense\nAnd ever my child, try and be advised\nThat you never scorn the great advancing age\nYour elder son, for nothing, do not despise\nThough all in their wits they may not be so wise\nAs in their youth, for age is outrageous\nWhen age comes, this is certainly true\nA man begins then to be a child again\nDiscover something, do not let fortune surprise you suddenly\nArt remains to sustain life\nEnforce\nBring forth your skill, for it is certain\nIf fortune changes and poverty appears\nWhoever is skilled is likely to recover\nSkill and craft remain forever and endure\nAnd by them, a man may soon relieve\nWhen fortune has cast him into misfortune\nLook ahead\nSermon\nBe still in silence with good discretion\nBe quiet until others have spoken\nSo shall you learn something of steadfastness\nLet never your tongue suddenly be overcome\nFor that might overpower you with haste. By man is behavior shown through words.\nBy words also is a wise man distinguished from a foolish one.\nUt, cure the mind.\nThough you have great cunning,\nContinue to learn more from me, my child.\nThe soul it is that must be your receipt.\nReplenish it with virtue's treasure and store.\nUse makes mastery; use therefore, you, cunning.\nUse helps art, and cure helps wit.\nThen use and cure must be joined.\nMuch medicine does not cure the slings and arrows of fate.\nNo one fears death who knows how to scorn life.\nThe body shall have its due from the soul.\nDeath is the common end of every creature.\nDo not therefore charge fear of death as chance.\nThe tribute of death you must pay rightfully.\nBut yet of death you shall have\nIf by this life you do not set right what is expressly wrong,\nWhich is always full of woe and misery.\nLearn this from the wise and teach the unwise.\nFor it is virtue and commendable at all times.\nTo increase doctrine through such coming.\nIt is also always a deed of God, charitable. Both to learn and to teach, it is very beneficial\nDoctrine helps virtue evermore in living\nWhich never doctrine soon departs from us\nDrink what you can if you want to live healthily\nDisease is the cause of all evil, and whatever pleasure it may bring\nDo not drink too much more than you can bear\nRule yourself well always with the bridle of measure\nToo much drinking will harm and impoverish your body\nFor surfeit is always uncertain for health\nAnd measure makes men in good health enduring\nWhat man is ruled by base desires\nIn a good state he may endure no while\nYou praise whatever is publicly, whatever you openly show\nBe careful lest you again be condemned by the crime of lewdness\nAnd if my child is present, beware lest you blame him not\nSpeak again rightly in his presence\nIf you disapprove, do not also condemn the same\nOf such troubles shame must necessarily arise\nTo praise now and then to blame openly\nIt is a sign of great instability\nBe cautious in dealing with adversities\nThe redhead is better off in adversities\nWhen you live here rightly at your own ease In all your hearts, rejoice and prosper.\nThank you, Parcas, that prosperity may appear.\nWorldly wealth stands never in certainty,\nAnd as soon as poverty or adversity assails you,\nYet fall not in despair.\nAlways think of yourself, good fortune may repay.\nDiscerning no ceases, wisdom grows.\nRare is the one who gives long-term prudence.\nIt is fair, my child, to be prudent and wise.\nLearn quickly, my son, for by care and business, wisdom increases.\nWisdom is she who cannot be forgotten.\nThe rare prudence that people seldom refuse,\nCan never be had but by process and use.\nPraise him whom you praise, for he whom you praise is proven,\nOne day has shown a day like this, the year,\nBeware also that you never exalt\nIn your praise or praising a man too high,\nFor you may have cause to disdain\nYour fame, but always modify your praising.\nFor on a day you shall truly see\nWhether he is a friend who seems friendly.\nFor all are not friends that people deem,\nNor is it shameful that you want to teach. Knowing something is both praise and blame, my child, do not be ashamed to learn. That you cannot, for it is but a teaching. Folly it is not to desire to hear doctrine. He is well who can stretch to craftsmanship. Craftsmanship makes a man a wretch. Therefore, to learn much is rightly commendable, and yet not to learn is most reproachable.\n\nCome together with Venus and Bacchus, their pleasure is joined. It is just in the mind to embrace {it}, but shun lawsuits. Venus is always ready for all her vile acts. When Bacchus has her in his generosity, through the treasure of her heat and fiery passion. Therefore, my child, repress your appetite. In wine's heat, do not ever let excess grow. Drink no more than what is expedient for the soul. Eschew strife and always be content with measure. Dismiss the quiet from your mind, remember to avoid the silent. Where the calm flows, perhaps the deeper deceit and treachery lie hidden.\n\nOf such a man, always avoid his company. For the calm often deceives and conceals other things. In floods still is water deep and high,\nFor often times it brings unhappy chance,\nIn streams soft seeming to your pleasure,\nComes your fortune turning against you, one and all.\nLook around and feel in your advisors,\nHow they once were in wealth and prosperity,\nMore bountiful in favor and wealth,\nAnd yet suddenly they have fallen into wretchedness.\nYou can try, for there is peril if the stream rises,\nCertainly, my child, this is true,\nThe vessel is small but of great avail,\nWhen it can lend a hand, it may reach far,\nWhen the sails are high, they often go to wrack,\nDo not strive against the just man unjustly,\nFor God above is greatly displeased,\nAgainst the true and just, you will never prevail,\nFor unto God above that is a great displeasure. Trustedly, there is no misery here on earth that to the just man causes sorrow or harm, but at the last, God will take vengeance. Therefore, it is reason for each man to take for himself the right way of God, which is never forsaken, except in the case of oppression. Do not merit pain through sorrow, but rather rejoice if it happens that you have the means. If extortion or any misfortune has stripped you of your riches, yet always strive to be merry and avoid thought and care. For fleeting thoughts are a foul snare. Fortune is unstable. After poverty, riches are vulnerable. It is a heavy loss that brings damage. There are things that it is almost fitting for a friend to endure patiently. It is harmful for your goods to be abandoned, which are in your hand with force and violence. But, my child, you must consider who and what it is that does such harm. Between friend and foe, there is always a difference. In some cases, you ought to forgive a friend and also suffer him, though he wrongs and harms you. Long times are not for you. Wherever you go, death follows close behind the body's shadow. Be not sure that thou shalt live here long\nA man shall die, whether he be loath or left\nAnd as the old, so does the young among us\nDeath steals away as does a private thief\nFor a man may find no refuge from her\nShe is always about to make a final departure\nAnd follows each day the shadow of thy body\nThou shalt place a true god, be it Vitulum or Crescat Aratro\nDo not believe thou canst placate God while He weeps\nWorship God with all thy power\nWith heart entire and sweet-smelling incense\nSuch sacrifice is pleasing to His pleasure\nOf the calves small that never did offense\nThough thou slay them, the blood may not be dispensed\nWith thee let them grow and toil in the plow\nThy true heart is sufficient, thy negation is not\nCede locum Lesus, fortune cede potenti\nLet him who can lead, profit somewhat\nGive place to him who excels in this thy might\nThough thou be hurt, it may profit thee par\nAnd seldom avails any man to sight\nAgainst such one who passes his power\nThough it grieves now, after great distress. The mighty man is full of gentleness.\nCum quid peccaris, castigate yourself frequently.\nVulnera duo sanas, dolor est medicina doloris.\nAfter your surfeit and great offense,\nChastise yourself correctly, that is a must.\nRedress yourself to good rule, amend your negligence.\nAnd sorrow for sin, a veritable medicine is.\nRepent the sore than you are saved, I boys.\nFor physics says, my son, I ensure.\nA bitter drink, the sharp sickness may cure.\nDampnaris nunqua post longuem tempus amicu.\nMutatus mores, sed pugnare prima memento.\nIf you have found good friendship in a person,\nLong ago and yet though he begins to change,\nDo not despair of him, men do not abandon.\nFor sometimes was lordship there now is rage.\nThe world's course is wonderful and strange.\nBut though as now the maelstrom is unwilling,\nYet is old friendship remembered always in my mind.\nGracior officijs quo sis magis carior esto.\nNe nomen subeas quod dicitur officiperdi.\nThough it were in office to be set,\nBe thou gentle and gracious to other men,\nThat they may report a godly man met. With office and good name, Ren assure the least, when the officer is unbound, he should say, \"Now I would that this were.\" Suspectus causes one to be miserable at all hours. For timid and suspicious men, death is most apt. Be not suspect, that is a wicked teaching. The suspect man in his living is but a mis, but all would be willing to make amends. He deceives and fails in heartfelt sincerity. By false conceit, he sets himself in malice. Sleth him not thus, death ends his. Come, servants, you who are under our service and the marketplace, Et s. If you have men without freedom and such as are called m, notwithstanding they are under your worldly servage, yet honor such and over them do not outrage. For all they are bound, yet they are very men whom God has made them. Qua\u0304 plurimu\u0304, opportunities to take from you are numerous at the first. Do not seek again what you have neglected before. Receive your first fortune with resignation. Refuse it not though it be scant and small. It is better in the long run to take the lesser. Refuse it and after failure of all Yeftes of fortune take them always as they fall. Refuse them now and afterwards thou shalt have need. Therefore it is to take when me provident and pray. Morte repentina, noli gaudere malorum. Felices obiunt quorum sine crimine vita. Rejoice in your child never in all thy life. The sudden death of a cursed man and wretch. When he is dead the soul may not relieve From pain to joy the soul may not recede. The fiends hold ever sore that they may keep. Therefore he who lives justly fulfills well. For his soul is ever full of felicity. Cum cohibe tibi sit nec res et fama laborat. Vitandum ducas inimicum nomen amici. If you have a wife in assurance, trust her well and love her inwardly with heart with thought with all your assistance. And be thou never infected with jealousy. If no fault be in her or that thou canst not see, yet if thy friend tells thee such is the fame, He is a friend and she no thing to blame. Cum tibi contingit studio cognoscere multa, hac discas multa vita nescire doceri. When through study and great exercise,\nYou know much and have great skill,\nYet always do your duty,\nTo purchase more, for it is a wholesome thing,\nFor great honor skill may bring,\nAnd eschew you never daily to be taught,\nfor without teaching, skill may not be caught,\nMiraris verbis nudis me scribere verses,\nThis brevity has made the senses join,\nIf you marvel or delight to ponder,\nIn naked words, why my verses thus I write,\nIn no way truly I may me better excuse,\nThan say my wit is so dull and unpersuasive,\nWhich arteth me thus rudely for to endite,\nBy two and two my meter for to knit,\nNothing causes me but simplicity of wit,\nNow I have gathered flowers for your pleasure,\nTaste them, for they are preservative,\nHold them fast and verify them in your fist,\nFor the pestilence's air which is infective,\nI advise you and I in part my life,\nThat you shall lead your life in secrecy,\nAnd also attain to much worthiness,\nThis meaning I to you under protection,\nOf your good grace what time you read,\nOr else have in this matter inspection. As it behooves you to do in deed,\nI dare affirm without fear,\nYou shall achieve and be truly virtuous,\nHere I have found that which shall guide and lead you,\nDirectly to God's fame and leave you in His house.\n.Explicit Cathol.", "creation_year": 1477, "creation_year_earliest": 1477, "creation_year_latest": 1477, "source_dataset": "EEBO", "source_dataset_detailed": "EEBO_Phase1"},
+{"content": "If it please only one man, spiritual or temporal, to buy any two or three commemorative pieces of Salisbury, printed after the form of this present letter which are well and truly correct. Come to Westmister, to the almshouse, at the red pale, and he shall have them good cheap.\n\nRequest that this decree be upheld.", "creation_year": 1477, "creation_year_earliest": 1477, "creation_year_latest": 1477, "source_dataset": "EEBO", "source_dataset_detailed": "EEBO_Phase1"},
+{"content": "When April with his showers sweet\nHas pierced the drought of March to the root,\nAnd bathed every vein in liquid sheath,\nFrom which virtue springs the seedling's growth,\nWhen Zephyrus also with his sweet breath\nHas in every holt and hollow set\nThe tender crops and the young sun\nHas run half his course through Ram's sign,\nAnd small birds make their nests at eve,\nSo prick them with desire in their core,\nThen longing folk go on pilgrimage,\nAnd palmers seek strange lands afar,\nTo serve holy will in sundry lands,\nAnd especially from every shire's end\nTo Canterbury they wend their way,\nThe holy blissful martyr to seek\nWho helped them when they were sick,\nAnd in that season on a day\nIn Southwark at the tabard I lay,\nFully prepared to go on pilgrimage\nTo Canterbury with devout heart,\nThat night came in unto that hostelry,\nWith nineteen in a company,\nOf diverse folk by chance we were,\nIn fellowship as pilgrims all,\nWho toward Canterbury would ride,\nThe chambers and the stables were, And they were well settled at the best,\nAnd shortly when the sun was at rest,\nSo had I spoken with each one,\nThat I was to join their fellowship soon,\nAnd made preparations early to,\nTo take our way there as you decide,\nBut nevertheless, while they have time and space,\nOr they depart,\nI think it is reasonable,\nTo tell you all the condition\nOf each of them as it seemed to me,\nAnd which they were and of what degree,\nAnd in what land,\n\nA knight,\nFrom the time he first began,\nTo ride out, he loved chivalry,\nTruth and honor, freedom and,\nHe was worthy in his land and,\nAnd there he had ridden not far,\nAnd as well in crime,\nAnd ever had,\nAt all,\nFull often time he had begun the board,\nA hound of all nations in price,\nIn lettow had he raised and in ruse,\nNo Christian man so often times as he,\nIn Granada at the siege, also had he been,\nIn spite had he ridden and in belmarie,\nAt and also at satalye,\n\nWhen they were won and in the great sea,\nAt many a noble arrival had he been,\nAt mortal battles had he fought fifteen,\nAnd fought for our. A knight at Tramyss, in the land had slain his foe. This worthy knight had also been with the lord of Palathie, and against another man in Turkey. He had always a sovereign price, and though he was worthy, he was wise. His demeanor was as meek as a maid, and he never spoke villainous words to any man. He was a gentle, parfait knight.\n\nTo tell you of his armor, his boar were good, but he was not gay. All smeared with his habergeon, for he was late. He sent word to do his pilgrimage. With him was a semely young squire, a lover and a lusty bachelor. With locks of twenty years of age he was, of even height, and wonderfully deliver and great of strength. He had been some time in Flanders, Artois, and Picardy, and born him well as of a little space. In hope to stand in his lady's grace, he was enbroiled as it were in a mead, all full of fresh flowers white and red. Singing he was or floating all day. He was as fresh as is the month of May. Short was his. A man wore a long and wide gown\nHe could sight well on horseback and ride fair\nHe could make songs and end them well\nJustice and dance portray and also write\nSo hot he loved that night told a tale\nHe slept not more than a nightingale\nCourteous he was, lowly and servable\nHe served before his father at the table\nA yeoman had he and servants none\nAt that time for he listed to ride so\nAnd he was clad in a coat and hood of green\nA sheet of arrows bright and shining\nUnder his\nHe could dress his yeomanly servant skillfully\nHis arrows did not droop with low feathers\nAnd in his hand he bore a mighty bow\nAn he had\nOf woodman's craft could he all use\nOn his arm he bore a bright and agleam bracer\nAnd by his side a sword and a buckler\nAnd on that other side a gay dagger\nSharp and harried was he, and as sharp as the point of a spear\nA Christopher on his breast shone bright\nAn horn he bore a bawdy green\nA forester he truly was, as I guess\nThere was also a nun, a prioress\nWhose smiling was simple and coquettish\nHer greatest other was St. Loy\nAnd she was called dame. Eglentyne sang divine services with great elegance,\nHer French was spoken fluently,\nFollowing the Stratford school at the bow,\nFor French of Paris was unknown to her,\nAt table she was well-taught,\nShe let no morsel fall from her lips,\nHer fingers dipped not deep in her sauce,\nShe could carry a morsel of food\nWithout a drop spilling on her breast,\nHer manners were courteous,\nHer upper lip was wiped clean,\nNothing unclean was seen in her cup after she had drunk,\nA drop of grease was not visible when she had drunk her draught,\nAfter her meal, she reached out gracefully,\nAnd she was certainly of great cheer,\nDelighting in pleasure and amiable in demeanor,\nShe feigned a change of expression,\nCourteous to be stately in manner,\nAnd to be worthy of reverence,\nBut to speak of her conscience,\nShe was so charitable and so pious,\nShe would weep if she saw a mouse\nCaught in a trap, whether it was dead or bleeding,\nShe had small hounds that she fed,\nWith costly meat, milk, and waste bread,\nBut she sorely wept if any of them died\nOr if men smote them. And she was full conscious and tender-hearted,\nHer beautiful, pinched face was,\nHer nose was as white as glass,\nHer mouth was small and soft and red,\nBut surely she had a fair forehead,\nIt was almost a span wide I think,\nFor scarcely she was not under growth,\nFull setically was her cloak, as I was aware,\nOf small coral about her, she bore,\nA pair of beads gauded all with green,\nAnd there on high a bright brother was,\nThat was her chaplain and three priests,\nA monk was fair for the master,\nWho before that time had been,\nAn outrider he loved Venus,\nA manly man to be an abbot able,\nFull many a fine horse had he in stable,\nAnd when he wanted men might hear his bridle jingling and whistling in the clear wind,\nAnd low as the chapel bells,\nThere as the lord was keeper of the sell,\nThe rule of St. Maure and St. Benet,\nBecause he held it somewhat strict,\nThis like monk let old things pass,\nAnd He held after the new world the space:\nThat says hunters are not holy men,\nNor a monk when he is reckless,\nIs like a fish when it is waterless.\nThis is to say, a monk out of a cloister,\nBut that text I hold not worth an oyster.\nAnd I say that his opinion was good,\nWhat should he study and make him wood,\nUp on a book always in cloister to pour,\nOr swine with hands and labor,\nAs Augustine did. But how shall the world be served?\nLet Augustine have his swine to himself reserved,\nTherefore he was a priory sergeant,\nGreyhounds he had as milk white,\nOf pricking and hunting for the hare,\nWas all his lust for no thing would he spare.\nI saw his sleeves filled at the hand,\nWith grace and that the finest of a land,\nAnd to fasten his hood under the chin,\nHe had also his face as if anointed,\nHe was a lord, fat and in good point,\nHis eyes steep and rolling in his head,\nThat saw as a furnace of lead,\nHis boots sopped his horse in great estate,\nNow certainly he was a fair prelate. A fat swan loved him least of any roost. His palfrey was as brown as a berry. A friar and a limousin, and a very solemn man, in all the orders none so well can, so much of dalliance and fair language he had made, many a fair marriage. Until his order he was an noble post. Full and very familiar was he, and with worthy men of the town. A pleasant was his absolution, had great contrition, and of his order he was licensed, and an easie man to give penance. To a poor order he gave alms when a man is well I tell, if he gave he dared make a boast, if that a man was repentant, many a man so hard is of heart, he may not weep though he sore smites, therefore in stead of weeping and prayers, men most give silver to the poor friars. His tippet was I filled full of knights, and with pinnes to give fair women, and certainly he had a merry note. Merely could he sing and play at the rote, of tidings he bore utterly the price, milk white he was as the flour delice, therewith strong. He was a champion,\nknowing taverns well in every town,\nbetter than a lazy or beggar,\nEvery ostler and tapster,\nTo such a man as he,\nWho did not accord as by his ability,\nTo have of such sick lazy companionship,\nIt is not honest, it may not boast,\nTo deal with such nonsense,\nBut with the rich and sellers of victuals,\nAnd above all, there riches should arise,\nHe was courteous and lowly in service,\nThere was no man anywhere so virtuous,\nHe was the best beggar in his,\nFor though a widow had not a shoe,\nSo pleasant was his demeanor,\nYet he would have a farthing or,\nHis purchase was better than his rent,\nAnd bark he could as if it were a pup,\nIn love-days there could he greatly help,\nFor there he was not like a cloisterer,\nWith a threadbare cope as a poor friar,\nBut he was like a master or pope,\nOf dubious origin,\nHe was round as a beauty out of press,\nSomewhat he lisped for his wantonness,\nTo make his English sweet upon his tongue,\nAnd in his harping when he had I,\nHis eyes twined in his head a right,\nAs do the minstrels. This worthy friar was called Huberd,\nA merchant sat upon a horse high, with a forked beard.\nUpon his head a flaxen-haired beaver hat,\nHis hands clasped, he spoke solemnly.\n\nHe was a worthy man, indeed,\nBut I do not know what men call him.\nHe had gone long to logic,\nAs lean was his horse as a rake,\nAnd I would not presume he was right fat,\nBut he looked hollow and soberly.\nHis court was thoroughly bare,\nFor he had yet gained no benefice,\nNor was he worldly enough to have an office.\nInstead, he had at his bedside's head,\nTwenty books in white and red,\nOf Aristotle and philosophy,\nNot robes rich or fine or saffron,\nBut all that he might have from his friends,\nHe spent on books and learning,\nAnd began fervently to pray for their souls. that he took greatest care and heed with whom to study.\nHe spoke not a word more than was necessary.\nShort and quick was his speech.\nShowing moral virtue was his prudence.\nHe was glad to learn and glad to teach.\nAnd therewith his speech was very soft.\nA sergeant of the law was there, wise and experienced,\nWho had often been at the assizes.\nHe also was rich in excellence.\nDiscreet he was, and of great reverence.\nHis words seemed so wise.\nHe was full of justice in assizes.\nBy patent and plain commission,\nFor his science and his high renown,\nHe had many fees and robes.\nSo great a purchaser was there none.\nAll was simple to him in effect.\nHis purchase could not be suspect to him.\nNo man was busier than he,\nAnd yet he seemed busier than he was.\nIn terms, he was both speaker and judge.\nFrom the time of King William onwards,\nHe could make a thing of it.\nThere could be no one who could match his writing.\nHe read but humbly in a mixed coat.\nI, his heir, [?]\nOf his [?]\nA. Frankeleyn was in his company,\nWhite was his beard as the day's end,\nHis complexion was sanguine,\nHe loved very much a morning cup of wine,\nTo live in delight was ever his way,\nFor he was Epicurus' son,\nWho held that plain delight\nWas true felicity perfect,\nA householder, and a great one,\nSaint Julian,\nHe had a,\nA bettered man was none,\nWithout baking meat was he never in his house,\nHis fish, his flesh, and that so plentiful,\nIt showed in his house of food and drink,\nOf all delicacies that men could think,\nAfter the various seasons of the year\nSo changed he his food and his supper,\nFull many a fat partridge had,\nAnd many a breast and loin in stew,\nWoe was his cook but his sauce were,\nPungent and sharp and ready all his gear,\nHis tablier dormant in his hall always,\nReady covered all the long day,\nAt sessions there was he lord and sire,\nFull often time he was knight of the shire,\nA lackey and a jester of silk,\nHanging at his girdle as white as morning milk,\nA sheriff had he been and a coroner,\nNowhere such a worthy. A haberdasher there was, and a carpenter, a weaver, and a tapestry maker. They were all clothed in similar somber and great fraternity. Freshest and newest gear was picked for them. Here knights chaplains were not with bras but all with silver work, clean. Here girdles and their pouches were ever ready. Each of them seemed a fair burgher to sit in the yeoman hall at the feasts.\n\nRichard, for the wisdom he had,\nWas happily to be an alderman.\nFor Catherine had rent and land,\nAnd these women would it well assent,\nOr else certainly they were to blame.\n\nIt is quite fair to be called madam,\nAnd go to vigils all before,\nAnd have a mantle, truly I bore.\nA cook they had with them for the nones,\nTo boil the chickens & the marrow bones,\nAnd powder marchant tart and galingale,\nWell knew he a draught of London ale.\nHe could roast, stew, boil, and fry,\nMake pies and bake well a pie,\nBut great harm was it, as it seemed to me,\nFor on his chin a Marmion had he,\nAnd blank Manger made he with the best.\n\nA shipman was there that He won the best\nFor all I know, he was from Durham\nHe rose up a rowan as he caught\nIn a gown folding to the knee\nA dagger and a lace hanging had he\nA man of conscience took he no keep\nAt full many an adventure in that land\nHe fought and had the higher hand\nBut of his craft to reckon well his tide\nHis streams and his dangers him beside\nThere was none such from here to Carthage\nFor wise he was, though he were full of courage\nHardy he was and wary\nWith many a tempest his beard had quaked\nHe knew all the havens that were\nFrom Iceland to the Cap Fenester\nAnd every cry in Britain and in Spain\nHis barge was called the Maudeleyne\nWith us there was a doctor of physics\nIn the world was there none like him\nTo speak of physics and surgery\nFor he was grounded in Astronomy\nHe kept his patient a great deal\nIn hour be magic natural\nWell could he of fortune tell He knew the cause of every malady, whether it be from cold, heat, moist or dry, and of what humor. He was a very skilled practitioner. The cause he knew, and for his harm he gave the sickman his remedy promptly. His apothecary was always ready to send him drugs and letters. For each of them, he made other remedies to win their friendship. His acquaintance with the old Estulapis, Dioscorides, and Platearius, Hippocrates, Galen, Serapion, Rasis, and Avicenna, Anorrois of Damascus, and Constantyn, Bernard Gatusden, and Gilbert, was not new. He was well-versed in their works.\n\nOf his diet, he maintained a measured one, for it was neither too little nor too much, but of great nourishing and digestible quality. His study was but little on the side, clad in linen, taffeta, and white sandals. He kept gold in his medicine chest, for in physics, gold is a cordial. Therefore, he loved gold in particular.\n\nA good wife was there besides him, and she was neither sick nor in distress. Of cloth making, she had such a trade. In it, a woman before her should go\nAnd if she were in a certain wrath, then\nHer headdress\nI dare swear they were on her head on a Sunday\nHer hood\nFull straight I tied and shoes new\nBold was her face, fair and red\nShe was a worthy Woman all her life\nHusbands at the church\nWithout a husband\nBut her need\nAt the acres had she been and in Jerusalem\nShe had passed through many a strong realm\nAt Rome she had been and at Babylon\nAt St. James in Galilee and at Colony\nShe could much of wandering in the way\nGap to this was she truly to see\nUp on an Ambulatory she sat easily\nI wrapped her well and on her head a hat\nAs broad as it were a book or a shield\nA large foot mantle about her hips\nAnd on her heels a pair of sharp spurs\nIn fellowship could she laugh and seize\nOf remedies of love she could perhaps find\nFor of that art she could the dance\nA good man there was of Religion\nAnd was a poor parson of a town\nBut rich he was and holy in work\nHe was also a learned man and a clerk Christ's gospel is truly willing to preach,\nHis parishioners devoutly he would teach.\nBenign he was and wonderfully diligent,\nAnd in adversity full patient.\nSuch he was proven often times.\nFar from being eager to curse for his tithes,\nBut rather would he give, without doubt,\nTo his poor parishioners around.\nOf his offerings and sustenance, he could have little.\nWide was his parish and houses far apart,\nBut he let not rain nor thunder deter,\nTo visit the farthest in his parish more and less.\nUpon his feet and in his hand a staff,\nThis noble example he gave to his sheep.\nFirst, he worked and afterward taught,\nFrom the gospel, the words he caught.\nAnd this figure he added:\nIf gold rusts, what should iron do?\nFor a priest to be foul in whom we trust,\nNo wonder is a loud man to rust,\nAnd shame it is if a priest takes care,\nA slothful shepherd and a clean sheep.\nWell ought a priest to give example,\nLet his cleanness how his sheep should live.\nLet not his benefice be set aside. And let his sheep graze in the mire,\nAnd run to London to St. Paul's,\nAnd seek him a manor for his soul,\nOr with a brother to be withheld.\nBut dwell at home and keep his fold,\nSo that the wolf have not the mastery.\nHe was a shepherd and not a mercenary,\nAnd though he were holy and virtuous,\nHe was not to a sinful man contemptuous,\nBut in his speech discreet and kind,\nNot of his teaching dangerous or unworthy,\nTo draw.\n\nBe good.\nBut he\nWhether\nHe would sharply rebuke for trifles,\nA better priest I trow nowhere is,\nHe waited not after pomp or reverence,\nHe had no spiced conscience,\nBut Christ's lore and his apostles twelve,\nHe taught, but first he followed Him himself,\nWith him there was a plowman, his brother,\nWho had led many a father in dung,\nA true swineherd and good was he,\nLiving in peace and perfect charity,\nGod loved him best with all his heart,\nAt all times they gamed or suffered,\nAnd then his neighbor as himself,\nHe would thrash and there dig and delve,\nFor Christ's sake. every poor man\nWithout hire, if it lay in his might,\nPaid his tithes both fairly and well,\nOf his own swine and cattle,\nIn a tabard he rode up on a mere,\nThere was also a reeve and a Miller,\nA summoner and a pardoner also,\nA mancipple and myself, there was no more,\nThe Miller was a stout man for the nonce,\nFull big he was of brown and bones,\nProving well for ever there he came,\nAt wrestling always he would have the ram,\nHe was short-shouldered and thick-quarreled,\nThere was no door that he wouldn't,\nOr break it at running with his head,\nHis beard as red as a sow's ear,\nAnd therewith a beard like a spade,\nUpon the top of his nose he had,\nA verge and there out a tuft of hairs,\nRead as the beasts' ears of a sow's ear,\nHis nostrils black and wide,\nA sword and a buckler bare,\nHis mouth as great as a furnace,\nHe was a land a jolly hardy,\nAnd well could and tolled thrice,\nAnd that he had a thumb-go pardon,\nA white coat and a blue ho veryed he,\nA bag piping.\nAnd therewith he brought out of town\nA Gentleman. Mancipyl was the temple's man, a courtesan, always in good acclaim. Now, it is not a fair grace from God that such a lewd man's wit shall pace the wisdom of a heap of learned men. There were more than thrice ten masters among them, curious in law. Among them were a dozen in that house, worthy to be stewards of rent and land for any lord in England. To make him live by his own good, in honor they deemed, but he was wood. Otherwise, he lived scarcely as he listed. And this mancipil set her cap A Reeve there was a slim coleric man, his beard shaved as near as he could, his hair curled round his ears, his top knotted like a priest's, his legs long and lean, like a staff, there is no calf I see. Well could he keep a granary and a bin. There was no auditor who could win him. Well, he knew by the drought and the rain the yielding of his seed and of his. His lord's sheep, net and dearly,\nSwine, horse, store and poultry,\nWere entirely under his ruling,\nAnd by his counsel gave the reckoning.\nHis lord was twenty years of age,\nNo one could bring him into rage,\nThere was no bailiff or other,\nWho could match his skill or kin.\nThey feared him as if of death,\nHis dwelling was fair on a height,\nWith green trees shadowing his place,\nHe could outdo his lord in purchasing,\nFully rich he was stored privately,\nHis lord he could please discreetly,\nTo give again to him of his own good,\nAnd have thanks and yet account and a hood,\nIn youth he had learned a good mystery,\nHe was a well good craftsman, a carpenter,\nThis reign sat upon a well good stool,\nThat was all pommel gray and tall and scot,\nA long surcoat,\nAnd by his side was this reign of which I tell,\nBeside a town men call Baldiswelle,\nTuckyd he was, as if a friar about,\nAnd ever he rode the hindermost of the route,\nSumpnour with us was in that place,\nThat had a red cherubic face. He was a jester, narrow-waisted and merry as a sparrow. His brows were black and bearded, his face was that of a father. There was no boric acid, no tar oil, no ointment that could help his pallid, knobby cheeks. He was an oily, garlicky, leaky fellow. He would speak and cry as if he were mad. After he had well drunk the wine, as red as blood, he would speak no word but Latin. He had a few terms, two or three, that he had learned. No wonder he was heard all day long. And you know well that a jester can call water as well as the pope. But who could grasp him in other things except he had spent all his philosophy? He would cry out, \"What question do you ask?\" He was a gentle harlot and a kind one. A better fellow should not be found. He would suffer for a quart of wine. A good fellow to have his concubine. A twelfth month and excuse him at the full. Privately, a finch he could also pull. And if he found another good fellow, he... The archdeacon would urge him immediately to have a care in such cases of his cures, but if a man's soul were in his pursuit, in his pursuit he should be punished. Purs is the archdeacon's hell, he said, but I well know he lied in truth. Fear not cursing, for cursing will harm as soothing saves. Be wary of significant danger, he had at his own peril. All the young girls in the diocese knew of his counsel and were of his advice. A garland he had set upon his head as great as it were an ale-straw. A bookeller had made him a cake with him. With him rode a gentle pardoner of roundelay, his friend and companion. Straight was he come from the pope of Rome. Full loud he sang, \"Come here, lean one by one.\" This summons bore to him a stiff burden. Never was a trumpet heard of half so great a sound. This pardoner had here as yellow as wax, and smooth it hung as does a stroke of flax. By his locks that he had, and there with his shoulders spread wide. But then it lay, one and one, under Culpepper's care. He wore no hood for cold. It was trussed up on his wallet. He thought he rode up on the new get-up. Saved his cap, he rode bare. His wallet before him had he in his lap. A vernasowid on his cap was. A breach full of pa. Avois he had as small as a goat. No beard had he neither should have. As much was it as if it were new shave. I trow he were a gelding or a mare. But of his, there was now nowhere such a pardoner. For in his hand he had a pilgrim's staff. Which that he said was our lady's evil. He said he had a goblet of the sell. That St. Peter had when he went up on the sea til Iesus christ him hent. He had a cross of laton full of stones. And in a glass he had pig's bones. But with these relics when that he found A poor person dwelling up on land. Up on a day he got him more money Than the person got in months three. And thus has he feigned flattery & Iapis. He made the parson and the people his apes. But truly to tell at the last He was in church an noble ecclesiast. Well could he read a lesson or a story. But best he sang. An offering for him knew when that song was sung,\nHe must preach and file a while his throat,\nTo win silver as he well can.\nTherefore he sang the merrier than,\nNow have I told you shortly in a clause,\nThe state, the array, the number, and the cause,\nWhy that assembly was this company,\nIn Southwark at this gentle hostelry,\nThat highteth the Tabard, fast by the bell,\nBut now is time for you to tell,\nHow that we were that night,\nWhen that we were in the hostelry, a light,\nAnd after I will tell of our journey,\nAnd all the remainder of our pilgrimage.\nBut first I pray of your courtesy,\nThat you reckon not my vileness,\nThough I plainly speak in this matter,\nTo tell you here words and her cheer,\nAnd though I speak here words properly,\nFor this you know as well as I,\nWho shall a,\nHe must rehearse as near as he can,\nEu yf it be in his charge,\nand so large,\nword as another,\nHer, My, GR.\nAnd to supper set us anon.\nHe served us with victuals at the best.\nStrong was the wine and drink us list.\nA seemly man our host was with all.\nForto be. A marshal in a lord's hall\nA large man he was, with yellow steps.\nFairer burghers there none in the cheap.\nBold of speech and well was I taught,\nAnd of manhood lacked he right naught.\nAlso there was he right a merry man.\nAnd after,\nHe spoke of mirth among other things,\nWhen that we had made our reckonings.\nHe said thus now, lordings truly,\nYou be to me right welcome heartily,\nFor by my truth, if I shall not lie,\nI saw not this,\nAt one time in the,\nFairly would I,\nAnd of my mercy,\nTo do you ease and it shall cost you naught.\nYou go to Canterbury,\nThe blessed martyr quit your debt.\nAnd well you woo,\nYou shall promise you to and to play,\nFor truly come,\nTo ride by the way,\nAnd therefore,\nAs I said before, and if it pleases you,\nForto stone,\nAnd forto work,\nTomorrow when you,\nNow be my father soothed,\nBut you be merry, I shall be,\nHold up your hand without more speech,\nOur counsel shall not long be to seek,\nWe thought it was not worth making us wise,\nAnd granted him without more advice,\nAnd bid him say his verdict as he lists.\nLordings, do you now hear for the best?\nBut. Take it not in disdain, I pray you,\nThis is the point to speak it short and plain,\nEach of you, with your way,\nTo Canterbury-ward I mean it so,\nAnd homeward he shall tell other tales,\nOf adventures that once have befallen,\nAnd which of you brings him best of all,\nThat is to say, he who tells in this case,\nTales of best sense and most comfort,\nWhen you come again from Canterbury,\nAnd to make you the more merry,\nI will ride,\nRight at my own cost and be your guide,\nAnd whoever will my judgment agree with,\nShortly shall pay all that is spent on the way,\nAnd if you vouchsafe that it be so,\nTell me at once without further words,\nAnd I will heartily agree therefore,\nThis thing was granted, and others swore,\nWith full glad heart and prayed him also,\nThat he would vouchsafe,\nAnd that he would be our governor,\nAnd of our tales, judge and reporter,\nAnd set a supper at a certain price,\nAnd will be rewarded at his discretion,\nHigh and low and all be in agreement,\nWe are accorded to the judgment,\nAnd thereupon was set upon the wine. We drank and went to rest, each one\nWithout delay longer tarrying,\nAnon when the day began to spring,\nUp rose our host and was all our cook,\nAnd gathered us all in a flock,\nAnd forth we rode little more than a pass,\nUnto the watering of St. Thomas,\nAnd there our host halted his horse,\nAnd said, \"Listen, lords, if you will,\nYou know our route and I record,\nIf evening song and morrow song agree,\nLet's see now who shall tell the first tale,\nAs ever must I drink wine or ale,\nWhoever will be rebellious to my judgment\nShall pay for all that is spent on the way,\nNow draw you or that you further twine,\nWhich shall the first tale begin,\nSir knight said he, my master and my lord,\nDraws out the cut, for that is my accord,\nComes hither, said he, my lady Priores,\nAnd you, sir clerk, let go your shamefastness,\nDo not lay on hand every man,\nAnon to withdraw every man began,\nAnd shortly to tell as it was,\nWhether it was adventure or cause,\nThe truth is this is the cut on the knight,\nOf which full blithe and glad is every man,\nAnd tell. Be fore and be composed, as you have heard what more words are needed. And when this good man saw that it was so, He obeyed and gave his free assent. What welcome cut a god's name. Now let us ride and hear what I say. And with that word, we rode forth on the way.\n\nHe said anon his tale, as you shall hear. Once upon a time, as the old story tells us,\n\nOf Thebes he was lord and governor,\nAnd in his time such a conquered,\nGreater was there none under the sun.\nFull many a rich country had he won,\nWith his wisdom and chivalry,\nHe conquered all the realm of Femeney,\nOnce called Cithea.\nAnd wedded the queen Ipolita,\nAnd brought with much glory and solemnity,\nAnd also her young sister Emelye.\nThus with victory and melody,\nLet this worthy duke ride to Athens,\nAnd all his east in arms accompany him.\nAnd certainly, if it were not long to hear,\nI would have told fully the matter\nHow the realm of Femeney was won\nBy Theseus and his chivalry,\nAnd of the great battle for the goddesses\nBetween Athenians and Amazons. I. How besieged was Ipolita,\nThe fair queen of Cith, and of the feast,\nAnd of the tempest at her homecoming,\nBut all things I must now forget,\nI have prayed and wept.\nThe remainder of my tale is long since,\nI will not let it go,\nLet every fellow see now who shall win the supper,\nAnd there I left I w.\nThis duke whom I mention,\nWhen he was coming almost into the town,\nHe was waylaid,\nIn all his wealth and his most pride,\nWhere there knelt in the high way\nA company of two ladies, each after the other,\nClothed in clothes black,\nBut such a dance, such a wooing they made,\nThat in this world there is no living creature\nThat heard such another wailing,\nAnd of this cry they would never cease\nUntil they had seized the reins of his bride.\nWhat folk are you that come to my home,\nDisturbing me and my feast with crying,\nQuoth Theseus, have you such great envy\nOf my honor that you complain and cry so,\nOr who has wronged or offended you,\nTell me, and it shall be amended,\nAnd why are you clothed thus in black,\nThe eldest lady of them. All spoke. When she had sworn with a deadly countenance That it was a joy to see and to hear, She said, \"Lord, to whom Fortune has given Victory and as a conqueror to live, Nothing grieves us your glory and your honor But we beseech you for mercy and succor Have mercy on our woe and distress Some drop of pity for your gentleness Up on us wretched women let now fall For certain, lord, there is not one of us all That she has not been a duchess or a queen Now we are captives, as it is well seen I thank Fortune and her false wheel That none of us has any guarantee to be well Now, certain lord, to abide your presence Here in this temple of God's clemency We have been waiting all this forty nights Now help us, lord, since it is in your might I wretched wight who weeps thus Was once the wife of Campanius That starved at Thebes, accursed be that day And all we that are in this array And make all this lamentation We lost all our husbands in that town While the siege there lasted And yet now the old Creon is gone That lord is now of Thebes that The text appears to be written in Old English, and it seems to be a passage from a poem or a play. I will translate it into modern English and remove unnecessary line breaks and whitespaces.\n\nFulfilled of wrath and iniquity,\nHe, in contempt and his tyranny,\nTo do the deeds of all our lords,\nWho are slaves, I draw on a heap,\nAnd will not allow them assent,\nNeither to be buried nor to be burned,\nBut makes hounds to eat them in contempt,\nAnd with that word without more respect,\nThey fall groveling and cry pitifully,\nHave on us wretched women some mercy,\nAnd let our sorrow sink in your heart,\nThis noble duke, with pity in his heart,\nWhen he heard them speak,\nThought his heart would break,\nWhen he saw them so pitiful and so meek,\nWho once were of such great estate,\nAnd in his arms he took them,\nAnd comforted them in full good intent,\nAnd swore his oath as he was a true knight,\nHe would do so forthwith his might,\nUp upon the tyrant Creon, him to avenge,\nThat all the people of Greece should speak,\nHow Creon was served by Theseus,\nAs he deserved.\nAnd right away, without more ado,\nHis banner and forth he rode,\nToward Thebes and all his army beside,\nNo near Athens would he go or ride,\nNor. take his ese nat fully half aday\nBut on his wey that nyght he lay\nAnd sente anon I po\nAnd Emely hir yonge sustir shene\nVnto the toun of Athenes to dwelle\nAnd forth he rideth ther is nomore to telle\nHE rood the statu with spere and \nSo shyneth in his whit baner larg\nThat alle the and doun\nAnd he his baner born\u0304 is his penon\u0304\nOf gold \nThe Mytan whiche he wan in crete\nThis riche duke this riche conquerour\nAnd in his oste of chiualrye the flour\nTyl that he cam to Thebes and a lighte\nFer in a f there as he thoughte to fighte\nBut shortly to speke of this thyng\nWith Creon whiche was of thebes kyng\nHe faught and slow hym manly as a knyght\nIn playn bataille and put his folk to fight\nAnd at a sawte he wan the cyte aftir\nAnd rente a doun wal sparre and raftir\nAnd to the ladyes he restored ageyn\u0304\nThe bodyes of her husbondis that were sleyn\u0304\nTo do obsequyes as tho was the gyse\nBut it were al to long to douyse\nThe gret clamour and the weymentyng\nThat the ladyes made at the buryyng\nOf the bodyes and the grete honour\nThat The Duke Doth Take Rest in the Field After Slaying Creon and Winning Thebes. He searches through the bodies of the slain, having his men prepare the knights Palamon and Arcite for armor and clothing. After the battle and discomfiture, they find the two young knights lying nearby, both richly dressed in one set of armor. Arcite and Palamon were not fully alive or dead, but the heralds recognized them best. Alas, they were of the royal blood of Thebes, born from Oedipus and Jocasta. The pilgrims take them and carry them to Theseus' tent, where he sends them to Athens to live in prison. Once this is done, the Duke takes his leave. And he went at once\nWith laurel crown as a conqueror,\nAnd there he lives in joy and honor,\nThe term of his life what need more words,\nAnd in a tower with anxiety and desire,\nDwell Palamon and Arcite,\nFor evermore there may no man redeem them,\nThus passed year by year by day,\nUntil it fell upon a morning of May,\nThat Emely, who was fairer to see\nThan is the lily upon the stalk tree,\nAnd fresher than may with new flowers,\nFor with the rose color suffused her hue,\nI know not which was the fairer of them two,\nBefore it was day as was her wont to do,\nShe was risen and all ready dressed,\nMay will have no sloth a night,\nThe season stirs every gentle heart,\nAnd makes it out of its sleep to start,\nAnd since a rise to do its observances,\nThis makes Emely have remembrances,\nTo do honor to May and to rise,\nI clothed her freshly,\nHer yellow dress was broidered on a tunic,\nBehind her back a long yard I see,\nAnd in the garden at the sun's rising,\nShe walked up and down as she pleased,\nShe gathered flowers partly white. And rede, to make a subtle chaplet for her head,\nAn angel heavenly sang the great tour, that was so thick and strong,\nWhich of the Castle was the chief dungeon,\nThere as the knights were in prison,\nOf which I told you and shall tell,\nWas even joyful to the Castle w,\nThere as fair Emely had her playing,\nBright was the sun and clear in that morning,\nAnd Palamon, this woeful prisoner,\nAs was his wont by leave of his jailer,\nWas risen and roamed in the chamber,\nIn which all the noble city he saw,\nAnd also the garden full of green branches,\nThere as fair Emely, the radiant one,\nWas in her walk and roamed up and down,\nThis sorrowful Palamon,\nGoth in the chamber to and fro,\nAnd to himself complained of his woe,\nThat he was born often he said, \"alas,\"\nAnd so be it through adventure and fortune,\nThat through a thick window with many bars,\nOf iron great and square as any spear,\nHe cast his eyes upon Emelia,\nAnd therewith as he blinked, he cried out, \"Ah,\"\nAs though he were longing to his heart,\nAnd with that cry Arcite at once started up,\nAnd said, \"cousin mine.\" That art so pale and dedly on to see, why, for God's love take all in patience. Our prison is all that it may be. Fortune has given us this adversity or an evil aspect or disposition of Saturn, has given us this, all that we had sworn. So stood the heavens when we were born. We must endure this. This Palamon answered and said again:\n\nCousin indeed of this opinion,\nThou hast a vain imagination.\nThis prison caused me not to cry,\nBut I was hurt now through mine eye.\nTo my heart that will be my bane.\nThe fairness of a lady that I see\nYonder in the garden roaming to and fro,\nIs the cause of my crying and my woe.\nI know not whether she be woman or goddess,\nBut Venus it is, truly, as I guess,\nAnd therewithal he said:\n\nVenus, if it be thy will,\nTransform us thus in this garden,\nBefore me, sorrowful wretch, thy creature.\nHelp us to escape from this prison.\nAnd if it be my destiny so to happen,\nLet us both die in prison eternally.\nHave compassion on our lineage,\nThat is so lowly I. Palamon brought it, and with that word Arcite began to see,\nWhereas the lady went to and fro,\nAnd with that sight her beauty hurt him so,\nThat if Palamon were wounded sore,\nArcite was hurt as much as he or more.\nAnd with a sigh he sighed pitifully,\nThe fresh beauty shall slay me suddenly,\nOf her that comes in the yonder place,\nAnd but I have her mercy and her grace,\nThat I may see her at the latest way,\nI am but dead, there is no more to say.\nThis Palamon when he heard these words,\nDisdainfully he looked and answered,\nWhether you say this in earnest or in play?\nNay, said Arcite, in earnest, be my faith,\nGod help me, I little wish to play,\nThis Palamon began to knit his brows two,\nIt were said he to the not great honor,\nTo be false or to be a traitor,\nTo me that am thy cousin and thy brother,\nI swore and each of us to other,\nThat never for to die in the pain,\nTill the death departs us twain,\nNeither in love to harm other,\nNor in any evil cause my true brother,\nBut that thou shouldst truly further me,\nIn every case as I should further. This was thy and my certain belief\nI know it well, thou wilt not deny it\nThus art thou of my counsel without doubt\nAnd now thou wouldst falsely be about\nTo land serve\nAnd you\nNow certis false\nI loved her first and told my woo\nand to my brother sworn\nI was\nDidst thou not well know the old clerks saw\nThat he who shall\nLove is greater law be my panne\nThan any earthly man can give\nAnd therefore positive law in such degree\nIs broken every day for love in every degree\nA man most needs love despite his head\nHe may not flee it though he should be dead\nAlthough she may be made widow or wife\nAnd yet it is not likely all thy life\nTo stand in her grace any longer shall I\nFor well thou knowest thyself truly\nThat thou and I are damned to prison\nPerpetually gains us no reason\nNe strive as did the hounds for the bone\nThey fought always and yet her part was none\nAnd therefore at the king's court my brother\nEach man for himself there is none other\nLove if thou wilt, for I love and shall. Here is the cleaned text:\n\nBrother dear, this is all:\nHere in this prison we endure,\nAnd each of us takes his turn.\nGreat was the strife and long between us.\nIf I had less to say,\nBut to relate it briefly as I may,\nA worthy duke named Parthus,\nWhose fellow was Duke Theseus,\nBut of this story I will not recite,\nParthus loved Arcite deeply,\nAnd had known him at Thebes year by year,\nAnd at Parthus' request and prayer,\nDuke Theseus released him from prison,\nFreely to go wherever he pleased,\nIn such a guise as I shall tell,\nThis was the agreement plainly stated\nBetween Duke Theseus and Arcite:\nThat if Arcite were ever found,\nIn any land of Duke Theseus,\nAnd agreed to this,\nThat with a sword he should lose his head,\nBut take his leave and hasten homeward,\nLet him beware his life be it what it may,\nIt would be a great thing to think about,\nHow great...\nNow I am destined eternally to dwell\nIn nothing but... Allas, I have ever longed for Parolles. I am in his prison, not in pleasure, but in pain. I can only see her whom I serve.\n\nWolseverything rightly suffers for me. O dear cousin Palamon, he said. This is the victory of this adventure. Fully blissful.\n\nIn prison, I am not certain but in paradise. Fortune has turned the dice. She who has the sight of her in my absence is a possibility, for it is possible that you have her presence and are a knight worthy and able. By some chance, since fortune is changeable, you may sometime attain your desire. But I, who am exiled and bereft of all grace, am in great despair. There is no water, earth, fire, or air, nor any creature made that can help or comfort me. I wish I could govern in despair and distress. Far better my life, my lust, and my joy.\n\nAlas, why do penitent men so often commune About purgatory or fortune, which often deals with them In ways better than they can devise? Some men desire riches, which is the cause of murder or great sickness. And some man \"Would escape from his prison, for in his house his men are slain. Infinite harms are in this matter. We do not know what thing we pray for here. We fare as one who is drunk is like a mouse. A drunk man knows well he has a house, but he knows not which is the right way thither. To a drunk man the way is slippery. And certainly in this world we seek steadfastly after felicity, but we go wrong frequently. Thus may we all say, and I in particular, who went had great opinion, that I might escape from prison. Then I would be in joy and in perfect health. Now I am exiled from my health. Since I may not see you, Emelye, I am but dead, there is no remedy. On the other side, Palamon, when he knew Arcite had gone, made such sorrow that the great crowd was moved by his yelling and clamor. The pure feet on his shining bright ones were wetted with his bitter salt tears. Alas, said he, Arcite, my cousin, of all our strife, God knows the fruit is yours. You walk now in Thebes at your leisure, and of my woe you ask little.\" Thou mayst say thou hast wisdom and manhood. Gather all the folk of our kinred. By some adventure or some treat, thou mightest have her to lady and to wife, For whom I must needs lose my life. For since thou art at large and of prison free, And art a lord, greater is thine advantage Than is hers in a cage. I may weep and wail while thou art away, With all the woe that prison may me yield, And also with pain that love me thou dost, That doubles all my torment and my woe. Therewith the fire of jealousy starts, With him his breast and seizes him by the heart, So cruelly that he seemed likely to behold, The box tree or the ash tree dead or cold. That said, O cruel gods that govern The world with bidding of your word eternal, And written in the tablet of the athame, Your parliament and your eternity rejoice. What is mankind more to you than is the sheep That rambles in the fold? For man is slain Just as another beast, And dwells in prison and in arrest, And has sickness and great adversity. \"Ofte time gently a parader:\nWhat governs this presence\nThat gently torments Innocence\nAnd yet increases all my penance\nThat man is bound to his observation\nFor God's sake to let go of his will\nThere as a beast may fulfill all his will\nAnd when he sleeps he has no pain\nBut after his death man may weep and wail\nThough in this world he has care and woe\nWithout a doubt it may stand so\nThe answer to this letter I leave to the gods\nBut well I know that in this world great pain is\nAlas, I see a serpent or a thief\nThat many a true man has harmed\nGoes at his large and where he lists may turn\nBut I must be in prison through Saturn\nAnd through him unhappy and also wood\nThat has destroyed nearly all the blood\nOf Thebes with his wide waste walls\nAnd Venus entraps me on the other side\nFor jealousy and fear of him and Arcite\nNow I will cease from Palamon's lament\nAnd let him in his prison dwell quietly\nAnd the summer passed the nights grew long\nIncreases he doubly the pains strong\nBoth of the lover and of the \" A prisoner I am, and I do not know which one of Palamon and Arcite has the greater misery. For Palamon is condemned to prison, chained and doomed to die, while Arcite is exiled, and his lady will never be his again. Lovers, ask this question of me now, so that one may see his lady every day. But Palamon must dwell in prison forever, while the other may ride or go wherever he pleases, but he will never see his lady again. Now decide as you will, for I will tell you as I began.\n\nWhen Arcite came to Thebes, he often swooned and cried out every day, for he would never see his lady again. And to conclude, his sorrow was so great that no creature could endure it. The world could not last. His sleep, his food, and his drink were taken from him. He grew thin and dry as a withered shaft. His eyes were hollow and grisly to behold. His hair was pale and ashen. He was alone and solitary, and he lamented as much as he could, making his mourning. And if he heard a song or an instrument, he would weep, for he might. Not steady was his spirit and so low,\nAnd changed so much that no man could know\nHis speech or wisdom, though men heard it,\nAs in his grief for all the world it seemed.\nNothing like the lover's melancholy\nOf herons but rather I liken it\nEngendered of melancholic humor\nBefore in his cell, fantastical\nAnd soon turned up so down\nBoth habit and disposition of him, this woeful lover, Arcite,\nWhat should I of his woe recount daily,\nWhen he endured had a year or two\nThis cruel torment, this pain and woe,\nAt Thebes in his country as I said,\nOn a night as he lay down to sleep,\nHe thought how that the winged Mercury\nBefore him stood and bade him be merry,\nHis sleepy ear he bore in hand right,\nAn hat he bore upon his hair bright,\nFearful was this god as he took keep,\nAs he was when Argus took his sleep,\nAnd said to Apollo: \"Thou shalt go,\nThere is the shape of thy woe an end.\"\nAnd with that word Arcite awoke and started,\n\"Now truly how sore that pains me,\"\nSaid he to Apollo, \"wilt thou fare,\nNo fear of whatsoever.\" He shall spare my life. I see myself\nAnd with that word, he caught a mirror,\nAnd saw that I had changed in color.\nAnd saw my face, and right away it came to my mind\nThat since my face was disfigured\nBy the malady I had endured,\nI lived in Athens then,\nAnd was\nAnd right away I changed my attire,\nAnd dressed as a poor laborer,\nExcept for a poor squire\nWho knew my private affairs.\nDisguised poorly as I was,\nTo Athens I went the next way,\nAnd to the court I went up on that day,\nAnd at the gate I offered my service,\nTo draw and drag and whatever they desired,\nAnd shortly, concerning this matter, I will tell you,\nI entered the service of a chamberlain,\nWho lived with Emelye,\nFor he was wise and could discern\nEvery servant who served there,\nWell able to carry wood and water,\nFor he was young and strong enough for the tasks,\nAnd moreover, he was tall and big-boned,\nTo do what every man could ask of him,\nA year or two I was in this service,\nPage in the Chamber of Emelye. And Philostratus said that he was named Bright. But there was no man in the court of equal rank who was loved as much as he. He was so gentle in disposition that throughout the court, he was renowned. They said it was charity that Theseus would enhance his rank and place him in a worthy service, so that he might exercise his virtue. Within a short time, his name became renowned, both for his deeds and his tongue. Theseus brought him so near that he made him a squire and gave him gold to maintain his rank. Moreover, men brought him out of his country. Privately, year after year, his rent was fulfilled by him honestly and lightly, so that no one wondered how he had it. He lived thus for three years, bearing him in peace and also in war. There was no man who pitied Palamon more in this bliss, and I now wish to speak of Palamon, lying in the depths of a horrible and strong prison. For what sorrow and distress he suffered, who was overwhelmed by woeful woe and heaviness, but Palamon, whom love tormented. That wood he not go for woo, out of his wit, and a prisoner, not only for a year. His matrimony is not mine to tell. I will not keep you all day.\n\nThe plain truth is, after midnight, Palamon, with the help of a friend, broke his prison and fled as soon as he could. He had given his jailer drink, made of a certain wine, clary, with nutmeg and Ephesian fine wine. The jailer slept through half the night, despite men trying to shake him. Palamon fled as fast as he could. The night was short and the day fast approaching. He needed to hide himself quickly and sought a grove beside the road. With a dreadful heart, Palamon believed that in this grove he would hide forever, and at night he would make his way to Thebes to ask his friends to help him petition Theseus for aid. He believed either he would lose his life or win Emelye as his wife. is the effect and the intent is plain\nNow I will turn to Arcite again,\nWho little knew how near was his care,\nUntil fortune had brought him in the snare.\nThe merry lark messenger of May\nSaves in her song the morrow gray,\nAnd Phoebus rises us so bright,\nThat all the orient laughs of the sight,\nAnd with his streams dries the dews,\nThe silver drops hanging on the leaves,\nAnd Arcite, who in the royal court,\nWith Theseus his squire principal,\nIs risen and looks on the merry day,\nAnd to do his observance to May,\nRemembering on the point of his desire,\nHe on his courser stirring like the fire,\nIs ridden into the fields him to play,\nOut of the Court were it a mile or two,\nAnd to the grove of which that I you told,\nBy chance his way he began to hold,\nTo make him a garland of the greens,\nWhether of woodbine or of hawthorn leaves,\nAnd loud song against the sun's shine,\nMay all thy flowers and thy green,\nWelcome be thou, fresh, fair May,\nIn hope that I some green may get,\nAnd from his courser with a lusty heart,\nInto the grove. Full lustily he started, and in a path he roamed up and down,\nWhereas by chance this Palamon was in a bush that no man might see,\nFul sore afraid of his death was he,\nKnowing not that this was Arcite.\nGod wots he would have thought it little,\nBut truly said, many years have passed,\nThat field has yielded and wood has grown,\nIt is fair for a man to bear himself,\nFor ever men meet at uncertain steeds,\nLittle went Arcite from his companion,\nWho was so near to hear his sighs,\nWhen Arcite had roamed all his fill,\nPalamon in the bush now sits still,\nAnd Arcite sang all the roundel lustily,\nInto a study he flew suddenly,\nAs do these lovers in their quiet girls,\nNow in the crop and now in the breris,\nNow up now down as booket in a well,\nRight as the Friday southly to tell,\nNow it shines now it rains fast,\nRight so began Venus to overshadow cast,\nThe hearts of her folk right as her day,\nHis guery thought so changed his array,\nSeld is the Friday all the wood like,\nWhen Arcite had sung he began to sicken,\nAnd he set him. \"Alas, I was born on the day that I lament,\nThrough your cruelty, Juno, how long you will torment Thebes, the city?\nAlas, I bring confusion,\nThe royal blood of Cadmus and Amphion,\nOf Cadmus, who was the first man\nTo build or first found Thebes,\nAnd of the city, I am the first-born king,\nOf his lineage am I and of his offspring,\nTrue line and royal stock,\nAnd now I am so weak and so subservient,\nThat he who is my mortal enemy,\nI serve him and am his squire poorly,\nAnd yet, Juno, it brings me greater shame,\nFor I dare not reveal my own name,\nBut there, as I was accustomed to be called Arcite,\nNow I am called Philostratus, not worthy of respect,\nAlas, you, cruel Mars, alas, Juno,\nThus, your ire has destroyed our lineage,\nSworechid Palamon,\nWho is married to Emelye by Theseus,\nAnd over all this, to kill me utterly,\nLove has its fiery dart so burningly,\nIt pierced through my true, careful heart,\nWhich was once meant to be my death or my shirt,\nYou kill me with your jealousy, Emelye,\nYou are the cause why I die,\nOf all the remaining of my other kin.\" I.:\n\nAnd I could not care\nNot a farthing for a tanner's mount\nSo much that I could do anything to please you\nAnd with that word he fell down in a trance\nA long time, and afterwards, Palamon arose\nWho felt a cold sword suddenly slide through his heart\nBecause of his anger, he would not endure longer\nAnd when he had heard Arcite's tale,\nAs pale as wood with a dead face,\nHe said, \"Arcite, false traitor, wicked one,\nNow are you the one for whom I have undergone this pain and wooed,\nAnd are my blood and sworn to my counsel,\nAnd I have often told this before,\nAnd you have been paid here by Duke Theseus,\nAnd falsely have changed your name thus.\nI will be dead or else you shall die.\nYou shall not love my lady Emelye,\nBut I will love none other.\nFor I am Palamon, your mortal foe.\nAnd though I have no tears in this place,\nBut out of prison, I start by grace,\nThat you should die by my hand.\nFor I defy the severity and the bond\nWhich you say I have made to thee.\nWhat foolish one thinks that love is free?\nAnd I will love her despite all your might.\nBut for as long as: Much as you are a knight and would dare here be battle, I give you my truth tomorrow I will not fail, without waiting for any other's permission. That here I will be found as a knight and bring armor right now for the battle, and choose the best and leave the worst for me. I now for thee and clothes for thy bedding. And if so be that thou, my lady, winnest and sleeps with me in this wood that I am in, thou mayest well have thy lady as for me. This Palamon answered, \"I grant it.\" And thus they were parted until tomorrow. When either of them has laid his faith in borrowing, they were occupied out of all charity. O reign, that would have no fellowship, Truly said, love and lordship will not have any fellowship. We find this of Arcite and Palamon: Arcite is riding anon into the town, and on the morrow anon or it were light, he has dight two armors privately. Both sufficient and meet to dare engage in the field between them two. And on his horse alone, as he was born, he carried it. And in the ground at the time and place,\nArctic and Palamon met to change the color in her face,\nJust as hunters, in the reign of trace,\nStand at the gap with a spear,\nWhen hunting is the lion and the bear,\nAnd hear him come rushing in the greys,\nAnd bind also lews,\nAnd think that my mortal enemy\nWithout fail must be dead or I,\nFor either I must slay him at the gap,\nOr he must slay me if I miss my chance.\nSo changing of her hue,\nAs far as any of them other knew,\nThere was no good day nor salvaging,\nBut straight without words of recognizing,\nEach of them helped to arm the other,\nAs friendly as he were his own brother,\nAnd after that with sharp spears strong,\nThey faced each other long.\nThou mightest think that this Palamon,\nIn his fighting, was a lion,\nAnd as a cruel tiger was Arctic,\nAs wildly Boris began they to gather strike,\nThat fretened white as foam for ire's wood,\nUp to the ankle they fought in her blood,\nAnd in this way I let them fighting duel,\nAnd indeed I will. Theseus told the mysterious general of the world that excuses us all\nThe punishment that God has beforehand\nSo strange it is that though the world had sworn\nThe contrary of a thing be you or I\nYet sometimes it shall fall upon a day\nThat falls not again in a thousand years\nFor certainly our appetites here\nAre ruled by the sight above\nThis is what I now mean by mighty Theseus\nWho is so desirous to hunt\nAnd especially at the great heart in May\nWho in his bed there did not day\nWho is not clad and ready to ride\nWith hunt and horn and hounds by his side\nFor in his hunting he finds such delight\nThat it is all his joy and his appetite\nTo be himself the great one\nAfter Mars, he now serves Diana\nThe day was clear as I have told or this\nAnd Theseus with joy and bliss\nWith his Ipolita, the fair queen\nAnd Emely, clad all in green\nAn hunting they rode merrily\nAnd to the grove that stood there\nIn which there was a heart, as men told\nDuke Theseus. straight way he went\nAnd to the land he rode rightly\nFor there was his heart's desire to be found\nAnd over brook and so forth on his way\nThe duke wanted to confront him or two\nWith him and another\nAnd when this duke came to the land\nUnder the sun he looked and saw at once\nHe was aware of Arcite and Palamon\nWho fought so fiercely that with the least stroke\nIt seemed it would have slain an ox\nBut what they were he knew not\nThis duke with his spurs spurred on his courser\nAnd at a stop he was between them two\nAnd pulled out his sword and said, \"Halt!\nNo more harm\nBut tell me what manner of men you are\nWho are so bold\nWithout judgment or other officer\nAs though it were in earnest\nThis Palamon answered quickly and said, \"Sir, what more do you want from us?\nWe have deserved both of us\nTwo wretched wounded knights\nWho are entangled in our lives\nAnd as you are a rightful lord and judge\nDo not give us neither\" But sleep not for my sake, for Saint Charity's sake,\nBut sleep me first or my fellow equally,\nOr else him first, for you know he is light,\nHe is thy mortal foe, this is Arcite,\nWho from thy land was banished on his head,\nFor which he hath deserved to be dead,\nThis is he that came to thy gate,\nAnd said that he was named Philostrate,\nThus he has deceived many a year,\nAnd thou hast made him thy chief squire,\nAnd this is he that loves Emely,\nSince the day comes that I shall die,\nI make plainly my confession,\nI am that wretched Palamon,\nWho have wickedly broken thy prison,\nI am thy mortal foe, and he is I,\nThat loves so hot Emely the bright,\nThat I will die here present in her sight,\nTherefore I ask death of my wise judge,\nBut sleep my fellow in the same way,\nFor both have we deserved to be slain.\nThis worthy duke answered at once again,\nAnd said, \"This is a short conclusion,\nYour own mouth be your confession,\nIt has condemned you, and I will record it,\nIt needs not to punish with the cord,\nYou shall be dead, mighty Mars the redeemer,\nThe queen.\" anon for very woman's sight,\nGan forth weep and so did Emelye,\nAnd all the ladies in that company,\nGreat pity was it as they thought,\nThat ever such a chance should befall,\nFor gentlemen they were and of great estate,\nAnd nothing but for love was this debate,\nAnd saw her bleeding wounds wide and sore,\nAnd all cried both less and more,\nHave mercy, lord, upon us women all,\nAnd on her bare knees they fell down,\nAnd would have killed them there as they stood,\nTill at the last his mood was mollified.\nFor pity runs soon in gentle hearts,\nAnd though he first for ire boiled and flared,\nHe considered shortly in a moment,\nThe transgressions of them both and also the cause,\nAnd although that his ire accused them,\nYet in his reason he both excused them,\nAnd thus he thought, every man\nWill help himself in love as best he can,\nAnd deliver himself from prison,\nAnd also in his gentle heart he had compassion,\nFor women, for they were ever one.\nAnd softly to himself he said,\nUp on a lord. That will have no mercy, but be a lion both in word and deed,\nTo those who are in repentance and fear, as well as a proud, disdainful man,\nWho will maintain what he first began.\nThat lord has little discretion.\nIn such a case, he can make no division.\nBut weighs pride and humbles afterward,\nAnd shortly when his ire is thus aroused,\nHe looks on them with eyes black and ugly,\nAnd speaks these words aloud:\n\nThe god of love, a blessing be upon him,\nHow mighty and great is he above all,\nAgainst his might, no obstacle prevails,\nHe may be called a god for his miracles,\nFor he can shape every heart as he pleases.\nBehold, here are Arcite and Palamon,\nWho cleverly emerged from my prison,\nAnd lived a noble life in Thebes,\nAnd know I am their mortal enemy,\nAnd that their death lies in me also,\nYet love, despite their enmity,\nBrings them both here to die.\nNow look, is this not a foolish thing?\nWho can be a fool but he who loves?\nBehold, for God's sake, who sits above,\nSee how they bleed; are they not well? Thus has her lord, the god of love, paid\nThem her wages and her fees for her service,\nAnd yet they think to be wise\nWho serve love for anything that falls,\nBut this is yet the best game of all,\nThat she for whom they have this jade,\nCan therefore thank them as much as me,\nShe knows no more of all this,\nBut all must be endured cold,\nA man must be a fool, young or old,\nI know it was myself long ago,\nFor in my time, I was a servant,\nAnd therefore, since I know love's pain,\nHow can a man distract\nAs he who has been caught in this last,\nI forgive you wholeheartedly this transgression,\nAnd at the queen's request who kneels here,\nAnd also of Emely,\nAnd you both shall to me swear,\nThat never you shall my crown endanger,\nNor make war on me night or day,\nBut be my friends in all that you can,\nI forgive this transgression far and well,\nAnd they him swore his asking evermore,\nAnd him of lordship and mercy prayed,\nAnd he granted and thus he said:\n\nTo speak of worthy lineage and riches,\nThough she, You are a queen or a princess,\neach of you both is worthy, doubtless,\nTo wed when time is but negligible,\nI speak for my sister,\nFor whom you have this strife and this jealousy,\nYou know yourself, you may not wed two,\nAt once they fight ever more,\nThe one of you all be he loath or left,\nHe must go pip in an Ivy leave,\nThis is to say she may not have both,\nAlbeit you never so jealous and so loath,\nAnd for thy I thee put in this degree,\nThat each of you shall have his due,\nAs him his shaping and hearken in what way,\nLo here yonre end of that I shall devise,\nMy will is this for plain conclusion,\nWithout any replication,\nIf that you lie,\nThat each of you shall go where he lists,\nFreely without reason or danger,\nAnd this day fifty weeks hence,\nEach of you shall bring an hundred knight,\nArmed for lists up all right,\nAlready to dare here be ba,\nAnd this bequeath I you without fail,\nUpon my truth & as I am a true knight,\nThat whichever of you both has that might,\nMay with his hundred as I spoke of now. Contrary or against my list, I shall give Emely to you, wife,\nTo whom fortune yields such a fair grace,\nThe list I shall make in this place,\nAnd may God wisely judge and be true,\nAs I shall evenly,\nYou shall make no other end with me,\nThat one of you shall be dead or take,\nAnd if you think this is well said,\nSay so your avows and hold you paid,\nThis is your end and your conclusion,\nWho looks now but Palamon,\nWho springs up for joy but Arcite,\nWho could tell or who could endite,\nThe joy that is in this place,\nWhen Theseus had done such a fair grace,\nBut down on his knees went every wight,\nAnd thanked him with all their might,\nAnd namely the Thebans often since,\nAnd thus with good hope and heart blithe,\nThey rode homeward,\nTo Thebes with wide old wall is wide,\nI trowe men would it deem negligent,\nIf I forgot to tell the intent,\nOf Theseus who goes so busily,\nTo make up the list truly,\nThat such a noble enterprise as it was,\nI dare well say in this world there was not\nA courteous mile thereof about,\nWalled with. Round the stone and ditch were built,\nThe shape resembling a compass,\nFully of degrees, the highest sixty passes,\nA man, when seated on one degree,\nWould not let his fellow see,\nEastward there was a gate of marble white,\nWestward,\nAnd such a place, in so little space,\nWas none on earth,\nFor in the land, there was no craftsman\nWho met geometry or the art metric,\nNor could paint or carve images,\nThat Theseus gave meat, drink, and wages,\nTo make and design,\nAnd to do his rite and sacrifice,\nHe erected an altar and an oratory,\nEastward, above the gate,\nIn worship of Venus, goddess of love,\nDo make an altar and an oratory,\nAnd on the westward, in memory,\nOf Mars, he made another,\nCosting much gold,\nAnd northward, in a tower of the wall,\nOf white alabaster and red coral,\nAn oratory rich to see,\nIn worship of Diana, goddess of chastity,\nTheseus wrought in noble manner,\nBut yet had I forgotten to design,\nThe noble carving and the statues,\nThe shape, the countenance, and the figures. In the Oratory, you will find three scenes. The first is in the temple of Venus, where you can see intricately carved figures. These include the broken sleepers and the cold sighs, the sacred terrors and the weeping, the fiery strokes and the desiring, the love-filled people in this world enduring, and the others assuring her. Pleasure, hope, desire, and folly, beauty and youth, bawdry and riches, charms and sorcery, dispense, business, and jealousy, those adorned with yellow gold garlands and a cuckoo sitting on their hands, feasts and dances, and all the circumstances of love which I will recount and tell - these were painted on the wall, and more than I can mention. For truly, all the mountain of Sithon, thronging, was shown on the wall, portraying all the joy and all the lustiness. Nothing was spared, not Narcissus the fair youth of old, nor yet the folly of Solomon, the enchantment of Medea and the hardness of Jason, nor the fiery courage of Turnus. The rich Cresus and his captives were also depicted. Thus may you see that wisdom nor riches, beauty, sleight, strength, nor hardiness can share companionship with Venus, for as she wills, the world may give. Such folk were all ensnared in her grasp till they often lamented, \"Alas.\" Suffices these examples, one or two. Though I could reckon a thousand more, The stature of Venus, glorious to behold, Was made quivering on the vast sea, And from the navel down she was, With waves bright as any glass, A scepter in her right hand she bore, And on her head a garland of roses, Fresh and well-smelling, Above her head doves also flew. Before her stood her son Cupid, Upon his shoulders wings he had two, And blind he was as it is oft told, A bow he bore and arrows clean. Why should I not also tell of the wall The painting that adorned it all, Within the temple of mighty Mars the red, All the walls were painted in length and breadth, Like to the Estriads of the grim place, That hight the great temple of Mars in trace, In that cold northern frosty region, There as Mars himself. In the wall was painted a forest, where neither man nor beast dwells. Old knotted and gnarled trees with sharp, hideous branches filled it. A stream ran through as if a storm were brewing, and below an hill, there stood the temple of Mars, powerful army, made entirely of burning steel. Its entrance was long and narrow, and when it opened, a rage and fury emerged, making all the gates rise. The northern light shone in through the door, for there were no windows on the wall. Men could not discern any light through the doors, which were made of eternal athemaundis. I crossed myself and extended my length, using iron to make it strong. Every pillar of the temple was great and bright with iron. I first saw the dark image of felony and all its companions. The cruel ire gleamed with any delight. The pickpocket and the pale red one appeared, as did the smiler with the knife. The butcher burning with the black. The treason in the bed,\nThe open wounds bled, all were soaked with blood,\nContact with a bloody knife and a sharp mace,\nThe sorrowful place was filled with chirping,\nYet I saw the sleeper's eyes still there,\nHis heart's blood had drained all his cheer,\nThe nail I drove into the shoe and height,\nThe cold death with gaping mouth opened wide,\nA midwife of the temple sat in mockery,\nWith discomfort and sorrowful countenance,\nYet I saw madness laughing in his rage,\nThe hunter was strangled by the wild boar's fury,\nThe sow frightened the child in the cradle,\nThe cook I scalded for his long ladle,\nNothing forgotten was the misfortune of Mars,\nThe cart driver rode over him with his own horse,\nLying under the wheel, he was laid down,\nThere were also scenes of martyrs' destruction,\nThe barber, the butler, and the smith,\nWho forged sharp swords in the forge,\nAnd all above were depicted in a tower,\nThe high conquest sitting in great honor,\nWith the sharp sword over his head,\nHanging by a subtle twisted thread,\nDepicted was there the slaughter of Julius,\nO great Nero and of Antony. At that time, she was yet painted there beforehand\nBy Manasseh's command, rightly depicted\nSo it was shown rightly by the portrait\nAs it is depicted in the series\nWho shall be slain or dead for love\nSuffices as an example in old stories\nI cannot count them all though I would\nThe statue of Mars\nArmed and looked grim as if made of wood\nAnd over his head, two figures shone\nLike unto the figure of virgins\nOne girl was called that other Julius\nThis god of armies was arrayed thus\nA wolf stood before him at his feet\nWith eyes red and of a man he ate\nWith subtle brush was this story painted\nIn the redemption of Mars and his glory\nNow to the temple of Diana the chaste\nAs soon as I can, I will hasten thither\nTo the walls up and down\nOf hunting and of chaste shamefastness\nThere I saw how woeful Calistope was\nWhen Diana was grieved with her\nWas turned from woman into a bear\nAnd afterwards was made the lunar star\nThus was painted. I can say no further\nHer son is also a star as men see\nI saw Diana. I did not find it necessary to clean the text as it is already mostly readable and does not contain any meaningless or unreadable content. However, I have made some minor corrections to ensure accuracy:\n\nBut I mean not the goddess Diana\nBut Penelope\nThere I saw Athene, and I made\nA heart for vengeance that he saw Diana naked\nI saw how hounds had him caught\nAnd frightened him because they knew him not\nYet I painted furthermore\nHow Artemis hunted the wild boar\nAnd Melian and many others\nFor which Diana caused him care and woe\nThere I saw many another wonderful story\nWhich I will not draw in memory\nThis goddess is seated on a high heart\nWith small hounds about her feet\nAnd beneath her feet, waning, was\nA gaudy green her statue clothed\nWith bow in hand and arrows in case\nHere she casts it low to the ground\nThere Pluto has his dark region\nA woman truly was here before\nBut for her child so long unborn\nFully pitifully Lucina she called\nAnd said, \"Help, for thou art the best of all.\"\nWell could he paint livingly that it was\nWith many a flower he bought these hues\n\nNow these lists are made & Theseus\nWho at great cost has arrayed himself The temple and the altars were ever ready. When it was done, it pleased him well. But I will not speak of Theseus anymore and instead speak of Palamon and Arcite. The day approaches for each to bring a hundred knights to Darren as you told. And each of them has brought a hundred knights, well armed for the war at all rights. And surely many believed that never since the world began there were so few such a noble company. For every man who loved chivalry and wanted his thanks to be renowned, he prayed that he might be a part of it. And well was he chosen if there was to be such a cause the next day. You know well that every lusty knight who loves paramours and has his might would willingly be there, either in England or elsewhere, to fight for a lady, a blessing. It was a lusty sight, and just so they went with Palamon. Some knights went, some armed in hauberks,\nSome in breastplates and bright gippons,\nSome with a pavise and target,\nSome well armed on their legs,\nWith an ax and mace of steel.\nThere is no new fashion but it was held,\nArmed they were as I have told,\nEach after his own opinion.\nThere came one coming with Palamon,\nLigurge himself, the king of Troy,\nBlack was his beard, manly his face,\nThe circles of his eyes in his head,\nThey glowed between yellow and red,\nAnd like a griffin he looked about,\nWith combed hair in his brows strong,\nHis limbs great, his brawn hard and strong,\nHis shoulders broad, his arms round and long,\nAnd as the fashion was in his land,\nFull high upon a golden char he stood,\nWith four white bolts in the trace,\nInstead of coat armor in his harness,\nWith yellow nails bright as any gold,\nHe had a bear skin, cool black for old,\nHis long hair combed behind his back,\nAs any raven's feathers it seemed for black,\nA great wreath of gold arm. A huge weight sat upon his head. With many a bright stone, of fine rubies and of fine diamonds, around his chariot, there were twenty and more as great as any steer to honor at the lion or the deer. I bound them with collars of gold and torches filled round. A hundred lords he had in his retinue, armed well as stern and stout knights, with armor as men find in stories. The strong Emetrus, the king of India, sat upon an abbey seat, I trapped all in steel. Armed with a cloth of gold, I adorned him well. He rode riding the god of armies, Mars. His coat armor was of cloth of tar. Covered with pearls white, round and great. His saddle was of burnished gold, new and bright. A mantelet hanging on his shoulders, full of rubies bright as fire springing. His crisp curly hair, like rings, were running and that was yellow and glittered like the sun. His nose was high, his eyes bright and grim. His lips round, his complexion sanguine. A few freckles in his face were sprayed, between yellow and somewhat black in meaning. And as Alion he looked about. His beard was well begun to spring,\nHis throat was as a trumpet sounding,\nUpon his head he wore a garland fresh and lusty to see,\nA garter fresh and lusty around his head,\nAn eagle as white as lily,\nAn hundred knights rode with him,\nAll armed similarly, and all their gear,\nRichly arrayed in all manner of things,\nTrust well that earls, dukes, and kings,\nWere gathered in this noble company,\nFor love and\nAbout this king there ran on every part,\nWell many tame lions and leopards,\nAnd in this way the lords all and some,\nHad come to the city on the Sunday,\nAbout prime, and in the town a light,\nThis Theseus, this duke, this worthy knight,\nWhen he had brought them into the city,\nAnd welcomed each at his degree,\nHe feasted them and did them great labor,\nTo please them and to do them all honor,\nThat man or woman or any manner of wight,\nCould not amend it.\nThe minstrelsy, the service at the feast,\nThe great gifts to the most and least,\nThe rich array of Theseus Palaces,\nNo one knew who feasted first or last. The days, or the fairest or best dancing,\nOr which of them can best dance or sing,\nOr he who most feelingly speaks of love,\nWhat hawks sit on the perches above,\nWhat hounds lie in the slough down,\nOf all this I make no mention,\nBut of the effect that seems best to me,\nNow comes the point, listen if you will,\nThe Sunday at night or day began to spring,\nWhen Palamon heard the lark sing,\nAlthough it were not day by hours two,\nHe purposed to go to the temple,\nWith a whole heart and with a high courage,\nHe had risen to begin his pilgrimage,\nTo the blissful Sitha benign,\nI mean Venus, honorable and dignified,\nAnd in her hour he walked forth a pace,\nTo the lists there the temple was,\nAnd down he kneels and with humble cheer,\nAnd with a heart sore he said as you shall hear,\nFairest of fair, O lady my Venus,\nDaughter to Jupiter and spouse to Vulcan,\nWho gladdens all the mountain of Sithon,\nFor the love that thou hadst to a down,\nHave pity on my bitter tears' smart,\nAnd take my humble prayer at thy heart,\nAll as I have no length. I am so sorrowful that I cannot say,\nBut lady bright, who knows well,\nMy thoughts and sees the harms that I feel,\nConsider this and view up on my sore,\nAs wisely as I shall forevermore,\nEnforce my might, thy true servant to be,\nAnd hold war, lady, with chastity,\nThat I may awe someone to help me,\nI keep not of armies to yield,\nNor ask for more to have victory,\nNor renounce in this case nor vainglory,\nOf the price of armies to blow up and down,\nBut I would fully have possession,\nOf Emely and die in thy service,\nFind thou the manner how and what way,\nI care not but if it may be better,\nTo have victory from them or they from me,\nSo that I have my lady in my arms,\nFor though Mars be the great god of armies,\nYour virtue is so great in heaven above,\nIf you will, I shall have my love,\nYour temple I will worship evermore,\nAnd on an altar were I ride or go,\nI will do sacrifice and fires burn,\nAnd if you will not so, my sweet lady,\nThen pray I thee tomorrow with a spear,\nThat Artemis may grant me through the heart to bear,\nThen reckon me not. When I have lost my life,\nThough Artus wins Wynne here to his wife,\nThis is the effect and the end of my prayer,\nGive me my life, my blessed lady dear,\nWhen the prayer was done by Palamon,\nHe made his sacrifice and that anon,\nWith all devotion and every circumstance,\nI will not tell all his observations,\nAnd all the statue of Venus shook,\nAnd made a sign by which he took,\nThat his prayer was granted that day,\nFor though the figure showed delay,\nYet he knew well that it was granted to him,\nAnd with a glad heart he went home soon,\nThe third hour began for Palamon,\nTo go to Venus' temple,\nRose the sun and Emely,\nAnd to Diana's temple went she,\nHer maidens, who with her thither were led,\nWere dressed in fine clothes they had,\nTheseus' clothes and the,\nWho long for the sacrifice,\nThe horns full of meat as was the custom,\nThere lacked nothing to do her sacrifice,\nSmoking the temple full of clothes fair,\nThis Emely with a heart debonair,\nHer body in a well with water. But it is a thing in general, and yet it is a game to hear it all\nTo him who minds well, it were no charge\nBut it is good to be at his large\nHer bright and unveiled\nAnd a crown of green oak on her head set fair and meet\nTwo fires on the anterior she beat\nAnd did things as men may hold\nIn the state of Thebes and in old books\nWhen kindled was the five with pitiful face\nUnto Dionae, she spoke as you may hear\nO chaste goddess of the green wood,\nTo whom both heaven and earth and sea is seen,\nQueen of the realm of Pluto dark and low,\nGoddess of maidens that my heart hath known\nFull many a year and knew what I desire\nAs keep me from the vengeance of thy fire\nThat Athene abhorred truly\nChaste goddess, well thou knowest that I\nDesire to be a maiden all my life\nNever will I be love nor wife\nI am thou, wotest thou, of thy company\nA maiden and love hunting and venus\nAnd for to wall\nAnd not to be a wife and be with child\nNothing will I know of man's company\nNow help me, lady, since thou mayest and. can\nFor the thre fourmes that thou hast in the\nAnd Palamon that hath suche loue to me\nAnd eke arcite that loueth me so sore\nThis grace I pray the withouten more\nAs sende loue and pees betwix hem two\nAnd fro me turne awey hert hertis so\nThat al hir hote loue and her desire\nAnd al her besy turment and al hir fire\nBe queynt or turned in another place\nAnd if so be thou wilt do me no grace\nOr yf my destenye be shapen so\nThat I shal nedis haue on of hem two\nAs send me hym that most desireth me\nBeholde goddesse my clene chastite\nThe bittir teris that on my \nSithnes thou art a maide & keper of vs alle\nMy maidenhed thou kepe & wel conserue\nAnd whiles I lyue a maiden wil I the serue\nThise firis brenne vp on th\nWhile Emely was thus in hir praiere\nBut sodenly she saw a sighte queynt\nFor right anon on of the fyris queynt\nAnd quyckyd agayn and aftir that anon\nThat oher fyre was queynt and al agon\nAnd as it queynt it made a whisshing\nAs don\u0304 thyse wete brondis in her brennyng\nAnd at the brondis ende out ran anon\nAs it were For she was so sore agast was Emely,\nThat she was almost mad and began to cry,\nFor she neither knew what it signified,\nBut only for fear thus she cried and wept,\nAnd therewith Diana appeared,\nWith bow in hand, right as a hunter's,\nAnd said, \"daughter, cease thy heaviness,\nAmong the gods I am high-regarded,\nAnd by eternal word written and confirmed,\nThou shalt be wedded until one of two\nThat have for the sake of so much care and woo,\nBut unto which of them may I not tell,\nFarewell.\nThe fires which on my anteburn,\nShall the declarer or thou go hence,\nThy adventure of love as in this case,\nAnd with that word the arrows in the case\nOf the goddess clattered fast and rang,\nAnd forth she went and made a vanishing,\nFor which this Emely was astonied,\nAnd said, \"what means this case,\nI put myself under thy protection,\nDiana and thy disposition,\nAnd home she goes anon the next way,\nThis is the end, there is no more to say,\nAnd in the hour of Mars after this,\nArcite unto the temple walked is.\" fyres of Mars to do his sacrifice\nWith all the rights of his pious way,\nWith pitious heart and high devotion,\nThus to Mars he said this prayer:\nO strong god, who in the cold realms\nOf Troy honor'd art and lord I hold,\nAnd hast in every realm and every land\nThe bridle of all armies in thy hand,\nAnd them fortunest as thou list best decree,\nAccept from me my pitous sacrifice,\nIf it be that my thought may deserve,\nAnd that my might be worthy to serve\nThy godhead, that I may be one of thine,\nThen I pray thee the reward on my pin,\nFor that pain and that hot fire,\nThe which that while thou wert\nUsing the beauty of fair young Venus, fresh and free,\nAnd hadst in thy armies thy will,\nAnd though once a time my daughter,\nWhen Vulcan had caught thee in his lair,\nAnd found thee lying by his wife, alas,\nFor that sorrow that was in thy heart,\nHave rooted up as well my pains' smart,\nI am young and unknowing as thou knowest,\nAnd as I believe with love offended most,\nThan ever was any living creature,\nFor she that I endure all this woe and cannot tell\nWhether I sink or fly, I know not well\nWhether she shows me mercy or not,\nI must here in this place win the battle,\nI know not how, without help and grace,\nMy strength alone cannot prevail,\nHelp me, Lord, tomorrow in my battle,\nFor thee,\nAs much as this fire now burns me,\nGrant me victory tomorrow,\nMine the toil and thine the glory,\nThy temple I will most honor and labor in,\nIn thy pleasure and in thy strong craft,\nAnd in thy temple I will hang my banner,\nAnd all the armies of my company,\nAnd evermore until I die,\nEternal fire I will face before the find,\nAnd also to this I vow I will bind,\nMy beard that hangs long down,\nThat never yet felt offense,\nOf,\nAnd be thy true servant while I live,\nNow, Lord, have courage up on my sorrows, Y.\nThe prayer ends, and the strong rings\nHang on the temple door, and\nThe doors clatter so loudly,\nOf which the strong one is somewhat disturbed.\nThe fires burn up on the altars. That it began to light up the entire temple\nA soft smell arose from the ground immediately\nAnd Arcturus lifted up his hand immediately\nAnd cast more incense into the fire\nWith other rights and lastly\nThe statue of Mars began to ring his handheld shield\nAnd with that, he heard a mournful and deep voice say \"victory\"\nFor which he gave to Mars honor and glory\nAnd thus, with joy and hope, well to fare\nArcite immediately to his Inn is far\nAs eagerly as a bird is of the bright sun\nAnd right away such strife began there\nBecause of the granting in heaven above\nBetween Venus, goddess of love,\nAnd Mars, the powerful god of war,\nJupiter was pleased to intervene\nUntil the pale Saturn, the cold one,\nWho knew so many old adventures,\nFond in his experience and art,\nSoon pleased every part\nAs it is said, the old have great advantage\nIn age is both wisdom and custom\nMen may the old outrun\nSaturn immediately intervened to stop the strife and fear\nAlthough it is against his nature\nOf all this strife, he can find remedies\nMy dear daughter, he said. Saturne\nMy course that has such wide turn\nHas more power than any man\nMine is the drenching in the wan sea\nMine is the prison in the dark cot\nMine is the strangling and hanging by the throat\nThe murmur and the chaotic rebelling\nThe groaning and the prison poisoning\nI bring vengeance and plain correction\nWhile I dwell in the sign of the lion\nMine is the ruin of the high halls\nThe falling of the towers and of the walls\nUp on the miner and up on the Carpenter\nI slough Samson shaking the pillar\nAnd mine are the maladies' cold\nThe great treason and the castles old\nMy looking is the father of pestilence\nNow weep no more, I shall do my diligence\nThat Palamon, that is thine own knight,\nShall have his lady as thou him behought\nAnd Mars shall keep his knight yet nevertheless\nBetween you there must be sometime peace\nAlthough you are not of one complexion\nThat causes always such division\nI am thine, ready at thy will\nWeep\nNow will I cease from the gods above\nOf Mars and Venus, gods of love\nAnd I shall tell you plainly as I The great effect of which I began\nWas the feast in Athens that day,\nAnd the lusty season of May,\nMade every wight to be in such pleasure,\nThat all that month they just danced and spent it in Venus' high service.\nBut because they should arise\nEarly to see the great sight,\nTo her rest they went at night,\nAnd on the morrow when day sprang,\nThere were horses and noise, harness and clattering,\nAbout the hostelries, and to the Palaces rode many,\nLords upon steads and palfreys,\nThere you might see the display of harness,\nSo uncouth and so rich and well,\nOf goldsmithry, of broidery, and that subtle,\nThe shields bright, tassels and trappings,\nGold-hewed helms, hauberks and coats of mail,\nRinging the spears and helms beckoning,\nGuiding of shields with linen lasing,\nThere as need is they were no thing idle,\nThe foamy steeds on the golden bridles,\nAlways gnawing and fast the armors also,\nWith file and hammer prying to and fro,\nYeomen on foot and knights many on,\nWith short staves thick as they may. Pipis trumpets blew in the battle, filling the palaces with blood-soaked sounds. The halls were filled with people, some questioning the Theban knights two. Some said this, some said that it shall be so. Some were with him, the black-bearded one, some with the bald one. Some said he looked grim and would fight. He had a spear of twenty pounds in weight. Thus was the hall filled with debate.\n\nLong after that, the sun began to rise. The great Theseus awoke from his sleep, with minstrelsy and noise that was made. He kept the chamber of his palaces rich until the Theban knights both arrived. I, Theseus, was honored and entered the palaces.\n\nDuke Theseus was at the window, awestruck as if he were a god on the throne. The people came there quickly to see him and pay him homage, and to hear his words and sentence. An herald on a scaffold made an O. Until the noise of the people was stilled, he showed them the mighty duke. The lord has of high discretion considered that it would be destruction to gentle blood to fight in this way, in this empire, in mortal battle now. Therefore, to prevent that they should not die, he will modify his first purpose. No man, on pain of losing his life, shall bring any shot, pollax, short knife, short sword, or ride to the lists. No man shall draw or bear his side, nor shall any man ride to his fellow's aid. He may fight on foot and wreak himself if he lists, and no man shall be so hardy as to break this ordinance. He who is at fault shall be taken and not slain. He shall be ordained on either side but there he shall be forced and there abide. If the chiefains are taken on either side or else slay their maker, the turning shall no longer last. God speed you both on and let us leave fast. With long swords and maces, fight your fill. Go now your way, this is the lord's will. The voices of the people touched heaven. So low they cried with misdeed. God save such a lord who is so good,\nHe desires no destruction of blood,\nUp go the trumpets and the melody,\nAnd to the lists rides this company,\nBy ordinance throughout the city large,\nHanging with cloth of gold and not with sarge,\nJust like a lord, this noble duke began to ride,\nThese two the bans on either side,\nAnd after Rood the queen and Emely,\nAnd after them another company of ladies,\nAnd after them commons, each after his degree,\nAnd thus they pass through the city,\nAnd to the lists they come in time,\nIt is not yet fully day,\nWhen Sethus was rich on high,\nIpolyta the queen and Emely,\nAnd other ladies in degrees about,\nTo the seats passes all the rout,\nAnd afterward through the gates of Mars,\nArcite and also the hundred of his party,\nWith banner red is entered right away,\nAnd in that very moment Palamon,\nIs under Venus' eastward in that place,\nWith banner and hardy cheer on his face,\nIn the whole world to seek up and down,\nSo even without variation.\nThere are no such companies two,\nFor there was none so wise. That could say,\nWhoever had of other advantage,\nOf worthiness nor estate nor age,\nSo even they were chosen to guess,\nAnd in two ranks fair they were dressed,\nAnd when that her names were read each one,\nThere was no guile in her number,\nThus were the yats shy and cry was loud,\nDo thou your true young knights be proud,\nThe heroes left her pricking up and down,\nNow ringing trumpets loud and clear,\nThere is no more to say but east and west,\nIn goat the spirits full sadly in the rest,\nThey shoot shafts up on shields thick,\nHe feels through the heart spur the prick,\nUp springs spears twenty feet in height,\nOut goes the swords as the silver bright,\nThe helms thereunto hew and shatter,\nOut bursts the blood with stout streams red,\nWith mighty maces they breach the bones,\nAnd through the thickest they throng and thrust,\nThere stumble steads strong and fall down,\nHe rolls under foot as does a ball,\nHe feigns on his foot with his truncheon,\nAnd he hurts lith with his horse down.\nHe throbs through the body is a... sithnes takes him, and brought him to the stake,\nAs forward was right, there he must abide.\nAnother led is on that other side,\nAnd sometimes do they lead Theseus to rest,\nTo refresh and drink if they please.\nFull often a day have the Thebans two,\nTo gather me together and wrought either wo.\nUnhorsed has each other of them two,\nThere is no tiger in the vale of Galefeye,\nWhen her whelp is stolen, when it is light,\nSo cruel on the hunt is Arcite,\nFor jealous heart up on this Palamon,\nIn Belmarsh there is none so fair or loyal,\nThat hunted is, or for Angir wood,\nNor of his prey desires so the blood,\nAs Palamon to slay his foe Arcite.\nThe jealous one strikes on their helmets' bite,\nOut runs blood on both their sides, red.\nSome time an end there is of every deed,\nFor or the sun out of the west went,\nThe strong king Emetes began to seize,\nThis Palamon as he fought with Arcite,\nAnd made his sword deep in his flesh bite,\nAnd by the force of twenty was he taken,\nAnd yielded and drawn to the stake.\nIn the rescue of Palamon,\nThe strong king. Ligurge is born around\nAnd King Emetes, for all his strength,\nIs born out of his sadness a sword's length\nSo high he is named Palamon or he would be taken\nBut for nothing he was brought to the stake\nHis sturdy heart could not help him\nHe must endure when he was caught\nBy force and also by composition\nWho sorrows now but Palamon\nThat must no more go again to fight\nAnd when That Theseus had seen that sight\nHe cried then. No more for it is done\nNone shall go longer to his fellow gone\nI will be true judge and not partial\nArcite of Thebes shall have Emely\nThat by his fortune I have won her fair\nSoon there is an uproar from the people begun\nFor joy of this so loud and high with all\nIt seemed that the lists should fall\nWhat can now fair Venus do above?\nWhat says she, what does the queen of love\nLack in her will?\nUntil her terrors in the lists fill\nShe said, \"I am a shamed doubly,\nSorrento said, \"Daughter, hold your peace,\nMars has his will, the knight has his bone,\nAnd by my hood, you shall be pleased soon.\"\nThe trumpet. The minstrels sing\nThe roads that loudly hail and cry\nBeneath her joy for the well-being of Danete's Arcite\nBut listen to me and be still\nWhich miracle there is at hand\nThis fierce Arcite has donned his helmet\nAnd on a courser to display his face\nHe pricked along the large place\nLooking upward at this Emelye\nAnd she again him cast a friendly eye\nFor women to speak of common things\nThey follow all the favor of fortune\nAnd were all in his presence as in his heart\nOut of the ground a fiery infernal flame\nFrom Pluto sent a\nFor which his horse reared and leaped\nAnd before Arcite could take care\nHe clung to the pommel of his head\nThat in the place he lay as if dead\nHis breast\nAs black he lay as any coal or crow\nSo was the blood run in his face\nAnon he was born out of the place\nWith a heart sore to Theseus' palaces\nAnd in a bed brought fair and blue\nFor he was yet in memory and alive\nAnd always crying after Emelye\nDuke Theseus with all his company\nHas come home to Athens\nWith all bliss and great solemnity. He refused to discomfort them all. Men also said that Arcite should not die. He should be free of his malady and of another thing they were feigning. There was none of them slain. All were named one by one. The one with a spear was thrust through the breastbone. The other wounds and broken bones. Some had salves made for them. Faces of herbs and also sanity. They drank for they wanted to save her life. For which this noble duke, as he could, comforted and honored every man. And made revelry all the long night. To the strange lords, as was right. No discomforting was held. But it was like a justice or a tormenting. For truly there was no discomfort. For failing is not but adventure. Nor was he led by force to the stake. Unyielding and with twenty knights, he took one alone without more. And hurried forth on foot and horse and to. With footmen, both men and knights. It was a reproach to him no villainy. There may be no man who calls it cowardly. For which Duke Theseus let cry out. To stop it. \"And yet on both sides the same,\nRancor and envy held sway,\nEach side like the other, brother to brother.\nThey gave gifts according to their will,\nAnd kept a feast for three days,\nConveying the knights with honor and generosity,\nOut of his town on a long journey,\nAnd each man went his own way.\nBut as for Palamon and Arcite,\nOf Palamon I will say nothing more,\nBut Arcite's heart swelled with anger and resentment within,\nThe corrupt blood in his veins remained,\nNeither the flowing of blood nor the venting,\nNor the drinking of herbs could help him.\nThe expelling virtue or any remedy,\nI call it natural,\nNor could the poison drive it out or expel it,\nHis kidneys and lungs began to swell,\nAnd a painful laceration remained in his breast,\nHe was poisoned and corrupted,\nGaining nothing to save his life,\nHe loosened his limbs up and down,\nThe region was about to burst,\nNature had no dominion over him,\nAnd certainly his nature would not work,\nFarewell, sick one, go there.\" The man to church\nThis is all and some archers must die\nFor which he sends after Emelye\nAnd Palamon, who was his cousin dear\nThen said he thus, as you shall hear\nNow may the woeful spirit in my heart\nDeclare a point of all my sorrows' death\nTo you, my lady, whom I love most\nRight thus I question I, about you above all creatures\nSince my life may no longer endure\nAlas the pain, alas the woe strong\nThat I have suffered for you and so long\nAlas death. alas my Emelye\nAlas the parting of our company\nAlas my heart's queen. alas my life\nMy heart's lady, ender of my life\nWhat is the world, what asks men to have\nNow with his love now cold in his grain\nAlone without any company\nFarewell, my sweet love, my Emelye\nAnd softly take me in your arms, two\nFor the love of god & hearkeneth what I say\nI have here with my cousin Palamon\nHad strife and rancor many days ago\nFor the love of you. and of my jealousy\nAnd Jupiter so wisely guides my soul\nAs in this world, right now, I know none\nSo worthy to be. Loved as Palamon,\nTo serve you and will do all my life,\nAnd if ever you should be a wife,\nForget not the noble Palamon.\nHis speech was nearly at an end,\nFor from his feet to his breast came\nThe coldness of death that had overcome him.\nAnd yet more over, in his arms, too,\nThe vital strength was lost and all gone,\nLeaving only the intellect within,\nWhich dwelt in his heart, sick and sore.\nIt failed when the heart felt death,\nAnd his eyes and breath followed suit.\nBut his last word was mercy, Emelye.\nHis spirit changed and went to her,\nAs I came never I cannot tell where.\nThere they stopped. I am no divine writer,\nOf souls I find I do not record here,\nNor do I wish to relate their opinions,\nThough you might note where they dwell.\nNow I will speak of Emelye,\nWho sorrows and weeps, I will not lie,\nNow she weeps and wails for Palamon,\nAnd Theseus, her father, took her away,\nSwearing and bore her from the corpse.\nWhat helps it to tarry and prolong the day,\nTo tell how she wept, both day and night,\nFor in her grief, she could not be consoled. suche women have such sorrow\nWhen that their husbands are from them go\nThat for the most part they sorrow so\nOr else fall into such a malady\nThat at the last certainly they die\nInfinite are the sorrows and the tears\nOf old folk and folk of tender years\nIn all the town for death of this man\nFor him there wept child and man\nSo great weeping was there none certain\nWhen Aeneas was brought all fresh I slew\nTo Troy all the pity that was there\nWhy wouldest thou be dead, these women cry\nAnd hadst enough gold and Emelye\nNo man might cheer Theseus\nSaving his old father Egeus\nWho knew this world's transmutation\nAs he had seen it change up and down\nJoy after woe and woe after joy\nAnd showed him example and likeness\nRight as there died no man ever said\nHe never loved in earth in some degree\nRight so there lived no man he said\nIn all this world that sometime he died\nThis world is but a thoroughfare full of woe\nAnd we be pilgrims passing to and fro\nDeath is an end of every world's sorrow\nAnd over all. This said he, \"I will say much more. To this effect, the people who should comfort them, Duke Theseus with all his care, should cast the sepulcher of good Arcite where it may be made best and most honorably in his degree. And lastly, he took the conclusion that Arcite and Palamon should have battle for love in the same grove, where he had his amorous desires, his complaint, and for love his hot fires. He would make a fire in which he might fully accomplish the funeral office. The old oaks, in haste, were brought and burned. His officers, with swift feet, they run and rode at his commandment. After this, Theseus sent for a bear and spread it over with the richest clothes he had. And of the same, he clothed Arcite. Upon his hands he placed his glowing white gloves, and on his head a crown of laurel green. In his hand, he held a bright and shining sword. He laid him bare, the face on the bier, and there wept such pitiful tears for the people.\" sholde he bring him all\nWhen it was day, he brought him into the hall\nThrough the crying and the sound,\nThis woeful Theban Palamon appeared,\nWith a floating beard and rugged ash-gray hair,\nIn black clothes covered in teris,\nAnd passing by, he saw Emelye,\nThe most mournful of all the company,\nIn as much the service should be,\nThe more noble and rich in his degree,\nDuke Theseus let three seats be brought forth,\nWith trappings that were in steel, all shining,\nAnd covered with the armies of Arcite,\nUpon the seats great and white,\nThere sat people, one of whom bore his shield,\nAnother a spear in his hands held,\nThe third bore with him his bow turkeys,\nOf burnished gold was the cas and the harneys,\nAnd they rode forth a pass with sorrowful cheer,\nToward the grove as you shall after here,\nWith slow pass and red and wet,\nThrough the city be the master street,\nThat street was all with black wonder high,\nRight of the same is the street I write,\nOn the right hand went old Egeus,\nAnd on the other side, Duke Theseus,\nWith vessels of gold in. And fine hand held, filled with honey milk, blood and wine. Palamon came with great company, and after him came woeful Emelye with a torch in hand to perform the office and funeral service. High labor and great appearance were required for the making of the fire, which with its green top reached the heavens and twenty fathoms of bread the armies stretched. This is to say, the bows were thickly laid with straw, many a load. But how the fire was made up and what the trees were called - fir, birch, ash, alder, holm-oak, poplar, maple, thorn, beech, aspen, box, chestnut, linden, laurel, willow, elm, plane, and hazel - how they were felled shall not be told by me. Nor how the gods ran up, dispossessed of their dwelling place, in which they dwelt in rest and peace - nymphs, Faunus, and Arionides, nor how the beasts and birds all fled when the wood began to fall, nor how the ground trembled at the lack of light, which was not accustomed to see the sun bright. Nor how the fire was. And then with a dry stick, cloves on three,\nAnd then with green wood and spices,\nAnd then with cloth of gold made with perry,\nGarlands hanging with many a flower,\nThe myrrh and incense with sweet odor,\nNor how Artemis lay among all this,\nNor what riches were about his body,\nNor how Emelye was placed in the fire for funeral service,\nNor what she swooned when made was the fire,\nNor what she spoke nor what was her desire,\nNor what jewels men cast into the fire,\nWhen the fire was great and burned quickly,\nNor how some cast her shield and some her spear,\nAnd of her vestments which they were,\nAnd cups full of milk wine and blood,\nInto the fire that burned like wood,\nNor how the Greeks with a huge route,\nRode three times around the fire,\nOn the left hand with a high showing,\nAnd three times with their spears clattering,\nAnd three times how the ladies cried,\nNor how the lead was borne Emelye home,\nNor how Artemis was burned to ashen cold,\nNor how the lifeless were held,\nThat night. The Greeks play\nThe wake plays keep I not to say\nWhich wrestles best naked with oil anointed\nNone who bore him best at the point\nI will not tell all how they went\nHome to attend when the play is done\n\nTo make of my long tale an end\nBe this process and the length of certain years\nAll is the mornings and the cherries\nOf the Greeks is on general assent\nThen seems it there was a parliament\nAt Athens upon certain points and causes\nAnd among the which points spoke\nTo have with certain countries alliance\nAnd have fully of Thebes obedience\nFor which this noble Theseus anon\nLet send after gentle Palamon\nUnaware of him what was the cause and why\nBut in his black clothes sorrowfully\nHe came at his commandment high\nThough he sent Theseus for Emelye\nWhen they were set and the presence was all\nAnd Theseus remained a space\nOr any word came from his wise breast\nHis eyes were cast there as he listed\nAnd with a sad visage he sighed still\nAnd after that right thus he said his will\n\nThe first mover of the cause above\nWhen he The first made the chain of love,\nIt was effective and high was its intent,\nHe well knew why and what it signified,\nFor with that fair chain of love he bound\nFire, air, water, and land\nIn certain bonds that may not flee,\nThe same prince and the same mover said he,\nHas established in this wretched world a bond,\nCertain days and duration,\nTo all that is engendered in this place,\nOver which days they may not pace,\nAll must the days abridge,\nThere needs no authority to read,\nFor it is proven by experience,\nBut I list to declare my sentence,\nThen may men well this order discern,\nThat same mover is and eternal,\nWell may men know but it is a fool,\nThat every party dares not from his whole,\nFor nature has not taken its beginning\nOf one part or of a cantel of a thing,\nBut of a thing that is perfect and stable,\nDescending so till it is corruptible,\nAnd therefore for his wise provision,\nHe has so well set his ordinance,\nThat specifies of things and progressions,\nShall endure by successions,\nAnd nothing. This you may understand and see here:\nThe book that has such a long nurturing\nFrom the time that it begins to spring\nAnd has such long life as you may see\nYet at the last wastes away is the tree\nConsider how the hard stone\nUnder our feet on which we tread and go\nYet wastes it as it lies in the way\nThe broad river sometimes becomes dry\nThe great towns seem to wane and wander\nThen you see that all things have an end\nOf man and woman we also\nThat needs in one of the terms, two\nThis is to say, in youth or else in age\nHe must be dead, the king as a page\nSome in his bed, some in the deep sea\nSome in the large field as you may see\nThere helps nothing. All go that way\nThen may I say all things must die\nWhat makes this but Jupiter the king\nThat is prince and cause of all things\nConverting us all unto his own will\nFor which it is dared to tell\nAnd for against it no creature can live\nOf no degree avails for to strive\nThan is it wisdom, as I think, to make. And take it while we can, as long as we may not avoid it,\nAnd think that it is due to us all.\nWhoever grumbles, he is a fool,\nAnd rebels against him who leads us all.\nA man has most honor, in his most excellent flourish,\nWhen he is secure in his good name,\nThan he has done his friend no harm or shame,\nAnd his friend may be gladder of his death,\nThan when his name is tarnished by age.\nFor all is forgotten then is his vassalage.\nIt is best, for a worthy fame,\nTo die when one is at the height of his name.\nThe contrary, for all his willfulness,\nWhy grumble, why have we heaviness?\nGood Arcite of chivalry, the flour,\nDeparted with duty and honor,\nOut of the foul prison of this life.\nWhy does his cousin and his wife,\nWho loves him so well,\nCan they not thank him, God knows never a part,\nWho both his soul and him have offended,\nAnd yet they cannot mend their desires.\nWhat shall I conclude from this long story,\nBut after woe, I bid you be merry,\nAnd thank. Iuppiter, before we depart from this place, I recommend we make two perfect companions of sorrow, who will lastingly bring us great joy. Look now where the most sorrow resides within, there I will first amend and begin. Sustana said, \"This is my full assent, with the consent of my parliament, that gentle Palamon, your own knight, who serves you with heart and might, and has done so since you first knew him, shall have your grace's favor and be taken as husband and lord. Let me have your hand for this is our agreement. Now, consider your womanly pity. He is the king's brother, Parce, and though he were a poor bachelor, since he has served you so many years and faced so great adversity for you, it is only just that gentle mercy should prevail. Therefore, say no more, Palamon, the knight, come here and take your lady by the hand, and thus the bond was made between them, called matrimony or marriage. With the consent of the Baronage, and so it was.\" Bliss and melody have brought Palamon and Emley together in marriage. God, who rules over all the world, sent His love to Palamon, whom He had dearly purchased. Now Palamon lives in happiness, wealth, and heavenly bliss. Emley loves him tenderly, and he serves her so gently that there was no word of jealousy or any other discord between them. Thus ends the tale of Palamon and Emley. God save all who have heard this tale.\n\nHere ends the tale of the knight. Now begins the Miller's prolog.\n\nWhen the knight had finished telling his tale, there was neither young nor old in the company who did not say it was a noble story worthy of being remembered. The gentlemen all agreed, our host and sworn brothers. Thus, the male begins unbidden. Let us now see who will tell another tale. For truly, the game has just begun. Now, sir monk, if you can, say something in response to the knight's tale.\n\nMilward, who was so pale from drunkenness that he could barely sit on his horse, refused to remove his hood or hat. He would not wait for anyone out of courtesy but rode away in Pilate's voice. And swore by army's blood and bones, I can tell a noble tale for the nonsensical knight, the which I now quit his tale. Our host saw that he was drunk on ale and said, \"Abide, Robin, leave, brother. Some better man shall tell first another.\" Abide, let us work thriftily. Be Cock's soul, quoth he who will not I, for I will speak or else go my way. Our host answered, \"Tell on a devil's way. Thou art a fool, thy wit is overcome. Now listen, all, and some. But first, I make a protestation: I am drunk, I know by my sound. And therefore, if I speak or say anything amiss, write it the ale of Southwark I pray you. For I will tell a legend and a life, both of a Carpenter and of his wife. How the clerk has set the Wright's cap, the reeve answered and said, \"Halt thy clap.\" Let be thy lewd drunken harlotry. It is sin and also great folly to appear before any man or defame him and also bring wives in such a name. Thou mayest now say of other things. This drunken Milward spoke soon again, \"Leave, brother Oswold.\" Who A man has no wife, but I,\nThere are good women many on,\nWhy are you angry with my tale now?\nI have a wife, fair as you,\nYet I would not for the oxen in my plow,\nTake on me more than you now,\nAnd judge of myself that I were one,\nI will believe that I am none,\nA husband should not be inquisitive,\nOf God's privacies nor his wife,\nSo he may find God's favor there,\nOf the remainder needs not to inquire,\nWhat should I more say but this: The Miller,\nHe would not keep his word for no man delay,\nBut told his servants tale in his manner,\nI think it fitting that I should recount it here,\nAnd therefore every gentle knight I pray,\nDo not blame me if you choose amiss,\nThe Miller is a:\n\nHe would not delay his word for anyone.\nBut told his servants tale in his way.\nI think it proper that I should repeat it here.\nAnd therefore whoever does not wish to hear,\nTurn over the leaf and choose another tale,\nFor he will find both great and small,\nOf historical things that touch on gentleness,\nAnd also moral and holiness.\nBlame me not if you choose amiss.\nThe Miller is a... A rich man named Hendel Nicholas, dwelling in Oxenford, was a carpenter. With him lived a poor scholar, who had learned arts but turned all his fantasy towards learning astrology. He could determine certain conclusions through interrogations, telling men whether they should expect drought or showers based on specific hours. He could also predict future events, but could not recount them all. This scholar was called Hendel Nicholas, known for his deep love and solace. He was sly and secretive, like a maiden, and had a chamber to himself in the hostelry, where he spent his time alone. He decorated it with sweet-smelling herbs and was as sweet as licorice or any Cetewale. His greatest possessions were his books, large and small, and he longed for his astrology practice and his augury stones. Lay aside the shield at his bedside's head,\nHis press covered with a folding reed,\nAnd above there lay a saw,\nOn which he made a nightly melody,\nSo sweet that all the chamber rang,\nAnd Angelus addressed the virgin,\nAnd after that he sang the king's note,\nFull often his blessed throat was merry,\nAnd thus this sweet clerk spent his time,\nAfter his sending and his rent.\nThis Carpenter had wedded a new wife,\nWhom he loved more than his life,\nOf twenty-eight years she was of age,\nJealous he was and held her narrowly in cage,\nFor she was wild and young, and he was old,\nAnd deemed himself like a Cockswain,\nHe knew not Caton for his wit was rude,\nThat bids a man wed after her state,\nFor young and old are often at debate,\nBut he must,\nHe must as any wise man and small,\nAnd her body was adorned with silk,\nA barmaid's cloth as white as morning milk,\nUpon her limbs with full many an agore,\nWhite was her smile and brow before,\nAnd also behind. Her color about\nOf cobweb silk within and without\nThe tapestries of her white voluptuous form\nWere of the same hue as the color\nHer fillet crown of silk and set high\nAnd similarly she had a merry eye\nFull small were her brows two\nAnd they were bent and black as any coal\nShe was more blissful to see\nAnd softer than is the wool of a weather\nAnd by her girdle hangs a purse of leather\nTarselid with green and pearled with lead\nIn this world to seek up and down\nThere is no man so wise that could compare\nSo gay a pupil or so pretty a maiden\nFull brighter was she shining of her hue\nThan in the tower the noble forgot new\nBut of her song she was as low and yearning\nAs any swallow sitting on the bern\nTherefore she could skip and make sport\nAs any kid or calf following its dam\nHer mouth was sweet as a broken pitcher or pot\nOr heap of apples laid on high or heath\nWinning she was as is a joyful colt\nLong as a mast and upright as a bolt\nA brooch she bore up on her low color\nAs broad as is the bosom of a bullock\nHere shoes were She was a primaroll, a pig's niece,\nFor any lord to lie in his bed,\nOr yet for any good yeoman to wed.\nNow, sir and again, sir, fill the cas,\nThat on a day this Hend Nicholas,\nWith this young wife, did rage and play,\nWhile her husband was at Osney.\nAs clerks are full subtle and keen,\nAnd privily he caught her by the keen,\nAnd said, \"I would but if I had my will,\nFor dear love of the lady I spill,\nAnd here hear the shank bones,\nAnd said, lady, love me at once,\nOr I will die all so God save me,\nAnd she sprang as a colt in the trace,\nAnd with her head she wrote fast away,\nShe said, I will not kiss thee, my faith,\nWhy let be, quoth she, let be Nicholas,\nOr I will cry out and alas,\nSo wey your hands for your courtesy,\nThis Nicholas began mercy to cry,\nAnd spoke so fair and pressed her so fast,\nThat she her love granted him at the last,\nAnd swore her oath by St. Thomas of Kent,\nThat she would be at his commandment,\nWhen that she may her leisure well espie,\nMy husband is so full of. But you beware and be pure\nI well know I am but dead, she said\nYou must be very firm in this case\nNay, I care not, said Nicholas\nA clerk had long beset his will\nBut if he could persuade a carpenter\nAnd thus they were agreed and sworn\nTo wait a time as I have told before\nWhen Nicholas had done thus evermore\nAnd thanked them about the lands well\nHe kissed her sweetly and took his saw in hand\nAnd played skillfully and made melody\nThen it happened that to the parish church\nChrist's own work was to be done\nThis good wife went on a holy day\nHer forehead shone as brightly as any day\nSo it was when she let her work go\nNow there was in that church a parish clerk\nWho was called Absalom\nHis hair was curled and as golden as it shone\nAnd straight and even he laid his holy shoes\nHis robe was red, his eyes gray as goose\nWith pauline windows corrupted in his shoes\nIn hose red he went, most solemnly\nI clad he was very small and solemnly\nIn a curtain or a little. Ful faire and well were the points set, and there upon he had surplices as white as blossoms on the ris. Amory, a child he was, so God save me, well could he let blood and shave, and make a chartrety of land and aquitance in twenty manners could he try and dance. After the school of Oxford, though, and with his hands cast to and fro, and play songs on a small ribble, thereto he sang sometimes a low quynybill, and well could he play on his gittern. In all the town was not a brew house nor tavern that he ne visited it with his solace. There as any gaylard tapster was, but truly he was somewhat swymous of farting and of speech dangerous. This Absolon, that was ioly and gay, went with a senser on the holy day. And m, and namely on this Carpenter's wife, to look on her. She was so proper swete and eek likerous, I dare well say if she had been a mowsy (?) and. This parish clerk, this ioly Absolon, has in his heart such a love longing, that of no woman took he none. For courtesy he said, The mony when it was night bright shown, and Absolon his. For his lovers, he thought to wake,\nAnd forth he went to Iolif and amorous,\nUntil he came to the Carpenter's house,\nA little after cock,\nAnd dressed himself up by the shut window\nThat was upon the Carpenter's wall,\nHe sings in his wise, gentle, and small voice,\nNow, dear lady. If it pleases you,\nI pray you that you will think of me,\nAccording to his courting,\nThis Carpenter heard him sing,\nAnd spoke to his wife and said at once,\nWhat is Alison, you not Absolon?\nThat chants thus under our roof,\nAnd she answered her husband there with all,\nYes, God knows, John, I hear it,\nThis passes forth, what will you bet than well?\nFrom day to day, this jolly Absolon\nSo wooed her that he was woeful,\nHe wakes all the night and all the day,\nHe combs his broad locks and makes himself gay,\nHe wooed her with men's words of brocade,\nAnd swore he would be her own page,\nHe sings brokenly, like a nightingale,\nHe sent after piment, methe and spiced ale,\nAnd wafers piping hot out of the pot,\nAnd for her being of the town, he offered her mead.\nFor some people will love women for riches. some for sand some for iolynesse (some for sand, some for joy)\nSome time he shows his lust\nHe plays he redeems up on a staff (He plays the role of a lover on a stage)\nBut what avails him in this case\nShe loved this land Nicholas (She loved Nicholas deeply)\nThat Absalom may blow the bucks (That Absalom may be ridiculed)\nHe had for his labor but a scorn\nAnd thus she makes Absalom her ape (And Absalom becomes her fool, the object of her scorn)\nAnd all his earnest turns to a joke (And all his seriousness becomes a jest)\nFull truly is this proverb it is no lie (The proverb is true)\nMen say always the night is sly (The night is treacherous)\nMakes often life for to be loath (Makes life seem unappealing)\nFor though Absalom were wood or wrath (Despite Absalom's indifference or anger)\nBe cause that he was far from her sight\nThis night Nicholas stood in his light\nNow bear the well now Hend Nicholas (Now come here, Hend Nicholas)\nFor Absalom may wait and sing alas (And Absalom may mourn)\nAnd so it befell that on a Saturday\nThis Carpenter was gone to Osenay\nAnd also Hend Nicholas and Alison\nAgreed fully to this conclusion\nThat Nicholas shall shape himself a wile (That Nicholas shall devise a plan)\nThis silly jealous husband to beguile (And deceive this jealous husband)\nAnd if so be the game went a right\nShe should sleep in his arms all night (And she desired this)\nFor this was her desire and his also\nAnd right anon with out words more\nThis Nicholas no longer would tarry (But Nicholas acted upon it)\nBut does it (He does it) A soft-spoken woman entered his chamber, bringing both food and drink for a day or two. She begged him to tell her if he was after Nicholas. If so, she would claim ignorance of his whereabouts. She believed he was in some malady, for no cry could rouse him. He made no response to anything. This continued all Saturday, with Nicholas lying still in his chamber, either eating, sleeping, or dead, until Sunday when the sun went to rest. This simple carpenter expressed great wonder over Nicholas and what might be ailing him. \"I am away, by St. Thomas,\" he said. \"It does not bode well with Nicholas. God shield him from a sudden death. This world is now full of sickly certainty. I saw a corpse carried to church today. It was Monday last when I saw him working. Go up, said he to his servant immediately. Knock at the door or call out with a stone. Look closely and tell me boldly. The servant went up sturdily and, standing at the chamber door, cried out and knocked as if mad. What's the matter? Master Nicholas, how can you sleep all day long,\nBut you heard not a single word. A whole lowly one he found on a board,\nWhere the cat was wont to creep,\nAnd at the hole he looked in deeply,\nUntil at last he had a sight of him.\nNicholas lay gaping ever upright,\nAs he had looked on the new moon.\nDown he went and told his master's son,\nIn what array he saw this man.\nThis Carpenter began to bless him,\nAnd said, \"Help us, Saint Francis.\"\nA little man knows not what will befall him.\nThis man has fallen with his astronomy,\nEither in some folly or in some agony.\nI thought it well how it should be,\nMen should not know of God's privacy.\nI bless you always, man,\nThat nothing but his belief can save him.\nAnother clerk with astronomy,\nHe walked upon the,\nThe,\nUntil he saw not that, but yet Saint Thomas,\nRejoiced sore for old Nicholas,\nHe shall be released from his studying,\nIf I may be Jesus' king.\nGet me a staff that I may explore,\nWhile you, Robin, take the door,\nHe shall leave his studying as I. And to the chamber, his knave was a strong churl for the nonys. And by the door, the door flew in anon. This Nicholas sat as still as any stone, and his eyes gazed upwards in the air. This carpenter thought that he had been in despair, and he seized him mightily by the shoulders and shook him hard. What says thou, Nicholas? Look down, awake and think on Christ's passion. I crouch before elysium and from wights. Then the nightspel said he at once, \"On four walls about the house, and on the threshold and on the door without, Ihesu crist and seynt Benedict. Bliss this house from every wicked wight. For night's worry the white father, our lord. Where dost thou wander, saint Peter's sister? And at last, this humble Nicholas began to sigh sore and said, \"Alas, shall the whole world be lost henceforth? This carpenter answered, \"What thinkest thou, as we do who toil? This Nicholas answered, \"Give me drink, and after I will speak in private of certain things that concern me and thee.\" I will tell it. A certain man named Nicholas came down and returned, and he brought a large quart of mighty ale. When each of them had drunk their part, Nicholas closed his door and seated the carpenter before him. He said, \"John my man and dear one, you shall swear to me on the truth that you will not reveal this counsel to any man. For it is Christ's counsel that you hear, and if you tell it to anyone, you will be lost. You will have vengeance for this, if you reveal it to me. If you speak, you will be wood. No, Cain.\n\nSaid this simple man, \"I am no babbler. Though I say I am not loath to speak, I shall never tell it. To child or wife, by him that harried hell, I will not reveal it.\n\nNow John said to Nicholas, \"I will not lie. I have found it in my astrology. As I have looked at the bright moon, it said that on the next Monday at the fourth hour of the night, a rain will fall so wild and wood that half such rain has never flooded the world before. This world will be drenched and lost within less than an hour. Thus mankind will perish and disappear.\" This Carpenter answered all my wife,\n\"And she will drench, alas, my Alisoun,\nFor sorrow of this he must descend,\nAnd said, 'Is there no remedy in this case?'\nYes, forswear it, Hend Nicholas,\nIf you will work after lore and read,\nYou may not work after your own head,\nFor this says Solomon, who was most true,\nWork all by counsel and you shall not rue,\nAnd if you work willingly, I will undertake,\nYet shall I save her and thee and me.\nHave you not heard how Noah was saved,\nWhen our Lord had warned him before,\nThat all the world with water should be lorn,\nYes, said this carpenter long ago,\nHave you not heard, said Nicholas also,\nThe sorrow of Noah with his ark,\nOr that he might get his wife aboard,\nHe had rather I dare well undertake\nAt that time than all his weather black,\nThat she had had a ship herself alone,\nTherefore consider what is best to do.\nThis asks haste and of a hasty thing,\nMay men not preach nor make delaying,\nAnon go get us quickly into this in.\" \"For each of us, ensure that they are large enough for us to swim in, as in a barge, and have sufficient provisions. But for one day, fear the remaining water. It shall recede and disappear around prime on the next day. But Robin may not know of this, nor may I save the maiden Gille. Do not ask why, for I will not reveal God's privacy. It is enough if your wit is great enough to possess the same grace as Noah had. Your wife I will surely save. Go now, and hasten on your way about it. But when you have provided for yourself, her, and me, you shall have obtained these knightly tubs three. Then hang them high in the roof so that no one of our privacy may spy. And when you have done as I have said, and have laid our provisions fairly in them, and also ask to strike the cord a two, when the water comes that we may go, and break a hole in a high place on the gabyl, into the garden ward over the stable, so that we may freely pass forth our way.\" As merely I undertake,\nAs does the white dove after the drake,\nI will call her Alison, I, John.\nBe merry, for the flood will pass anon,\nAnd you will say \"hail, Master Nicholas,\"\nGood morrow, I see the well, for it is day,\nAnd then shall we, of all the world, as Noah and his wife,\nBut one thing I warn thee right,\nBe wary on that same night,\nWhen we are entered into the ship's board,\nThat none of us speak or cry, but be in his prayer,\nFor it is God's own command, dear,\nThy wife and thou must hang for a twine,\nFor between you shall be no sin,\nNor looking than in deed.\nThis ordinance is done. O God, the speed.\nTomorrow night when folk be all asleep,\nInto our hiding tubs we will creep,\nAnd sitting there, we'll wait for God's grace,\nGo now thy way and have no longer space,\nTo make of this no longer sermonizing,\nMen say thus: send the wise and say no thing,\nThou art so wise, it needeth thee not to teach,\nGod save our lives and I beseech,\nThis simple Carpenter goes forth his way,\nAnd to no man would he reveal it,\nBut to. his wife he told in private\nAnd she was aware and knew it better than he\nWhat is this clever ruse for?\nBut nevertheless, she feared she would die\nAnd said, \"alas, go forth your way quickly\nHelp us to escape or we will be dead\nI am your true wedded wife\nGo there, spouse, and help save our lives\nLo, what a great thing is affection\nMen may die every day from imagination\nSo deep may impression take hold\nThis simple carpenter begins to think\nHe believes truly that he may see\nNoah's flood coming rolling in like the sea\nTo drown Alison, his dear one\nHe weeps and makes sorrowful cheer\nHe sighed with many a sorrowful swing\nHe goes and gets himself a kneeling trough\nAnd afterwards a tub and a chamber pot\nAnd privately he sent them to his in\nAnd brought them up in the roof in secret\nWith his own hand he made three ladders\nTo climb by the rungs and the stalks\nInto the tubs hanging in the balustrades\nAnd himmied them both with trough and tub\nWith bread and cheese & good ale in a jug\nSufficient for me now as for another day\nBut before he had made all this ready\nHe sent his Nicholas and his wife also\nSet off on his journey to London\nAnd on the Sunday when it grew dark\nHe shut his door without candle light\nAnd arranged all things as they should be\nAnd soon they climbed up all three\nThey sat still well a furlong away\nNow Nicholas began to say the Our Father\nAnd John and Alice did the same\nThis carpenter said his devotion\nAnd sat still and prayed\nWaiting on the rain if it would come\nThe dead slept for very weariness\nFly on this carpenter, just as I guess\nAbout curfew time or a little more\nFor the trouble of his ghost he groans sore\nAnd again he rubs his head my way\nDown from the ladder stalks Nicholas\nAnd Alice softly down she sped\nWithout words more they went to bed\nEach took the other in arms and played\nThere was the revelry and the merriment\nAnd thus lies Alice and Nicholas\nIn the business of mirth and solace\nUntil the bell of lauds began to ring\nAnd the friars in the choir began to sing\nThis parish clerk this absolution\nThat is for love always so woe be On a Monday, I went to Oseney with a company to disport and play. I asked a cloisterer privately about John the Carpenter. He drew him aside out of the church and said, \"I did not see him here working. I believe he left on Saturday, for our abbot had sent him for timber. He is accustomed to go and stay at the grange for a day or two, or else he is at his house certain. I do not truly know where he is. This Absalom was full jolly and light. He thought it was time to wake all night, for surely I had not seen him stirring about his door since day began to spring. So we must try, or the cock will crow. Privately, I will knock at his window. It stands low up on his wall. I will now tell Alison all. My love longing for her, I shall not disappoint her at the latest. Some manner of comfort I shall have, I swear. My mouth has itched all this long day. That is a sign of kissing at the latest. That night I also met one who I was at a feast. Therefore, I will sleep for an hour or.\" And all the night then will I walk and play,\nWhen the first cock crowes anon,\nUp rises this joyous lover, Absolon,\nAnd he arrays himself gay at point-devise,\nBut first he shows gray and lilies,\nTo smell sweet or he had kissed her,\nUnder his tongue a true love he bears,\nFor thereby he meant to be gracious,\nHe comes to the Carpenter's house,\nAnd stands still under the shut window,\nSo low it reached to his breast,\nAnd softly he knocks with a semblance,\nWhat do you, honeycomb, sweet Alison,\nMy fair bird, my sweet,\nAwaken, leman, come and speak to me,\nLittle think you up on my woe,\nThat for your love, sweet one, I go,\nNo wonder is it that I sweat and am sweet,\nI am as morning as a lamb after the tete,\nI wish, leman, you had such longing love,\nThat like a turtle, true is my morning,\nI may not eat more than allowed,\nGo from the window, Jack fool she said,\nAs help me God, it will not come amiss,\nI love another and else I were to blame,\nWell better than the be I Jesu Absolon,\nGo forth thy way or I will throw a stone,\nAnd let me. slep after twenty devils' way\nAllas, Absolon and well away\nThat true love was ever evil set\nThan kiss me since it may be no better\nFor Jesus' love and for the love of me,\nWill you then go your way there with her?\nYou certain lover, this Absolon,\nThen make ready, I'll come anon\nAnd to Nicholas she said, be still\nNow peace and you shall laugh at all your fill\nThis Absolon knelt down and said, I am a lord at all degrees\nFor after this I hope there comes more\nLover, your grace and sweet bird, thine own\nThe windows she unfastens and that in haste\nDo quickly and she said, come quickly and speed the fast\nLest our neighbors spy us\nThis Absolon wiped his mouth dry\nThe night was dark as pitch or coal\nAnd at the window she put out her whole\nAnd Absolon felt not better nor worse\nBut with his mouth he kissed her ears\nVery softly or he would have known\nAbash he started and thought it was amiss\nFor well he knew a woman had no beard\nHe felt a thing all raw and long heard\nAnd said, alas, what have I done\nTehe said. She closed the window and Absolon went out sadly. A bearded man named Hend Nicholas said, \"By God's body, this goes well and is fair.\" Absolon heard every word. He put dust, cloth, sand, and chips on his lips, saying, \"Who rubs now, who froths now his lips?\" But Absolon, who often said, \"My soul I commend to Satan,\" wished he had blended his hot love instead of being in this despised work. From that time, he paid no heed to paramours. He was freed from his malady. Often paramours he repelled. He wept like a child being beaten. A soft pas he went over the street to a blacksmith named Dan Geruys, who in his forge sharpened plow shares and coulters quickly. Absolon knocked easily. From all this play, he gave no word. He had more tow on his distaff than Geruys. I knew and said to a friend so dear,\nThat he cultivated here in Chalice, as I had to do,\nAnd I will bring it back again soon.\nGerais answered. Certes it was gold,\nOr in a pouch nobly concealed,\nThou shouldst have it, I am a true blacksmith,\nEre Christ's foot what will you do with it?\nTherefore said Absalom, be as you may,\nI shall surely tell it to you tomorrow or the day after,\nAnd caught the culture by the cold steel,\nSoftly it stole out from the door,\nAnd went to the carpenter's wall,\nHe coughed first and knocked therewith,\nUp on the window. Right as he did ever,\nThis Alison answered, \"Who is there?\"\nThat knocks so rudely, is it a thief?\n\"No, indeed,\" he said, \"God knows my sweet leave,\nI am Absalom, your own darling,\nOf gold I have brought a ring,\nMy mother gave it to me, God save me,\nIt is very fine and I will give it to you,\nIf you kiss me.\"\nThis Nicholas was rising to sin,\nAnd thought he would amend all the jape,\nHe should kiss his ears or else escape,\nAnd up the window he hastily went,\nAnd out his arms he. Putting privily, over the buttocks to the shank, and therewith spoke this clerk Absolon: \"Spek swete bride, I not where thou art. This Nicholas anon let fly a fart, as great as it had been a thunderclap. It struck him so that he was almost blinded. And he was ready with his iren hoot, and Nicholas, amidst the tears, smoothed the skin around the hot hoot. The hot coal burned so his mouth, and for the pain he thought to die. As he was wood for woe, he began to cry: \"Help water, water, help for God's heart. This Carpenter started out of his slumber and heard one cry for water, as if he were mad. And he thought, 'Alas, now comes the flood.' He set himself up without a word and with his axe he smoothed the cord a two. And down went all he found neither to sell nor brew nor ale till he came to the sell. Up on the floor and there a swoon he lay. Up started Alisoun and Nicholas, and cried out and harowed in the street. The neighbors, both small and great, ran to gawk at this man, who yet a swoon lay, both pale and wan. For with the fall, he had broken.\" This arm [belonged] to him most against his own harm, for when he spoke, he was immediately knocked down with Hendrick and Alisoun. They told every man that he was mad. So he was astonished by Noah's flood. Through vanity, he believed he had bought three cooking pots and had them hung above. He prayed to them for God's love to sit with them in the roof. The people laughed at his fancy. They looked into the roof and gaped, turning all his harm into a joke. Whatever the carpenter answered was in vain, for no one heard his reason. With this great laughter, he was sworn mad in the entire town. Every clerk immediately agreed with each other. They said, \"The man is mad, my dear brother.\" And every person laughed at this script. Thus, the carpenter's wife was scorned, for all his keeping and jealousy. Absalom had kissed her neither cheek nor nose, and Nicholas was scalded in the foot. This tale is done. God save all the route.\n\nHere ends the Miller's Tale.\nHere begins the Reeve's Tale. A folk had lawghyn at this nice case\nOf Absolon and Hend Nicholas\nDivers folk diversely they said\nBut for the most part they laughed and played\nNo man was moved by this tale but if\nIt were only Oswald the reeve\nBecause he was of Carpenter's craft\nA little ire is in his heart I left\nHe began to grumble and blame it a little\n\nWith berrying of a proud Miller's son\nIf I list to speak of Rebaudry\nBut I am old, I list not to play for age\nGrass time is done, my father is forage\nThis white top writes my old years\nMy heart also melted is as my hair is\nBut if I fare as does an open ear\nThat like fruit is ever longer the worse\nTil it be rotten in mulch or in street\nWe old men I dread so fare we\nTil we be rotten can we not ripen\nWe hope always while the world will pipe\nFor in our will there sticks ever a nail\nTo have an hour head and a green tail\nAs hath a leek; for though our might began\nOur will desires fully ever in one\nFor when we may nothing do than will we speak\nYet in our cold ashen old. Fire is recognized.\nFour gladly have we which I shall divide:\nAnger and covetousness lying,\nThese four sparks lead to old age.\nOur old limbs must we not hold,\nBut will not fail, that is true,\nAnd yet have I always a colt,\nAs many a year as it has passed then,\nSince that my tap of life began to run,\nFor surely when I was born alone,\nDeath drew the tap of life and let it go,\nAnd ever since has it run thus,\nUntil almost empty is the cask.\nThe stream of life now drops on the chimney,\nThe silly tongue may well ring and chime,\nOf wretchedness that is far past,\nWith old folk, save dotage, there is no more.\nWhen our host had heard this sermon,\nHe began to speak as lordly as a king,\nAnd said, \"What is all this wisdom?\nWhat shall we speak always of holy writ?\nThe devil made a revue to preach,\nOr of a smith, a sailor, or a leech,\nSpeak forth your tale and tarry not the time,\nLo, Depford, it is halfway to prime,\nLo, Greenwich, that many a scoundrel is in,\nIt would be all time for your tale to begin,\nNow, sires, said.\" A reeve named Oswold prays that you not be grieved by his answer and the slight setting of his houn (hound). This drunken miller has told us here how Begil, a master carpenter, was scornful of me because I am one. Grant me leave to quiet him soon. In his own term (turn), I pray God his neck may break. He can see a stalk, but in his own he cannot see a balk.\n\nHere ends the reeve's prologue. Here begins his tale.\n\nAt Trumpington, not far from Cambridge,\nThere is a brook and over that a bridge,\nUpon which brook stands a mill,\nAnd this is true that I tell you,\n\nA miller lived there for many days,\nAs proud and gay as any peacock,\nHe could pipe and fish and bite nettles,\nAnd turn cups and wrestle well and leap,\nAnd by his belt he bore a long pauper's staff,\nAnd of a swarthy complexion was the miller.\n\nThere was no one daring enough to touch him,\nA shepherd's twig he bore in his hose,\nRound was his face, and his nose was camouflaged.\nAlso, he was piled with. An ape was his servant\nHe was a market seller at the full market\nThere dared no one dare lay hands on him\nThat he not swear immediately he would retreat\nA thief he was truly of corn and meal\nAnd that a slight and wanton one for stealing\nHis name was called Symkin\nA woman he had, of noble kin\nThe father of the town gave her many a pan of brass\nFor that Symkin would in his blood ally\nShe was fostered in a nunnery\nFor Symkin would not behave as he said\nBornish and amused\nTo save his status of yeomanry\nAnd she was proud and pert as a pie\nA fine sight was upon them two\nAn holiday before her, he would go\nWith his tippet bound about his head\nAnd she came after in a gite of reed\nSymkin had hosen of the same color\nThere dared no one call her but dame\nNo one was so bold who went that way\nThat with her dared once rage or play\nBut if he wanted to be slain by Symkin\nWith pauper's staff or knife or bodkin\nFor jealous folk are dangerous always\nAnd also for she was She was as dynamic as water in a ditch\nAnd full of ho (?)\nHere a lady should have spared her\nFor her kinred and northerness\nThat she had learned in the Nunnery\nA daughter had they between them two\nOf twenty years without any more\nSaving a child that was half a year old\nIn cradle it lay and was a proper page\nThis wench, thick and well I grow, was\nWith Camoys nose and eyes grey as glass\nButtocks broad and breasts round and high\nBut truly fair was her face I will not lie\nThe parson of the town for she was fair\nIn purpose was to make her his heir\nBoth of his cattle and of his messuage\nAnd strangely he made it of her marriage\nHis purpose was to bestow her highly\nUnto some worthy blood of ancestry\nFor holy church God's must be spent\nOn holy church blood that is descended\nTherefore-blood honor\nThough that holy church should devour\nGreat sums had this miller without doubt\nWith wheat and malt of all the land aboute\nAnd namely there was a great College\nMen call it the soler hall of Cambridge her wheat and her malt I ground\nAnd on a day it happened in a sudden manner\nThe Mayor lay with an almswoman\nMen wisely suspected that he should die\nFrom whom this Miller stole both wheat and corn\nA hundred times more than he had before\nFor there before he stole only courteously\nBut now he was a thief most outrageously\nTherefore the wardEN reprimanded and threatened him\nBut this Miller paid no heed\nHe cracked a joke and said it was not so\nThen there were two poor clerks\nWho dwelt in this hall, of whom I speak\nThey were testy and eager for amusement\nAnd only for their amusement and revelry\nThey urgently cried to the wardEN\nTo give them leave for a little while\nTo go to the mill and see her corn ground\nAnd hardly they dared to lay her neck\nThe miller should not steal half a peck\nOf corn by cunning or by force from them\nAnd at last the wardEN gave them leave\nJohn was one, and alone the other was called\nFrom a town I cannot tell where\nThey make ready all their own gear\nAnd departed. her horse the sack is cast immediately\nAlone goes the clerk and John,\nWith a good sword and buckler by her side,\nJohn knew the way he needed no guide,\nAnd at the mill the sack goes down he lies,\nAlone speaks first, \"Hail, Simon, in truth,\nHow fares thy fair daughter and thy wife?\nWelcome, Simon, by my life,\nAnd I, John, what do you here?\nSimon said, by God, I need no peer,\nServe yourself then, who has not swayed,\nOr else he is a fool, as clerks say,\nOur mayor I hope he will be dead,\nSo works it ever in his head,\nAnd therefore I have come and this Alan,\nTo grind our corn and carry it back,\nPlease speed us on, he said, it shall be done,\nQuoth Iohn, and see how the corn goes in,\nYet I never saw, by my father's kin,\nHow the mayor's waggons to and fro,\nAlan answered,\nThen will you be beneath by my crown,\nAnd see her the mill fall is down,\nInto the trough that shall be my pleasure,\nFor I, John, in faith, I may be of your sort.\"\nAy is. myller smiled at her neatly and thought all this was done but for a while. They believed that no one could deceive them. But by my thrift, I shall still betray her. For all her cunning and philosophy, the more intricate tricks they make, the more I shall steal when I take. In place of flour, I will give them bran. The greatest scholars are not the wisest men. As once the wolf spoke to the mare,\nOf all her art I do not despair,\nOut at the door he goes most privately,\nWhen he saw his time was soft,\nHe looked up and down until he had found\nThese scholars' horses where they were bound.\nBehind the mill, under a l,\nAnd to the horse he went fairly and well,\nHe stripped off the blanket right away,\nAnd when the horses were loosed they went,\nToward the field where wild mares run,\nForth with a weary thrust through thick and thin,\nThis miller goes again without a word spoken,\nBut plays his part and mingles with the scholars,\nUntil her corn is fair and well ground,\nAnd when the meal is sacked and bound,\nThis John goes forth and finds his horse away,\nAnd began to cry, \"harow.\" Our horse is lost alone for cock's bans (or baths)\nStep out on your feet come then (or there) at any time\nAlas, our ward (or guard) has lost his palfrey\nThis alone I have forgotten both meal and corn\nAll was out of his mind his husbandry\nWhat way is he gone he began to cry\nThe wife came running in at a race\nShe said, alas, your horse goes to the fen\nWith wild marsh. as fast as he may go\nUnthank comes on his hand that bound them so\nAnd he that better should have knit the rein\nAlas, said John, alas for Christ's pain\nLay down your sword and I will mine as well\nI am very swift. God knows as is a ra (or a raw)\nBe cock's heart he shall not escape us both\nSo works always their wings in his head\nAnd therefore I am come and this alone\nTo grind our corn and carry it again\nI pray you speed us on he (or you) may\nIt shall be done, said Symkin be my faith\nWhat will you do while it is in hand\nBe God right be the hopper I will stand\nSaid John and see how the corn goes in\nYet I have never seen by my father's kin\nHow the hopper (or winnow) wags to and fro\nAlone answered John will you so\nThen will I. beneath my crown\nAnd see how the miller falls down\nInto the trough that shall be my pleasure\nFor I, in faith, may be of your sort\nAye is as ill a Miller as you\nThis miller smiled of her nicety\nAnd thought all this is done but for a while\nThey think that no man may beguile them\nBut by my thrift yet shall I deceive her\nFor all her cunning and her philosophy\nThe more quiet creaks that they make\nThe more shall I steal when I take\nInstead of flour, I will give them bran\nThe greatest clerks are not wisest men\nAs once the wolf spoke to the mare\nOf all her art and cunning I not care\nOut at the door he goes privately\nWhen he saw his time softly\nHe looks up and down till he has found\nThese clerks' horses where they stood bound\nBehind the mill under a leaf\nAnd to the horse he goes fairly and well\nHe strips off the blanket right away\nAnd when the horses were loosed they went\nToward the field where wild mars reed\nForth with a whinny through thick and thin\nThis miller goes again without a word spoken. This John goes forth and finds his horse away,\nAnd cries aloud, \"Our horse is lost alone,\nFor cock's banes. Come out on your feet, come on,\nAlas, our warder has lost his palfrey,\nThis horse alone I have forgotten, both corn and meal,\nAll out of my mind, my husband's care.\nWhich way is he gone? He cried,\nThe wife came running in at a gallop,\nShe said, \"Alas, your horse goes to the fen,\nWith wild marshes. As fast as he may go,\nUnthank comes on his hand and binds them so,\nHe who should have tied the rein,\nAlas, said John, alas for Christ's pain,\nLay down your sword, I will do the same,\nI am swift. God knows it as a race,\nBetween the cock's heart, he shall not escape us both,\nWhy hadn't you put the hay there, God be with you,\nThese simple clerks have run off\nTowards the fen, both alone and I.\"\n\nAnd when the Miller saw they were gone,\nHe and his wife went to grind it into a cake. I think the text is already in modern English and does not require any cleaning. Here is the text with some minor formatting adjustments for readability:\n\n\"I said the clerks were afraid\nYet a miller can make a clerk's beard\nFor all her art, let them go their way\nLook where they go, so late the children play\nThey get nothing so lightly, by my crown\nThese silly clerks run up and down\nWith keep, keep, stand, Iosa beware there\nGo whistle thou there and I shall keep him here\nBut shortly till it was truly night\nThey could not, though they did all their might\nHer capercaillie he ran always so fast\nTill in a ditch they caught him at last\nWearily and wet as best is in the rain\nComes silly John and I\nAlas said John the day that I was born\nNow are we driven to poverty and scorn\nOur corn is stolen, men will call us fools\nBoth the ward and our fellows all\nAnd especially the Miller well away\nThus laments John as he goes by the way\nToward the mill and Bayard in his hand\nThe Miller sitting by the fire he found\nFor it was night & farther might they not\nBut for the love of God they him besought\nOf herbs and ease as for her penny\nThe miller said again if\" There be some who shall have your part. My house is straight, but you have learned art. You can make arguments a place. A mile brood of twenty feet of space. Let see now if this place will suffice, or make it roomier with speech as is your custom. Now Simon said this: John is St. Cuthbert. Yes, thou art merry, and that is well answered. I have heard say that men shall take of two things, such as he finds or such as he brings. But especially, pray the host so dear, Get us some meat and drink and make us cheerful. And we will truly at the full, With empty hands men may not hawk's gull. Lo here is my silver ready to spend. This miller to the town his daughter sends, For ale and bread and roast them a goose, And bind her horse that he should no more go loose. And in his own chamber he made a bed, With sheets and with curtains fair I spread. Not from his own bed ten feet or twelve. His daughter had a bed all by herself. Right in the same chamber by and by, It might be no better the cause why. There was no roomier herberge in the place. They. About midnight they went to rest. Well has this Miller entertained his head. Full and not red, he yawns and speaks. To bed he goes, and with him goes his wife. She was as light and joyful as any jolly jade. Her joyful whistle was well wet. The cradle at their bedside was set to rock and soothe the child. And when the dawn was in the crow, to bed went the daughter right away. To bed goes Aleyn and also John.\n\nThis Miller has so wisely brewed ale that he fortifies and sleeps like a horse, not taking care of his tail behind. His wife bore him a burly child. They might have heard rowdying a furlong away. The wench also joined in the company. Alone the clerk who heard this melody nudged John and said, \"Slept you then? Have you ever heard such a song?\" Lo, what a complaint is this? A wild fire falls on their bodies. Who has ever heard such a fearful thing? They shall have the flour of ill ending. This long night gave us no rest, but yet no force shall prevail. For Iohn said alone, \"If I may have this woman, I will try,\nIf she consents in one thing, she shall be released in another,\nOur corn is stolen truly, it is no lie,\nAnd we have had an evil day,\nSince I shall have no amendment,\nAgainst my loss I will have satisfaction,\nIt shall not be other,\nThis Iohn answered alone, \"The miller is a dangerous man he said,\nAnd if he awakens from his sleep,\nHe might do us both a mischief,\nI count him not a sly one,\nAnd up he rose and to the woman he crept,\nThis woman lay upright and fast asleep,\nUntil he was so near or she might have seen,\nIt would have been too late for to cry,\nAnd shortly they were reconciled,\nNow play Iohn, for I will speak of Aleyn.\"\nThis Iohn lingered still a furlongway or two,\nAnd to himself he made great woe,\n\"Alas,\" he said, \"this is a wicked joke,\nNow may I say that I am but an ape,\nYet my fellow has caused some harm to him.\" the miller's daughter in his arms\nHe held and her needs speeded\nI lay as a draft in my bed\nAnd when this joke is told another day\nI shall be held a daffe a cockney\nI will rise and anoint myself by my faith\nUnworthy one thus they say\nAnd up he rose and softly went\nUnto the cradle and in his arm he took it\nHe carried it softly to his bedside feet\nSoon after the wife her rummaging let\nAnd woke up and went out to piss\nAnd came back and began to miss the cradle\nShe groped here and there but found nothing\nAlas she said I had almost misplaced it\nI had almost gone to the clerk's bed\nGod forbid that had been my fate\nAnd forth she went until she found the cradle\nShe groped always further with her hands\nAnd found it\nBecause the cradle stood there\nAnd knew not where she was for it was dark\nBut fairly and quietly she crept towards the clerk\nAnd lay still and wanted to catch a sleep\nWith him a while this John lay on top\nAnd on this good wife he laid heavily\nSo merry a turn had she not foregone\nHe. \"Prythagoras hard and sore as if mad,\nThese two clerks had led this joyful life,\nUntil the third cook began to sing,\nAleyn grew weary in the dawning,\nFor he had sung all the long night through,\nAnd said, \"Farewell, my fair, sweet light,\nThe day is come, I may no longer stay,\nYet evermore where you go or ride,\nI am your own clerk, so have I heed,\nNow, dear lady, you may go in peace,\nBut before you go, I want to tell,\nWhen you return home by the mill,\nYou shall find a cake of half a bushel,\nMade of your own meal,\nWhich I helped my father steal,\nAnd God keep and save you,\nAnd with that word, almost she began to weep,\nAleyn arose and thought, or that it daunted me,\nI will go and find the cradle with my hands,\nBy God, I thought I had gone astray,\nMy head is heavy from the long night's toil,\nThat makes me doubt if I go the right way,\nI know well by the cradle I have missed the way,\nHere lives the miller and his wife also,\nAnd he goes forth with twenty devils.\"\" Into the bed there lay the miller\nHe intended to seize his fellow John\nAnd by the millstone in he crept anon\nAnd caught him by the neck and softly spoke\nHe said thou swineherd awake\nFor Christ's soul and here is a noble game\nFor by that lord that is called Saint James\nAs I have thrice in this short night\nSwiftly the miller's daughter bolted upright\nWhile you have been a coward, been afraid\nYou false harlot, have you so hastened\nA false traitor, false clerk, he said\nYou shall be dead by God's dignity\nWho dares be so bold to do such disgrace\nTo my daughter who is of such lineage\nAnd by the throat he choked him alone\nAnd he seized him contemptuously again\nAnd on the nose he struck him with his fist\nDown ran the blood up on his breast\nAnd in the floor with nose and mouth they broke\nThey wallowed as pigs do in a poke\nAnd up they went and down again anon\nUntil the Miller spurred at a stone\nAnd down he fell backward on his wife\nThat thing of this nice strife\nFor she was fallen asleep, a little light\nWith John the clerk that woke her. And with the fall out of her sleep she breeds,\nHelp, holy cross of Bromehem she says,\nIn thy hands I call on thee, O Lord.\nAwake, Simon, the fiend is upon me,\nMy heart is broken, I am but dead.\nThere lies on my breast and on my head,\nHelp, Symkin, for the false clerks fight.\nThis John started up as fast as he might,\nAnd grasped the walls to and fro,\nTo find Astaf and she started up also,\nAnd knew him better than this John.\nAnd by the wall Astaf took anon,\nAnd saw a little shining of a light,\nFor at an hole yon the moon light shone,\nAnd by that light she saw them both two,\nBut surely she knew not who was who.\nAnd as she saw a white thing in her eye,\nWhen she began this white thing to spy,\nShe thought the cleric had wrought a volupier,\nAnd with the staff she drew it near and near,\nAnd smote the miller on the piled skull,\nAnd down he goes and cried, \"Harow, I die.\"\nThe clerks beat him well and let him lie,\nAnd girded them and their horse at once,\nAnd also their mail and on their way they. And at the mill door yet he took his cake, of half a bushel flour I bake. Thus is the proud miller well I beat And has lost the grinding of the wheat And paid for the supper everidel, Of aleyn and of John that beat him well. His wife is swift and his daughter also, Lo such it is a miller to be false And thereto this proverb is said full soth, He dare not believe well that evil does A giller shall ever be beguiled be And God that sits in high majesty Save all this company great and small Thus have I quit the Miller his tale. \u00b6Here ends the Reeve's tale. \u00b6And begins the Cook's prolog. The Cook of London while the Reeve spoke, For joy he thought he clawed him on the back. A ha quoth he for Christ's own passion, This Miller has a sharp conclusion. Up on his argument of herbage, Well said Salomon in his language, Do not press every man in thy house For herborwynge is night perilous. Well ought a man wary for to be, Whom that he brings in to his private, I pray to God so give me sorrow and care Since ever that I hight Hogge of. Here is the cleaned text:\n\nI, Hermit of Myller, began this work\nHe had a jest of malice in the dark\nBut God forbid that we stay here\nTherefore, if you vouchsafe to hear\nA tale from me, a poor man\nI will tell it as well as I can\nA little jest that fills our sight\nOur host answered and said, \"I grant it thee\"\nNow tell on, Roger, look that it be good\nFor many a pasty have you let blood\nAnd many a jackdaw of dour have you sold\nThat had been twice hot and twice cold\nOf many a pilgrim have you christened ours\nFor of your persistence yet fare they the worse\nNow tell on, gentle Roger, be thy name\nBut I pray thee be not angry for game\nA man may say truth in jest and play\nThou sayest truth, said Roger, be my fee\nBut truth in jest, quoth quoth Piers the Plowman,\nAnd therefore Harry Ball be thy faith\nBe not angry, are we departing here\nThough that my tale be of an hostile one\nBut nevertheless I will not tell it yet\nBut before we depart, I wish thee to be quit\nAnd therewith all he laughed and made cheer\nAnd said his tale as you shall after here\nHere ends the Cook's tale. A prentice once lived in our city,\nOf the craft of victuallers was he.\nAs jolly he was as a goldsmith in appearance,\nBrown as a berry, a proper fellow,\nWith curly locks I combed most carefully,\nHe could dance well and joyfully,\nThen he was called Perkin Reuel,\nHe was as full of love and paramour,\nAs the hive is of honey sweet,\nWell was the maiden with him could sleep,\nAnd at every wedding would he sing and hop,\nHe loved better the lower end than the shop,\nFor when riding was in the cheap,\nOut of the shop thither he would leap,\nUntil he had seen all the sight,\nAnd danced well, he would not come again,\nAnd gathered a company of his sort,\nTo go\nAnd there they seek steen for food,\nTo play at the dice in such a street,\nFor in the town was there no apprentice,\nFairer could cast a pair of dice,\nThan Perkin could, and therein he was free,\nOf his expense in place of privacy,\nThat found his master well in his business,\nFor of time he found his box empty.\nA prentice once lived in our city, of the craft of victuallers was he. Reuel haunts disorder and lechery. His master shall find him in the shop below. He has no part in the minstrelsy, for they are converted to thievery and riot. He can only play on the gittern. Reuel and Truth are in a low degree, and they are always angry as men can see. This merry apprentice stood with his master until he was near out of his apprenticeship. He was stubborn both early and late, and sometimes led with Reuel to Newgate, where he learned the consequences of his unthriftiness. But at last his master had him think of a proverb that says, \"It is better to let a rotten apple out of the horde than to let it rot the remainder.\" Therefore, his master gave him acquiescence and let him go with sorrow and disgrace. Thus, this merry apprentice was released. Now let him riot all night long or leave. And there is no thief without a look that helps him waste or sink. Of that which he can beget or borrow, he sells it anon. A man of his kind, a companion,\nLoving disorder and merriment,\nHis wife, reputed for her scorn,\nOperated a shop for her sustenance.\n\nHere ends the Cook's tale, and begins the lawyer's prologue.\n\nOur host, by the bright sun,\nSaw that the fourth part and half of his artificial day,\nIf he were not deceased,\nWould be the eighteenth day of April,\nMessenger to May.\nAnd he observed that the shadow of every tree,\nWas in length the same as the body that cast it.\nTherefore, by the shadow, he made his judgment,\nThat Phoebus, who shone so clear and bright,\nWas at a height of forty-five degrees.\nAnd for this day being in latitude,\nIt was ten of the clock.\nSuddenly, he mounted his horse, saying,\n\n\"The fourth part of this day is past.\nNow, for the love of God and Saint John,\nWaste no time as much as you can.\nLords, time wastes both night and day,\nAnd steals from us what private sleeping,\nAnd what through negligence in our waking.\" The stream that turns never again,\nDescending from the mountains into the plain,\nCan Seneca and many a philosopher\nBewail time more than gold in a coffer,\nFor loss of cattle may be recovered,\nBut loss of time is irrecoverable, he said,\nIt will not come again without fear,\nNo more than Malkin's maidenhead,\nWhen she has lost it in her wantonness,\nLet us not mourn thus,\nSir man of law, if you so have thou bliss,\nTell us a tale at once as forward is,\nYou are submitted through your free assent\nTo stand in this case at my judgment,\nAcquit you now of your behest,\nThen have you do your debt at the left,\nHost said he depart, I assent,\nTo break forward is not my intent,\nBeseech his debt and I would be pleased,\nAnd to you I will do my pain,\nFor such law as you yield another right,\nHe should himself use it rightly,\nThus our text but nevertheless certain,\nI can right now no thrifty tale see,\nThat Chaucer they have said but lewdly,\nOn metrics and on rhythm craftily,\nHas said them in such English as he can,\nOf old time as. Men know many a man who has not told them to leave one another in one book, but has said them in another. For he has spoken of lovers rising and falling more than Ovid mentioned in his Epistles that are old. What should he tell them since they have been told in youth about Cercles and Alcyon, and since he has spoken of each one, these noble women and noble lovers as well. Whoever wants to see his large volume is called the Lives of the Saints of Cupid. There you may see the wide wounds of Lucrece and Tisbe of Babylon, the sword of Dido for the false Aeneas, the sword of Phililes for Demophon, the lament of Dianea and Armyne, of Adriane and Isiphyle, the bare island standing in the midst, the dread, the tears of Hecuba and also the wooing of Briseis and Ladomea, the cruelty of Medea, the little children hanging by their throats, for Iason, who was of such false love, loved Penelope, Epymus, and Alcestis. But certainly he wrote no word or line of that wicked enchantment of Canace, who loved her own brother. Of this cursed story I say, or else of Apollonius,\nAbout the cursed king Antiochus,\nWho defiled his daughter and took away her maidenhead,\nA tale so horrible to recount,\nWhen he here threw up on the pavement,\nAnd therefore he was full of anger,\nWould never write in any of his sermons,\nOf such unkind abominations,\nNor I will, if I may help it,\nBut of my tale what should I do this day?\nI would be loath, doubtless,\nTo be likened to those whom men call heretics,\nMethamorphoseos knows what I mean,\nBut neither do I care for their benefit,\nI come after him who has no lack,\nI speak in prose, let him make rhymes,\nAnd with that word he began his tale, as you shall hear,\nO hateful harm, condition of poverty,\nWith thirst, cold, and hunger so confounded,\nTo ask for help is a shame in your heart,\nIf you ask with need you are so wounded,\nThat very need unwraps all your hidden wounds,\nEven your head you must have from indigence,\nOr steal or beg or borrow your means,\nYou blame Christ and say bitterly,\nHe my departures riches temporal\nThy neighbor thou knewest sinfully\nAnd sayest thou hast all and he has none\nPerfectly thou sayest one day he shall reckon\nWhen his tail shall burn in the fire\nFor he does not help the needy in her need\nListen to what is the sentence of the wise\nIt is better to die than to have indigence\nThy self neighbor will despise\nIf thou art poor, farewell thy reverence\nYet of the wise man take his sentence\nAll poor men are wicked\nBeware or thou come to the pit\nIf thou art poor, thy brother hates thee\nAnd all thy friends flee from thee\nO rich merchants full of wealth ye are\nO noble and prudent folk as in this case\nYour bags will not be filled with\nBut with sycophants that run in your chance\nAt Christmas merrymaking may you dance\nYou sloth and see for your winnings\nAnd as wise folk you know all the state\nOf realms that have been father of tidings\nAnd tell both of peace and of debate\nI were now of a tale desolate\nNo longer is a Merchant gone for many a year\nI taught you a tale which you may hear\nIN. Surrey dealt with a company of chapmen, rich and true,\nWho widely sent their spices,\nCloth of gold and satin richly hued,\nTheir trade was so trustworthy and new,\nThat every man had dealt with her,\nAnd with them to sell their wares.\nNow fill it that the masters of the company\nHave shaped them to Rome to go,\nWhether for chapmanhood or for sport,\nNo other message would they send there,\nBut came themselves to Rome. This is the end.\nAnd in such a place as seemed advantageous for their intent,\nThese merchants had taken their hire,\nJoined together had these merchants in that town,\nFor a certain time as seems pleasing to her,\nBut so be it that the renown\nOf the Emperor's daughter, Constan,\nWas reported to these merchants in such a way,\nFrom day to day as you shall hear,\nThis was the common wisdom of every man,\nThe Emperor of Rome saw him,\nA daughter he had that since the world began,\nTo reckon as well her goodness as her beauty,\nNever such another was there.\nI pray to God. In her honor, she would be the queen of all Europe. Her beauty was high without pride, young without grief or folly. To all her works, her virtue was her guide. Humility had slain all tyranny in her. She was a mirror of all courtesy. Her heart was very chamber of holiness. Her hand was a minister of freedom and alms. And all this is true as God is true. But now, to the point, let us turn. These merchants had loaded her new ships. And when they had seen the blessed maid, they went home to Surrey. They did her needs as they did before. Now fill it. These merchants stood in grace with him who was the sow. Whenever they came from any strange place, he would, out of his benign courtesy, make them welcome and busy themselves with tidings from various realms. Among other things, especially, these merchants told of Dame Costanza. Such great nobility in earnest, this sultan had taken great pleasure in having her likeness. And all his lust and every care\nWas for love of her while his life endures\nPerhaps in that large book which I call heaven, written with stars,\nWas taken his birth, God knows who could read,\nThe death of every man without fear,\nIn stars, many a winter there was written\nWas written the death of Hector and Achilles,\nOf Julius Caesar or they were born,\nThe strife of Thebes and Hercules,\nOf Samson, Turnus, and Socrates,\nThe death, but men's wits are so dull,\nThat no man can read it entirely,\nThis sovereign for his private council sent,\nAnd soon on this matter to pass,\nHe had declared his intent, and said to them,\nCertainly he might have had custody in a little while,\nHe was not yet dead and charged them to shape,\nFor him some remedy,\nDiverse men diverse things said,\nThey cast up and cast down their arguments,\nMany a subtle reason they laid forth,\nThey spoke of magic and deception,\nBut finally, they could not see in that any advantage,\nNor in any other way save. in marriage they saw such difficulties\nBe wise to speak plainly\nBecause of the diversities between their laws that they say\nThey believe that no Christian prince would willingly\nwed his child under our laws\nWe were taught by Mahomet our prophet\nAnd he answered rather than I less\nCustance I will be christened certainly\nI must be heresy, I may choose none other\nI pray you cease your arguments\nSave my life and be not reckless\nTo bring here one who has my life in care\nFor in this woe I may not long endure\nWhat is needed, I say, by treaty\nAnd by the Pope's mediation\nAnd all the church and all the chivalry\nWho are in destruction of mammonism\nAnd in increases of Christian law there\nThey are accorded as you shall hear\nHow the Sultan and his baronage\nAnd all his lieges shall be christened\nAnd he shall have custody in marriage\nAnd a certain amount of gold I do not know\nAnd thereupon they agreed\n\nThe same accord was sworn on either side\nFair Custance, almighty God the. Now would some men suppose, as I guess,\nThat I should tell all the preparations,\nThe Emperor makes for his daughter Constantia,\nBishops are shaped to attend,\nLords and ladies of great renown,\nAnd other folk sufficient for this,\nThis is the end, and it is notified,\nThroughout the town, that every man with devotion,\nReceive in grace and speed this voyage,\nThe day has come for her departure,\nI say that the woeful,\nThat there may be no leniency,\nBut forward they dress, and some,\nConstantia, who is overcome with sorrow,\nArises pale and dresses,\nFor well she knows there is no other end,\nAlas, what wonder it is that she wept,\nThat she shall be sent to a foreign nation,\nFrom friends who here so tenderly kept her,\nAnd to be bound under subjection,\nOf one she knows not the condition,\nHusbands have all been good and have been yours,\nWho know women, I dare say no more,\nFather she said, \"Thy wretched child.\" Custance, your young daughter, nurtured so softly,\nMost beloved by you with obedience,\nOuttake all things, place Christ on high,\nCustance commends her child to your grace often,\nFor I shall go to serve,\nI shall never see you more with you,\nAlas, to the barbaric nation,\nI must depart accordingly to your will,\nBut Christ who died for our redemption,\nGrant me grace to fulfill his behests,\nWretched woman, no sorrow though I err,\nWomen are born to servitude and punishment,\nAnd to be under man's governance,\nAt Troy, when Turnus broke the wall\nOf Ilion, nor was Thebes the city burned,\nNor Rome for the siege of Hannibal,\nThe Romans had avenged such times three,\nNever heard such tender weeping for pity,\nAs in the chamber for her departure,\nBut forth she must go, whether she weeps or sings,\nO frosty morning, cruel firmament,\nWith your daily wheel that crowds away,\nAnd hurries all from east to occident,\nNature itself would hold another way,\nYour crowding sets the heavens in such array,\nAt the beginning of this first voyage. cruel Marcy has slain this marriage, alas.\nOf which the lord is helpless, fallen allas,\nOut of his angel into the third house,\nMarcy killed as in this case, alas.\nFeeble money, unhappy be thy pass,\nThou knowest not there thou art not received,\nThere thou art well from then art thou weighed,\nImprudent Emperor of Rome, alas,\nWas there no philosopher in thy town,\nIs there no better time than another in this case,\nOf voyages is there no election,\nNamely to people of high condition,\nNot when a route is of a birth I know,\nAlas we have been too lewd and else too slow,\nThis woeful fair maiden is brought to ship,\nSolemnly with every circumstance,\nNow Ih\nThere is no more but fair Custance,\nShe pities herself to make good contention,\nAnd forth I let her sail in this manner,\nAnd turn again I will to my mother,\nThe mother of the sultan Well of Vicis,\nAspyed has her sons' play open,\nHow he would let his old sacrifices,\nAnd right away she sent for counsel,\nAnd they came to know what she meant,\nAnd when assembled was this folk in. She set her down and said, \"Lords, you all know well that my son is about to let\nThe holy laws of our charter by God's messenger Muhammad,\nBut on a vow to the great god I compel\nMy life rather to start out of my body or Muhammad's love leave my heart.\nWhat should we do with this new law?\nBut servitude to our bodies and penance,\nAnd afterward in hell to be drawn,\nFor we renounced Mahound as our creator,\nBut your will you make assurance,\nAs I shall say assenting to my lord,\nAnd I shall make us safe forevermore,\nThey swore and assented every man,\nTo live with her and die and by her stand,\nAnd each one in the best way that he can,\nTo strengthen her, her friends shall find,\nWhoever holds this enterprise in hand,\nWhich you shall hear as I shall devise,\nAnd to them all she spoke in this way,\nWe shall first willingly embrace Christianity,\nCold water shall not harm us but a little,\nAnd I shall make such a feast and rejoice,\nThat as I believe, I shall appease the sultan.\nFor though his... wyf was never baptized much\nShe shall have need to wash away the red\nThough she had a font full of water with her lead\nO Sudden's route of iniquity\nVirago thou Samaritan the second\nO serpent under feminine beauty\nI like thee unto the serpent deep in hell I bound\nO feigned woman all that may confound\nVirtue and Innocence through thy malice\nI bred is in the nest of every vice\nO Satan envious since that day\nThat thou were chased from our heritage\nThou knowest well women the old way\nThou madest one to bring us in servitude\nThou wilt destroy this Christian marriage\nThy instrument so well a way the while\nMakest thou of woman when thou wilt begin\nThis sodomite whom I thus blame and weary\nLet privately her counsel go her way\nWhat should I longer in this tale tarry\nShe rides to the Sultan on a day\nAnd said to him that she would renounce her lay\nAnd Christianity of priests' hand forge\nRepenting her that she had been heathen so long\nBeseeching him to do her that honor\nThat she might have the Christian folk to feast\nTo please them I will do my\n\n(Note: This text appears to be a fragment of an old English poem or song, possibly related to the theme of temptation and seduction. The text is written in Middle English and contains some archaic spelling and grammar. I have made some minor corrections to improve readability, but have tried to remain faithful to the original text as much as possible.) The Soudan says I will do it at your request. And kneeling, I thanked her for her request. So glad he was, he didn't know what to say. She kissed her son and went her way. Arabs arrived in this Christian land. In triumph with a great solemn procession. And hastily, the Soudan sent his emissary. First, to his mother and to all the realm about. And he said his wife had come without doubt. And he begged her to ride against the queen. The honor of his realm to sustain. Great was the press and rich was the array. Of Saracens and Romans met in fear. The mother of the Soudan, rich and gay, received her with all glad cheer. As any mother might her dear daughter. And to the next city there beside, a soft passage they rode solemnly. Nothing I believe was the triumph of Julius, of which Lucan makes such a boast. Was more royal or more curious. Than was the assembly of this blessed host. But this scorpion, this wicked ghost, The Soudaness for all her flattering, Cast under this full mortally to sting. The Soudan comes himself soon after this. So really that. \"welcome she is, with joy and bliss I let them dwell, and tell the fruit of every tale, Men thought it best when time came for rejoicing to cease and for men to rest. The time came for this old Sodomite, Ordaining this feast which I have told, And to the feast, Christian men in general, both young and old, are to come and rejoice and behold the revelries. But all they bought it before they rose. O sudden woe that ever art successor to worldly bliss tainted with bitterness, The end of our joy and of our worldly labor, Wo occupies the end of our gladness. Hear this counsel for your certainty, On your glad day keep in mind the unexpected woe that comes behind. For shortly to tell at one word, The sodomite and the Christian each one, Were all to him a woman and struck at the door. But it was only damsel Costanza alone, This old Sodomite cursed crone, Has with her cursed friends there done this deed. For she herself would have all.\" Contra le de,\nThere was no Surrey one that was converted\nWho of the council of the Sultan knew it\nNot Custance taken as they held it\nAnd in a ship steers, God knows it\nThey have her set and bade her learn to sail\nOut of S\nA certain treasure that she led there\nAnd truly, great plenty of victuals they gave\nAnd clothes also, which she had\nAnd forth she into the salt sea\nO my Custance, full of benevolence\nO Emperor's young daughter, dear one\nHe that is lord of our fortune be thy guide\nShe blessed her and with full pitiful wisdom\nTo the cross of Christ she said\nO clear, O wretched altar, holy cross\nRead of the lamb's blood, full of pity\nThat washes the world from old iniquity\nMe from the fiend and from his claws keep\nThat day that I shall drench in the deep\nVictorious tree of protection true\nThat only were ordained to bear\nThe king of heaven with his new wounds\nThe white lamb that was wounded with a spear\nFled from fiends out of him and from her\nOf whose limbs faithfully extend to me. Keep and grant me might to amend Years and days this creature,\nThroughout the sea, Greek into the strait Of Marrok as it was her adventure,\nMany a sorry meal may she bite,\nAfter her death often may she wait,\nOr that the wild waves would drive\nHer to the place where she shall arrive.\nMen might ask why she was not slain,\nAnd at the feast, who might save her body,\nAnd I answer to that demand again,\nWho saved Daniel in the horrible cave,\nThere every wight was master or servant,\nWas with the lion's den or he started,\nNo wight but God that he bore in his heart,\nGod desires to show his wonderful miracle,\nIn her for she should see his mighty works,\nChrist, who is of every harm triacle,\nBe certain men's knowing clerks,\nDo things that for a certain end are very dark,\nTo men's wit, that for our ignorance,\nCannot know his prudent providence.\nSince she was not at the feast, I made her a slave,\nWho kept her from drowning in the sea,\nWho kept Jonah in the fish's belly,\nUntil he was spouted out at Nineveh.\nWell may men. Who kept the people of Ebrew from drowning\nWith dry feet through the sea passing\nHe who has the four spirits of tempest\nThat power have to trouble land and sea\nBoth North and southwest and east\nAnnoyeth neither land nor house\nIndeed, the commander of that was he\nWho kept this woman from the tempest's wrath\nAs well when she looked as when she slept\nWhere might this woman find food and drink\nThree years and more it lasted her provisions\nShe fed the Egyptian Mary in the cave\nOr in the desert, none but Christ saves\nFour thousand people it was a great marvel\nWith Louis' five and fish two to feed\nGod help her always in her need\nShe drives through our wide sea until at last\nUnder an hold that name I cannot tell\nFar in Northumbria the ways her course\nAnd in the south the ship stuck so fast\nThen would it not all that tide\nThe will of Christ was there she should abide\nThe constable of the castle is far\nTo see this wreck and all the ship he sought\nAnd found this doubtful woman. He found her full of care. She bore a treasure in her language, seeking mercy in her speech. She offered her life from her body to win her deliverance from the woe that she was in. Her Latin was corrupted was her speech, but gratefully she was understood. The constable, when he no longer searched, brought this woeful woman to land. She knelt down and thanked Christ's son. But what she was, she would not reveal. She was so consumed by the sea that she forgot herself by her truth. The constable felt great pity for her, and his wife wept bitterly. She was so diligent without sloth, serving and pleasing each one in that place. Her love looked out from her face. The constable and Dame Hermegild, his wife of the place, were penances and a reproach to all. But Hermegild loved her as his life. I, Custance, have long sojourned here in this land, in sorrow with many a bitter tear. Until Jesus has converted me through his grace. Dame Hermegild, the constable's wife of this place, was in all that land the only Christian. All Christian men had fled from that country\nThrough pressures that conquered around\nThe realm both by land and by sea.\nThe Christianity of the old Britons living on that Isle\nHad no recourse while\nYet near Christian Britons were exiled\nSo that there were some in their privacy\nWho honored Christ and heathen folk beguiled\nAnd near the castle such dwelt three\nOne of whom was blind and could not see\nBut it was with thick yen of his mind\nWith which they saw after men were blind\nThe sun was bright as on a summer's day\nFor which the Constable and his wife also\nAnd Custance had taken the right way\nToward the sea a furlong or two\nTo play and to roam to and fro\nAnd in this walk the blind men they met\nCrooked and old with a yen fast shut\nIn the name of Christ cried this Briton\nDame Hermegilde give me my sight again\nThis lady was afraid of that sound\nLest her husband soon for Christ's sake would have slain.\n\nUntil Custance calmed her. The bold and bad witch\nThe will of Christ as daughter of the holy church\nThe constable grew ashamed of that sight\nAnd asked what all this meant\nCustance answered, \"sire, it is Christ's might\nThat helps people out of the devil's snare\nAnd so forth she began our law to declare\nThat she, the constable or it were one and the same\nThis constable was nothing lord of this place\nOf which I spoke, he found Custance\nBut kept it strongly many winters' space\nUnder all the king of Northumbria\nWho was very wise and worthy of his hand\nAgainst the Scots, as men may well hear\nBut turn again I will to my matter\nSatan, who ever waits to beguile,\nSaw Custance's perfection\nAnd cast anon how he might quench her\nAnd made a young knight dwelling in the town\nLove here so hot of foul affection\nThat truly he thought he shall spill\nBut he of her once might have his will\nHe wooed her but it availed him nothing\nShe would do no sin be no way\nAnd for spite he devised in his mind. To make a shameful death today, he waits when the Constable is away. And quietly on a night, he crept into Hermegild's chamber while she slept. Wakeful in her prayers, slept Hermegilde and Constance also. This knight, through Satan's temptations, went softly to the bed. And seized Hermegild, and placed the bloody knife beside dame Constance. And went his way, may God give him mischance.\n\nSoon after, the Constable comes home again, and with him, all who were king of the land. And saw his wife dishonorably slain. He wept and rent his hand. And in the bed, he found the bloody knife. What could she say, poor Hermegilde, for true sorrow had taken all her wits?\n\nTo all was told this mischance, and the time and place, and also the reason. And in a ship was found this Constance, as I have told you before. The king's heart of pity arose when he saw the kind creature fall into disease and misfortune. For as a lamb is led to its death, so stands this Innocent before the king. A false knight who committed this treason\nHolds her in hand, she having\nYet there was great mourning\nAmong the people and said they could guess\nThat she had not done such great wickedness\nFor they have seen here every day so virtuous\nAnd loving Hermegild as her life\nThis gentle king has caught great offense\nFrom this witness and thought he would inquire deeper\nIn this matter and teach truth\nAlas, custom thou hast no champion\nNor canst thou fight so well away\nBut he who for our redemption\nBonds Satan and yet lies there he stays\nHe is thy strong champion this day\nFor but Christ opens miracle will show\nWithout guilt thou shalt be slain as swiftly\nShe set down on her knees and thus she spoke\nImmortal god who saved me\nFrom false blame and thou merciful maid\nMary I mean, daughter of Saint Anne\nBefore whose child angels sing Osanne\nIf I am guilty of this felony\nMy salvation be, or else I shall die\nHave you not seen some time ago? pale face, of him who has been led to his death where he receives no grace, such a color in the knight's face reveals, men might know his face among all the faces in that crowd. Standing here is Constance, looking around. O queens lineage, once in prosperity, duchesses and ladies, each one, have some grief on their adversity. An emperor's daughter stands alone, she does not know to whom to make her appeal. O royal lady who stands in this fear, fear not, your friends are near at your great need. This Alla has such compassion, as a gentle heart is filled with pity, that from his eyes the water ran down. Now quickly go fetch a book, he said, and if this knight will swear that she has killed this woman, we will judge. A British book written with evangelies was fetched and there he swore at once. She was found guilty and in the meantime, he gently touched his neck with a hand. He fell down once like a stone, and both his eyes burst out of his face, in sight of every body. A boy was heard in a general audience, saying you have falsely accused the daughter of the church in high presence. Thus you have done, and yet I remain at peace. The crowd was amazed, and all the people stood in fear, save Custance alone. Great was the fear and repentance of those who had harbored wrong suspicions. Upon this innocent Custance, and through her mediation, the king and many others in that place were converted, thanking Christ's grace. This false knight was slain for his unfaithfulness, by the king's command, and yet Custance felt great remorse for his death. After Jesus, through His mercy, she made all marry her solemnly. This holy maiden, so bright and pure, and thus Christ made Custance a queen. But who would be sorrowful if I were not to speak of this wedding but only of the dowry and nothing more? The queen's mother, full of tyranny, her cursed heart burst asunder. She would not have her son marry in this way. Her. Though he despised taking such a strange creature as his bride, I'll not delve into the chaos nor make this tale overly long, like the corn. What should I tell of the royalty of this marriage or which corpse went before? Who blows in a trumpet or who in a horn? The fruit of every tale is to be seen. They danced, sang, and played. They went to bed as it is sky and right. For though wives be full holy things, they must take in patience a night. Such necessities as please folk who have wedded them with rings, and say a little of their holiness aside. As for the time, it may bring no other betide. Here he begat a man child at once. And to a bishop and to his Constable, he took his wife to keep when he is gone. To Scotland, he sent his women to seek.\n\nFair Custance, so humble and meek,\nSo long gone with child in that style,\nShe kept her chamber abiding Christ's will.\nThe time is come; a man child she bears.\nMauricius at the fontstone they call him.\nThis Constable comes forth. messenger\nAnd wrote to this king who was called all\nThat this blessed tidings had fallen\nAnd other things which were necessary to say\nHe takes his letter and goes forth his way\nThis messenger to do his errand\nTo the king's mother, Ridith he swiftly came\nAnd saluted her in his language\nMadame, you may be glad and merry\nAnd thank God a hundred thousand times\nMy lady the queen has given birth to a child\nFor the joy and bliss of this realm around\nBehold here the letters sealed with this matter\nThat I must bring here in all the haste I may\nIf you will grant anything to your son the king\nI am your servant both night and day\nDame Dongel answered all this time, no\nBut here all night I will let you rest\nTomorrow I will tell you what I desire\nThis messenger sadly drank ale and wine\nAnd stole his letters privately\nOut of his box while he slept like a swine\nAnd counterfeited it was most subtly\nAnother letter was wickedly written\nTo the king directly concerning this matter\nFrom his Constable, as you may after here\nThe letter The queen spoke, delivering the news:\nOf a horrific, fearsome creature,\nNo one in the castle dared to confront,\nEndure its presence while it was about,\nMother was an elf, by chance,\nI came under charms or sorcery,\nEveryone hated her in company,\nWoe was the king when he read this letter,\nBut to no one did he reveal his sorrow,\nBut with his own hand he wrote always,\nWelcome the messenger of Christ forevermore,\nTo me who am learned in this lore,\nLord welcome thy lust and thy pleasure,\nMy lust I put entirely in thy hands,\nKeep this child, fair or foul,\nAnd my wife coming home as well,\nChrist, when He wills, may make me an heir,\nMore agreeable than this to my liking,\nThis letter he sealed, weeping privately,\nWhich I gave to the messenger at once,\nAnd he departed, there is no more to do.\nMessenger, filled with drunkenness,\nStrange is your behavior, your limbs flatter constantly,\nAnd you keep all secrets,\nYour mind is lost, you change as a jester does,\nYour face is turned as in a new array,\nThere reigns drunkenness in every route,\nThere. is no counsel, it is no doubt,\nO Donoghue, I have no English dignity,\nTo your malice and your tyranny,\nAnd therefore to the fiend I resign,\nLet him endite of his treachery,\nFie, my mistress, fie, nay be God I lie,\nFie, friendly spirit, for I dare well tell,\nThough thou here walk, thy spirit is in hell,\nThis messenger comes from the king,\nAnd at the king's mother,\nAnd she was fond of this messenger,\nAnd pledged him in all that she might,\nHe drank and well his girdle under his thigh,\nHe sleeps and he snores in his guise,\nAll night till the sun rose,\nAfterward, his letters were stolen each one,\nAnd counterfeit letters in this way,\nThe king commands his Constable anon,\nUp pain of hanging on high eyes,\nThat he should suffer in no way,\nCustom in his reign to abide,\nThree days and a quarter of a tide,\nBut in the same ship as he here found,\nHere and her young son and all her gear,\nHe should put and crowd from the land,\nAnd charge her that she come never after there,\nO my Custom, well may thy ghost have fear,\nAnd sleep in thy dream. When this ordinance is completed,\nThis messenger, on the morrow, when he looked\nUnto the castle, held the next way,\nAnd unto the Constable he the letters took,\nAnd when he this pitiful letter read,\nHe often said, \"Alas, and well away.\"\n\"Lord Christ,\" he said, \"how may this world endure,\nSo full of sin is every creature.\nO mighty God, if it be thy will,\nSince thou art rightful Judge, how may it be\nThat thou wilt suffer innocence to spoil,\nAnd wicked folk to reign in prosperity?\nO good Custance, alas, so woe is me,\nThat I must be thy tormentor or else die.\nOn shameful death there is no other remedy.\nWeep both old and young in that place,\nWhen the king sent this cursed letter,\nAnd Custance, with a deadly and pale face,\nThe fair May went toward the ship.\nBut never the less she took it not in good intent,\nThe will of Christ and kneeling on the shore,\nShe said, \"Ay, welcome be thy son.\"\nHe that kept me from false blame,\nWhile I was on the land among you,\nHe can keep me from blame and shame,\nIn the salt. \"Although you may not know how, he is as strong as ever he was. In him I trust, and in his dear mother,\nWho is to me my sail and also my anchor. Her little child wept in her arms,\nAnd kneeling pitifully she said,\n\"Pity this little child, I will do him no harm.\nWith that, she drew the kerchief from her head,\nAnd over his little eye it lay.\nIn her arms she lulled him gently,\nAnd into heaven she cast her eyes.\nMother said she, and bright Mary,\nTruth is that through woman's experience,\nMankind was lost and damned forever to die,\nFor which thy child was on the cross to endure.\nThy blissful eyes saw all this torment,\nThen is there no comparison between\nThy woe and my woe that man can bear,\nThou saw thy children slain before thine eyes,\nAnd yet now liveth my little child in peace.\nNow, lady bright, to whom all women cry,\nThou glory of womanhood, thou fair may,\nThou hast of refuted bright star of day,\nRejoice on my child, in thy gentleness,\nRejoice on every sinner in distress.\nO little child, alas, what is thy sin,\nThat never didst thou work?\" synne yet spares thee, why wilt thou let thy hard father harm it? O mercy, and dear Constable, she said, as little as I can, let my child dwell here with thee. And if thou darest not save him from blame, then kiss him once in his father's name. With that, she looked back to the land and said farewell, husband, Routhles. And up she went and walked down the shore. Towards her ship, followeth all the press. And ever she prays her child to hold his peace. And takes her leave with a holy intent. She blesses him and into the ship she went. Provisions were the ship, there's no fear. Abundantly for her long space, and other necessities that should need. She had heard by God's grace, for wind and weather, almighty God purchase and bring her home. I can no better say, but in the sea she drives forth the way. All the king's son after this, to his Castle which I told thee, asked where his wife and his child are. The Constable grew cold about his heart and plainly told him all the manner he had heard. And with the king's men. Seel and his letter\nAnd said the lord, as you commanded me,\nOn pain of death so have I done certain,\nThis messenger was tortured until he\nMust be known and tell plainly and openly,\nFrom night to night what place he had lain,\nAnd thus by subtle inquiry,\nImagined was he whom this sprang,\nThe hand was known that the letter wrote,\nAnd all the venom of this cursed deed,\nBut in what way certainly I not,\nThe effect is this that all are freed, out of fear,\nHis mother, who was a traitor to her lord,\nThus ended old Dungal with a sneer,\nThe sorrow that this all night and day,\nMakes for his wife and his child also.\nBut now will I to Constantinople go,\nThat fleets in the sea with pain and woe,\nFive years and more as likely Christ's son's debt,\nOr that her ship approaches any land,\nUnder an heathen castle at the last,\nThe which the name not in my text I find,\nConstantinople and her child up cast,\nAlmighty God who saves all mankind,\nHave on Constantinople and her child,\nWho have fallen into pagan land, soon. point to spill as I shall tell you soon\nFrom the castle comes many a right one\nTo gather on this ship and on Custance\nBut shortly from the castle on a night\nThe lord's steward gave him mischance\nA thief who had ruled our crew\nCame into the ship alone and said\nHis lover be whether she would or not\nThis wretched woman was going to leave\nHer child cried and she pitied\nBut blessed Mary helped her at once\nFor with her struggling he overpowered the boat suddenly\nAnd in the sea he drowned for vengeance\nAnd thus Christ unharmed kept custody\nO foul lust of luxury, lo thy end\nNot only that thou feignest man's mind\nBut truly thou wilt his body harm\nThen of thy deeds and thy blind lusts\nComplaining how many men find\nThat nothing for work sometimes but foolish intent\nTo do this sin be other slain or sent\nHow may this weak woman have the strength\nTo defend always\nO Goliath immeasurable in length\nHow mighty David made him so matched\nSo young of armour and so desolate,\nHow durst he look upon thy face?\nWell may men see it is but God's grace,\nWho gave Judith courage or boldness,\nTo slay Holofernes in his tent,\nAnd to deliver the people from wretchedness.\nI say to this end, that just as God sent spirit and vigour,\nTo them and saved them out of mockery,\nHe sent strength and vigour to Esther,\nForth goes her ship through the narrow mouth\nOf Joppa and sets sail, driving always,\nSometimes west and sometimes north and south,\nAnd sometimes east, full many a wandering way,\nTill Christ's mother, blessed be she evermore,\nHas shaped an end to all her heaviness.\nNow let us cease speaking of Esther for a while,\nAnd speak of Romans, the Emperor,\nWho has learned from Rome's letters,\nThe slaughter of Christian folk and dishonour,\nDone unto his daughter by a false traitor.\nI mean the cursed and wicked tyranny,\nThat at the feast let sle both more and less,\nFor which this Emperor has sent at once,\nHis senator with royal ordinance,\nAnd other lords, God knows many there were. They bring and sleep and bring them to my shrine\nFor many a day, but this is the end\nHomeward to Rome they intend to go\nThis senator returns with victory\nSailing Romeward most royally\nMeeting the ship, as the story goes\nIn which Cu\nHe knew not what she was or why\nShe was in such array that she would not say\nOf her past though she should die\nHe brings her to Rome to his wife\nHe gave her and her young son also\nAnd with the senator he led her life\nThus can our lady bring out of woe\nWoeful Custance and many another\nAnd long time she dwelt in that place\nIn holy works ever was her grace\nThe senator's wife, her aunt, was\nBut for all that she knew her no more\nI will no longer tarry in this case\nBut to King Ala whom I spoke of before\nWho had such sorrow as I said before\nI will return and let Custance\nBe under the senator's governance\nKing Ala, who had his mother slain,\nEnters the day in such repentance\nAnd if I tell briefly, shall and will\nTo Rome he comes and The text appears to be in Old English, and it seems to be a passage from a play or poem. I will translate it into Modern English and remove unnecessary elements.\n\nreceives his penance\nAnd places him in the Pope's orderance\nIn high and lowly, and Jesus Christ besought\nForgive him the works that he has done\nThe news spreads quickly through Rome\nHow all kings shall come on a pilgrimage\nBy heralds who went before him\nFor which the senator, as was the custom,\nRedeemed him and many of his lineage\nBoth to show his magnificence\nAnd to do any king's reverence\nThis noble senator\nGreets king Alla and he to him also\nEach of them does great honor to the other\nAnd so it is that in a day or two\nThis senator is to go with king Alla\nTo feast shortly, and I shall not lie\nCustoms\nSome men would say, at the request of the Customs,\nThis senator led this child to the feast\nI may not tell every circumstance\nBut he was at least\nBefore all, during the mealtime,\nThe child stood looking at the king's face\nAll the kings of this child have great wonder\nAnd to the senator he said at once\nWhose is this fair child that stands yonder?\nI said he was God and he. Saint John\nA man has but one father, none other I know\nHe told all how the child was found\nBut God knows, this senator also\nSo virtuous a live-er in all my life\nNever saw I or heard of a woman, maiden, widow or wife\nI dare well say she would have preferred a knife\nThrough her breast than an unfaithful woman\nThere is no man who could bring her to the stake\nNow was this child like Constantine\nAs possible as a creature can be\nThis all has the face of Constantine's wife in memory\nAnd thereon mused he\nIf the child's mother were anything she\nWho is his wife and privately he saw\nAnd sped him from the table all that he could\nIndeed, he said, the phantom is in my head\nI ought to pass judgment of rightful sentence\nThat in the salt sea my wife is dead\nAnd afterward he made his plea\nWhat if Christ had sent her here from thence\nMy wife be seen as well as he sent her\nTo my country from there that she went\nAnd afterward home with the senator\nAll went to see this wonderful chance\nThis senator. Alla greatly honors you, and he hastily sent after Custaance, but do not trust her lust not to dance when she knew why was that summons. Upon her feet she could not stand, when all saw his wife fair, he greatly greeted her, and wept, for it was a sorrowful sight to see, for at first look that he set upon her, he knew verily that it was she, and for sorrow, as dumbfounded as a tree, was her heart sunk in her distress when she remembered his unkindness. Twice she swore in his own sight. He wept and excused himself pitously. Now God said he and his holy wife, have mercy on my soul, that I am as guiltless from her harm as is my son Maurice, so like your face. Ellis, the fiend, fetch me out of this place. Long was the weeping and bitter pain before her woeful heart could see relief. I pray you all, release my labor, I may not tell her woe until tomorrow, I am so weary to speak of sorrow, but finally, when the truth is known, that all is gently from her woe, I believe a hundred times they kissed and such bliss is. between them two, who save joy that lasts evermore, there is no one I like better than any creature, she prayed her husband humbly, that he would pray her father specifically, that by his majesty he would grant him a time to dine with him. She also prayed that he should not be a way to her father, nor speak a word to him. Some men would say that the child Maurice sends this message to the Emperor, but I think all was not so nice to him, who is so sovereign in honor, as he who is of Christ's folk, the flower. He sent no child but it is best to assume, he went himself, and it may well seem. This Emperor has granted him generously, to come to dine as he begged. All was ready, he looked upon this child and his daughter, all went to his inn and, as was fitting, he prepared for this feast in every way. The morrow came, and they all helped him dress, and his wife, this Emperor, came to meet him, and they rode out in joy and gladness. When she saw her father. in the street\nShe lights down and falls to meet him, father,\n\"I am your daughter Constantia,\" she says,\n\"Your young child Constantia, who once you sent into fury,\nIs now full grown. I am she.\n\"That whilom you had sent into fury, it was I, father,\n\"Who was put alone and condemned to die in the salt sea.\n\"Now good father, I cry to you for mercy,\n\"Save me no more from paganism,\n\"But thank my lord here for his kindness.\n\"Who can tell the pitiful joy between them three,\n\"When they meet in these three realms?\n\"But of my tale, I shall make an end,\n\"The day is passing, I may no longer let these glad people\n\"Sit down to dinner, in joy and bliss at table,\n\"A thousandfold more than you can tell.\n\"This child Maurice was then Emperor,\n\"I made him Pope and lived a Christian life,\n\"He brought great honor to Christ's church.\n\"But I let all these stories pass by,\n\"Constantia's tale is especially mine to tell.\n\"In old Roman gestes men may well find\n\"The life of Mauricius, I do not bring it to mind.\n\"Then King Alaric, when his time comes,\n\"With Constantia, his holy wife, so sweet,\n\"Come to England the right way.\" They live in joy and quietude, but little while it lasted, I assure you.\nJoy of this world but a time it will abide,\nFrom day to night it changes as the tide.\nWho lives ever in such delight a day,\nThat never moved is either in conscience,\nOr envy or pride or passion or offense,\nI say but for the end of this sentence,\nThat little while in joy or pleasure\nLasts the bliss of all with Custance.\nFor death that takes from high and low his rent,\nWhen passed was a year as I guess,\nOut of this world this king Ala is gone,\nFor whom Custance has full great heaviness.\nNow pray we to God his soul bless,\nAnd dame Custance finally to say,\nToward the town of Rome goes she,\nTo Rome comes this holy creature,\nAnd finds her friends there whole and sound,\nNow is she escaped all her adventure,\nAnd when she her father has found,\nDown on her knees falls she to the ground,\nWeeping in her heart for tenderness bright,\nShe hears God a hundred thousand times,\nIn virtue and in holy alms deed,\nThey live all and never apart. \"Wende, until death parted them, they led their lives well. Now I Jesus Christ, who has the power, send joy to us after our sorrow and keep us all who are in this place. Here ends the tale of the man of law. Here begins the prologue of the squire. Our host stands among his stirrups and said, \"Godmen, listen to each one. This was a thirsty tale for the nones. Sir parish priest said, 'Tell us a tale as was thy wont in the old days. I see well that learned men in lore are here. Much good may God's dignity do. The Parson answered, 'Blessed be it.' What grieves the man so sinfully to swear? Our Ostle answered, 'I John am here.' I smell a Lollard in the wind he said. Now good men said, 'Our host, listen to me.' He abides for God's sake's passion. For we shall now have a sermon. This Lollard will preach something to us. Nay, be my father's soul that he not. Said the squire, he shall not preach here, nor shall he expound or teach the gospel. He would sow.\" In Surrey, in the land of Tartary, there lived a king who waged war on Russia. Through him, many a valiant man died. This noble king was called Cambuscan, who in his time was renowned to such an extent that there was no region where a more excellent lord existed. He lacked nothing that a king should possess, neither in terms of philosophy, nor of physics, nor of law-related terms. There was little Latin in his soul.\n\nAt Surrey, in the land of Tartary, there lived a noble king named Cambuscan. He was renowned throughout the land for his great reputation. There was no region where such an excellent lord existed. He kept to the sect to which he belonged and was both brave and wealthy. He was pitiful, just, and always kind. His words were sincere, honorable, and steadfast. He was young, fresh, and strong, and eager for armies. He was a fair and fortunate person, and kept a regal household. There was no man like him.\n\nThis noble king, Cambuscan of Tartary, was... A king named Cambuscan had two sons and a daughter. The eldest son was named Algarsyf, and the second son was called Camballo. The daughter was the youngest, and she was named Canace. I cannot describe her beauty as I lack the skill and my English is insufficient. I would need to be a clerk and a scholar of the arts to fully appreciate her. Here is a description of Camballo: He has ruled for twenty winters and wore his diadem. During his nativity festival, he let the city of Saray cry out in joy. The last Idus of March, after the year, saw Phebus, the sun, in a joyful and clear state. In his exaltation, he was in Mars' face and in Aries, the hot colic sign. The weather was lusty and benign, causing the birds to sing loudly against the sun. They seemed to get their voices back. Protections against the sword of winter, keen and cold,\nAnd this king, whom I told you of,\nSat on his throne in royal vestments,\nWith diadem high upon his palaces,\nHe held his feast solemn and rich,\nIn which there was none like it in the world,\nIf I should tell you all the reason,\nIt would occupy a summer's day,\nAnd it is not necessary at every course,\nThe order of her service,\nI will not tell of her strange services,\nNor of her swans nor her heron services,\nIn that land, old knights tell of a feast,\nThat is most delightful hold in this land,\nThere is no man who can report it all,\nI will not delay you, for it is prime,\nAnd because it is no fruit but loss of time,\nTo my first tale I will return,\nAnd so it befits that after the third course,\nWhile this king sat in his high nobility,\nListening to his minstrels play before him,\nAt the hall door suddenly,\nA knight came upon a steed of brass,\nAnd in his hand a brood of mirrors of glass. A knight had a golden ring and by his side, a naked sword hanging. He rode up to the high throne in silence. The hall was filled with wonder as to why this knight was being held. Young and old waited in anticipation. The strange knight who came so suddenly, fully armed except for his head, richly adorned, greeted the king, queen, and lords in order as they sat in the hall, showing such high reverence and obeisance in speech and manner that Gawain, with his old courtesy, could not correct him with a word. After this, before the high lord, he spoke manfully: \"My message, according to the form used in my language, I now deliver without fail of syllable or letter. And for the sake of my tale seeming better, according to my word, so is my countenance. As the art of speech teaches those who listen, though you cannot understand my style or climb so high a hill, I say to the common people: 'This much he means.'\" If it is so, I have it in mind, he said. The king of Arabia and India, my liege. On this solemn day, I welcome you as I can and may,\nAnd grant you honor at your feast. I am ready at your behest.\nThis stead of brass that easily and well\nCan bear your body in the natural course of a day,\nFrom two in the afternoon until you list,\nIn drought or in showers, bring your body to every place\nWhere your heart desires to pass, without your body's presence,\nOr if you choose to fly as high in the air\nAs an eagle when it wishes to soar,\nThis same stead shall bear you forevermore,\nWithout harm until you are there of your own will.\nThough you may sleep on its back,\nAnd turn again with wringing of a pin,\nHe who wrought this knows many a secret,\nHe waited for many constellations,\nOr he would have performed this operation,\nAnd knew many a sky and many an abundance.\nThis mirror also that I hold in my hand\nHas such power that men may see in it,\nWhen any adversity shall fall\nUpon your realm or upon yourself,\nAnd openly who is your friend or foe.\nAnd over all this, if any lady bright\nHas set her heart in any manner. If he is false, she shall discover his treason,\nHis new love and all his subtlety,\nSo openly that there will be nothing hidden,\nTherefore, against this summer's lusty tide,\nThis mirror and this ring, as you can see,\nHe has sent to my lady Canace,\nYour excellent daughter who is here,\nThe virtue of this ring, if you will hear,\nIs this, if she wishes to wear it,\nUpon her thumb or in her purse it bear,\nThere is no foul that flies under heaven,\nThat she shall not understand his steering,\nAnd know his meaning openly and plain,\nAnd answer him in his language again,\nAnd every grass that grows upon the root,\nShe shall know and whom it will harm,\nAlthough his wound be never so deep or wide,\nThis naked sword that hangs by my side,\nSuch power has what man you strike,\nThroughout his armor it will pierce and bite,\nEven if it is as thick as a branch of oak,\nAnd whatever man it wounds with the stroke,\nHe shall never be whole until you grant him grace,\nTo stroke him with the flat sword in the same place,\nThere he is hurt, that is as much to say,\nYou must strike him with the flat sword again. This is a very true statement, without exaggeration:\nThe wound heals and will close.\nIt fails not while it is in your possession.\nAnd when the knight has thus told his tale,\nHe rode out of the hall and down he lighted,\nHis steed which shone as the sun bright,\nStood in the court still as any stone.\nThis knight was led into the chamber immediately.\nAnd he was disarmed and I set the table.\nThe presents were kept richly.\nThis is to say, the sword and the mirror\nWere born anon in the tower.\nWith certain officers ordered for this purpose.\nAnd to Canace this ring was brought.\nSolemnly there she sat at the table.\nBut lo and behold,\nThe brazen horse that cannot be removed,\nIt stood as if in the ground, fixed.\nFor no engines could wind or pry\nThem out of the place, drive them away.\nAnd therefore they have left it there\nUntil the knight has taught them the manner\nTo widen him as you shall after here.\nGreat was the press that surged to and fro,\nTo gawp at the horse that stood so high and broad. So well proportioned to be strong,\nRight as it were a stead of Lombardy,\nThus horsely and so quick of thee,\nAs it a gentle polished courser were.\nFor certain, from its tail to its ear,\nNature nor art could him amend.\nIn no degree as all the people thought,\nBut evermore their most wonder was,\nHow that it could go and was of brass,\nIt was of fair aspect as all the people seemed,\nDiverse folk differently deemed,\nAs many heads. as many wits there were,\nThey marveled as do swarms of bees,\nAnd made skills after their fantasies,\nRehearsing of the old poetry,\nAnd said it was like the Pegasus,\nThe horse that had wings to fly,\nOr else it was the Greek horse Symon,\nThat brought Greeks unto destruction,\nAs men in these old gestes read,\nMy heart said one is evermore in fear,\nI trow some men of armies there,\nThat shape them this city to conquer,\nIt were right good, all such things were known,\nAnother mocked to his fellow low,\nAnd said he lied, for it was rather like,\nAn appearance made by some magic,\nAs jesters played at the great feasts. \"People often think and speak thus:\nAs lewd people commonly do every day,\nOf things that have been made more subtly\nThan they can comprehend within their bounds,\nThey delight in going to the worse end,\nAnd some of them wonder on the mirror,\nWhich was brought up into the master's tower,\nHow men might do such things\nAnother answered and said, \"It may well be\nNaturally made by compositions\nOf angels and of subtle reflections.\nAnd they spoke of Alchemy and Vitriol,\nAnd of Aristotle who wrote in his days,\nOf queer mirrors and of prospectives,\nAs those who have heard his books know,\nAnd other folk have wondered on the sword,\nWhich will perish through every thing,\nAnd filled in speech of Thelephus the king,\nAnd of Achilles for his queer spear,\nFor he could with it both heal and harm,\nJust as men can with a sword,\nOf which right now you have yourself heard.\nThey spoke of sharpening of metal,\nAnd spoke of medicines with it,\nAnd how and when it should be hardened,\nWhich is unknown.\"\" \"To speak of Canace's ring, they said that such wondrous things of ring-making had never been heard by anyone except Moses and King Solomon. The people said this and drew apart. But some said that it was wonderful to make from far glass. And yet glass is not like that, but they have known it to be far off. Therefore, the angel speaking and the wonder wonder at this. Some are amazed because of the thunder, on sea, flood, mist, and all things until the cause is known. Thus, they and the people and devise until the king rose from his bed. Phebus has lost the meridional angel. And yet, ascending was the noble lion with his ancient. When this tartar king Cambyses rose from his bed, there before him went the lowly minstrelsy. Until he came to his chamber of parplements, there they showed dining instruments. That is like heaven to hear. Now descend, lusty Venus' children, for in the fish her lady sat full.\" And look upon them with a friendly eye. This noble king is seated upon his throne, This strange knight is brought to him soon, And on the dance he goes with Canace. There is the revel and the iolite, That is not able to deceive a man, He must have known love and his service, And be as merry a man as fresh may, That shall you devise such array. Who could you tell the form of dances, So uncouth and so fresh contenaances, And thereto such subtle looking? For fear of Jealousy of men's praising, No man but Lancelot and he is dead. Therefore I pass over all this lustiness, I say no more but in this joyfulness, I let them till men have sopped themselves in dressing. The steward bids spices to be brought, And the ushers and squires are gone, The spices and the wine is come quickly, They eat and drink, and when this was at end, To the temple as reason was they went, The service done they have that day. What need is there to rehearse here array, Each man knows well that a king's feast Has plenty for the most and the least, And delights more than. And after this noble king\nhad seen this horse of brass with all the retinue\nOf lords and ladies around it,\nsuch wonder there was of this horse of brass\nThat there was no such wonder as this\nBut the king asked the knight\nThe virtue of this courser and its might\nAnd prayed him to tell him its governance\nThe horse at once began to trip and dance\nWhen that this knight laid hand on its rein\nAnd said, \"Sir, there is no more to say,\nBut if you wish to ride anywhere,\nYou must twirl a pin that stands in its ear.\nYou must name him to what place also\nOr to what country you wish to ride\nAnd when you come there you wish to stay,\nBid him descend and twirl another pin,\nFor there in lies the effect of all the magic,\nAnd he will down descend and do as you will,\nAnd in that place he will abide still,\nThough all the world had sworn otherwise,\nHe shall not then be drawn or borne,\nAnd before you ride, twirl this pin.\" vanysshe again,\nOut of sight of every manner of person,\nAnd come again, be it day or night,\nWhat you choose to call him,\nBetween me and you and that right soon,\nRide when you will, there is no more to do,\nInformed when the king was of the knight,\nAnd has conceived in his mind a right,\nThe manner and form of all this thing,\nThis noble king was very glad and blithe,\nRepeating unto his chamber as before,\nThe bride is in the tower born,\nAnd kept among his jewels, life and dear,\nI do not tarry in what manner,\nOut of her sight, you get no more of me,\nBut thus I leave in lust and in jolly,\nThis Cambuscan, his lord's feasting,\nTill well nigh the day began to spring,\nThe nobles of digestions the sleep,\nBegan on them to wink and bid them keep,\nThat much meat and labor would have rest,\nAnd with a gaping,\nAnd said it was time to lie a down,\nFor blood was in his dominion,\nCherished blood, nature's friend, quoth he,\nThey thanked him gaping by two by three,\nAnd every wight drew him to his rest,\nAs sleep bade them and took it for. The best: Here dreams should not be told by me. Full where their heads were of fumosite, that causes draws of which there is no charge, they slept until it was prime large, except if it were Canace. She was very measurable as women are. For of her father had she taken leave to go to rest soon after it was evening. Here listen not, be not appalled to be, nor on the morrow unfestive to see, and she slept her first sleep and a wake. Both of her ring and of her mirror, it changed color twenty times. And in her sleep, for her mirror's impression, she had a vision. Therefore, or when the sun began to rise, she called up her mistress beside her and said that her lust arose. These old women who are gladly wise, as her mistress answered her at once and said, \"Madame, whether will you go on so early for all the people are in a rage?\" I will arise for me least. No longer sleep but walk about. Her mistress calls women a great route. And up they rise, well ten or twelve. Up rises fresh Canace herself. And as red as... The young sun is as bright as she,\nWho in the ram is ten degrees away,\nShe was not higher when she was ready,\nAnd forth she walks easily a pass,\nArranged after the lusty season,\nLightly she walks, planing on foot,\nNot more than five or six of her train,\nAnd in a trench far in a park she goes,\nThe vapor which from the earth glows,\nMakes the sun seem red and brood,\nBut nevertheless it was fair to see,\nThat it made all her hearts to light,\nFor the season and the morn,\nAnd for the birds that she heard sing,\nFor right away she knew what they meant,\nRight here their song and knew their intent,\nThe reason why every tale is told,\nIf it is delayed until lust is cold,\nOf them that have it harkened before,\nThe savor passes and ever longer the more,\nFor the fullness of prolixity,\nAnd by the same reason think I,\nI should unto the knot descend,\nAnd make an end of her walking,\nA middle tree for fear as white as chalk,\nAs Canace was playing in her walking,\nThere sat a falcon over her head full high,\nThat with a pitiful voice so. This fair king's daughter, Canace,\nBegan to cry, and all the wood resounded of her cry.\nShe spread her wings and stood before the tree,\nHer eyes weeping, her breast heaving, and with her beak she fought,\nLamenting that no tiger or cruel beast,\nThat dwells in wood or forest, would weep if it could,\nFor sorrow at her lamentation so low.\nNo man alive, if he could see this falcon,\nOr heard of another of such beauty and nobility,\nIn plumage or in shape, as could be reckoned,\nWould seem more like a falcon than she did.\nFrom a foreign land, she seemed, and ever as she stood,\nShe swooned now and now for lack of blood,\nNearly fallen from the tree.\nThis fair Canace, bearing a ring on her finger,\nThrough which she understood every thing\nThat any foul might see in its leaden,\nAnd could answer in its leaden again,\nShe has understood what this falcon said,\nAnd hastily she goes to the tree,\nAnd looks at this falcon intently. And she held him (the falcon) on her lap, knowing full well\nThe falcon must fall from the twig\nWhen it swoons next, for lack of blood\nShe stood there, waiting until at last\nShe spoke to the hawk in this manner,\nAs you shall hear after this,\nWhat is the cause, if it is to tell\nThat you are in this furious pain of hell?\nQuoth Canace to this hawk above,\nIs this sorrow of death or else of love?\nFor I believe these are the causes two\nThat bring most gentle hearts woe\nOf other harm it reckons not to speak\nFor yourself, upon yourself will wreak\nWhich that prevails well, that other ire or fear\nMight be the reason for your cruel deed\nSince I see no other creature you chase\nFor love of God, do yourself grace\nOr what may be your help, for west or east\nI saw none newborn nor best\nThat feared with him so pitifully\nYou slay me with your sorrow truly\nI have of you such great compassion\nFor God's love come from the tree down\nAnd as I am a king's daughter true\nIf I truly knew the causes of your disease, if that it I would amend it if I could, night aiding me great god of kind,\nAnd thou shouldst write this falcon more pitifully,\nThan ever she did, and fall to the ground at once,\nAnd lie down dead as any stone,\nUntil Canace has in her lap taken him,\nUntil she awoke from her swoon,\nAnd after that she awoke and began to beat,\nRight in her hawks' talons she said,\n\"Pity runs quickly in a gentle heart,\nFeeling is akin to pain's distress,\nProvided always as men may see,\nBoth by deed as by authority,\nFor a gentle heart begets gentleness,\nI see well that you have compassion for my distress,\nFair Canace,\nOf womanly benevolence,\nNature having set it in your principles,\nBut for no hope to fare the better,\nBut to obey your heart freely,\nAnd to make others weep as I do,\nAs the lion is chastised by the whelp,\nTherefore, and for this reason,\nWhile I have less and less to say,\nMy harm I will confess before I pass,\nAnd ever while she told her sorrow,\nOthers wept as if to the water they would. that the falcon should be still\nAnd with a sigh thus she spoke her will\nThere was bred allas that day\nAnd fostered in a rock of marble gray\nSo tenderly that nothing annoyed me\nI knew not what was adversity\nUntil I could fly high under the sky\nThough a tarcel held me fast by\nThat seemed well of all gentleness\nAll were he full of treason and falseness\nThat is wrapped up under humble guise\nAnd under the guise of truth in such a way\nUnder pleasure and under bitter pain\nThat no one would have thought he could feign\nSo deep in grey he died his colors\nRight as a serpent hides himself under flowers\nUntil he may see his time to bite\nRight so this god of love this Ipocrite\nDoes so hide his obedience\nAnd keeps in semblance all his observances\nAs in a tomb is all the fair above\nAnd underneath is the corpse such as you know\nSuch was this Ipocrite, both cold and hot\nAnd in this way he served his intent\nThat save the devil knew not what he meant\nUntil he had wept and complained\nAnd many a year his service to. I feigned to him, until my heart pitied and was moved,\nBy the innocent one of his crowned malice,\nFearing his death as he thought of me,\nI granted him love on this condition:\nThat my honor and reputation were saved, both private and public.\nThis is to say that after his desert,\nI gave him all my heart and all my thought,\nGod knows, and he and others, nothing more.\nAnd took his heart in exchange for mine forever.\nBut truly said, gone is Seth, Seth is often said,\nA true man and a thief, think not on that,\nAnd when he saw the thing so far from him,\nThat I granted him my love,\nIn such a manner as I have said above,\nAnd gave him my true heart as freely,\nAs he swore he gave his heart to me.\nBut this tiger full of doubt,\nFell on his knees with such great humility,\nWith high reverence and as if a noble lover in manner,\nSo rapturous as it seemed for joy,\nThat never Troilus nor Paris of Troy,\nIason certain or any other man,\nSince Lamech was the first, began to love two,\nAs written before,\nNor since the first man was. Born to one woman was he, the fairest,\nIn wisdom and in looks, I loved him thus,\nFor his obedience and the truth I saw in his heart,\nWhatever pained him, be it ever so slight,\nI felt it as if my own heart was twisting,\nAnd soon enough, my will became his instrument,\nMy will obeyed his, in all things following his lead,\nKeeping the bounds of my worship ever,\nNever had I anything so dear or beloved,\nAs him, God knows, nor ever shall be,\nThis lasted not longer than a year or two,\nBut in the end, fortune decreed that he must leave,\nFrom the place where I was, a thing I cannot describe,\nFor one thing, I dare not tell boldly,\nI know what the pain of death is there,\nSuch harm I suffered that he could not leave me,\nOne day he took his leave,\nSo sorrowfully that I truly believed,\nHe felt as much sorrow as I. I\nWhen I heard him speak and saw his hue,\nNevertheless, I thought he was so true,\nAnd also that he should return again\nWith you a little while, truly speaking,\nAnd therefore would also that he most go,\nFor his honor, and often it happens so,\nThat I made virtue of necessity,\nAnd took it well since it needed to be,\nAs best I might, I hid from him my sorrow,\nAnd took him by the hand, seize,\nAnd I said, \"Lo, I am yours all,\nBoth what I have been to you and shall be.\"\nWhat he answered need not be rehearsed.\nWho can say better than he that can do worse?\nWhen he had said all that, had he done,\nTherefore he ought to have a long spoon,\nThat shall eat with an enemy, thus I say,\nSo act last he must forth his way,\nAnd forth flees till he comes there him least,\nWhen it came to his purpose for to rest,\nI trow he had the text in mind,\nThat all things return to their kind,\nGladdens himself thus men say, as I guess,\nMen love of their kind newfangleness,\nAs birds do, that men in cages feed,\nFor they take of them night and day the head,\nAnd straw. her cage is fair and soft as silk,\nAnd give them sugar, honey bread and milk.\nYet right away, as his door is up,\nHe with his feet spurns down his cup,\nAnd to the wood he goes and eats worms.\nNew-fangled are they in their food.\nAnd love nothing of proper kind.\nNo gentleness of blood can bind him.\nSo fierce is this Tarcellet all day long,\nThough he were gentle, born fresh and gay,\nAnd seemly to see, humble and free,\nHe saw up on a time a kite fly,\nAnd suddenly he loved this kite so,\nThat all his love is clean from me gone,\nAnd has his truth falsified in this way,\nThus has the kite my love in his service,\nAnd I am lost without remedy,\nAnd with that word this falcon began to cry,\nAnd swooned again in Canace's arms,\nGreat was the sorrow for the falcon's harm,\nThat Canace and all her women made,\nThey didn't know how they might please the falcon,\nBut Canace bore her in her lap,\nAnd softly in plasters began to wrap her,\nWhere she with her beak had hurt herself,\nNow can Canace do nothing but use herbs,\nOut of the ground and make plasters new. precious and fine of hew\nShe helps with the hawk from day to night\nShe conducts her business and all her might\nAnd by her bed's head she made a mew\nAnd covered it with velvet blue\nIn sign of truth that is in women seen\nAnd all without the mew they painted green\nIn which were printed all these false s\nAs are these tidy owls\nRight for spite were painted beside\nPies on them to cry and to chide\nThus let I Canace her hawk keeping\nI will as now no more speak of her ring\nUntil it comes again to purpos to say\nHow that this falcon gained her love again\nRepenting as the story tells us\nBy the mediation of Cambalus\nThe king's son of whom I told you\nBut then I will proceed to speak of adventures & battles\nThat yet were never heard of such great marvels\nFirst I will tell you of Cambyses\nWho in his time won many a city\nAnd after I will speak of Algarsif\nHow that he won Theodora for his wife\nFor whom often in great peril he was\nAnd had not been helped by the horse of brass\nAnd after I will speak of... Camballo, who fought in lists with two brethren,\nFor Canace, or that he might here win,\nAnd there I left, I will again begin,\nAppollo whirls up his chariot so high,\nTil that god Mercury slows,\nHere ends the squire's prologue.\n\nWeping and wailing care and other sorrow,\nI know I have enough, both even and another day,\nQuoth the merchant, and so does he,\nWho wedded was, I trow that it was so,\nFor well I wot it fares so be,\nI have a wife the worst that may be,\nFor though the fiend coupled to her,\nShe would him overcome, I dare well swear,\nWhat should I recount to you in particular,\nHer high malice she is a shrew at all,\nThere is a long and large difference,\nBetween Grisildis' great patience\nAnd my wife's passing cruelty,\nWere I unbound also, I would never again come in the snare,\nWe wedded men lived in sorrow and care,\nA say who so will and he shall find,\nThat I say sooth is Saint Thomas of India.\n\nAs for the most part, I say not all,\nGod shield that it should so befall,\nA good sir east, I have wedded these months. Once upon a time in Lombardy,\nA noble knight was born at Pauy,\nIn which he lived in great prosperity,\nAnd for sixty years his life did last,\nAnd followed his bodily delight,\nHis whole appetite was on women.\nJust as these secular folk do,\nAnd when he had passed sixty years,\nWhether for holiness or for age,\nI cannot say, but such great courage,\nThis knight had to be a married man.\nDay and night he does all that he can,\nPraying our Lord granting that he\nMight once know that blessed life\nThat exists between a husband and his wife,\nAnd to live under the holy bond. Which god first bound man and woman? None other said he is worth a benevolence. For marriage is so easy and so clean, that in this world it is a paradise. Thus spoke this old knight who was so wise. And certainly, as true as God is king, To take a wife it is a glorious thing, And especially when a man is old and hoary. Then is a wife the fruit of his treasure. Then should he take a young wife and fair, On which he might engender himself an heir, And lead his life in joy and in solace. Whereas these bachelors sing allas, When they find any adversity In love which that is but childish vanity. And truly it sits well to be so, That bachelors have often pain and woo. On bitter ground they build bitterness. They find comfort when they think security. They live but as a bird or as a beast. In liberty and under no restraint, There as a married man is in a state, Lives his life blissful and ordered. Under the yoke of marriage I am bound. Well may his heart in joy and bliss abound. For who can be so buxom as a wife? Who is so true, who is so tentative, To keep. For well or woo she will not leave him\nShe is not weary of loving and serving\nThough he lies bedridden till he stirs\nAnd yet some clerks say it is not so\nOf which Theophrastus is one of them\nWhy forsakes Theophrastus the truth asks I\nWhat reason Theophrastus does lie\nTake no wife, quoth he, for husbandry\nTo spare in household thy expense\nA true servant does more diligence\nThan thy good wife to keep\nFor she will claim half part all her life\nAnd if thou art seeking such a one\nThy very friends or a true knight\nWill keep thee better than she who waits on thee\nAfter thy good and has done many a day\nBut take no care of such vanity\nFie on Theophrastus and hearken me\nA wife is God's gift truly\nAll other gifts scarcely endure\nAs lands rent pastures and common\nOr other movable possessions of fortune\nThat pass as a shadow on a wall\nBut fear not if I plainly speak shall\nA wife will last and in thy house endure\nLonger than the list may apparently\nMarriage is a full great sacrament\nHe that hath no wife is but. He lives helpless and is entirely desolate. I speak of people in secular estate, and why do you not say this for nothing? The woman is man's help that he wrought. The high god when he had made Adam, and saw him alone, naked, God, of his great goodness, said then, \"Let us now make a help for this man, like himself, and then he made Eve.\" Here you may see and hereby prove, \"That a wife is man's help and his comfort, his paradise terrestrial and his delight. So buxom and so virtuous is she. They must needs live in unity. Of flesh they be and of one blood I guess. Not but one heart in will and in distress. A wife, a saint Mary, blessed art thou. How might a man have any adversity, that has a wife? I cannot see it. The bliss that is between them is indescribable or beyond the capacity of the heart to think. If he is poor, she helps him to endure. She keeps his good and wastes it never a part. And all that her husband desires, she likes well. She says not once no when he says yes. Do this, he says, ready, sir, says she. O blessed order, o wedlock, precious thou. And so merry and commendable and approved is he,\nThat every man who holds him worthy up on his bare knees,\nOught all his life thank his god who sent him a wife,\nOr else pray him to send one to last to his life's end.\nFor then his life is set in safety,\nHe may not be deceived as we guess,\nSo that he may work after his wife's advice,\nThen may he boldly bear up his head.\nThey are so true and, moreover, so wise,\nIf you want to work wisely, do always as the woman advises.\nLo, Jacob, as these clerks read,\nWas good counsel given by his mother Rebekah.\nBind the child.\nFor which his father Isaac blessed him he won.\nLo, Judith, as the story well tells,\nWas wise counsel she gave to God's people,\nAnd slew Holofernes while he slept.\nLo, how Abigail was good counsel to her husband Nabal,\nAnd saved him and look, Esther also,\nWas good counsel delivered to the people.\nThe people of God were assured and exalted,\nThere is no thing greater in this world,\nAs Seneca says above, an humble wife endures. A wife is in charge of her husband's household.\nShe will command and you shall endure it.\nYet she will obey out of courtesy.\nA wife is the keeper of her husband's household.\nWell may a man bemoan and weep\nWhere no wife is present to keep the house.\nI warn you if you wisely choose to work against this\nLove well your wife as Christ loves his church.\nIf you love yourself, you love your wife.\nNo man hates his flesh but in his life.\nHe endures it and therefore I bid you\nCherish your wife or you shall never have her.\nHusband and wife, whatever men may jest or play\nOf worldly folk, hold to the right way\nThey are knit together, and no harm can come\nAnd especially on the wife's side\nFor this January, of whom I spoke\nConsidereth in his old days\nThe lusty life, the virtuous quietude\nThat is in marriage, honey sweet\nAnd for his friends on this day he sent\nTo tell the effect of his intent\nWith a sad face he has told his tale to them\nHe said friends, I am poor and old\nAnd almost God knows it at this point\nUp on my soul, somewhat I must think\nI have foolishly spent my body\nI blessed be God, it shall be amended. I will be a married man and that as soon as possible to some fair and tender-aged maiden. I ask you to arrange for my marriage as soon as possible, for I will not wait. I will find a suitable bride on my side, but since you are older than I, you should rather look for such a thing than I, and choose the one that pleases me best. But one thing I warn you, my friends, I will have no old wife under any circumstances. She shall not pass the age of fifty, for old flesh would have a liking for young flesh. It is better than old beef is the tender veal. I will have no woman of twenty years of age or older. It is but straw and great forage. And as for those old widows, God knows they have great craft in wadding. They cause so much harm that I should never live in peace with them. For various reasons, subtle clerkships make many a woman half a clerk. But certainly, a young thing may please a man as much as a man with warm hands can play. Therefore, I say to you plainly and in a clause, I will have no old wife. If I had such misfortune that I could not find pleasure in this life, I should lead my life in debauchery and straight to the devil when I die. I should have no children, yet I would have had hounds that would have eaten me. My heritage would then fall into strange hands, and I tell you all this. I am certain I know the reason why. Many men speak of marriage, and my page knows no more about it than I. For what reasons should a man take a wife? If he cannot be chaste, let him take a wife with great devotion. This is because of the light production of children, to the honor of God above, and not only for paramour or love. And they should avoid lechery and pay their debt while it is new. Or because each man should help one another in mischief, as a sister helps a brother. And they should live in chastity, heavenly. But I, who am not he, pray God I may be excused. I feel my limbs strong and sufficient to do all that a man ought to do. And I am strong enough to ride or go\nThough I be hoar and fare as does a tree\nThat blesses or that the tree is green\nA bloomed tree is neither dry nor dead\nI feel myself no where hoar but on my head\nMy heart and my limbs are always green\nAs laurel that through the year is seen\nAnd since you have heard all my intent\nI pray you that to my will you assent\nDivers men differently him told\nOf marriage many examples old\nSome blamed it some praised it certainly\nBut at the last shortly to say\nAs always falls altercation\nBetween friends in disputation\nThere flies a strife between his brethren two\nOf which that one was called placebo\nPlacebo said, \"O January, brother,\nTo you I tell this tale and to none other.\nFull little need had you, my lord, so dear,\nTo ask for counsel.\nBut that you be on so full of sapience,\nThat you do not like, for your high prudence,\nTo weigh from the word of Solomon\nThis word, 'Work all things through counsel thus said he,\nAnd then shalt thou not repent.'\nBut though Solomon spoke such a word,\nMy own dear brother and my lord,\nSo wisely.\" I bring my soul to rest\nI trust your counsel is best for me\nTake this matter to my brother\nI have been a courtier all my life\nYet God knows I am unworthy\nI have stood among lords in great estate\nYet I have never debated with any of them\nI have never truly opposed them\nI know well that my lord can do more than I\nWhatever he says, I hold it firm and stable\nI say the same or something similar\nA great fool is any counselor\nWho serves a lord of high honor\nWho dares presume or think so\nThat his counsel should surpass his lord's wisdom\nLords, be no fools, by my faith\nYou have spoken yourself here today\nYour words and opinion are so high and holy\nI consent and confirm entirely\nYour words and all your opinion\nThere is no man in this town\nNor in the taille could say it better\nChrist holds himself in high regard for this\nAnd truly it is a great courage\nOf any man who steps into old age\nTo take a young wife for myself\nYour heart hangs up on a joyful pin\nIn this matter. For I hold it best, Iustimis, who have always sat still and played, said this to Placebo in this way: \"Now, my brother,\" he quoth, \"be patient, I pray, until you have heard what I say. Seneca, among other things, says that a man ought to consider carefully to whom he yields his good or his property. Since I ought to consider carefully to whom I yield my good away from me, I ought to consider even more carefully to whom I yield my body forever. I warn you, it is no child's play to take a wife without consent. Men must inquire whether she is wise, sober, or drunk, a harlot or a wastrel, a child or a fool, rich or poor, or of any other disposition. Although no man can find such a one in this world who is perfect in all things, yet it ought to be sufficient with one who has more good virtues than vices. And all this I ask you to inquire into, for God knows I have wept many a tearfully secret sin.\" \"You who wish to wed a man's life, I find it but cost and care, and observing all blessings bare. Yet God knows my neighbors around, and especially women, many a rout. They say I have the steadfastest and meekest wife, and the one who bears life. But I know best where wrong does me my shoe. You may do as you please for me. Are you a man of age? How do you enter into marriage, and especially with a young wife and a fair one? He who made water and earth and heir is the youngest man in all this route. He is busy enough to bring it about. To have a wife alone, I trust you. You shall not please her only for three years. This is to say, do her pleasure. A wife asks for many an observation. I pray you be not evil displeased. Quoth this January, you have said. Straw for your senek and for your proverbs. I count not a pan of herbs. Of scholarly terms, wiser men than you. As you have heard, he has felt right now. To my purpose, Placebo, what say you? I say it is a cursed man who lets matrimony.\" And with that word they suddenly agreed that he should\nBe married when he wished and as he pleased\nFancy and curiousness from day to day began to impress\nUpon him the thought of marriage in January\nMany fair shapes and many fair visages\nPassed through his heart night after night\nAs if he held a polished mirror\nAnd set it in a common marketplace\nThen should he see many a figure pass\nBy this mirror, and in the same way\nJanuary in his thoughts devised\nMaidens who dwelt there beside\nHe knew not where he might abide\nFor though one had beauty in her face\nAnother stood so in the people's grace\nFor her sadness and her benevolence\nThe people gave her great voice\nAnd some were rich and had a bad name\nBut nevertheless, between earnest and play\nHe at last appointed one for himself\nAnd let all others from his heart depart\nAnd chose her by his own authority\nFor love is blind every day and cannot see\nAnd when he was in his bed\nHe portrayed in his heart and in his. Her fresh beauty and tender age,\nHer modest size and arms long and slender,\nHer wise governance and great gentleness,\nHer womanly bearing and sadness,\nAnd when he was in her presence,\nHe thought his thoughts could not be disturbed.\nFor when he had concluded within himself,\nHe thought every other man's wit so poor,\nIt was impossible to reply\nAgainst his choice. This was his fancy.\nHis friends sent for him at his request,\nAnd begged them to do him this favor,\nThat they would come to him quickly.\nHe wished to abbreviate her labor and some,\nNo more was necessary for him to go or ride.\nHe was appointed there, and he would stay,\nPlacebo came and his friends soon followed.\nFirst, he asked them all to be above,\nNo arguments should be made against\nThe purposes which he had taken up.\nWhich was pleasing to God, he said,\nAnd a very good reason for his prosperity.\nHe said there was a maiden in the town,\nWhose beauty had great renown,\nEven if she were of small degree,\nHer youth and she sufficed him. A beautyfull maiden should be his wife,\nTo lead him in ease and holiness, his life,\nAnd thank God that he might have her all,\nNo one may share in his happiness.\nHe prayed them to labor in this need,\nAnd swore he would not fail to succeed,\nFor then he said, \"I am content,\nNothing displeases me, save one thing,\nMy conscience pricks me, which I will recount,\nIn your presence you have heard it many times,\nThere may be no perfect bliss for two,\nThis is to say, in earth and heaven,\nFor they kept him from the seven sins,\nAnd from every branch of that tree,\nYet there is such perfect prosperity,\nAnd such great joy and pleasure in marriage,\nThat even in my old age I am astonished,\nThat I shall lead such a merry life here,\nSince heaven is bought so dearly with tribulation and great penance,\nHow should I live in such pleasure,\nAs all married men do with their wives,\nCome to the bliss there, Christ eternal lives,\nThis is my fear, as yet my brethren two,\nAssuage me this question, you. Iustinus, who hated his folly, answered immediately and, to abbreviate his long tale, declared he would not cite any authority but would say, \"Sir, if there is no obstacle other than this god of his high miracles and mercy, he may grant you the right to repent of married men's lives in which you claim there is no strife. God forbade it otherwise, except if he sent a grace to a married man to repent. It is often better for a married man than a celibate man. Therefore, the best advice I can give you is to remember this: She may be your purgatory, your means and God's whip that shall make your soul skip into heaven more swiftly than an arrow from a bow. I hope that after this you will know that there is no greater felicity in marriage or memory than this, which may be your salvation. Use it skillfully and reasonably. Temper the lusts of your wife and do not please her excessively. Keep yourself from other sin as well.\" My tale. is done for my part is thinne\nBe not afraid here of my brother,\nBut let us withdraw from this matter to another.\nIf you have understood the wife of Bath's view of marriage,\nWhich I have set forth in little space,\nFarewell now, God have you in his grace.\nAnd with this, he and his brother\nTook their leave of one another.\nFor when they saw it was necessary,\nThey contrived by treaty\nThis maiden, who might be called,\nAs quickly as they could,\nShall be married to January.\nI believe it would be too long to tarry,\nIf I told you of every agreement bond,\nBy which she was endowed in his land,\nOr to listen to her rich array.\nBut finally comes the day\nThat to church both went\nTo receive the holy sacrament.\nForth comes the priest with stole about his neck,\nAnd bade her be like Sarah or Rebecca\nIn wisdom and truth of marriage,\nAnd said his prayers in his custom,\nAnd joined them together and blessed them,\nAnd made all secure with holy words.\nThus were they married with. And at the feast she stood, and with other worthy folk up on the days,\nThe Palaces were full of joy and bliss, filled with instruments and victuals,\nThe most delightful of all Italy,\nBefore him with instruments of such sound,\nThat Orpheus of Thebes or Amphion\nNever made such a melody,\nAt every course came loud minstrelsy,\nThat never Ioab trumpeted to hear,\nNor Theomedes half so clear,\nAt Thebes when the city was in doubt,\nBacchus the wine pours out all about,\nAnd Venus lowly upon every man,\nFor January had become her knight,\nAnd she would both test his courage,\nIn liberty as in marriage,\nAnd with her fiery brand in her hand,\nDances before the bed all around,\nAnd certainly I dare well say, right this,\nEmenius, that god of weddings,\nNever saw in his life a merrier married man,\nHold thou thy peace, thou poet Marcian,\nWho wrote for us that merry wedding,\nOf her philosophy and of him Mercury,\nAnd of songs that the Muses sang,\nSo small and also the pen and also the tongue,\nTo describe this. When tender youth had wedded old age,\nThere is such that it may not be written,\nTry it yourself, then may you write,\nIf I lack or none in this matter,\nMay he who sits with such benign cheer,\nHere to be held it seemed a fairy,\nQueen Hester looked never with such an one,\nOn assure so meek a look as she,\nI may not deceive all her beauty,\nBut I may tell you this much of her beauty:\nThat she was like the bright morning star.\nFully filled with beauty and pleasure,\nThis January is ravished in a trance,\nAt every time he looked in her face,\nBut in his heart he began to mourn,\nThat night in his arms he would embrace,\nHarder than Paris ever did Helen,\nBut nevertheless, he had great pity,\nThat that night must offend her,\nAnd thought alas, oh tender creature,\nNow would God she might well endure,\nAll my courage is so sharp and keen,\nI am afraid she may not sustain,\nBut God forbid I did all my might,\nNow would God it were night,\nAnd that the night would last forever,\nI would lead all this people away,\nAnd finally, he does. In all his labor, as he could, he saved his honor, hastening them from the feast in subtle ways. The time came when reason arose, and after that, men danced and drank quickly. And around the house, they cast spices. Every man was full of joy and bliss, except a squire named Damyan. He had labored before the knights for many days, and he was so carried away by his lady May that for the very pain, he was nearly unconscious, almost sweating and swooning where he stood. When he saw her dance with a ring on her hand, so fresh and pleasing to him, he went to his bed hastily. No more of him at this time, but there I let him weep enough and play the fool. Until fresh may wakes up and reawakens his pain. O Perilous fire that breeds in the bedstraw, O familiar foe that his service begets, O treacherous servant, false in holy guise, Like the adder, lying and unfaithful in your bosom. God shield us all from your acquaintance. O January, drunk in pleasure, O marriage, see how your Danaan, Your own squire and your own born man, intends to do the deed. In this world there is no worse pestilence than an unfriendly fool constantly in your presence. Parfyome has this day completed his daily task. The body of him can no longer endure. The horizon, as in that latitude, spreads the empyreum about. For which departure is the lusty route. From January, with thanks on every side, they ride home to their houses. There they do as they please and when they see the time they go to rest. Soon after this, hastily, January would go to bed. He would drink ipocraas clarrey and vernage of spice. And many a lectuary had he prepared. Such as the cursed monk Constantyn has written in his book of lechery. To eat them all he would not shrink. And thus to his private friends he said: \"For God's love, as soon as it may be, let vacate this house in a courteous manner. Men are drunk and the travelers draw near. This bridge was brought to bed as still. So hastily must January be done. And when.\" The bed is prepared with the finest blessings.\nOut of the chamber, every one has dressed himself.\nJanuary has swiftly taken command,\nHis freshness, his paradise, he makes.\nHe lies here and kisses her frequently,\nWith the brilliance of his beard, unsoftly.\n\nFor he was shaven anew in his manner,\nHe rubs her on her tender face,\nAnd said, \"Alas, I must make space,\nTo you, my spouse, and you greatly offend,\nOr time comes that I will descend,\nBut nevertheless, consider this, he said,\nThere is no workman, whatever he be,\nWho can both work well and hastily,\nThis would be done at a lesser perfection,\nIt is no force how long that we play,\nI believe in wedlock coupled we two,\nAnd blissful is the yoke that we have been in,\nFor in our actions, we must do no sin,\nA man may do no sin with his wife,\nNor harm himself with his own knife.\n\nNow let us leave to play by the law,\nThus he labors until the day began to dawn,\nAnd then he takes a sop in fine clarified butter,\nAnd sits upright on his bed,\nAnd after that, he sang very clearly and low,\nAnd kissed his wife. He was all cocky and full of rage,\nAnd full of jargon, as is a puffed-up pie.\nThe slack skin about his neck shakes,\nWhile he sings so chanting, he cracks.\nBut God knows what may think in her heart,\nWhen she sees him up sitting in his shirt,\nIn his night cap and with his neck lean.\nShe prays not his playing worth a bean.\nThen he said, \"Now my resting I will take,\nNow day is come, I may no longer wake.\nAnd down he laid his head and slept till prime,\nAnd after, when he saw his time,\nUp rose January and fresh may,\nShe keeps her chamber till the fourth day,\nAs is the custom of women for the best,\nFor every labor sometime must have rest,\nOr else long may he not endure.\nThis is to say no living creature,\nBe it bird best or man.\nNow I will speak of this squire Damyan,\nWho lingers for love, as you shall hear.\nTherefore I speak to him in this manner,\nI say, O sad Damyan, answer this demand in this case,\nHow shall you your lady keep fresh?\nTell your woe, she will always say no,\nEven if you speak, she will. This is a Middle English poem, likely a love complaint or lament, from the 15th or 16th century. Here is the cleaned text:\n\nThy woe bewail,\nGod be thy help, I can no better say,\nSo bitter is that he dies for desire,\nFor which he puts his life in adventure,\nNo longer might he in this way endure,\nBut privately he borrowed a pen,\nAnd in a lecture wrote all his sorrow,\nIn manner of a complaint or a lay,\nTo his fresh and fair lady May,\nAnd in a purse of silk hanging it on his shirt,\nHe has y put and y laid it at his heart,\nThus has January wedded May,\nAnd the moon, as I understand that day,\nOut of Taurus was in the Cancer gliding,\nSo long has she in her chamber dwelling,\nAs is customary to these nobles all,\nA bride shall not eat in the hall,\nTill days four or three at least,\nPassed be then let her go to feast,\nThe feast complete from noon to noon,\nWhen that the high mass was done,\nIn hall sat this January and May,\nAs fresh as is the bright summer's day,\nAnd so be it that this good man\nRemembers and says, \"Sainte Mary, how may this be?\nThat Damyan intends not to me,\nIs he always sick or how may this betide?\nHis squire, who stood by him.\" \"Beside him, excuse him because of his sickness, which prevents him from doing his business. No other cause makes him care, and I think this is January. He is a gentleman squire, by my truth. If he died, it would be harmful and unfortunate. He is wise, discreet, honest, and secret. As any man of his degree knows, and moreover, he is manly and serviceable. After eating, I will visit him myself and may, to do him all the comfort I can, and for his sake, every man will be blessed. Of his bounty and gentleness, he would comfort him in sickness. His squire, for it was a noble deed, said Dame January, \"Take good care, after eating, you and all your women go to see this damyan to do him disport, he is a gentleman.\" Have I nothing but to rest a little? Now with this word, he began to call a squire who was marshal of his hall, and told him certain things.\" may she hold her way here\nWith all her women to this damsel\nDown by his bedside, she sat she then\nComforting him as well as she may\nThis damsel when he deems fit\nIn private way, his purse and also his will\nIn which that he wrote had placed all his will\nHas given to her hand without more\nSave that he sighed right sadly sore\nAnd softly to her right thus said he\nMercy, and that you discover not me\nFor I am dead if that this thing be known\nThis will she has in her hand\nAnd went her way, get no more of me\nUntil January comes then is she\nAnd on his bedside sat softly\nHe takes her and kisses\nAnd laid him down to sleep and that anon\nShe feigned as if she must go\nThere as you know every one most needs\nAnd when she of this business has kept\nShe rented it into rags and at last\nIn the private place softly cast it\nWho studies now but fair, fresh May\nAnd down by January she lay\nThat slept till the cow had wakened him\nAnon he prayed her to strip naked\nHe would have her, he said have. He says her clothes please him, and she complies whether willingly or not. But lest I anger the precious folk by revealing this, or whether he thought it paradise or hell, I let them work in their way until evening, and he must rise. Whether it be destiny or accident, influence or nature, in such a state the heavens stood at that time. It was to put a bill of Venus' works, for anything has time, as clerks say, to win a woman's love. I cannot say but great god above, who knows no act is shameful, holds me in peace. But truly, this is how that this fresh man Damyan, has taken such an impression that day, of pity for this sick man, that from her heart she cannot drive away the remembrance to do him good. Certainly, whoever this thing displeases, I care not, I assure him, to love him best of any creature, though he had nothing but his shirt, and all was pity and tender heart. Here you may hear how excellent. In women is where they have narrow eyes\nSome tyrant there is, as there be many one\nWho has a heart as hard as any stone\nWho would have let him rule in its place\nRather than have granted him grace\nAnd they rejoice in their cruel pride\nAnd reckon not to be an homicide\nThis gentlewoman could fully satisfy all pity\nRight so from her hand a lease\nIn which she granted of her very grace\nThere lacks but only day and space\nWhere she might to his lust suffice\nFor it shall be right as he will decide\nAnd when she saw her time upon a day\nTo visit this damsel in this fresh May\nAnd subtly a letter down she thrust\nShe takes him by the hand & twists him hard\nSo secretly that no man it was\nAnd him, being whole and sore, she went\nTo January when he sent for her\nUp rises damsel the next morrow\nAll passed was his sickness and sorrow\nHe combed him and comforted him and picked him\nHe does all that his lady lusts and pleases\nAnd also to January he goes as low\nAs ever died a dog for the bow. A man, who could craft anything, was one who was willing to teach it to everyone. And in his lady's grace, he stood. Let me tell you about Dameyan and in my tale, I will proceed. Some clerks hold that felicity lies in delight, and so this noble January, with all his might, lived honestly as long as a knight should. He was encouraged to live delightfully, and his housing and attire were made as fitting for a king. Among other honest things, he had a garden enclosed with stone. Such a beautiful garden I have never seen. For I truly believe that he who wrote the romance of the Rose could not adequately describe its beauty. Neither Priapus nor even he, the god of gardens, could suffice to tell of the garden's beauty and the well that stood beneath a laurel tree, always green. Frequently, King Pluto and his queen, Proserpina, and all their fairies, would entertain themselves and make music around that well, as men have told. This noble knight, January the Old, possessed such delightful manners in his walks. That he will allow no one to bear the key,\nexcept himself from the small wicket.\nHe bore always of silver a little key,\nWith which when he lists to unlatch,\nAnd when he would pay his wife her debt,\nIn summer season there would he go,\nAnd May his wife and no one but they two,\nOf things that were not do in a bed.\nThey in the garden have and spend\nMany a merry day.\nBut worldly joy may not always endure,\nTo January as no worldly creature.\nO sudden happiness or fortune variable,\nLike the scorpion unstable,\nThat flatters with thy head when thou wilt sting,\nThy tail is death through thine envious sting.\nO brotel joy or thou sweet poison clever,\nO thou monster that subtly canst paint,\nThy gestures under thee,\nThat thou discernest both more and less.\nWhy hast thou January thus discerned,\nAnd hadst him for thy friend received,\nAnd now thou hast bereft him both his eyes,\nFor sorrow of which he desires death.\nAlas this January that is so free,\nAmidst his lust and his prosperity,\nIs now become blind. And suddenly,\nHe deeply desires this, and with it, all fear of Jealousy,\nLest his wife fall into some folly.\nHis heart burns so much that he would gladly\nHave someone kill both him and her,\nFor never after his death or his life\nWould he want her to be loved or his wife,\nBut forever live in clothes black as a turtle that has lost its shell.\nBut at last, after a time or two,\nHis sorrow began to subside as I tell you,\nFor he knew it could not be anyone other than,\nHe patiently bore his adversaries,\nExcept perhaps he might not forget,\nThat he was jealous forever.\nThis jealousy was so outrageous,\nThat in hall or other house,\nHe would not allow her to ride or go,\nNor in any other place evermore,\nUnless he had her in his hands always.\nFor which reason,\nShe who loves Damyan so benignly,\nMust either die suddenly,\nOr else she must have him always.\nShe waits when her heart is about to burst,\nOn the other side, there comes Damyan.\nThis one was ever for neither night nor day,\nAnd could not speak a word with. fresh may,\nAs of his purpose none such matter,\nBut if January it here be,\nThat had an hand evermore,\nAnd not least be writing to and fro,\nAnd private signs knew he what she meant,\nAnd she knew of the same his intent,\nJanuary, what might the avail,\nThough thou mightest see as far as ship sail,\nFor as good blind is deceived to be,\nAs to be deceived when a man may see,\nLo, argus which that had a hundred eyes,\nFor all that ever he could pour or pry,\nYet was he blind and I wot so more,\nThat when it is nothing so,\nPass our is an ease I say no more,\nThis fresh may of which I spoke before,\nIn warm wax has printed this clue,\nThat January bore of the small key,\nWhich unto this garden often he went,\nAnd Damyan that knew her intent,\nThe key concealed privily,\nThere is no more to say but hastily,\nSome wonder be this key shall be tied,\nWhich you shall hear if you will abide,\nO noble Ouidas, truly thou sayest,\nWhat sleight it is, though it be long and hot,\nThat he will not find it up in some manner. Pyramus and Thisbe: though they were kept apart long our alley, they had agreed to meet secretly throughout the entire town. There was none who could have discovered such a trick. But now, on the eighth day of July, had passed. January had caught such a great cold Through his wife's egging him to play In his garden, and no one but they two Were to come the next day to this place. He said to his wife, my love, my lady fair, The turtle's voice I heard from my spouse sweet, The winter is gone with all its rain, Come forth, my sweet spouse, without doubt. Thou hast wounded me in my heart, wife, No spot in the saw I see in all my life. Come forth and let us take our vows, I care for my wife and for my comfort. Such old, lewd words they spoke. On Damon, she made a sign, That he should go before with his cloak. Damon had opened the gateway, And entered and sat in such a manner, That no one might see or hear him. And still he sat hidden under cover. This January is blind as a stone,\nWith me in his hand and no one more,\nInto this fresh garden he goes,\nAnd suddenly claps to the gate,\nNow wife said he, \"Here have been but you and I,\nThat art the creature that I love,\nFor by that lord that sits us all above,\nI would rather right now die on a knife,\nThan the offense my own dear wife,\nFor God's sake think how you the cheese,\nNot for covetousness nor other doubtless reasons,\nBut only for the love I had,\nAnd though you be old and may not see,\nBe to me true and I will tell you why,\nCertainly three things should you win from this,\nFirst, love of Christ and to your own honor,\nAnd all my heritage, both town and tower, I give to you,\nThis shall be done tomorrow or the sun rises,\nSo wisely God bring my soul to bliss,\nAnd I pray you in agreement, kiss me,\nAnd though I am jealous, do not reproach me,\nYou are so deeply printed in my thought,\nThat when I consider your beauty,\nAnd therewith all the unlikely things,\nI may not be certain though I should die,\nForbear to be out of your company,\nFor very love this is without doubt.\nNow kiss. I am a gentlewoman and not a harlot. Why do you speak thus, but men are ever untrue, and women have complaints against you anew? You can have no other communication with me but speak to us of untrust and reproach. And with that word, she saw where Damyan sat in a bush and knelt. He began to signal to her that Damyan should climb up on a tree which was laden with fruit. He went, for she intently knew his intent,\nAnd every sign that she could make,\nFar surpassing January's own, for in a letter she had told him all\nOf this matter how he was to work it.\nSo I let him sit and mourn,\nAnd January with May, young and merry,\nBright was the day and the firmament shone,\nPhoebus of gold had sent down his beams,\nTo gladden every flower with his warmth.\nHe was then in Gemini, as I guess,\nBut little from his declination,\nAnd cancelling Jupiter's exaltation.\nAnd so it came to pass that on a bright morning tide,\nOn the fourth side of the garden,\nPluto, king of the fairies,\nAnd many a lady in his company,\nFollowing his wife,\nWho ravished her out of pain,\nWhile she gathered flowers in a mead.\nIn Claudian's tales you may read the stories,\nOf how in his grisly chariot he carried her off,\nThis king of fairies then set her down,\nUpon a bench of turquoise green,\nAnd right away said to his queen,\n\"My wife said, let no one say nay,\nThe experience proves it every day,\nThe treason which women do to men, tenfold.\" \"A hundred thousand telling I can,\nExamples and of your untruth and brotherliness,\nO Solomon, richest of all riches,\nFilled with wisdom and worldly glory,\nWell worthy are thy words in memory,\nTo every wight that wit and reason can,\nThus prayseth he yet the bounty of man,\nAmong a thousand men yet found I one,\nBut of all women found he never one,\nThus said the king that so knoweth your wickedness,\nAnd also Theseus, Sirac as I guess,\nSpeaks not of you but seldom reverence,\nA wild fire and a corrupt pestilence,\nSo falls on your bodies yet tonight,\nNe'er see you not this honorable knight,\nBecause alas that he is blind and old,\nHis own man shall make him coold,\nLo where he sits the lecher in the tree,\nNow will I grant of my majesty,\nUnto this old blind worthy knight,\nThat he shall have again his sight,\nWhen that his wife would do him villainy,\nThen shall he know all her harlotry,\nBoth in reproof of her and others,\nYou shall quote Preservina and will you so,\nNow by my mother's side,\nThat she shall readily excuse her,\nAnd all women after for her sake,\nThough they\" be in on guilt, take\nWith faces bold they shall excuse themselves\nAnd bring down those who would accuse us\nFor lack of an answer, none of us shall die\nHe had seen a thing with both his eyes\nYet we shall view it hardly\nAnd weep and swear and chide subtly\nSo that you shall be as lewd as many\nWho care not for your authority\nI well know this, though this Solomon,\nMore fond of women than one,\nBut though he found no good woman,\nI pray you take the man's sentence\nHe meant thus: in sovereign mercy,\nIs there none but God who sits in judgment?\nEye for very God, who is but one?\nWhat do you make of Solomon?\nWhat if he built a temple for a false god?\nWhat if he were rich and glorious,\nDid he not also build a temple for false gods?\nHow could he do a thing more wicked than this?\nFair as his name is emblazoned,\nHe was a lecher and an idolater.\nAnd in his old age he forsook God.\nAnd if God had not, as the book says,\nProtected his father's sake,\nHe would have lost his kingdom rather than he would.\nI give right. \"Nothing of all the woes,\nThat he of women writes, a butterfly I am, a woman needs must speak,\nOr else my heart will swell to break.\nSince you say that we are treacherous,\nAs whole I must break my tresses.\nI shall not spare now for any courtesy,\nTo speak him harm who would wrong us.\nDame said, \"This Pluto be no longer wrath,\nI give it up, but since I swear my oath,\nThat I will grant him his sight again,\nMy word shall stand, I say you certainly,\nI am a king, it does not become me to lie,\nAnd I a queen, who am of the fairy,\nHer answer shall she have I undertake,\nLet us no longer make words here,\nFor truly I want you no longer to tarry,\nNow let us turn again to January,\nThat in the garden with his fresh may,\nSings more merrily than the Popinjay.\nYou love me best and shall and others none,\nSo long about the alleys is he gone,\nUntil he was come again that pery,\nWhere this damsel sits so merry,\nAn high among the fresh leaves green,\nThis bright and shining may began to sigh and said, \"Alas, my side.\nNow, sir, said she for aught.\"\" That may betide I must have of the peris I see Or thou must die, so sore longs it me To eat of the small peris green Help for his love that is of heaven's queen I tell you well, a woman in my plight May have in fruit so great an appetite That she may die but she of it have Allas, he quoth, I had here a knave That could climb allas, he quoth That I am blind, ye sir, no force quoth she But wouldst thou vouchsafe for God's sake The pery with thee thy arms to take For well I wot that thou mistrust me Then should I climb well enough quoth she So I might help thee with my heart's blood He stooped down and on his back she stood And caught her by the waist and up she went Ladyes, I pray you be not wrath I cannot close, I am a rude man And suddenly, anon, this damsel\nGan pull up the smoke and in he through\nA great tent, thrifty and long she said It was the merriest feat That ever in her life she was at yet My lords' tent serves me nothing. He folds twice, sweet Jesus.\nHe may not be worthy of a leek.\nAnd yet he is full gentle and full meek.\nThis is lighter to me than an evensong.\nAnd when that Pluto saw him again,\nAnd made him see as well as ever he might,\nAnd when he had caught his sight again,\nThere was no man of thing so fair,\nBut on his wife his thought was ever more.\nUp to the tree he cast his eyes two,\nAnd saw how Damyan his wife had dressed.\nBut if I would speak uncourteously,\nUp he gave a roaring and a cry,\nAs does the mother when the child shall die.\nAlas, help, harow he began to cry,\nFor sorrow almost he began to die,\nThat his wife was swindled in the Peril.\nO strong lady, what dost thou?\nAnd she answered, Sir, what troubles you?\nHave patience and reason in your mind.\nI have helped you on both your eyes blind.\nUp peril of my soul, I shall not lie,\nAs I was taught to help with your eyes.\nWas there nothing better to make you see,\nThan to struggle with a man in a tree?\nGood wot you did it in full good intent.\nStruggle said he. \"Alas in it went,\nStiff and round as any belle,\nIt was no wonder her belly swelled,\nThe smoke on his breast lay so near,\nAnd ever I thought he pointed on the breast,\nGod give both a shameful death to die,\nHe did so I saw it with my eyes,\nAnd else I hanged by the halts,\nThan said she my medicine is false,\nFor certainly if you might see,\nYou would not say these words to me,\nYou have some glimmering and no perfect sight,\nI said he was as well as ever I might,\nThanked be God with both my eyes two,\nAnd by my truth I thought he did so,\nYou may deem as you list, God help me so as I am evil paid,\nBut by my father's soul I went to say,\nHow that this Damyan had by the leas,\nAnd that thy smoke he laid up on thy breast,\nYou, sir, said she, you may think as you will,\nBut sir, said she, a man that wakes from his sleep,\nHe may not so suddenly well take keep,\nUp on a thing.\" \"ne it is not perfectly true that a long-blind man cannot suddenly see a thing as well as one who has sight. He who has been blind for a day or two will not be able to see clearly until his sight recovers. Beware I pray you for hasty judgment. Many a man thinks he sees a thing, but it is quite different. He who misconceives, and with that word she leapt from the tree. This is January, who is glad but he. He kisses her and clips, and on her womb he strikes her very softly. And to the Palaces he has led her. Now, good men I pray you be merry and glad. Thus ends here my tale of January. God bless us all and his mother Mary.\n\nHere ends the Merchant's tale. And begins the prologue of the Wife of Bath.\n\nExperience, though no authority is in this world for me,\nTo speak of woo that is in marriage,\nBut lords, since I was fifteen winters of age,\nThanked be God that is eternal alive,\nHusbands at the church door have I had five,\nIf I might often have been wedded be,\nAnd all were worthy men in here.\" But once I was told not long ago I was that Christ went never but once\nTo weddings in the Canan of Galilee,\nThat is the same Anasumpta taught me,\nThat I should wed but once.\nLo, which a sharp word for the nonsensical,\nBesides God and man spoke in reproof of the Samaritan,\nThou hast had five husbands, he said,\nAnd that same man who now hath thee\nIs not thy husband, thus he said certainly,\nWhat he meant by that I cannot say,\nBut that I asked why the five men\nWere not husbands to the Samaritan,\nHow many might he have in marriage,\nBut I never heard you tell me in my age,\nOf this number very definition,\nMen and close a down,\nWell I know express without lie,\nThat God commanded us to multiply,\nThis gentle text I can well understand,\nFor well I know that my husband\nShould leave father and mother and take to me,\nBut of number no mention made,\nOf bigamy or octogamy,\nWhy should men speak of it wickedness,\nKing Solomon,\nI believe he had more than one wife,\nAs it would be pleasing to me,\nTo have refreshing half so often as. Whiche God had he for all his way,\nNo man has such a noble king as to my wit,\nThe first night had many a merry fit,\nWith each of them so well was he alive,\nBlissed be God for I have had five,\nOf which I have picked out the best,\nBoth from her neither end and also her chest,\nDivers schools make divers clerks,\nAnd div,\nMakes the parfit man to be surely,\nOf five husbands schooling am I,\nWell come the sixteenth, when I will not forsake him at all,\nWhen my husband is from the world I go,\nSome Christian man shall wed me anon,\nFor the apostle says that I am free,\nTo wed a god's half where it pleases me,\nHe says to be wedded is no sin,\nBetter it is to be wedded than to pine,\nWhat cares me though men say villainy,\nOf shrewd lame and of his bigamy,\nI wot Abraham was a full holy man,\nAnd Jacob as far as I can hear,\nAnd each of them had more wives than two,\nAnd many another man also,\nWhere can you say in any manner age,\nThat ever God defended marriage,\nBy express words I pray you. I. Tell me, or where did he command chastity? I know as well as you it is no fear. The apostle when he spoke of virginity's head, He said that he had no precept for it. Men may advise a woman to be one, But advice is no manner of commandment. He puts it in our judgment. For had God commanded chastity, Then He would have forbidden marriage out of fear. And certainly, if there were no seed, What should chastity produce? Paul dared not command act, A thing which his master gave no heed. The dart is set up on chastity, Let who may cast it who runs best. But this word is not given to every man, But where God wills it. I know well the apostle was amazed, But nevertheless, though he wrote and said, He would have every man as he. All is but counsel to chastity. And for a wife he gave me leave, Of indulgence, so it be not to reprove. To wed me, if my mate dies, Without exception of bigamy. No woman should touch, He meant in his bed or in his couch. For truly it is fire and tow. You know what this example signifies, a virginity more perfect than marriage in freedom. I call this freedom if he or she would lead his life in chastity. I grant it well, I have no envy. Though maidenhood prefers bigamy, it pleases them to be clean in body and spirit. Of my estate I will make no boast. A lord in his household has many a vessel of silver and gold. Some are of tree and do his lord's service. God calls to Himself people in various ways, and each has of God a proper estate. Each man as he lists to shift. Virginity is a great perfection and continence too with devotion. But Christ, who is of perfection the wellspring, did not command every man he should sell all that he has and give it to the poor, and in such a way follow Him and His teaching. He spoke to them who will live perfectly. Lords, be your leave that I am not. I will bestow the flower of all my age in the acts and in the fruit of marriage. Tell me also to what conclusion were members made of generation and of such. A wise man once wrote:\nThey are not made in vain.\nLook who will and say up and down.\nThey were made for purification\nOf virgin and other small things.\nOne should also know a female from a male.\nAnd for no reason else say you no.\nThe experience knows it is not so.\nSo that you clerks with me do not get angry,\nI say they are made for both,\nThat is, for office and for ease,\nOf engendering we do not displease.\nWhy should not else men in books set this?\nA man shall render to his wife her debt.\nWherewith should he make his payment?\nIf he did not use his own instrument,\nThen they would be many upon a creature,\nTo purge him and also to engender.\nBut I do not say this as you told,\nThat every one who has such hindrances is bound\nTo go and use them in engendering.\nThen should men of chastity take no care.\nChrist was a maid and shaped as a man,\nAnd many a holy saint since the world began,\nThey lived in perfect chastity.\nBut I will not envy any virginity.\nLet them be fed with bread of purified wheat,\nAnd let us use hot water. And yet, with harsh men, it is told that our refuge can hide many a man, in which case, as God has called us, I will surely not be ungrateful. In wifehood, I will use my instrument as freely as my maker has sent it. If I am dangerous, give me sorrow. Whether he will come forth and pay his debt, an husband will have me not, and I will be both his debtor and his thrall, and he my tribulation with all. During the while that I am his wife, I will have power over both his person and not him. Right thus the apostle told it to me and bade our husbands to love us well. I like this sentence evermore.\n\nUp starts the pardoner and that anon. Now, dame, said he, be God and be St. John. You are a noble preacher in this case. I was about to wed away, alas. What should I buy it myself for so dear? Yet had I rather not wed this year. Abyde, said she, your tale is not begun. Nay, you shall drink from another tonne. Or if I go, it will taste worse than ale. And when I have told... I. My Tale of Marriage Tribulations\n\nI, who have experienced tribulations in marriage throughout my life, shall recount them for you. Be warned, or approach with caution, for I shall relate more examples than ten. He who refuses to heed the advice of others shall be corrected by them. These same words are written by Ptolemy; read them in his most esteemed work.\n\nLady, I pray you, if your will permits,\nAs the pardoner began, I shall speak,\nAnd teach young men of my practice.\n\nGladly she replied, \"May it please you.\"\nBut I pray, to all this company,\nIf I speak after my fancy,\nTake no offense at what I say,\nFor my intent is but to entertain.\n\nNow, I shall tell you my tale.\nAs I must always drink wine or ale,\nI shall speak truthfully about the husbands I had:\nThree of them were good, and two were bad.\nThey could not maintain the statutes\nTo which they were bound by me.\nYou well know what I mean, by God's help,\nI laugh at it. What I think: How pitifully a night I made them toil\nAnd by my faith, I gave them no respite\nThey had promised me their land and their treasure\nI needed not to do them longer service\nTo win their love or do them reverence\nThey treated me so well, God above\nThat I told no deceit of their love\nA wise woman will always be busy trying\nTo get her love where she has none\nBut since I had them completely in my hand\nAnd after they had given me their land\nWhat should I keep them for, if not for my pleasure\nI held them so well, I made them work hard\nThat many a night they sang away\nThe bacon was prepared for them, I believe\nThat some man has in Essex at Donmow\nI governed them well according to my law\nEach of them was fulfilled and pleased\nTo bring me fine things from the fair\nThey were very fine when I spoke to them kindly\nFor God knows I scolded them playfully\nNow listen, wise women, how you should speak and comfort them\nFor no one can swear and lie as a woman can\nI But say not this, but you wives who have been wise,\nBut if it be when they harm us,\nA wife, if she can keep her good,\nShall bear him on hand the cow is wood,\nAnd take witness of her own maid,\nOf her assent, but hearken to how I said,\nSir Old Cainard is this thy array,\nWhy is my neighbor's wife so gay,\nShe is honored where'er she goes,\nI sit at home and have no thrifty clothes,\nWhat do you at my neighbor's house,\nIs she so fair, are you so amorous,\nWhat are you doing with a maid, God bless you,\nSir Old Lecher, let your Iapas be,\nAnd if I have a gossip or a friend,\nWithout guile you chide as a fiend,\nIf you walk home to her house,\nYou come home as drunk as a mouse,\nYou preach on your bench with evil preface,\nYou say to me it is a great misdeed,\nTo wed a poor woman for cost,\nAnd if she be high and of rich parage,\nYou say that it is a very torment,\nTo suffer her pride and her melancholy,\nAnd if she be fair, you are very cunning,\nYou say that every harlot would have her,\nShe may no while in chastity. That is assessed on every side,\nThou art some for our shape and some for our fairness,\nAnd some for her ability to sing or dance,\nAnd some for gentleness or for dalliance,\nSome for her small hands and legs,\nThus it all goes to the devil,\nThou sayest men may keep a castle wall,\nIt may be assaulted by us all,\nAnd if she is foul, thou sayest that she,\nCauses every man to come to her,\nFor as a spaniel she will leap upon him,\nTill she may have him,\nNo none so grey goose goes there in the lake,\nAs thou sayest, by Wilde, without her make,\nAnd sayest it is a hard thing to wield,\nA thing that no man will his thanks hold,\nThus thou sayest Lorel when thou goest to bed,\nAnd that no wise man needs to wed,\nNor any that intends to heaven,\nWith wild thunder fire leaping,\nI pray God may thy neck be broken,\nThou sayest a drooping house and also smoke,\nAnd chiding wives make men to flee,\nOut of her houses a benedicite,\nWhat evil is such an old man for to chide,\nThou sayest we wives will hide our vices,\nUntil we are fast, and then we will show,\nWell may. That's a proverb of a shrew:\nYou say that men assist horses and hounds,\nThey have been tried in various stands,\nBasins laurels or that men buy them,\nHorses stolen and all other husbandry,\nAnd so they are pot-ready clothes and array,\nBut women make no attempt,\nUntil they are wedded to old shrews,\nAnd then you say well, our vices show,\nYou also say that it displeases me,\nBut if you would praise my beauty,\nAnd pour it in my face every day,\nAnd call me fair dame in every place,\nAnd make a feast that day I was born,\nAnd me and rejoice,\nAnd do me no harm and honor,\nAnd to my chamber within,\nAnd to my father's folk and allies,\nThus you old fool full of lies say,\nAnd also because of our apprentice Jankyn,\nFor his crisp curls shining like gold fin,\nAnd for he squires me both up and down,\nYet have you caught a false suspicion.\nI will not let him harm me though you were dead tomorrow,\nBut tell me this, why did you hide it with sorrow?\nThe keys of your chest away from me?\nIt is as much mine as yours, what do you mean? thou to make an idiot of our dame\nNow be that lord that are called Saint Iames\nThou shalt not both though thou were mad\nBe master of my body and my good\nThat on thou shalt forgo mere thine own desire\nWhat needeth it of me to inquire or pry\nI think thou wouldst lock me in thy chest\nThou shouldst say good wife go where you will\nTake your pleasure I will allow no tales\nI know you for a true wife Dame Alice\nWe love none that take keep or charge\nWhere we will go and be at our pleasure\nOf all manner men blessed may he be\nThe wise Astrologer more than Prothulus\nThat says thus in his greatest book\nOf all men his wisdom is the best\nHe who reckons not who holds the world in hand\nLet this proverb thou shall understand\nHave you enough what dare you reckon or care\nHow merrily that other folk fare\nFor certes old dotards be your leave\nYou shall have queer enough at your ease\nBe thou never angry for my instrument\nThough it be sometimes lent to a good fellow\nFor he is too great a miser who will turn\nA man to light a candle at his own cost. He shall have no less light, I swear.\nHave you enough, you dare not complain.\nYou also say that if we make ourselves merry\nWith clothing or precious array,\nIt is a peril to our chastity.\nAnd with sorrow you most enforce the thought,\nAnd say these words in the Apostles' name.\nIn habit made with chastity and shame,\nYou women shall appear, he said.\nAnd not in tresses here and rich perfume,\nAs pearls nor with gold nor rich clothes,\nAccording to your thought or your rubric,\nI will not work as much as a gnat.\nYou say thus I walk out like a cat,\nBut who will see the cat's skin\nWill the cat dwell in his in?\nAnd if the cat's skin is slight and gay,\nShe will not dwell in his house half a day,\nBut forth she will go or on any day be bedazzled,\nTo show her skin and go a-catting.\nThis is to say if I beguile, sir, swear,\nI will run out my borel to show.\nSir old fool, what help is it to you to see,\nThough you play Argus with his hundred eyes,\nTo be my warder as he may best,\nIn faith, he shall not keep me but myself.\nYet could I make. his beard so mot I thee, thou sayest that there are things which trouble the earth, and that no one can endure the suffering. O leave, sir, swearing Ihesus short thy life. Yet thou preach and say an hateful wife. Reckoned is one of these mischances among thee. But if a simple wife be one of those, thou liest also like a woman's love to hell. To bear a land where water may not dwell. Thou liest also to us like wild fire. The more it burns, the more it has desire to consume every thing that would burn. Thou speakest rightly as worms shatter a tree. Rightly so, a wife destroys her husband. This known they that have been in women's bondage. Lords, thus you have understood. Bear thou stiffly my old husband's bond in hand, and of other things both more and less. And all was false but as I took witness. Of Iankyn our child and of my niece also. O lord, the pain I did them and the woe. Full guiltlessly, often am I bathed in god's sweet pain. For as a horse, I could both bite and. I could plainly, though I were in the mill, or else I had oftentimes been split. Whoever comes first to the mill first, he grinds. I ground first, so were our wars ended. They were very glad to excuse themselves from things which they had never accused their lives of. Of women, I would bear them great harm, when they could not withstand me. Yet I took pity on his heart, for he thought that I took great pleasure from him. I swore that all my walking out by night was for spying women that he delighted in. Under that color, I had many a jest. For all things were given to us at birth. Deceit weeping spinning, God has given to women kindly while they live. And thus, of one thing I may boast. At the end, I had the better in every degree. By guile or force or by some means, or by continual murmuring or grumbling, namely, a bed had they mischance. There I would chide and do them no pleasure. I would no longer abide there in bed, unless I felt his arm over my side. Until he had made his reason known to me. Then. I would allow him to do his niceties\nAnd therefore every man this tale I tell\nWin who so may, for all is for to sell\nWith empty hands men may no hawks fly\nFor winning, I would as his list endure\nAnd make me then a feigned appetite\nAnd yet in bacon had I never delight\nThat made me\nFor though the Pope had sat them by the side\nI would not spare them at their own board\nFor by my truth I quit them every word\nAs so help me God omnipotent\nThough right now I should make my testament\nI owe them not a word but that it is quit\nI brought it about by my wit\nThat they must give it up all for the best\nOr else had we never been at rest\nFor though he looked as wild as a lion\nYet should he fail of his conclusion\nThen I would say, \"God leef take keep\nHow meekly looks Wilkin our sheep\nYou should all be patient and meek\nCome and have a sweet spiced conscience\nSince you so speak of Job's patience\nSuffers it always since you can so well preach\nAnd but you do certainly teach us\nIt is feeble of us two must bow doubtless\nAnd since a man is. A woman is more reasonable than I,\nYet you are the most to be sufferable,\nWhat grieves you to grumble and groan,\nIt is because you would have my queen alone,\nWhy take it, have it every deal,\nPeter, I swear you love it well,\nFor if I would sell my belief, choose,\nI could walk as fresh as a rose,\nBut I will keep it for your own throat,\nYou are to blame, God I say you truthfully,\nSuch manner of words we had in hand,\nNow I will speak of my first husband,\nMy first husband was a reveler,\nThat is to say, he had a paramour,\nAnd I was young and full of rage,\nSteadfast and strong and pliant as a pie,\nHe could dance and harp small,\nAnd sing as merry as any nightingale,\nWhen I had drunk a draught of sweet wine,\nMeanwhile the foul boar the swine,\nThat with a staff bereft his wife's life,\nFor she drank wine and I had been his wife,\nHe should not have daunted me so from drink,\nAnd after wine, Venus must be thought of,\nFor also sure as cold autumn hail,\nA lecherous month must have a licentious tail,\nIn a wanton person is no defense,\nThese lecherous men know it. But Lord Christ, when I remember thee,\nUpon my youth and on my Iolite,\nIt stirs so deeply in my heart's core,\nUntil this day, it brings me comfort.\nI had my world and my time,\nBut alas, age has taken all from me,\nRobbing me of my beauty and my strength.\nFarewell, devil, go with thee.\nThe flour is gone,\nThe bread as best I can now must sell,\nNow will I recount my fourth husband,\nHe bore in his heart great disdain,\nThat I took delight in another,\nBut he was quit by God and St. Joseph,\nI made him a cross from the same wood,\nNot from my body in any foul manner,\nCertainly, I made people so merry,\nThat in his own grace, I made him fry,\nFor anger and for very jealousy,\nI was his very purgatory in earth,\nFor which I hope his soul is in glory,\nFor God knows he sat often and sang,\nWhen his shoe bitterly wronged him,\nGod and he who knew,\nIn many ways how sorely I tormented him.\nHe died when I came back from Jerusalem,\nAnd I lay grieving under the cross beam.\nNot all is lost. His tomb is so curious as that of Hymas Darius,\nWho carved it subtly. It is but waste to buy him preciously.\nLet him fare well, God give his soul good rest.\nHe is now in his grave and laid in his chest.\n\nNow of my fifth husband will I tell,\nGod let her soul never come in hell.\nAnd she, whom I felt on my right,\nAnd ever shall unto my ending day,\nBut in him was he full fresh and gay,\nAnd therewith also he could so well gloss,\nThat though he had beaten me on every bone,\nHe could win my love again at once.\nI believe I loved him best for that he\nWas of his love so dangerous unto me.\nWe women have if that I shall not lie\nIn this matter a queer fancy.\nWait what thing we may not lightly have,\nThereafter we cry alway and beg\nForbid us thing and that desire we,\nPress on us and then we shall sleep,\nWith danger utter we all our chaffer.\nGreat press at market makes goods dear,\nAnd to great cheap is holding a feeble price.\nThis knows every woman that is wise.\nMY fifth husband, God bless his soul.\nWhich one is it? He once was a clerk of Oxfordford,\nLeft school and went home to tend,\nWith my companion, though dueling in our town,\nGod have her soul, her name was Alisoun.\nShe knew my heart and my secret too,\nBetter than our parish priest I should confide in,\nFor had my husband passed by a wall,\nOr done a thing that he should have lost his life,\nTo her also to another wife,\nWhen he would have my belief choose,\nAnd to my niece whom I loved well,\nI would have revealed his counsel to everyone.\nSo I did often, God knows it,\nThat made his face often red and hot,\nFor vanity blamed him that he\nHad told me such a great secret.\nAnd so it was that once in a while,\nSo often time I went to my companion,\nFor I loved to be merry always,\nAnd to walk in March and April and May,\nFrom house to house to hear various tales,\nThat Iankyn clerk and my companion Alis,\nAnd I myself into the fields went.\nMy husband was in London all that Lent,\nI had the better leisure for play. I was shaped to be of lust\nWhat form it took or where\nTherefore I made my visits\nTo vigils and processions\nTo preaching and pilgrimages\nTo plays of miracles and marriages\nAnd upon my gay scarlet gates\nThese worms nor these moths nor these mites\nFrightened them not at all\nAnd you know why for they were used well\nNow I will tell you what happened to me\nI say that in the fields we walked\n Truly, we had such dalliance\nThis clerk and I, what of my pursuit\nI spoke to him and said, \"If I were a widow, you should marry me.\nFor truly I tell you for no false reason.\nYet I was never without pursuit\nOf marriage or other things as well.\nI hold a man's heart not worth a leak\nThat has but one hole to start from\nAnd if that fails, then all I do is over\nI bore him on hand / he had enchanted me\nMy mother taught me, indeed\nAnd I also said, he would shame me as I lay up right\nAnd all my bed was full of very blood\nBut yet I hope truly you. For blood betokens gold, as I was taught. And always false I dreamed of him right naught, but as I followed my dams' lore, as much for that as for other things. And now, sir, let us see what I shall say. A ha, by God, I have my tale again. When my fourth husband was on his beer, I wept all the while and made a sorrowful face, as women are wont to do. And with my kerchief I cleared my visage. But for that I was pursued by a make, I wept little I dare undertake. To church was my husband born the morrow, with neighbors that for him made sorrow. And Iankyn our clerk was one of those. As help me God when I saw him go. After the beer, I thought he had a pair of legs and feet so clean and so fair, that all my heart I gave unto his hold. He was, I trow, twenty winters old, but I was forty if I shall speak the truth. But yet I had always a coltis to this, you were but that be came me well. I had the print of St. Venus's hand. As help God, I was a full lusty one. And fair and rich and young, and well begun. And truly, as my. husbonds told me I had the best queen that could be, for certain I am fully enamored, my heart is Mars, and Venus gave me my lust and desire. My ascendant was Taurus with Mars within, alas, alas, love was ever sin, following always my inclination because of my constitution, which made me unable to withdraw from my chambermate. Yet I have a mark of Mars on my face and also in another private place, for God's will. I loved never any discreetly but always followed my appetite, no matter if he was poor or of what degree. What should I say but at the month's end this joyful clerk Iankyn, who was so kind, married me with great solemnity and gave me both land and fee that had ever been given to me before. But afterward I repented it sorely. He would not allow anything of my lust. May God smite me once with his fist on the cheek for rent from his book. I was once a lion, Strooke my ear, I,\nIn aspect and tongue, an angelic being,\nI'd walk from house to house, disregarding sworn vows,\nPreaching old Roman tales, teaching simple Gallus,\nWho left his wife, forsaking her entirely,\nSave for one open moment, looking out his door on a day,\nAnother wife he told me by name,\nBut his wife was at a summer's game,\nWithout his knowledge, he forsook her too,\nThen he'd seek solace in his Bible,\nQuoting the proverb from Ecclesiastes,\nWhere he commands and bids fast,\nMen should not suffer their wives to roam,\nHe'd say, without a doubt,\nHe who builds his house of sorrows,\nAnd drives his blind horse over the meadows,\nAnd suffers his wife to seek holiness,\nIs worthy of hanging on the gallows.\nBut I care not for all his proverbs or old saws,\nNor would I be corrected by him,\nI hate him who tells his vices to me,\nAnd so do many gods. This made him wood with me entirely. I would not forget him in any case. Now I will say the truth about Saint Thomas.\n\nFor which he had a book that gladly both night and day,\nFor his disport he would read always,\nHe called it Valery and Theophraste,\nAt that book and also there was a clerk sometime in Rome,\nA Cardinal that was called Saint Jerome,\nWho made a book against it,\nIn which book there was Crisippus Tortula and below,\nThat was Abbess not far from Paris,\nAnd parables of wise Salamon,\nOdes art and also many other books,\nAnd all these were bound in one volume,\nAnd every day and night was his custom,\nWhen he had leisure and any vacation,\nFrom all other worldly occupation,\nTo read on this book of wicked women,\nHe knew of them more legends and lives\nThan of good women in the Bible.\nFor truly it is an impossible thing\nThat any clerk will speak good of women,\nBut if it is of holy faithful lives,\nOf no other woman never the more.\nWho painted the lion, tell me who.\nGod forbid if women had written stories,\nAs clerks have in theirs. Oratorijs\nThey wolde haue writen of men more wickidnes\nThan al the marke of Adam may redresse\nThe childryn of Mercury and venus\nBeen in her workyng ful contrarious\nMercuri louith wisedom and science\nAnd venus louith riot and dispence\nAnd for her dyuers disposicion\nEche fallyth in othris exaltacion\nThat thus god woot Mercury is dissolate\nIn pisces when venus is exaltate\nAnd venus fallith ther Mercury is reysid\nTherfore women of no clerk is preysid\nThe clerk whan he is old and may nought do\nOf venus workis not worth his old sho\nThan sittith he doun and writith in his dotage\nThat women can not kepe her mariage\nBut now to purpos why I tolde the\nThat I was betyn for a book parde\nVp on a nyght Ianstyn that was our syre\nRadde on his book as he sat be the fyre\nOf Eue first that for hir wickednes\nWas al mankynde brought to wrecchidnes\nFor which that Ihesu crist hym self was slayn\nThat boughte vs with his herte blood agayn\nLo here expres of women may ye fynde\nThat woman was the los of al mankynde\nTo redde he me how Samson lost his hair\nSleeping next to his lover, she with her tresses\nThrough treason, he lost both his eyes\nThough had he known that I would not lie\nOf Dianna's hand\nThat caused him to set himself on fire\nHe remembered nothing but the sorrow and the woe\nThat Socrates experienced with his two wives\nHow Exantippa threw piss on his head\nThis silent man sat still as if dead\nHe wiped his head and dared not speak\nBut before the thunder ceased came rain\nOf Philip, who was the queen of Crete\nFor her cunningness, he found it sweet\nSpeak no more, it is a gruesome thing\nOf her horrible lust and her liking\nOf Clytemnestra, for her high lechery\nWho falsely made her husband die\nHe read it with full devotion\nHe also told me the conclusion\nAmphiorax at Thebes lost his life\nMy husband had a legend of his wife\nEriphyle, who for an ounce of gold\nPrivately told the Greeks\nWhere her husband had hidden him in a place\nFor which he had at Thebes a debt.\nOf Lemna, he told me, and of Lucretia\nThey both made their husbands die. For love, one did it; for hate, another\nLima her husband, on an even late night\nSent him poison, for she loved him so\nLucia, liking her husband, gave him such love drink\nThat he was dead or the next day\nAnd thus, husbands ever have sorrow\nThen he told me how Lacius complained\nHow the fel man Arrius\nWho in his garden grew such a tree\nOn which he said his wives three\nHanged themselves for their hearts' despising\nO brother Leu, said then this Arrius\nGive me a plant of that blessed tree\nAnd in my garden shall it be planted\nHe had read of later wives\nWho had killed their husbands in bed\nAnd let their lovers enjoy them all night\nWhile the corps lay upright on the floor\nAnd some had driven nails in their brains\nWhile they slept and thus they had killed them\nSome had given them poison in their drink\nHe spoke more harm than heart can think\nAnd then in this world grow grass or herbs\nBetter said he, is your dwelling\nBe. with a lion or a dragon,\nnot with a woman scowling to chide,\nBe that,\nwith an angry wife dueling in his house,\nThey are so wicked and so contrary,\nThey hate that her husband's love ever be,\nH: When she cast off her smock and furthermore,\nA fair woman, but she is chaste also,\nIs like a golden ring on a sow's nose,\nWho would leave or who would suppose,\nThe woe that in my heart burns painfully,\nAnd when I saw that he would never be kind,\nTo read on his cursed book all night,\nAlso suddenly three leaves have I pledged,\nOut of his book right as he read and also,\nI with my fist took him on the cheek,\nThat in our fire he fell backward down,\nAnd he started up as does a wounded lion,\nAnd with his fist he struck me on the head,\nThat in the flower I lay as if I had been dead,\nAnd when he saw how still I lay,\nHe was astonished and wanted to flee away,\nUntil at last I awoke from my swoon,\nO hast thou slain me, false thief I said,\nAnd for my land thus hast thou murdered me,\nOr I be dead, sit I will once kiss thee,\nAnd never he came and knelt fair down,\nAnd said, dere father, sweet. \"alisoun, I swear I will never harm him who has done it. It is you yourself to forgive and I asked for forgiveness. I struck him on the cheek and said, \"thief, I am avenged.\" Now I wish to die, I can no longer speak. But at last, with great care and effort, we came to an agreement. He gave me the reins in my hand, to govern honors and lands. And then, when I had obtained the mastery and sovereignty, he said, \"my true wife, do as you please for the term of your life. Keep your honor and also mine. After that day, we had no disputes. God help me, I was to him as kind as any wife from Denmark. And he was true to me. I pray to God who sits in majesty, may his soul be blessed for his mercy. Now I will tell my tale if you wish to hear. The friar laughed when he had heard all this. Dame said he, \"have joy and blessings.\" This is a long preamble to a tale. And when the summoner heard...\" In olde days of King Arthur,\nOf whom Britain speaks great honor,\nThis land was filled with fairy,\nThe frere Gale spoke:\n\nLo, what the Summoner for God's armies two,\nA friar will interfere in every man's dish and matter,\nWhat speakest thou of preambulation,\nWhat ambush or trot go piss or sit down,\nThou lettest our disport in this matter,\nYe will thou, Sir Summoner, said the friar,\nNow be my faith I shall or that I go,\nTo tell of a Summoner such a tale or two,\nThat all folk shall laugh in this place,\nNow else, brother, show thy face,\nSaid this summoner and I beshrew me,\nBut if I tell thee,\nOf that I shall make the fortune turn,\nFor well I know thy patience is gone,\nOur onward and said, let the woman tell her tale,\nYe fare as folk who have drunken from ale,\nGode dame tell forth your tale and that is best,\nAlready ready are,\nIf I have license of this worthy friar,\nYes, dame, told he, and I will hear.\n\nHere ends the wife of Bath's prologue. And here begins her tale. An elven queen and her holy company often danced in many a green meadow. This was the old belief, as I have heard. I speak of many hundred years ago. But now no one can see elves anymore. For now, the great charity and prayers of limitors and other friars search every land and every stream as thickly as motes in the sun. Blissing halls, chambers, kitchens, and boweries, cities, burghs, castles, and towers, shops, barns, shepherds, and dairies make it so that there are no fairies. For where once an elf would walk, the limitor walks himself now. And in the mornings, he says his matins and his prayers as he goes forth in his limitation. A woman may go safely up and down under every bush or under every tree. There is no other incubus but him, and he would not do them any dishonor. And so it was that this king Arthur had in his house a lusty bachelor. One day, riding along the riverbank, he happened upon a maid walking before him. Of this maid, her head was suddenly small. The very force took her maidenhood, for which oppression there was such clamor and such pursuit of King Arthur, that this knight was condemned to be dead. By the law, he should have lost his head, but the queen and other ladies begged the king so long for grace that he granted it in that place and gave him to the queen at her will, to choose whether she would save or destroy him. The queen thanked the king with all her might, and after this spoke to the knight. When she saw her time come up on a day, you still stand here,\nI grant you your life if you can tell me\nWhat thing it is that women most desire,\nBeware and keep your neck from ire,\nAnd if you cannot tell it at once,\nI shall give you yet leave for a twelvemonth and a day to seek and to learn\nAn answer,\nAnd surely I will have or that you pass\nYour body for to y.\nWoe was this knight and sorrowful he sighed,\nBut he may not do all as he likes,\nAnd at last he urged himself to go\nAnd come again right at the. With such an answer as God would provide,\nHe takes his leave and sets forth his way,\nSeeking every house and place\nWhere he hopes to find grace,\nTo learn what women most love,\nBut he could not arrive in any cost,\nThere where he might find in this matter,\nTwo creatures according to their nature,\nSome said women loved best riches,\nSome said honor, some said beauty,\nAnd often times to be widow and to be wed,\nSome said rich array, some said a bed,\nSome said that we are most pleased,\nWhen we are flattered and pleased,\nHe comes very near the truth, I will not lie,\nA man shall best win us with flattery,\nAnd with attendance and business,\nBy limiting us both more and less,\nAnd some said that we love best,\nTo be free and do right as we please,\nAnd that no man reproves us for our vices,\nBut say that we are wise and nothing nice,\nFor truly there is none of us all,\nIf any man dares to rebuke us,\nThat we will not look at him, for he speaks the truth,\nLet him try and he shall find it that it does. beholden, wise and clean out of sin,\nAnd some said great delight have we,\nTo behold the stable and also secret,\nAnd in one purse,\nAnd not to betray that men know,\nBut that tale is not worth a rack's steel,\nParde, women can no thing heal,\nWitness among other things small,\nSaid Myda had under his long hairs,\nGrowing upon his head two ass's ears,\nThe which vice he hid as he best might,\nFull subtly from every man's sight,\nThat save his wife knew it not,\nHe loved her most and trusted her also,\nHe prayed her that to no manner creature,\nShe would tell of his foul disfigure,\nShe swore him that for all the world to win,\nShe would not do that villainy nor sin,\nTo make her husband have so foul a name,\nShe would not it for her own shame,\nBut nevertheless she thought that she died,\nThat she so long should a counsel hide,\nShe thought it was so sore about her heart,\nThat needs some woman most stir it.\nAnd since she durst tell it to no man,\nDown to the marriage,\nUntil she came there her heart was in fire. as a bitoren (blond woman) in the mire\nShe laid her mouth to the water down\nBeware me not thou water with thy sound\nQuoth she to the I tell it and to no more\nMy husband has long been a-coming two\nNow is my heart all whole now is it out\nI might no longer keep it in doubt\nHere may you see though we a time abide\nYet out it must we cannot counsel\nThe remainder of the tale if you will hear\nReadith Ouyde and there you may it learn\nThis knight of whom my tale is especially\nWhen that he saw he might not come thereby\nThis is to say what woman loves most\nWith ynne (in his breast) so sorrowful was his ghost\nBut home he goes he might not delay\nThe day was come that homeward most he turn\nAnd in his way as happened to him to ride\nIn all his care beneath a forest side\nWhere as he saw upon advance go\nOf ladies .xxiv. and yet more\nTowards which dance he drew full yearn\nIn hope that he should some wisdom learn\nBut certainly or that he came fully there\nVanished was this dance he knew not where\nNo creature saw he that bore life\nSave on the green he saw. A woman sat here.\nAn fouler wight there might none deny.\nAgainst this knight this old woman rose,\nAnd said, \"Sir knight, forthwith go away.\nTell me what you seek, be your fare.\nPerhaps it may the better be.\nThese old folk can much thing quote she.\nMy leave, mother, said this knight certainly.\nI am but dead, but if that I can say,\nWhat thing it is that women most desire,\nCould you me wish, I would quit well your hire.\nPlight me thy truth here in my hand, quoth she.\nThe next thing that I require thee,\nThou shalt it do if it lie in thy might,\nAnd I will tell it to thee or it be night.\nHave here my truth, quoth the knight, I grant.\nThen quoth she, I dare well make advance.\nThy life is safe for I will stand there by.\nUp on my life the queen will say as I.\nLet see which is the proudest of them all,\nThat weareth other head or call.\nThat dares say nay, that I will teach.\nThen she crowned him a pistil in his ear,\nAnd bid him be glad and have no fear.\nWhen they come to the court, this knight,\nSaid he, kept his day as he had hight,\nAnd ready was his answer for to give. A noble queen and many wives, as well as maids and widows, had assembled to hear the knight's answer. Afterward, the knight was summoned, and all were commanded to be silent. The knight spoke up boldly, and all in the court heard his answer. The queen herself, sitting as a judge, had asked what women desire most in the world. The knight did not hesitate but answered with a manly voice, \"My liege lady, women desire sovereignty, both over their husbands and their love, and to be in mastery above this is their greatest desire, even if it means killing. In all the court, there was not a wife or maid, nor widow, who contradicted him. But they all agreed that he was worthy to live.\" An old woman, sitting on the green, spoke up, \"My sovereign lady queen, before your court departs, I taught this answer to the knight, and for this, he pledged his loyalty to me.\" his trouthe there\nThe firste thing I wolde hym require\nHe wolde hit do yf it lay in his myght\nBefor this court than I pray the sir knyght\nQuod she that thou me take v\nFor wel thou wotist that I haue saued thy lyf\nIf I swere fals swere nay vpon thy \nThe knyght answerde and sayde wel awey\nI woo\nFor goddis loue chees a newe request\nTake al my good and lat my body go\nNay than quod sbe I shrewe vs bothe two\nFor though that I be foul old and poor\nI wol not for al the metal and the oor\nThat vnder the grounde lith othir aboue\nBut y thy wyf were and eke thy loue\nMy loue quod he nay parde my dampnacion\nAllas that euer ony of my nacion\nSo foudisperaged be\nBut al for nought the ende is thus that he\nConsireyned was nedis muste he wedde\nAnd take his olde wif and go to bedde\nNow wolde som men sayn parauenture\nFor myn negligence I do no cure\nTo telle you tand al the aray\nThat atte feste was that ilke day\nTo whiche thing shortly I answer shal\nI say th\nThere nas but beuynes and muchel sorow\nFor priuely he weddid here by the And every day after hiding him, as an owl,\nSo woe was he his wife looked so foul,\nGreat was the woe that the knight had in thought,\nWhen he was with his wife a bed brought,\nHe wallowed and he turned to and fro,\nHis old body, and said, \"O dear husband, bless,\nFarewell every knight with his wife as you,\nIs this the law of King Arthur's house,\nIs every knight of his love so dangerous,\nI am your own love and also I,\nI am she who saved your life,\nAnd truly I did you no wrong,\nWhy do you fare thus with me the first night,\nYou fare like a man who had lost his wit,\nWhat is my guilt for God's love, tell me it,\nAnd it shall be amended if that I may,\nAmended said this knight, alas, no, no,\nIt will not be amended nevermore,\nYou are so unattractive and so old,\nAnd moreover come from such low kind,\nLittle wonder is it that I wallow and wind,\nSo would to God said he, my heart would burst,\nSaid she, is this the cause of your unrest,\nYou certain said he, no wonder it is,\nNow, sir, said she, could I amend all this,\nIf it pleases me or it be days. \"You may come to me, but speak of such gentlemen as are descended from old riches, making them gentlemen. Such arrogance is not worth an hen. Look who is the most virtuous always. Be priory and open-handed, and most intent on doing the gentlest deeds that he can. Take him for the greatest gentleman. First, we will claim our gentility from him, not from our elders for their old riches. For though they may give us all their heritage, for which we claim to be of their parage, yet they may bequeath nothing to any of us for our virtuous living. That made them gentlemen and called them to be our equals.\"\n\nThe wise Poet of Florence, who is called Daunte, speaks of this sentence in such a manner, in rhyme is Daunte's tale, sorrowful are his small branches. Proud of man for God's goodness, we will claim from him. From our elders, we may claim nothing but temporal things that may harm and shame. Every man knows this as well as I. If gentility were planted naturally to a certain lineage down the line.\" They are more proud and keen than they would seem,\nTo perform the office of gentility, they would not stoop,\nThey could not commit villainy,\nTake fire and bear it into the darkest house,\nBetween this and that, and let men stand by,\nYet the fire will burn as fairly and brightly,\nAs twenty thousand men could witness,\nUp until peril of my life till it dies,\nHere you may see how gentility,\nIs not connected to possession,\nSuch people do not carry out their actions,\nAlways as does the fire in its kind,\nFor God knows men often find,\nA lord's son do shame and villainy,\nAnd he who wants to buy gentility,\nBecause he was born of a noble house,\nAnd had elders noble and virtuous,\nAnd will not do base deeds,\nOr follow the deeds of his ancestors,\nHe is not noble, be he duke or earl,\nFie upon vile sins that make a serf,\nFor gentility is but the name,\nOf one's ancestors for their high favor,\nWhich is a strange thing to you.\nYour gentility comes from God alone,\nIt was no thing that questioned us with our. Think how noble was that Roman Tullius Hostilius,\nWho raised Seneca and Boece from poverty.\nThere you shall see expressed that no fear is,\nThat he is noble who performs noble deeds.\nAnd therefore, were it that my ancestors were rude,\nYet may the high god grant me grace to live virtuously.\nThen am I noble when I begin to live virtuously and do away with sin.\nAnd there, as you reprove me for poverty,\nThat high god, on whom we holy believe,\nGrants him who leads his life in poverty,\nAnd since every maiden or wife\nMay understand that Jesus our heavenly king\nWould not choose a wicked lining,\nGlad poverty is a most honest thing certainly.\nSeneca and other clerics say,\nHe who holds himself paid of his poverty,\nI hold him rich and he had not a shirt,\nHe who covets is a most poor wight,\nFor he would have that is not in his power,\nBut he nothing has not coveted to have,\nIs rich though you hold him but a knave.\nTrue poverty is a high joy properly.\nIuvenal. The poor man, when he goes by the way,\nBefore the thousand play,\nPower is hateful, good as I say,\nA great bringer out of cares,\nA great amender, also of wisdom,\nTo him that takes it in patience,\nPower is this, though it seems long,\nPossession that no man would gladly challenge,\nPower often when a man is low,\nMakes his god and also himself to know,\nPower a spectacle is, as I think,\nThrough which he may his very friends see,\nAnd therefore, sir, cease to be grieved\nBy my poverty, let me no more be reproved,\nNow, sir of old age, also you reprove me,\nAnd certainly,\nIn the book the gentle say,\nThat men should do honor to an old woman,\nAnd call father for their gentleness,\nAnd authors shall I find as I say,\nNow there as you say I am foul and old,\nDo not fear to be made coarse,\nFor filth and old age and foul I am,\nBut nevertheless, since I know your delight,\nI shall fulfill your worldly appetite,\nCheese now, asked she of these things two,\nTo have me old. \"and I will be a true and humble wife for you, never displeasing you in all my life, or else you shall have me young and fair, and take your adventure of the repair that will be to your house because of me, or in some other place may well be. Now choose whether you like this knight, who always speaks and agrees with him, but at last he said in this manner: My lady, my love and my wife, so dear, I put myself fully in your wise governance. Choose for yourself which may be more pleasing and most honorable to you and to me also. I do not force you, whether of the two, but as you like it suffices for me. Then I have obtained from you the mastery, said she, since I may choose and govern you as I wish. You certain wife, said he, I hold it for the best. Kiss me, said she, we will not be long angry. For by my truth, said she, I will be to you both, fair and good.\" queen\nThat is between the east and the west,\nDoth with my life and death as you will,\nAnd so they slept till it was morning gray,\nAnd then she said when it was day,\nLook up the curtain and see how it is,\nAnd when the knight saw truly all this,\nThat she was so fair and so young,\nFor joy he took her in his arms two,\nHis heart was bathed in a bath of bliss,\nA thousand times around he began to kiss her,\nShe obeyed him in every thing,\nThat might please or delight him,\nAnd thus they lived until her life's end,\nAnd perfect joy as Ihu sends us,\nHusbands, meek young and fresh a bed,\nAnd grace to our life them that we wed,\nAnd I pray Jesus shorten her life,\nThat will not be governed by her will,\nAnd old and angry niggardly dispensers,\nGod send them soon a foul and very pestilence.\n\nHere ends the tale of the wife of Bath.\nHere begins the prologue of the friar.\n\nThis noble limerick, this worthy friar,\nHe always made a laughing manner,\nUpon the somber night but for honesty,\nNo vile word as yet had he spoken,\nBut at last he said to the wife of-- Dame, you asked that I keep you from harm. Here you have touched upon a great difficulty in school. You have said much thing rightly. But, Dame, as you ride by the way, we need not speak but of games. Let authors be a god's name for preaching and the school of clergy. If it pleases this noble company, I would have you told a game. Parde, you may well know its name. That of a somnour may not be good. I pray that none of you be evil paid. A somnour is a runner up and down, with mandements for fornication. And at every town's end, our host spoke a sir, you should be heed. And certainly a man of your estate In company we will have no debate. Tell your tale and let the somnour be. Nay, said the somnour, let him speak by me. What he lists when it comes to my lot, I shall quit every debt. I shall tell him what great honor it is To be a flattering limpet And of many another manner crime Which need not be repeated at this time. Once upon a time in my country, there was an archdeacon, a man of high rank. He boldly carried out many executions for the punishment of fornication, bawdry, defamation, adultery, church ruins, and testaments. He dealt with contracts and the lack of sacraments, usury, and simony as well. He greatly desired lechers, who should sing if they were caught. No pecuniary penalty could be imposed on small tithes and small offerings. He made the people sing pitifully, lest the bishop catch him with his hook, and they would be in the archdeacon's book, subject to his jurisdiction. He had a summoner ready at hand, a slyer boy than any in England. \"sotilly he had his especial teacher,\nwho showed him where he might avoid,\nHe knew of lechers one or two,\nwho taught him to forty and twenty more,\nFor though the somnour were as foolish as a hare,\nTo tell his harlotry I will not spare,\nFor we are out of his correction,\nThey have no jurisdiction over us,\nNor shall they ever have term of all her life,\nPeter said the somnour, put out of my care,\nPeas with my shame or with my misfortune,\nSaid our host and let him tell his tale,\nNow tell forth, though the somnour urges,\nDo not spare my own master dear,\nThis said the friar,\nHe always had bawds ready to his hand,\nAs any hawk is to the lure in England,\nWho told him all the secrets they could,\nFor her acquaintance was not always unwelcome,\nThey were all his approvers privately,\nHe took himself great profit thereby,\nHis master knew not always what he wanted,\nWithout mandates from lewd men,\nHe could summon them on pain of Christ's curses,\nAnd they were glad to fill his purse,\nAnd make him great feasts at the end.\" had a small purse\nAnd was a thief rightly\nHis master had but half his due\nI would give him the praise\nA thief, a summoner and also a brothel keeper\nHe had also wenches in his retinue\nWhether it was Sir Robert or Sir Hugh\nOr Jacques or Rafe or whoever it was\nThat lay by them, he told him in his ear\nThus were the wenches and he of one accord\nAnd he would fetch a fine mandate\nAnd summon them both to the Chapel\nAnd pardon the man and let the woman go\nThen he would say, friend, I shall for your sake\nStrike her out of our letters black\nNo more of this trouble as in this case\nI am your friend, there I may avail\nCertainly he knew of bribes many more\nThan is possible to tell in two years\nFor in this world there is no dog for the bow\nThat can hurt them from a whole know\nBetter than this summoner knows a lecher\nOr avouter or any paramour\nAnd for that was the fruit of all his rent\nTherefore he set all his intent upon it\nAnd so it happened once upon a day\nThis summoner was always waiting for his prey\nFor someone. an old wife was feigning a cause to be her bridal\nIt happened that he saw\nA young man under a yew tree\nHe bore a bow and was keen\nHe had upon him a kirtle of green\nAn hat upon his head with black straps\nSire said the summoner hail and well take\nWelcome said he and every good fellow\nWhere rode you under this green wood shade?\nSaid this young man would you fare with me today?\nThis summoner answered and said no\nHere fast by, said he, is my intent\nTo ride to raise up all the rent\nThat is now due to my lord's debt\nArt thou then a bailiff, you said he?\nHe durst not for fear of villainy and shame\nSaid that he was a summoner for the name\nDeperdoux said this summoner, my dear brother\nThou art a bailiff and I am another\nI am unknown now in this country\nOf your acquaintance then I pray thee\nAnd also of brotherhood if that you please\nI have gold and silver in my chest\nIf it happens to come in our shire\nAll shall be thine as thou wouldst desire\nGramercy said this summoner by my faith\nEach in other hand he lies\nFortune. be sworn until I die. In dalliance they ride forth and play\nThis somnus, who was full of angels,\nWas full of venom were these.\nAnd ever inquiring upon every thing,\nBrotherly.\nAnother day if I shall see you,\nThis yeoman answered with soft speech,\nBrother.\nWhereas I hope sometime I shall the see,\nEre we depart, you shall the so well know,\nThat of my house never shalt thou mis.\nNow brother said this somnus to me,\nTeach me while you ride by the way,\nSince you are a bailiff and I am,\nSubtle as you are, tell me truly,\nIn my office how I may most win,\nAnd spare not for conscience of sin,\nBut dere brother, tell me how do you?\nNow by my truth, dere brother said he,\nAs I shall tell you a faithful tale,\nMy wages are full strewn small,\nMy lord is hard to me and dangerous,\nAnd my office is full laborious,\nAnd therefore by extortions I live.\nForsooth, I take all that men will give me,\nBy subtlety or by violence,\nFrom year to year I win all my expenses.\nI can no better tell you the truthfully.\nNow certis said. The somnour so far I spare not to take God's oath, but if it be too heavy or too hot, I have no more conscience of that. Near my extortion, I might not live of such iapis; of such I will not be shriven. Stomach or conscience, I know none. I swear the shrift, father, each one. Well met we be, by God and Saint James. But leave, brother, tell me thy name. Quoth this somnour in this meantime while, this yeoman began a little to smile. Brother said he would tell thee, I am a fiend, my dwelling is in hell. And here I ride about my purchasing. To know if men will yield me anything, purchasing is the effect of all my rent. Look how thou ridest for all the same intent. To win good, thou reckonest never how. Right so fare I, for ride I would now, to the world's end for a prayer. A quoth the somnour, benedicite what ye say. I wended ye had been a true yoman. Thou hast a man's shape as well as I. Hast thou then a figure determined? In hell, there you be in your estate. Nay, certainly quoth he, there have we none. But when it pleases us, we can take. Or I seem to you as if we were shape,\nSometimes like a man and sometimes like an ape,\nOr like an angel, can I ride or go?\nIt is no wonder thing though it be so,\nA lowly jester can discern the difference,\nAnd parde, yet more craft can I than he.\nWhy did the somnus ride you than or go on?\nIn various shapes and not always in one,\nFor we said he would make us in such a form,\nAs most aweary is our prayers to take.\nWhat makes you have all this labor?\nWell, many a cause leaves, sir somnus,\nSaid this fiend, but all things have their time,\nThe day is short and it is past prime,\nAnd yet have I no thing in this day,\nI will intend to winning if I may,\nAnd not intend our wits to declare,\nFor brother mine, your wits are all too bare,\nTo understand though I told them the,\nBut for you ask why we labor,\nFor sometimes we are God's instruments,\nAnd means to do His commandments,\nWhen He wills upon His creatures,\nIn diverse acts and in diverse figures,\nWithout Him we have no might certain.\nIf He wills to stand there against,\nAnd sometimes at our prayer have we. Only the soul and not the body to grieve,\nWitness to Job whom we wooed,\nAnd sometimes had the power over both,\nThis is to say, on soul and body too,\nAnd sometimes we are suffered to seek\nUpon a man and do his soul unwrest,\nAnd not his body, and all for the best,\nWhen he withstands our temptation,\nIt is a cause of his salvation,\nAlbeit it was not our intent,\nHe should be safe by God's judgment,\nAnd sometimes we are servant to man,\nAs to the archbishop Saint Dunstan,\nAnd to the apostle, I was a servant,\nYet tell me, quoth the sompnour faithfully,\nMake your bodies in such wise always,\nOf elements the fiend answered, nay,\nSometimes we feign and sometimes we arise,\nWith dead bodies in various ways,\nAnd speak as reasonable and well,\nAs the Phytons did to Samuel,\nAnd yet some men will say it was not he,\nI do no force of your divinity,\nBut one thing warn I, I will not joke,\nThou wilt know ere afterword my brother dear,\nCome where it needs not of me to teach,\nFor thou shalt. by thy own experience\nConfront in the chariot read this sentence\nBetter than Virgil while he was alive\nOr David also now let us ride believe\nFor I will hold company with thee\nUntil it be so that thou forsake me\nNay said the summoner that shall not happen\nI am a yeoman that know I am full wide\nMy truth will I hold to thee as in this case\nForsooth\nTake thou thy part of that men will give\nAnd I shall mine thus may we both live\nAnd if any of us have more than the other\nLet him be true and part with his brother\nI grant said the devil be my fee\nAnd with that word they rode forth their way\nAnd right at an entrance of a town's end\nTo which the summoner showed him to go\nThronged was it with heath\nWhich that a cart driver drove forth in the way\nDeep was the way for which the Cart stood\nThis cart driver smoothed and cried as he were wood\nWhat ho, broken ho, spare ye for the nones\nThe fiend quoth he, you fetch body and bones\nAs far forth as ever ye were yoked\nSo much woe as I have for you throtted\nThe devil had both horse, cart and Quoth the summoner here shall we have a play,\nAnd near the fiend he drew naught nor were,\nFully privately and robed in his ear,\nHearken my brother, heark ye be thy faith,\nHerist thou not how the Carter says,\nTake it anon for he hath given it thee,\nBoth hey and cart and e'en his capullis three,\nNay quoth the devil, God wot never a,\nIt is not his intent, trust me well,\nAsk him yourself if that thou believest not me,\nOr else cease awhile and thou shalt see,\nThis Carter thrashed his horse on the croupe,\nAnd they began to draw and to stoop,\nHail now quoth he, that Ihesu Crist you bless,\nAnd all his holy work both more and less,\nThat was well said my own lord boy,\nI pray to God save thee and St. Loy,\nNow is my cart out of the slowgh parde,\nLo brother quoth the fiend, what told I thee,\nHere may ye see my own dear brother,\nThe jester spoke one thing but he thought another,\nLet us go forth about our journey,\nHere win I no thing upon this carriage,\nWhen that they come in somewhat out of the town,\nThis summoner to his brother began to round,\nBrother quoth. A man here wanted an old Rebecca,\nWho had almost as much to lose her neck\nAs to give a penny of her good\nI would have given sixpence, though she be mad\nOr I would bring her to our office\nAnd yet God knows I know no vice\nBut for thou cannot win thy cost / take here an example of me\nThis somnour called at the widow's gate\nCome out he said thou old very traitor\nI suppose thou hast some priest or friar\nWho knocks, said this wife, benedicite\nGod save you, sir, what is your sweet will\nI have said the somnour of the abbey\nUp on pain of cursing look that you be\nTo morrow before the Archdeacon's knee\nTo answer to the court of certain things\nNow, lord, said she, Jesus Christ, heaven king\nSo wisely help me as I ne may\nI have been sick and that\nI may not go so far, said she, nor ride\nBut I am dead, so pricks it in my side\nMay I not ask a libel, sir somnour\nAnd answer there be my proctor\nTo such things as men will oppose me\nYes, said the somnour, pay anon, let's see\nTwelve pence to me and I will quit it. \"shall not have profit therefrom but little, my master has the profit and not I, come off and let me ride hastily, give me 12 pence for I may no longer tarry, 12 pence she said, a lady named Saint Mary, so wisely help me out of care and sin, this wide world though I should win it, yet have I not...within my hold, you know well that I am poor and old, give your alms to me poor wretch, nay, said he, let the foul fiend fetch me, if I excuse myself though you should be split, alas she said, God knows I am not in the wrong, pay me he said or sweet Saint Anne, I will immediately take away your new pan, for the debt which you owe me from old, when you made your husband cold, I paid at home for your correction, you lived quoth she, be my salvation, I was never before or now a widow or wife, summoned before your court in all my life, never was I but of my body true, unto the devil black and rough of hue, give me your body and also my pan, and when the devil heard her curse, up on her knees he said, Now may I have my own mother.\" Is this in earnest as you say, you devil?\nYou fed him or he died, and then all but he will repent,\nNot I, old fool, that is not my intent.\nThe summoner said, \"Repent me, for anything that I have had of thee,\nI would have your smoke and every part of you.\nNow brother, may the devil not be angry,\nYour body and this pan belong to me,\nYou shall be with me to hell this night,\nWhere you shall know our privacy,\nMore than a master of divinity,\nAnd with that word, the soul, the devil seized him,\nBody and soul, he went with the devil,\nWhere those summoners have their heritage,\nAnd God who made after his image,\nMankind save and guide us all and some,\nAnd leave that Summoners be good men come,\nI could tell you, Lord, said the friar,\nHad I leave for this summoner here,\nAfter the text of Candid and our other doctors,\nMany such points as your hearts might agree,\nBut nothing may I disclose,\nThough I might tell a thousand winters,\nThe pains of that cursed pain of hell,\nBut to keep us from. that cursed place\nWakes and prays Ijesu for his grace,\nSo keeps us from the tempter Satan,\nHold weward in this case.\nThe lion sits in his lair always,\nTo slay the Innocent if that he may,\nDispose you your hearts ever to withstand,\nThe fiend that will make you thrall and bond,\nHe may not tempt you out of your might,\nFor Crist will be your knight,\nAnd pray that the somnus him repents,\nOf his misdeeds or that the devil him hents.\nHere ends the Friar's tale. And begins the Somnus' prolog.\n\nThis Somnus, in his stripe high stood,\nUp on this friar, his heart was so wood,\nThat like an aspen leaf he quaked for fear,\nLordings said he, I ask one thing I desire,\nI beseech you of your courtesy,\nSince you have heard this false friar lie,\nAs suffers me, I may a tale tell,\nThis friar boasts that he knows hell,\nAnd God wot that is little wonder,\nFriars and fiends are but little asunder,\nFor parde you have oftentimes heard tell,\nHow that a friar ravished was to hell,\nIn spirit once by avision,\nAnd as an angel led him up and down,\nTo show him the. \"He saw no friars or other people there, except one. To this angel, this friar spoke: \"Sir,\" he said, \"may such grace be granted to us that none of us will come to this place.\" \"Yes,\" the angel replied, \"many a million will come, and I led Satan down here. And now Satan has such a tail, broader than that of a cart is the sail. Hold up your tail, Satan, the friar said, show your arms and let the friar see where the nest of friars is in this place. Not a furlong's distance from here, just as bees swarm out of a hive, out of the devil's arms they drove. Twenty thousand friars marched in a line, and through hell they swarmed all around. And they came again as fast as they could go, and into his arms they crept in each one. He clipped his tail again and lay still. This friar, when he looked, had his will. Up on the torments of this sorrowful place, his spirit was restored its grace. To his body again it returned, and he awoke. But still, for fear, he quaked. So was the devil ever in his mind.\" In Yorkshire, there is a merescent place called Holdernesse. In this region, a limosine was traveling, preaching and begging. On one day, this friar had preached in a church in his manner and especially over every thing. He exhorted them to pay for trentals and give alms for God's sake, whereby divine service could be honored. It was not wasted or consumed there, nor did it need to be given to possessors who could live in wealth and abundance. Trentals said he delivered from penance. Friends' souls, whether old or young, should not hold back from singing this song. He sang only one mass a day. He delivered the souls immediately, he said. It is hard for flesh and eyes to be clawed or burned or baked. Now go quickly. hastily for Christ's sake\nAnd when this friar had finished his intent,\nHe went forth his way; he would no longer rest\nWith staff and tipstaff in hand, I took them high,\nIn every man's house he began to pour and pray,\nAnd begged meal or cheese or else corn,\nHis fellow had a staff tipped with horn,\nA pair of tables of clean yew,\nAnd a pointel y polished finely,\nAnd wrote the names always as he stood,\nOf all the people who gave him anything good,\nGive us a bushel of wheat, meal or rye,\nA god's chicken or a crisp of cheese,\nOr else,\nA god's half penny or a mass penny,\nOr give us of your brown if you have any,\nA dagget of your blanket, leave dame,\nOur sustenance, dear sir, I write your name,\nBacon or cheese or such things as you find,\nA sturdy harlot went with him always behind,\nThat was her ostler and ever he bore a sack,\nAnd whatever men gave him, he placed it on his back,\nAnd when he was out at the door immediately,\nHe erased the names ever which he had written on his tables. \"Serve them with nitre and with fables, Nay there thou liar, Summoner quoth the friar, Pees quoth our ost for Christ's mother dear, Tell forth thy tale and spare it not at all, So through you, quoth the summoner, so I shall, So long he went from house to house till he came to a house where he was refreshed more than in a hundred places, Seek out the good man who's place is this, Bedridden up on a low bench he lay, Deus hic quoth he, O Thomas, good day, Said this friar courteously and free, Thomas, God yield you full often, quoth he, I have on this bench I fare well, Here have I eaten many a merry meal, And from the bench he drew a way the cat, And leaned his hat, And also his script and set himself softly down, His fellow was walking into the town, Forth with his knave into that ostery where he had shipped him that night to lie, O dear master, said this sick man, How have you fared since march began, I saw you not this fourteenth night nor more, God knows, quoth he, I labored hard, have I sorely, And especially for your salvation, Have I said many a precious word.\" And for our other friends, God bless them. I was at your church today for mass, and I delivered a sermon to my unruly wit, not according to the plain text of the holy writ, for it is difficult for you, as I suppose, and therefore I tell you all the gloss. Glossing is a very glorious thing, indeed, for letters sleep, as clerks say. There I taught them to be charitable and spend their good there, it is reasonable. And there I saw our lady where is she? I believe she is yonder in the yard. This man says she will come soon. \"Master, welcome,\" said this wife. \"This friar arises up most vigorously,\" and here he embarks and kisses her sweetly and chirps with his lips. \"Dame, you are well,\" he said. \"As your servant forever,\" thanked God that He gave you soul and life. Yet I did not see today so fair away from all the church. God save me. \"God amend the fantasies, sir,\" she said. \"Welcome, Algatis, you are by my feast.\" \"Thank you, lady, I have always found you gracious.\" But of your great goodness, be your leave. I would. I pray that you do not grieve me. I will speak a little word with Thomas. It is my diligence and study in confession and preaching to tenderly probe a man's conscience. I walk about and cleanse men's souls. He is always angry as a pisspot, though he has all that he can desire. Though I may make him warm and lie over him with my leg and arm, he grumbles like our boor in the sty. I have no other delight from him. I cannot please him in any way, O Thomas. I pray thee, let the devil be amended. Ire is a thing that offends holy God, and of this I will speak a word or two. Now, master said the wife, where are you going? What will you dine, I will go thereabout. Now, dame said he, you shall dine without doubt. Have I of a capon but the liver, and of your white bread but a shivings, and after that a roast pig's head. But you would not have any beast be dead for me. Then I would have had sufficient sustenance with you. I am a man of little sustenance. My spirit has its fostering. in the Bible: \"My body is always ready and so penitent to make my body fully destroyed, I pray you, dame, do not be annoyed, though I show you my counsel so kindly. God forbid I would have told it to but a few. And sir said she but one word or I go. My child is dead with you within this work's two hours. Soon after that, you went out of this town. His death I saw by revelation. Said this friar at home in our dormitory, I dare well say that within an hour after his death I saw him borne to bliss. In my vision, so God my soul was. So dead were Sexton and our porter, who have been true friars these forty years. They may now be thanked for his love. Make her jubilee and walk about above, and up I rose, and all our convent also. With many a tear trickling on my cheek, without noise and clattering of bells. Te Deum was our song and nothing else. Soon after to Christ I prayed an holy hour, thanking him for my good revelation. For sir and dame, trust me well. Our prayers have been more effective, and we see more of Christ's secret things than\" We live in penance and abstinence,\nYet kings and their people live in riches and indulgence,\nDisdaining the world's lust,\nLazarus and the rich lived differently,\nAnd they had various riches by their side.\nWhoever wants to pray must fast and be clean,\nAnd subject his soul and make his body thin,\nWe fare as the Apostle says, and food and clothing suffice us,\nEven if they are not good.\nThe cleansing and fasting of monks,\nMakes Christ exalted,\nMoses fasted for forty days and forty nights,\nGod, who is full of might,\nSpoke with him on Mount Sinai,\nWith an empty stomach from fasting, many days,\nThere he received the law that was written,\nWith God's finger, and you well know,\nIn the mountain of Sinai,\nWith the high God who is our healer,\nHe fasted for a long time and was in contemplation,\nAaron, who had the temple in charge,\nAnd also the other priests each one,\nInto the temple they went when they should go,\nTo pray for the people and do service,\nThey would not drink in any way,\nNo drink that mighty them drink make,\nBand wake,\nLest that they deny listen what I say,\nBut they be sober that for the people pray,\nWare that I say for it ynow suffices,\nOur lord Jesus as holy writ decrees,\nGive us examples of fasting and prayers,\nTherefore we mendicant friars,\nHave been wedded to poverty and continence,\nTo charity, humility, and patience,\nTo persecution for every righteousness,\nTo weeping, mercy, and cleanness,\nAnd therefore more you see that our prayers,\nI speak of us, we mendicant friars,\nAre to the high God more acceptable,\nThan yours with your feasts at your tubyl,\nFrom Paradise first, if I shall not lie,\nWas man outcast for his gluttony,\nAnd cast was out to labor certainly,\nBut hear now Thomas what I shall say,\nI have no text of it as I suppose,\nBut I find a manner of a gloss,\nThat specifically our sweet lord Jesus,\nSpoke this through friars when he said thus,\nBlessed are they that pour in spirit are,\nAnd so forth all the gospel you shall see,\nWhether it is liker to our profession,\nOr theirs who swim in. possession.\nFy on her pomp and her lewdness.\nAnd of her lewdness I defend them.\nI think they are like a woman,\nFat as a whale and walk like a swan,\nAs wanton as a bottle in the spice,\nHer prayer is of little reverence,\nWhen they for souls say the Psalm of David,\nLo, buf they say Cor meum eructavit.\nWho follow Christ's gospel and his lore,\nBut we that humble be, chaste and poor,\nLaborers of God's word and not auditors,\nTherefore, just as a hawk upsprings into the air,\nSo prayer rises up into the eye,\nOf charitable and chaste ones,\nMake them join in God's earis two,\nThomas, Thomas, so must I ride or go,\nAnd by that lord that was called Saint Ives,\nNe thou, our brother, were shalt thou never thrive,\nIn our chapter pray we both day and night,\nTo Christ to send both health and might,\nThy body to wield quickly,\nGod knows what he feels not I,\nAs help me God in few years,\nHave I spent on many diverse friars,\nFull many apound yet fare I never the better,\nCertain my good have I almost beset,\nFarewell my gold for. The friar answered Thomas, \"Do you seek what the various friars require? What does he who has a perfect leech need to seek other leeches in any town? Your constancy is your confusion. Hold you then, and also all our convent, to pray for you is not sufficient. Thomas, that jape is not worth a mite. Your malady is because we have to be little. And give the convent forty groats and half a quart of oats. And give that friar a penny and let him go. Nothing is so. What is a farthing worth, divided among twelve? Each thing that is united in itself is stronger than when it is scattered. Thomas, you shall not be flattered by me. You would have our labor for nothing. The high god who has this world says that the workman is worthy his hire. Thomas, of your treasure I desire nothing. But that our Convent may be diligent in praying for you, and in upholding Christ's own church. Thomas, if you want to learn to work, you may find building upon churches.\" If it is good in. Thomas' life of indecision\nYou lie here filled with anger and with ire,\nWith which the devil sets your heart on fire,\nAnd torments here the holy Innocent,\nYour wife, who is here so meek and so patient.\nTherefore, Thomas, if you wish,\nDo not strike your wife as if for the best,\nAnd take these words away now by your faith,\nRegarding such matters. Lo, what the wise say,\nWith you, your house shall not be a lion,\nDo not oppress your subjects,\nNor let your acquaintance flee.\nAnd Thomas yet,\nBe wary of her who sleeps in your bosom,\nBeware of the serpent that so slyly creeps,\nUnder the grass and stings most subtly,\nBeware of her and listen patiently,\nTwenty thousand men have lost their lives\nFor striking with their lovers and their wives.\nSince you have such a holy, meek wife,\nWhat need does Thomas have to make strife?\nThere is no serpent crueler than a woman,\nWhen a man provokes her, she has not half his power,\nBut when she has caught your ire,\nVery vengeance is then all her desire,\nRage is a sin of the seven deadly,\nAnd utterly abominable to the. A king of heaven, and to himself it is a destruction, this every lewd vicar or parson can see, how anger engenders homicide. Anger indeed is the executor of pride. I could say much sorrow that my tale should last till tomorrow. Therefore, I pray God both day and night, that to an unfortunate man God sends little might. It is great harm and certainly great pity, to set an unfortunate man in high degree, who was hasty in judgment altogether. On a day out rode knights two, and as fortune would have it, that it was so, that one of them came home, and the other did nothing. The knight before the judge was brought, who said, \"Thou hast thy fellow slain; for which I condemn thee to death certain.\" And to another knight he commanded, \"Go lead him to the death I charge thee.\" And happily, as they went by the way, toward the place where he should die, the knight came who had been led, and they thought it was the best course, to lead them both to the judge again. They said, \"Lord, the knight has not slain, his fellow here he stands whole alive.\" \"This is to say, both to you two and three, and to the first I condemn you most utterly, be dead. And you also most need lose your head, for you are the cause of your fellow's death. And to the third knight, thus he says, you have not done what I commanded. And thus he slew them all three. Irus Cambustus was also a drunkard and delighted himself in being a shrew. And so befits a lord of his retinue, one who loves well virtuous morality. Said a lord between himself and the other thus, \"A lord is lost if he is in any way vicious, and drunkenness is also a foul record of any man, and especially of a lord. Drink, men say, for God's love, more temperately. Wine makes a man live wretchedly, his mind and also his limbs each one. The reverse you shall see said by him anon, and prove it by your own experience. Wine does not bring such offense to people. There is no wine that robs me of my strength, of hand or foot or mine own sight. And for contempt he drank, a hundred parts more than he did before, and right away this your cursed one.\"\" This knight's son le (remains)\nHe commanded him to stand before him,\nAnd suddenly he took his bow in hand,\nAnd drew it up to his ear,\nAnd with an arrow he slew the child there.\nNow, have I a sure hand or none?\nHe is all my might and mind gone,\nHas wine bereaved me of my eyesight.\nWhat should I tell the knight's answer?\nHis son was slain. There is no more to say.\nBe wary therefore with lords for playing,\nSing Placebo, and I shall, if I can,\nBut if it be to a poor man,\nTo a poor man men should his vices tell,\nBut not to a lord, though he should go to hell.\nLo, Irus, the strong Turrus,\nHow did he destroy the river of Gyges?\nFor that an horse of his was drenched therein,\nWhen he went to Babylon to win,\nHe made that the river was so small,\nThat men might ride and wade across all.\nLo, what did he say who so well teaches,\nHe is no fellow to an ungracious man,\nHe is no companion with a woodman,\nLest thou repent, I will say no further.\nNow Thomas, leave, brother, leave thy ire,\nThou shalt find me. as a squire hold the devil's knife not in thy heart\nThy anger does me much harm\nBut show to me all thy confession\nNay, said the sick man, I am Saint Simon\nI have sworn this day before my curate\nI have told him all my heart\nIt needs no more to speak of it, he said\nBut if it pleases my humility\nGive me then of thy good to make our cloister\nSaid he, for many a muscle and many an oyster\nWhen other men have been well at ease\nHave been our food and our cloister to raise\nAnd yet God knows not one of our foundations\nPerformed is not one of our churches fully paid\nThere is not a tile with us, our women\nWe owe fifty pounds for stones\nNow help Thomas, for him who harvests hell\nOr else most we our books sell\nAnd if men lack our preaching\nThen goes the world to destruction\nFor who so will take us from this world\nSo God save me, Thomas, be thy leave\nHe would take out of this world the sun\nFor who can teach and work as we can\nAnd that is not of little time, said he\nBut if Ely was or Elise\nHave friars. He who finds me in the record,\nIn charity, thank you, our Lord.\nNow Thomas, help for St. Charity,\nAnd sit down at once on your knee.\nThis sick man was near to dying for the cold,\nHe wished that the friar had been a fire.\nWith his false dissimulation,\nSuch things as are in my possession.\nQuoth he, \"May I give you and no other?\nYou say me thus, how am I your brother?\nYou are certain that the friar trusts me well,\nI took our dame our letter and our seal.\nNow well said he, and something shall I give\nTo your holy Convent while I live.\nAnd in your hand, you shall have it at once.\nOn this condition and no other,\nThat you depart it so, my dear brother,\nSo that every friar has as much as another.\nThis you shall swear on your profession,\nWithout fraud or cavil.\nI swear it, said the friar, on my faith,\nAnd there with all his hand in his hand he lies.\nLo here is my faith in me shall be no lack,\nThen put your hand down right behind my back.\nSaid this man and grope well behind,\nNear my buttocks there shall you find\nA thing that I have hidden in privacy. A fellow brother, who was to accompany me, reached out to the cliff in hope of finding a generous gift. When this sick man felt the brother groping around him, about his towel, the brother let out a fart. No capon drawn in a cart could produce a sound like that. The brother rose up, roaring like a wild lion. A false jester taunted him, \"You do this in spite of Cock's bones.\" \"You shall buy this fart if you can,\" he retorted. His men, hearing such a commotion, came rushing in and drove out the brother. He went forth with a heavy heart. He looked like a wild boar, grinding his teeth in anger. A sturdy passer-by went to the court. He was a man of great honor, to whom the brother was always confessor. This worthy man was the lord of that village. The lord sat eating at his table. Unable to contain his curiosity, he finally looked up and said, \"Bless me, what is this commotion?\" I see something amiss, my lord. Please, sit down and tell me what happened. \"And it shall be amended if I may. I have quoted him as saying he had contempt today. God grant it to you in your village. That he would not have abhorrence Of that which I have received in the town And yet it grieves me, As the old Blassemyd has our holy Convent also. Now master said the Lord I beseech you, Master said he but a servant. Though you have had in school that honor God dislikes that rabble address us Neither in market nor in our large hall Nor forsooth he but tell me all your grief Sir said this friar in odious misdeed This day is my order and me And so consequently in each degree Of holy church God amend it soon Sir said the Lord you know what is to be done Distempers you not you be my confessor You are the salt of the earth and the savior For God's love your patience now hold Tell me your grief and he at once told As you have heard before you know well what The lady of the house sat quietly Until she had heard what the friar said Eye God's mother said she the blessed\" A maiden asked me faithfully, Madam, what think you of him? She replied that she thought I should. I say, a boy has done a boy's deed. What should I say? God let him never be. His sick head is full of vanity. I hold him in a manner of a lunatic. Madam replied, he is God, I shall not lie. But I in some way may wreak on him. I shall do it. That false blasphemer who charged me to part, which will not depart, to every like with mockery. The Lord sat still as if in a trance. And in his heart he rolled up and down. How this boy dared to show such a problem to the friar. Never before had I heard of such a matter. I believe the devil put it in his mind. In arts metric, no man will find before this day such a question. Who should make a demonstration? That every man should have his part, as of a sound or of a sour of a fart. O nice proud boy, I shrew his face. Sirs, said the Lord with hard grace, to every one tell me how, a fart should be departed now. It is. an impossible it may not be\nA nobleman let him never the reverberation of a fart and every sound\nBe but of air's reverberation\nAnd there it was little and little away\nThere is no man can tell be my fee\nIf that it were departed equally\nLo, this nobleman, how shrewdly\nUnto my confessor to-day he spoke\nI hold him certain a demoniac\nNow eat your meat and let the nobleman go play\nLet him go hang himself a devil's way\nNow stood the lord's squire at his board\nWho carves his meat and hears word by word\nOf all this thing which I have you said\nMy lord said he was not evil paid\nFor I could tell for a gown cloth\nTo you, sir, brother, so that you be not angry\nHow that this fart should even deserve\nAmong your convent if it please you\nTel said the lord and thou shalt have anon\nA gown cloth by God and by St. John\nMy lord said he when the weather is fair\nRight here before you sitting in a chair\nLet bring a cart wheel right in to this hall\nBut so that it have its spokes all.\n\nA cart wheel has twelve spokes. And bring me 12 friars, why? For 13 is a convent as I guess. Your confessor here for his wordiness Shall perform the number of his convent. Then shall they kneel down by one assent And to every speech in this manner Ful sadly lay his nose shall a friar Your noble confessor ther Shall hold his nose upright under the nares Then shall this fellow with bellying stiff & thought And set him on the wheel right of this cart Up on the naked make him lie And you shall see peril of my life The proof which that is demonstrative That equally the sound of it will wind And also the stink out at the speeches end Save that this worthy man your confessor Shall have the first fruit as reason is The noble usage of friars yet it is The worthier reward And certainly he has it well deserved He has taught us so much good Today with preaching in the pulpit there he stood That I may He had the first smell of farts three And so would all his convent hardly He holds his hand so holy Each man save the. The friar spoke in this matter as well as Ouyde or Ptolemy concerning the boys they said subtly, and by wit made him speak as he did. He is no fool or demoniac. And Friar John has won a new gown. My tale is done. Sir Clerk of Oxford spoke up, \"You cried out as quietly and still as does a maiden sitting at the table. I heard no word from you today. I suppose you are studying some sophism. But Solomon said every thing has its time. For God's sake be of good cheer. It is not the time now to study here. Tell us some merry tale, by your leave. For what man is entered into a play, he needs must assent to the play, but preach not as friars do in lent, to make us repent of our old sins and weep, nor let your tale make us sleep. Tell us some merry thing of adventures. Your terms, your colors, and your figures keep them in store until you have ended it. High style is when men write to kings in plain speech. Speak so plainly at this time I pray, that we may understand what you say. This worthy clerk answered benignly. quod I am under your command\nYou have us now under your governance\nTherefore I shall do your obedience\nAs far as reason requires hardly\nI will tell you a tale which I learned at Padua\nOf a worthy clerk whose rhetoric was sweet\nFrancis Petrarch the laureate poet\nIs named this clerk, whose rhetoric was sweet\nHe enlightened all Italy with poetry\nAs Lucan did with philosophy or law or other particular art\nBut death, which will not allow us to dwell here\nBut as it were the twinkling of an eye\nBoth have slain, and all shall we die\nBut I will tell of this worthy man\nWho taught me this tale as I began\nHe first, with a high style, begins his tale\nBefore he writes the story of it\nHe describes a problem in which he discourses\nOf Pembroke and of Saluzzo the country\nAnd speaks of Arpenna the high hills\nThat are the bounds of west Lombardy\nAnd of Mount Vesuvius in particular\nTaking his first springing and its course\nWhich the East ever increases in its\n\n(Note: The text seems to be incomplete at the end, with missing words or lines.) To Emeli, ward of Ferrara and Venice,\nThis which is a long thing to discuss. I think it inappropriate, save that he will convey his matter. Here begins the clerk's tale of Oxenford.\n\nThere was on the west side of Italy,\nAt the root of Vesulus the cold,\nA plentiful, prosperous land,\nWhere many a town and tower you may behold,\nFounded in the time of the old father,\nAnd many another delightful sight,\nAnd this noble country is called Saluces,\nA marquis once was its lord,\nAs were his worthy elders before,\nAnd all his lieges obedient to his hand,\nBoth the less and more.\nThus he lived in delight and has given you,\nBeloved and feared through favor of fortune,\nBoth of his lords and also of his commune.\nWith this, he was to speak of lineage,\nThe gentlest baron of Lombardy,\nA fair person, strong and young of age,\nFull of honor and courtesy,\nDiscreet in leading his country,\nSave in. \"He was to blame, this young lord named Walter. I blame him for not considering in advance what might happen to him, but his lust was all that occupied his thoughts. He neglected almost all other cares and let himself slide. And what was worst of all, he refused to marry for anything that might be unfavorable. Only this point caused his people such distress that they came to him one day and one of the wisest among them, or else the lord himself gave his consent, urged him to tell him what his people meant. Or else, could he have presented such a matter himself? He said to the Marquis as you will hear, \"Noble Marquis, your humanity assures us and grants us courage. Whenever it is necessary for us to tell you our heaviness, accept now, lord, of your gentleness, that we come to you with pitiful hearts and let your ears not despise my voice. I have not done more in this matter than another man has in this place. Yet, for as much as you, my lord, have always shown me, \" I desire to ask for a moment of your time, my lord,\nTo present our request and pray that you do as you please,\nFor we greatly admire and appreciate you,\nAnd all that you have done, we could not deny,\nHow we might live in greater felicity, save one thing,\nIf it be your will to become a married man,\nThen your people would find solace and rest,\nBow your head beneath the blessed yoke,\nOf marriage, not of servitude,\nWhich men call spousal or wedlock,\nAnd think, my lord, among your wise thoughts,\nHow our days pass in various ways,\nFor though we sleep or wake, ride or run,\nTime flies and will not wait for anyone,\nAnd though your green youth, the flower of your age,\nIs creeping into age like any stone,\nAnd death approaches every age and strikes,\nIn every state, for there is no escape,\nAnd also, as we all know, we shall all die,\nUncertain of the day when death will fall upon us,\nAccept then, from us, the true intent,\nThat we have never refused your help,\nAnd we will. If you will consent, choose a wife in a short time, at least. Born of the noblest and most esteemed, Of all this land, so that it seems An honor to God and you, as I can judge. Deliver us out of all this anxious fear And take a wife, for high God's sake. If it be God's will, may your life end through your death, And may a strange successor take your heritage. Woe to us if we were to live without you. Therefore, we pray you to hastily marry. Hear this prayer and Make the marquis' heart feel pity. You said he is dear to you, My own people, To whom I never before thought to bind myself. I rejoice in my freedom, Which seldom is found in marriage. There I was free, I must be in servitude. But nevertheless, I see your true intent, And trust in your wit, and have always done so. Wherefore, of my own free will, I will consent To wed you as soon as ever you may. But there, where you have offered me today, To choose a wife, I release you. Choose and pray you, of your profit, For God knows that children often differ From their worthy elders. Before:\nI come before God, not of the street,\nFrom which they are generated and bore me.\nI trust in God and have done so before\nMy marriage and my estate and rest.\nI commit him, may he do as he will.\nLet me alone in choosing of my wife.\nBut I pray and charge upon you,\nWhat wife you take that you ensure to me,\nTo worship her while her life may endure,\nIn word and work both here and everywhere,\nAs if she were an Emperor's daughter.\nFurthermore, this you shall swear:\nAgainst my choice shall you never strive.\nSince I shall forgo my liberty\nAt your request as ever I may thrive.\nThere where my heart is set, she will wed.\nAnd if you will assent in such manner,\nI pray you speak no more of this matter.\nWith hearty will they swear and assent,\nTo all this thing said, no one may say nay.\nBeseeching him of grace or that they may go,\nThat he would grant them a certain day\nOf his sponsorship as soon as ever he may.\nFor yet always many of the people feared\nThat the Marquis would no wife wed.\nHe granted it. On a day such as this, he vowed to be married seriously and said that he did all this at her request. They, with humble intent, kneeled up before her reverently. He thanked them all and thus ended their intention. They rose again and he took his officers and commanded for the feast preparation. He gave such charge to his private knights and squires as he pleased, and they obeyed his commandment. Each of them did all his diligence to do high reverence to that honorable palace, where this Marquis showed his marriage. There stood a delightful sight, a village of poor people. They had their leasts and their harvest. From their labor, they took their sustenance. After that, the earth gave them abundance. Among these poor men, there dwelt a man, the poorest of all. But God in His mercy sent help to him. Into a little ox's stall, Iacolana men of that village called him. He had a fair daughter. Grisilde, this young maiden was named,\nFairer than most under the sun,\nShe was raised in wealth and grace,\nNo lewd desires within her heart did race,\nBut she drank of the well more than the wine tonne,\nFor the pleasure of virtue was her choice,\nYet tender in age, in her breast,\nVirginity's secrets were suppressed,\nHer old poor father she cared for,\nA few sheep in the field she tended,\nShe would not be idle till she slept,\nAnd when she returned home, she would bring\nHerbs or other remedies often,\nWhich she set aside for her living,\nHer bed she kept hard and nothing soft,\nAnd ever she kept her father's life aloft,\nWith obedience and diligence,\nSo that the child might do reverence to the father.\nUpon Grisilde, this poor creature,\nThe Marquis cast his eye,\nAs he would on hunting, perhaps,\nAnd when it chanced that he might see her,\nHe did not look wantonly, His eye fell upon her in sad way,\nUpon her face he would often cast,\nIn his heart he commended her, her worth surpassing any,\nOf such young age, equal in beauty and deed,\nThough the people had no great insight,\nHe considered her worth in truth,\nHer beauty and disposed himself to,\nMarry her alone if ever he should,\nThe day of wedding came but no one could tell,\nWhich marvelous woman it should be,\nWondering, many a man said in private,\n\"Will our Lord live in vain?\nWill He not marry all the while?\nWhy does He entangle Himself and us?\nBut nevertheless, this Marquis did make,\nOf gems set in gold and azure,\nBrooches and rings for Grisildis' sake,\nAnd to her clothing took the measure,\nOf a maiden like unto her stature,\nAnd also of her other ornaments all,\nThat to such a wedding should belong,\nThe time of undressing approached on the same day,\nAnd all the Palaces were put in array,\nBoth hall and chambers each in their degree,\nHouses of office. In this royal household, you may find numerous elegant provisions. The Marquis, with his lords and ladies in attendance, invited those who were summoned to the feast. From his retinue, I told you about the village where this custom is practiced. In this attire, the people follow the right way. Grisilde, who is so innocent and beautiful, went to fetch water at the well. She returns home as soon as she can. That day, she wished to see some of the spectacle. She thought she would join other maidens, her companions, to watch. I wish to find the Marquess to do my duty at home, and then you may observe. If she follows this path to the castle and intends to cross the threshold, the Marquis calls out to her. She sets down her water jar beside the threshold in an oxen stall. And falls down on her knees to greet him. This thoughtful marquis spoke to the maid\nUntil she had heard what the lords willed\nThe marquis spoke solemnly to the maiden, and said:\n\"Where is your father, Grisildis?\"\nAnd she, with reverent and humble mien,\nAnswered the lord: \"He is already here.\"\nAnd she went in, and fetched her father for him.\nHe took the old man by the hand and said:\n\"I cannot, I cannot\nThe pleasure of my heart concealed longer\nIf you agree to this,\nMy daughter I will take or believe,\nAs my wife, unto our lives' end.\nYou love me, I know it well, certain.\nAnd you are my faithful liege man, true.\nAnd all that pleases me, I dare say,\nIt pleases you, and especially for that reason.\nTell me that point which I said before,\nAnd if you will, draw near to that purpose,\nTo take me as your son in law.\"\nThis sudden case, this man was stoned,\nThat read he withdrew abashed and all quaked.\nHe stood uncertainly and said: \"My willingness\nIs as yours, my lord.\" I will no longer call you my lord so dearly,\nYet I will say this to the Marquis softly:\nIn your chamber, you and she\nShould have a conversation and know why\nFor I will ask if it will be\nTo be my wife and rule her after me\nAnd all this shall be done in your presence\nI will not speak outside of your audience\nAnd in the chamber, while they were about,\nHer treaties which you shall afterwards hear\nAnd wonder at how honestly she kept her father there\nBut Grisilde wondered greatly\nFor never before had she seen such a sight\nNo wonder it was, though she was stoned\nTo see such a great gesture come into that place\nShe was never accustomed to such gestures\nFor which she looked at him with a very pale face\nBut shortly, I will chase this matter away\nThese are the words that the Marquis said\nTo this very kind and faithful maiden\nGrisilde, he said, you shall well understand\nIt pleases both your father and me\nThat I wed you and it may so stand\nAs I suppose that you will that it so be. \"You ask this of me first, he replied, it shall be done hastily. Will you consent, or else remain silent? I say this, be ready with good heart, to all my desires and whatever I freely think, though you laugh or frown, and never say no, neither in word nor by frowning countenance. Swear this to me, and I hereby assure you my allegiance. Wondering at these words, she said, \"Lord, I am unworthy. But as you will yourself, so will I. I swear that never willingly, in word or thought, will I disobey you. I would rather die than disobey. This is enough, Grisilde, he said. And he went forth with a solemn countenance. Out at the door, and afterwards she came. And to the people he said in this manner, \"This is my wife, who stands here. Honor her and love her I pray. Whoever loves me, there is no more to say. She should bring nothing of her old gear into my house he had, lest women should spoil it.\"\" These ladies were not fully pleased\nTo handle her clothes where she was\nBut nevertheless, this maiden bright in hue\nFrom foot to head they clothed her anew\nThey combed her hair that lay untressed\nRudely and with small fingers\nA crown on her head they had dressed\nAnd set her full of great and small owls\nOf her array what should I make a tale\nAmongst the people, she was unknown for her fairness\nWhen she was translated into such riches\nThese marks had her espoused with a ring\nBrought for the same cause and then she was set\nUpon a horse snow-white, fully ambling\nAnd to his Palaces or he lingered yet\nWith joyful people that led and met\nConveyed her and thus the day they spent\nIn revel till the sun began to descend\nAnd shortly forth this tale to chase\nI say that to this new Markess\nGod has sent such favor from his grace\nThat it seemed unlikely\nThat she was born and reared in rudeness\nAs in a city or in an ox's stall\nBut nurtured in an Emperor's hall\nTo every person she became so dear\nAnd worshipful that She was born there, and from her birth, they knew her age year by year. Unsure that she was the daughter of Ianicul, whom I spoke of before, they hardly dared to swear it. They thought she was another creature, for she was so virtuous. She was praised for her excellence, which God had endowed in such abundance. She was so wise, discreet, and eloquent, so kind and worthy of reverence, that she could win over the hearts of the people. Not only in Saluces, the town, but also in many regions, her name was published as a sign of her generosity. If one spoke well of her, another agreed. Her name spread far and wide, and men and women, young and old, went to Saluces to be near her.\n\nThis Walter, though not truly rich, lived honestly with Fortunatus's good fortune. He had enough grace both at home and outwardly. And because under low degree, virtue was hidden among the people, he was considered a prudent man, a rarity. Not only did Grisilde bring this about through her. In this land, where Lady Grisilde dwelt with humble submission, there was no discord, rancor, or sadness. She could restore common profit whenever required. In all the land under her rule, peace reigned, even if her husband was absent or nonexistent. If gentlemen or others from that region were angry, she would reconcile them. Wise and mature were her words, and her great equity was renowned. From heaven, she was sent to save and correct every wrong.\n\nNot long after Grisilde's wedding, she bore a daughter. Had her firstborn been a son, Schild, the people would have been glad. The likelihood is that she bore more children after this one. When this child had nursed but a little while, the Marquis, desiring to test his wife's sadness, devised a remarkable plan one day to tempt her. He had assayed her often enough before, and found her ever good what she needed. Yet he tempted her always more and more. Though some may praise it for subtle wit, I say full evil it is to assay a wife when it is not needed. And put her in anger and fear. The marquis wrought this in this manner:\n\nHe came alone one night there as she lay, with stern face and right ugly mien. And said thus: \"Grisilde, that day I took you from your poor ray, and put you in a state of high noblesse. You have not forgotten this, as I guess. I say, Grisilde, the present dignity In which I have put you, makes you not forgetful to be, that I took you. For any well you must yourself know. Take heed of every word I say. There is no wight that hears but we two. You know this,\n\nIt is not long ago that you came into this house. And though to me you are both life and dear, to my gentils you are nothing so. They say to them it is great woe to be subject and in servage To the one born in such small a state.\" \"And namely they have spoken doubtlessly, but I desire, as I have done before, to live my life with them in peace and rest. I may not in this, I must do with your daughter for the best, not as I would but as my people please. And yet God knows this is full loathsome to me, but nevertheless without your witness I will not do, except he said that you assent to this thing. That you command and swear in your village on the day that was made our marriage. When she had heard all this, she was not displeased in word, nor in countenance nor in continence. For it seemed she was not agreed. She says, \"Lord, all lies in your pleasure.\" My child and I with heartfelt obedience are your own, and you may both save and spend your own thing as you will. There may be nothing so dear to you that may displease me. Nor I desire anything in any way to have. Nor this is the will in my heart and ever shall be. No length of time or death may deface or turn my heart to another place. This was this Marquis of hers.\" answering him, it seemed he was not so willing. After a while, he privately told all his intent to a man and sent a servant to him. This servant, who had the ability to handle great matters and deal with sad ones, knew well that he loved and feared him. When this servant entered the chamber, he stood still and said, \"Madame, you must forgive me, though I do what I am compelled. You are wise and well know that a lord's commands may not be feigned. They may be deceived or opposed, but men must obey their lust. And so I have nothing more to say. This child I have been commanded to take. I spoke no more, and he took the child from him contemptuously and began to make a hideous face, as if he would have slain it or gone. Gresilde must endure and consent. And as a lamb, she sits meek and still, and lets this cruel servant do as he will. Suspicions were the rumor of this. A man, I suspect his face, his word as well,\nThe time when he began this, I suspect as well,\nAlas, her daughter whom she loved so,\nShe thought he would have slain it, though,\nBut she neither wept nor showed fear,\nConfirmed by the Marquis, he liked it,\nBut at last she spoke and to the servant prayed,\nA true gentleman you are, she said,\nYou must make my child kiss it once or it will die,\nAnd in her arms she placed the little child,\nWith a very sad face and a cheerful heart,\nAnd she lulled it and after began to kiss it,\nAnd thus she said in her gentle voice,\nFarewell, my child, I shall never see thee,\nBut since I have marked it with the holy cross,\nOf that father blessed be thou,\nWho for us died upon the cross of sorrow,\nThy soul, little child, I commend to him,\nFor this night thou shalt die for my sake,\nI believe a nurse in this case might have cried \"Alas,\"\nBut she, though sad and steadfast, endured all adversity,\nAnd to the servant meekly she said,\nTake back here again your little maid,\nGo now, she said. She asked my lord's horse but one thing I pray, That my lord forbade it you at the latest, To bury this little body in some place, That's clean and doesn't foul it to raise. But he to that purpose said no word, Only took the child and went on his way. This servant came to the lord again And told him, point by point, plainly, Of Griselda and her behavior. He presented him with his daughter dear. Somewhat my lord has done in his manner, But nevertheless his purpose was, As lords do when they wish to have their way, And had his servant privately, To carry the child softly and wrap, With all the circumstance tenderly, And carry it in a casket or a lap, But on pain of his head not to swap, That no man should know of this matter, Nor when it came nor where it went, But to Bolingbroke, his sister dear, He should take it and show her this matter, Asking her to do her business, To foster this child in all gentleness, And whose child it was, he had him. From every knight for anything that may be,\nThe sergeant went and completed this deed,\nBut to this Marquis now we return,\nHe goes with haste, imagining,\nIf he might see his wife's cheer,\nOr perceive by her word that she\nHad changed, but never yet could he find,\nExcept in one likeness, sad and kind,\nAs glad as humble in service,\nAnd in love as she was wont to be,\nShe was to him in every manner wise,\nNot a word from her daughter spoke she,\nNo accident, no adversity,\nWas seen in her or her daughter's name,\nNor named in earnest nor in jest,\n\nIn this estate there passed four years,\nBefore she bore a child by this Walter,\nA man-child he bore, gracious and fair,\nTo behold. And when the people told him,\nNot only he but all his court rejoiced and gave thanks,\n\nWhen it was two years old and from the breast,\nD from his nurse one day,\nThis Marquis caught another,\nTo tempt his wife again if he might,\nVainly was she tempted in trial,\nBut. Men cannot measure the patience of one who finds a suffering wife. The Marchioness spoke this, and my people bear us heavily, especially since my son was born. Now it is worse than ever in all our age. The murmur weighs heavily on my heart and courage. It has come close to destroying my heart. When Walter is gone, the blood of Janicula will succeed and be our lord, for we have none other. Such words my people say out of fear. I ought to heed such murmur. I truly am disposed to serve him as I served his brother. I think to serve him privately. I warn you not to act suddenly out of sorrow for no reason. Be patient and endure it. I have said she spoke thus and will ever say so. I want nothing certain from anyone but as you please, it causes me no harm at all. Even if my daughter and son are slain at your commandment. I have had no part in raising two children, but first sickness and after wedlock and thee, my lord. Thou dost with thy own thing require no leave from me, for I left all my clothing at home when I first came to thee. She said I left my will and all my freedom and took thy clothing, therefore I pray, do thou grant me thy pleasure, I will obey thy will. And certainly, if thou wilt tell me thy will or thy lust, I would do it without negligence. But now I know thy lust and thy pleasure is firm and stable. I wish my death might bring thee ease. Right gladly would I die to please thee. Death cannot make any comparison to thy love, and when this Marquis says that the constancy of his wife he casts down, his eyes wander and wonder that she may endure this manner of array. And he goes forth with dry countenance, but to his heart it was full great pleasure. This ugly servant in the same way, or even worse if men can devise, has taken her son who is full of beauty. And. She was ever so patient, she showed no sign of sorrow, but soon smiled and blessed him after. She prayed him if he would bury her little son in the earth, tenderly laying his delicate limbs before him. She asked him to save him from birds and beasts. But she could get no other answer from him. He seemed to be considering. But to grant her request tenderly, he brought it to her. This marchioness marveled more and more at her patience and that she had not known this, that she loved her children perfectly. He thought she might be hiding some subtlety, malice, and cruelty that she had endured with a sad face. But he knew well that she loved her children more than herself. Now, if I may ask, women, would these attempts not be enough? What more could a sturdy husband contrive to prove her womanhood or constancy? And he continued. But there are people of such disposition and so determined to make such attempts that they cannot be stopped, just as they were bound to a stake. This Marquis had fully intended, from the beginning, to test his wife as he had been disposed. He waited for any word or indication that her feelings towards him had changed. But he could never find any variation. She remained constant in heart and appearance. The older she grew, the more true she was to him and the more pleasing. For this reason, it seemed that there was but one will for both of them, as Walter Lestrade. The same lust was her pleasure as well. And God be thanked for the best. She showed herself well for no worldly unrest. A wife should will nothing but as her husband would. The slander of Walter spread far and wide. It was said that, with a cruel heart, he had wickedly murdered both his children in private. Such murmurs were common among them. No wonder, then, that the people beforehand had praised him well for the scandal of his defame. Made them believe that. To be a murderer is an hateful name, but nevertheless, for earnest or for game, he of his cruel purpose would not abstain. To tempt his wife was his only intent. He went in a subtle way to the court of Rome. Informing his will, he commanded them to devise such bulls as would suffice for his cruel purposes. The Pope had commanded, as for his people's rest, that he should wed another wife if he wished. I say he commanded that he should consider, The Pope's bull makes mention, That he had left his first wife to let go, As by the Pope's own dispensation, To stop the rancor of discord Between his people and him, this said the bull, Which they had published in full. The rude people, as no wonder is, were filled with wonder but when these tidings came to Grisildis, I deem that the heart of she was full of woe. But she, like sad, was ever disposing herself To endure the adversity of fortune, Abiding ever his lust and his pleasure, To whom she was given heart and all, As to his very wordly. But if I tell this story, I shall mention,\nA letter in which he reveals his intent,\nSecretly sent to the earl of Pauve,\nWho had wedded his sister, pleading him,\nTo bring home his children two in state,\nOpenly and honorably, but one thing he pleaded,\nThat no one, should they inquire,\nShould reveal whose children they were,\nBut say the maid shall wed the Marquis of Saluzes,\nAnd as the earl was prayed, so he did,\nSetting out that day, he rode swiftly and soon,\nToward Saluzes to guide this maid,\nHer young brother riding by her side,\nFearful of her marriage,\nThis fresh maid full of gems clear,\nFreshly adorned in her manner,\nAnd thus with great noblesse and glad cheer,\nToward Saluzes they sped her journey,\nDay after day they rode in her way,\nMeanwhile, this Marquis is yet determined to tempt,\nThe very depths of her courage,\nTo fully experience and learn. She was as steadfast as ever. He publicly declared here: \"I had pleasure in having you as my wife for your goodness, not for your truth or obedience, but for your lineage or riches. But now I truly know that if I were to grant myself great lordship, I could not do as every plowman can. Another wife and crying days would follow. Therefore, I concentrate on this: my new wife is coming by the way. Be strong of heart and vacate her place. And that dowry you brought me, take it back. I give you leave of my grace. Return to your father's house, he said. No man can always have prosperity. With even heart, I advise you to endure the stroke of fortune or adventure. And she replied in patience: \"My lord, I knew and expected this between your magnificence and my poverty. No one can or may make any comparison. I never held myself worthy in any way to be.\" your wife neither your chamberer,\nIn this house I made you, my lady,\nThe high god bears me witness,\nAnd also gladly he my soul delights,\nI never held my lady or master,\nBut humble servant to your worthiness,\nAnd ever shall while my life may endure,\nAbove every worldly creature,\nThat you have so long of your benevolence,\nHold me in high nobility and honor,\nThere as I was not worthy to be,\nThat I thank God to whom I pray,\nForgotten is there no more to say,\nTo my father gladly I will go,\nAnd with him dwell to my life's end,\nThere as I was fostered as a small child,\nTill I be dead, my life there I will lead,\nA widow pure in body, heart and all,\nFor since I gave to you my maidenhead,\nI am your true wife, it is no fear,\nGod shield,\nAnother husband or any man to make,\nAnd of your new wife, may God of his grace,\nGrant you well and prosperity,\nFor I will gladly yield her my place,\nIn which I was blissfully accustomed to be,\nFor since it pleases you, my lord, said she,\nThat sometimes were all my heart's rest,\nThat you shall go, I will go with you. But there, as you promised me such things,\nI first brought it is well in my mind.\nIt were my wealth, no thing fair\nThe which to me now are hard to find.\nOh good god / how kind and how gentle\nYou seemed by your speech and your visage,\nThe day that made was our marriage,\nBut truly said always I find it true.\nFor in effect you paid it is on me,\nLove is not old as when it is new,\nBut truly, my lord, for no adversity,\nTo die in this case it shall not be,\nThat ever in word or work I shall repent,\nThat I give you my heart in whole intent.\nMy lord, you know that in my father's place,\nYou did me strip out of my poor weeds,\nAnd richly you me clothed of your grace,\nTo you brought I nothing else out of fear,\nBut faith nakedness and my maidenhead,\nAnd here again my clothing I restore,\nAnd also my wedding ring for evermore,\nThe remainder of your jewel is ready then,\nWith you in your chamber I dare it safely say,\nNaked out of my father's house she spoke,\nI came and naked must I turn again,\nAll your pleasance I would feign follow,\nBut yet I hope it be not yours. That I took from your palace went,\nYou could not do so dishonest a thing,\nThat ilk womb in which your children lay\nShould before the people in my walking be seen,\nTherefore I pray albar,\nLet me not like a worm go by the way,\nRemember you my own lord so dear,\nI was your wife though unworthy were,\nWherefore in guardianship of my maidenhead\nWhich that I brought and not again bear,\nAs you vouchsafe as you give me to my merit,\nBut such a smoke as I was wont to wear,\nThat I therewith may wring the womb of her,\nThat was your wife and here I take my leave,\nOf you my own lord lest that I you grieve,\nThe smoke said he that thou hast up on thy ba,\nLet it be still and bear it forth with thee,\nBut well unwilling that word he spoke,\nBut went his way for ruth and pity,\nBe for the folk herself stripped has she,\nAnd in her smoke with foot and here bare,\nToward her father's house is she fare,\nThe folk her following weeping in her way,\nAnd fortune ever they cursed as they went on,\nBut she from weeping kept her eyes dry,\nNe in this time word spoke she. Her father, who heard these tidings at once,\ncursed the day and the time that nature\nhad driven him to be a living creature.\nFor without a doubt this old poor man\nhad always been suspected of her marriage.\nSince the lord had fulfilled his desire,\nhe thought it a disparagement\nto his estate so low to marry\nhis daughter. Swiftly he went against her,\nand with her old coat, as it might be,\nhe kept her weeping sorrowfully.\nBut on her body he could not bring it.\nFor rough was the cloth and she was older.\nBy far, her marriage was less than her days.\nThen with her father for a certain reason,\nthis flower of wifely patience\ndid not show before the people or in her absence\nthat she had done offense.\nNeither did she remember her high estate\nnor did she have any manner of contention\nwith her husband.\nNo wonder was it, for in her great estate,\nher spirit was ever in plain humanity.\nNo tender mouth nor delicate heart\nbut full of patient benignity.\nDiscreet and proud and. And yet to her husband meek and stable,\nMen speak of Job and most for his humility.\nAs clerks when they can well endite,\nNamely of men, but in truthfastness,\nThough clerks praise women but alittle,\nThere is no one in humility who can requite\nThem as women can, nor can they be half so true,\nAs women are, unless it be new.\nHere comes the Earl of Pauley,\nFrom whom the fount sprang, both more and less.\nAnd in the people's ears all was told,\nThat he brought with him a new Marchioness,\nWith him came such pomp and riches,\nNever seen before in man's eye,\nSo royal a sight in all Westlumberland,\nThe Marquis, who knew all this,\nOr that this earl had come, sent his message,\nFor that poor creature, the Marchioness,\nAnd she with a humble heart and glad visage,\nNot with a swelling thought in her heart,\nCame at his behest and on her knees set,\nAnd reverently and wisely she him greeted,\n\"Grisilde,\" said he, \"my will is entirely,\nThis maiden who will be my wife,\nRejoice tomorrow as truly,\nAs it is possible in my house to be.\"\nAnd also that. every knight in his degree\nHas his estate in sitting and in service\nAnd high pleasure as you can best devise\nI have no woman sufficient certainly\nThe chambers to arrange in order\nAfter my list, therefore I would have\nThat you know also of old my pleasure\nThough evil be seen\nDo your duty yet at the latest possible time w\nNot only lord that I am glad she said\nTo do\nYou first to please and serve in my degree\nWithout feigning and shall evermore\nNeither for good nor for any manner of woe\nNe shall you go with in my heart's stead\nTo love you best with all my true intent\nAnd with that word she began to prepare the house\nAnd take beds to make\nAnd hurriedly she intended to do all that she could\nPraying the chamberers for God's sake\nTo hasten them and sweep and shake\nShe had ever rewarded and also his hall\nAbout the undergarments went this earl to light\nThat with him brought this noble child\nFor which the people ran to see that sight\nOf their array they were most eagerly beseeching\nAnd then among them all they said\nThat Walter was no fool Though that he should change his wife, for it was for the best,\nFor she is fairer, as they all declare,\nThan is Grisilde, and more tender of age,\nAnd fairer fruit between them shall fall,\nAnd more pleasure for her high lineage,\nHer brother also so fair of face,\nThat to see them pleases the people.\nCommending now the Marquis' governance,\nO stubborn people ever unsteady and untrue,\nAlways undiscerning and changing as a weather vane,\nHere you may see the people how new,\nAlways full of clapping and their eyes a-gape,\nAnd changeable, right as the mane,\nYour judgment is false, your constancy evil prevails,\nA great fool is he who relies on you,\nThus spoke Sad Follow,\nWhen the people had gathered and dispersed,\nFor they were glad indeed for the novelty,\nTo have a new lady from their town,\nNo more of this, now I make mention,\nBut to Grisilde,\nAnd tell her constancy and her goodness,\nFairer was Grisilde in every way,\nThat belonged to the festival,\nRight nothing was she abashed of her clothing,\nThough it were rude and somewhat torn,\nBut with cheerful countenance to the people. \"She went with others to greet the marquesses. Afterward, she attended to her duties with right glad cheer. She received his gestures with such skill and propriety that no fault was perceived by anyone. But they all wondered what she could be, dressed in such poverty, and able to display such honor and reverence. They praised her prudence most fittingly. She did not stop until this maiden and her brother came to present themselves. With all her heart in benevolent intent, she could not be pressed by anyone. But at last, when the lords were about to sit down to eat, he began to call Grisilde in the hall. Grisilde said to him as if in jest, \"How does my lady and her beauty please you, my lord?\" \"Very well, my lord,\" she replied, \"for in truth I have never seen a fairer sight than her.\" I pray God grant her good fortune,\" he said, \"and I hope He will send it to you.\" \"Please accept this as a token of your pleasure unto your lives' end,\" she begged and warned, \"Do not provoke her with any torment.\" This tender maiden, as you have seen, is steadfast in her.\" This is Chaucer's \"The Tale of Griselda\":\n\nNorisshinge, more tenderly I supposed,\nShe could not adversity endure\nAs could a poor fostered creature.\nAnd when this Walter saw her patience,\nHer glad cheer and no malice at all,\nAnd he so often had done to her offense,\nAnd she ever constant and sad as a wall,\nContinuing ever here her innocence above all,\nThis sturdy Marquis turned his heart to her steadfastness.\nTo reverence up on her wifely steadfastness,\n\"This is Grisilde, my wife,\" he said,\n\"Be now no more agast nor evil paid.\nI have your faith and your benignity\nAs well as ever woman was said,\nIn great estate or poverty afraid.\nNow know I dear wife your steadfastness,\nAnd here in armies took and began to kiss her,\nAnd she for wonder took no heed of him,\nShe heard not what thing was said to her,\nShe fled as she had started out of her sleep,\nUntil she out of her maidenhood awoke.\nGrisilde said, \"God grant that for us He died.\nThou art my husband, none other I have,\nNever I had as God my soul save,\nThis is your daughter whom you supposed\nTo be my wife, who faithfully\nShall be my heir as I have disposed.\"\nThou. \"But here in your body truly,\nAt Bolingbroke I kept them secretly.\nTake them again, for now you cannot say\nThat you have lost none of your children two.\nAnd people who otherwise have said by me,\nI warned them well that I have done this deed.\nFor no malice nor for any cruelty,\nBut to test in your womanhood.\nAnd not to slay my children, God forbid,\nBut to keep them secretly and still,\nUntil I knew your purpose and all your will.\nWhen she heard this, in swooning she fell down,\nFor pitiful joy and after swooning,\nShe called to both her young children,\nAnd in her arms, full pitifully weeping,\nEmbraced them and tenderly kissed them,\nLike a mother with salt tears.\nShe begged both her face and her eyes,\nO what a pitiful thing it was to see,\nHer swooning and her pitiful voice to hear.\nGrant mercy, Lord / God, thank you, she said.\nThat you have saved me, my dear children.\" That cruel hound or some foul venom\n Had eaten you, but God of his mercy\n And your benign father so tenderly\n Had kept you in that same moment,\n And suddenly she swooned and sadly held\n Her children two when she began to give birth\n With great difficulty and great effort,\n The children were torn from her arms they raced\n Among many a tear of many a pitiful face,\n Down ran those who stood there beside,\n Unable to bear it, they could not stay\n Walter comforted her and her sorrow eased,\n She rose up and bathed herself from her trance,\n And every man made her joy and feast until\n She had regained her composure,\n Walter's faithful pleasance was such,\n It was a sight to see the expression\n Between them two since they met in fear,\n These ladies when they had their time,\n Had taken her and into the chamber brought her,\n And stripped her out of her rough attire,\n And in a cloth of gold that shone brightly,\n With a crown upon her head into the hall they brought her,\n And there she was honored as she deserved. This day brings bliss for every man and woman,\nTo spend in mirth and rejoice until the sky shows the star.\nFor a more solemn occasion in every man's sight,\nThis day, of greater cost than her marriage,\nLywen these two in concord and peace,\nAnd richly his daughter married he\nTo a lord, one of the worthiest,\nOf all Italy, then in peace and rest,\nHis wife's father in his court he keeps,\nTill the soul leaves the body.\nHis son succeeds in his heritage,\nIn peace and rest after his father's day,\nFortunate was he also in marriage,\nBut he put not his wife to great test,\nThis world is not so strong, it is no more,\nAs it has been in olden times, you know.\nThis story, which with high style ends,\nFor since a woman,\nTo a mortal man, we ought to receive all in good faith. For great skills I prove that he wrought, but he neither tempted nor anyone he bought, as Saint James says if you read his pistol. He preyed upon people for only a day, it is no fear. And suffered us as for our exercise with sharp scourges and adversity. Full often to be beaten in various ways, not to know our will but certainly he, before we were born knew all our frailty. And for our best is all his governance. Let us live then in virtuous suffering rather than in his. But one word, harken, lords, or I go. It would be full hard to find nowadays Grisildis in all a counter on or two. For if they were put to such tests, the gold of them has such a bad lay. With brass, for though it be fair at the eye, it would rather burst asunder than play. For which reason here for the wives' love of Bath, whose life and sect mighty God may maintain, In high majesty or else was it S, I will with lusty heart fresh and green, Say you a song to gladden you I will, And let us cease from earnest matter. Herkeneth my song that saith in this manner:\n\nGrisilde is dead and her patience,\nTogether both. Buried in Italy, I cry in open audience, no wedded man be so bold as to test\nGrisildis, for certain he shall fail\nO noble wives full of prudence, let not humility silence your tongues,\nNor let any clerk write of you a story such as of Grisilde, patient and kind,\nLest you swallow in entrails\nBut ever answering at court, be not a daffodil for your innocence,\nBut sharply take on the governance,\nEmprentith well that lesson in your mind,\nFor common profit says it may avail,\nYou archers stand at defense,\nSince you are strong as is a great Camille,\nDo not suffer men to offend,\nBut slender wives as feeble in battle,\nBe it,\nAy clapping as a mill I counsel you,\nFear them not, do them no reverence,\nFor though your husband be armed in strife,\nYour words of your crabbed eloquence shall pierce his breast and also his entrails,\nIn jealousy I also recommend that you bind him,\nAnd you shall make him couch as a quail.\nIf you are fair, there folk be. in presence\nShow thou thy visage and thy apparal\nIf thou art foul, be free of thy dispense\nTo get the friends, aid do thy travail\nBe ever of good cheer as light as leaf on lind\nAnd let him care weep wringe and wail\nThis worthy clerk when he had ended his tale\nOur host said and swore by cock's bones\nI'd rather have a barrel of ale\nMy wife had heard this legend once\nThis is a gentle tale for the nones\nAs to my purpose, you know my will\nBut thing that will not be, let it be still\nHere ends the tale of the clerk of Oxford\nAnd begins the Franklegin's prologue.\n\nThese old gentle Britons in their day\nMade verses, the authors varied\nFirst in their own British tongue they sang\nSuch verses with their instruments they played\nOr else read them for their pleasure\nAnd one of them have I in remembrance\nWhich I shall say with as good will as I can\nBert the borel man because I am\n\nAt my beginning first I beseech you\nHave me excused for my rude speech\nI never learned rhetoric in certainty\nWhatever I speak must be bare and plain. A knight slept never in the mountains of Pernaso,\nNever learned Mara, I knew Colouris not without fear,\nBut such colors as grew in the mead,\nOr else such as served or painted.\nColors of rhetoric were to me quaint.\nMy spirit did not fit in such matter,\nBut if you wish to hear my tale, here it is:\n\nIn armor, he was called,\nThere was a knight who toiled and endured his pain,\nTo serve ladies in the best way he knew,\nAnd many a labor and great enterprise,\nHe undertook for his lady, or she was won,\nFor she was the fairest under the sun,\nAnd moreover, she came from noble birth,\nWhom the knight, through his meek obedience,\nCaught the desire to take as his wife and lord,\nTo lead in greater bliss her life,\nBy his free will he swore to her as a knight,\nThat never in all his life, by day or night,\nHe would forsake her. of him take no mastery, but her obey and be as any lover to his lady shall, saving the name of sovereignty that he would have for shame of his degree. She thanks him of his humble service. She says: \"You make me prosper to have so large a reign. Never would God be between us two, as in my guilt were other war or strife. Sire, I will be your humble true wife. Here is my truth till my heart bursts. Thus both are they both in quiet and at rest. For one thing, sirs, I dare truly say, that friends must obey each other in love and forgive each other necessary. If they will live in peace and keep company, mastery is come, the god of love anon. Betrothed are they both, and farewell, it is gone. Love is a thing as any thought is free. For women of kind desire liberty, and not to be constrained as a thrall. And so do men, if I tell the truth. Look who is most patient in love, he is at his advantage all above. Patience is a high virtue certainly. For it conquers, as clerks say, things that rigor shall never attain. For every word, men may not chide or.\" In this world, no one is free from making or saying something amiss. Wine, women, or song cause this often. To every man who can govern himself, this worthy knight has taught himself to live in her suffrance, and she willingly swears to him that she will never be at fault. Here men can see in humble wise accord. Thus has she taken her servant and her lord. Servant in love and in marriage, he was both in lordship and in servitude. Servitude was not but in lordship above. Since he had both his lady and his love, his lady certain and his wife also, the law and love accorded this. And when he was in his prosperity, he went home with his wife to his country. Not far dwelling was it. Where he lives in bliss and solace, who could tell but the one who was wedded? The joy, ease, and prosperity that is between a husband and his wife lasts a year or more. A knight named Arueragus, of whom I spoke, was urged to go and dwell for a year or two in England, which was called Britaine,\nto seek military honor and worship for all his desires. He labored at this for two years, as the book states,\nNow I will cease speaking of Arueragus and speak instead of his wife Dorigen, who loved her husband as her life.\nFor his absence, she wept and pined,\nAs do good wives when their husbands are away.\nShe mourned, woke, and lamented,\nDesiring his presence so intensely that she disregarded the entire world.\nHer friends, who knew her, thought they could comfort her in every way possible,\nThey preached to her, taught her, night and day,\nYet she remained inconsolable.\nMen can grieve for a long time, as you know,\nUntil some figure appears to them.\nThey had comforted her for so long that she\nReceived... She had found hope and reason in her consolation, which began to ease her sorrow. Arueragus, in his care, had sent word of his welfare and promised to return quickly or else her sorrow would have been even greater. They prayed on their knees for God's sake to come and comfort her and distract her dark thoughts. She granted their request, knowing it was for the best. Her castle stood by the sea, and she often walked there with her friends for entertainment. She saw many ships and barges sailing where they pleased, but this brought her little comfort. Frequently, she would sit and think, casting her eyes down from the bank. But when she saw the grim rocks turning black, her heart grew fearful. That on her feet she couldn't sustain,\nShe would sit down upon the green,\nAnd pitifully on the sea she'd sigh, old and cold,\nAnd thus she spoke with heart aghast:\nEternal god, through your providence,\nYou govern the world by certain rule,\nYet, Lord, this grim rock obstructs,\nLeading rather to foul confusion,\nOf wreck than to any manner of creation,\nOf such a perfect, wise, and stable god,\nWhy have you wrought this unreasonable act?\nFor by this work, North, South, West, and East,\nThere is no man or beast,\nIt does no good to my wit but annoy,\nSee not, Lord, how mankind it destroys,\nA hundred thousand bodies of mankind,\nRocks have slain, though they be not in mind,\nSince mankind is so fair a part of your work,\nYou made it first, like your own mark,\nThen, seeming to do a great charity,\nToward mankind, how might it then be,\nThat you such menaces create to destroy,\nSuch menaces do no good but annoy,\nI well know clerks will say as they list,\nWith arguments that all is for the best. I cannot fully know the causes,\nBut that God who made the wind to blow,\nKeeps my lord; this is my conclusion.\nTo clerks, I let all disputation.\nBut would that all these rocks were sunken,\nIn hell for his sake.\nThese rocks grieve my heart with fear,\nThus she would say with many a pitiful tear.\nHere friends saw that it was no sport,\nTo roam by the sea but discomfort.\nAnd shaped themselves to play somewhere else,\nThey led here by reveries and by wells,\nAnd in other places delightful places,\nThey danced and played chess, and so on,\nOn a day right on the morrow tide,\nTo a garden that was there beside,\nIn which they had made her ordinance\nOf victuals and other things,\nThey went and played,\nAnd this was on the sixteenth day of May,\nWhich may has painted with her soft showers,\nThis garden full of lilies and flowers,\nAnd craft of man's hand so beautifully made,\nThis garden truly,\nThat never was there a garden of such price,\nBut if it were the very paradise,\nThe odor of flowers and the fresh sight,\nWould make any heart light up,\nThat ever. A young woman was born, yet great sickness or sorrow held her in distress. So full it was of being. Anon after dinner, they went and she sang alone, saving Dorigene. Which made her complaint and her money. For she saw him not, he who was her husband and her love also. But nevertheless she had to endure her time and with good hope let her sorrow slide. Upon this dance among other men, a squire danced before Dorigene. Fresher than May, and more joyous in disposition, he sang and danced more passionately than any other man who is or was since the world began. With this, if men should recognize him, he was one of the best faring men alive. Young, strong, virtuous, and wise, and well beloved and held in great price. And shortly, if I tell the truth, unaware of this Dorigene was he. This lusty squire, servant to Venus, whom they called Aurelius, loved her best of any creature. Two years or more, as was his fortune. But never dared he tell her his grief without the cup drank he all his penance. He was despairing of nothing. He said in his songs he would partly reveal\nThis was his complaint in general: he loved and believed in nothing,\nHe made many lays about this,\nComplaining songs, roundels, variants,\nHe dared not express his sorrow,\nBut lingering like fire in hell,\nAnd he said he must die, just as Ekko did,\nFor Narcissus who dared not express his woe,\nIn another way,\nHe dared not reveal his woe to her,\nExcept perhaps at feasts and dances,\nThere young women,\nHe might look at her face in such a way as might,\nBut she knew nothing of his intent,\nNevertheless, it happened or they then parted,\nBecause he was her neighbor,\nAnd was a man of worship and honor,\nAnd had known him in times past,\nThey fell into conversation and more and more,\nAurilius drew closer to his purpose,\nAnd when he saw his time, he said thus:\n\"Lady,\" he said, \"by God, that this world was made,\nSo that I might know I could please your heart,\nI would have been that day when your Aurelius\nWent over the sea that I, Aurelius,\nHad gone there. I should never have returned,\nFor well I knew.\" My service is in earnest. My heart is but a breastplate for me. Madame, have pity on my pains and sorrow. Here at your feet, God would I be buried. For as wisely as God saves my soul, I have no more to say. Have mercy, sweet one, or you will kill me. She looked up at this Aurelius. Is this your will, she asked, and speak thus? Never before did she know what you meant, nor understood your intent. By the god who gave me soul and life, I shall never be unfaithful, in word or deed, as long as I have wit. I will be his to whom I am bound. Take this as my final answer from me. But afterward, in play, she said, Aurelius spoke thus: Above all gods, he is high. Yet I will grant to be your love. Since I see you so pitifully complain, Look what day from England to Britain. You remove all the stones, stone by stone, That they let not ship nor boat go on. When you have made this cost so clean, Of stones that there is no stone I see, Then I will love you best of any man. Have here my truth in all that ever I can. For I know that it shall be. Let such folly slip from your heart. What delight should a man have in his life, to love another man's wife, and have her when he pleases? Aurilius often thought, Is there no other grace in you, he asked, by that lord who made me. Woe was Aurilius when he heard this. And with a sorrowful heart he answered, \"Lady, I say this is impossible. Then I must die a sudden death.\" With that word, he turned himself instantly. Then came her other friends, many of them, and in the alleys they roamed up and down, knowing nothing of this conclusion. And suddenly they began to revel anew until the bright sun lost its hue. For the occident had set. This is as much to say as it was night. And they went home in joy and solace, save only for Aurilius. He goes to his house. He says that he may not turn back from his death. He says that he feels his heart growing cold. Unto heaven he lifted his hands. And on his knees he set himself down. And in raving, he said this prayer:\n\nFourthly,\nHe knew not what he spoke but thus he said,\nWith pitiful. His heart's plea has begun, and his prayer to the sun first made,\nHe said, \"Apollo, god and ruler, of every planet, herb, tree, and flower,\nThat followeth after thy declination,\nTo each of them thou grantest thy time and thy season,\nAnd thy herald, the high one,\nTherefore, my lord, cast thine eyes,\nOn the western Aurora, who am but lowly,\nLo, my lord, my lady hath sworn my death,\nWithout any guilt but thy benignity,\nHave pity, I know Phoebus, if thou wilt,\nThou canst help save my lady best,\nNow vouchsafe that I may ask,\nHow I may be helped and in what way,\nThy blessed sister Lucyna, the goddess and queen,\nOf the sea cliff,\nThough Neptune delights in the sea,\nYet Empress above him is she,\nThou knowest well, my lord, as her desire,\nIs to be quickened and lightened by thy fire,\nFor which she follows thee most eagerly,\nSo the sea naturally desires,\nTo follow her and she who is goddess,\nBoth in the sandy rivers more and less,\nWherefore, lord Phoebus, this is my request,\nDo this miracle or pierce my heart.\" this opposition\nWith this sign shall be the lion,\nAs she prays for a flood so great to bring,\nThat five fathoms at the least it over springs,\nThe highest rock that is in all Britain,\nAnd let this flood endure two years,\nThen I can truly say to my lady,\nHold your head the rocks are away,\nLord Phoebus, grant me this miracle,\nPray here that she goes no faster course than you,\nI say, therefore, pray your succor,\nNo faster course than this,\nShe shall,\nAnd the flood last both night and day,\nAnd but you give,\nTo grant me my sovereign lady's favor,\nPray her to sink every,\nInto hell her own dark mansion,\nUnder the ground there Pluto dwells in,\nOr never shall I win my lady,\nThy temple in Delphos I will seek,\nLord Phoebus see the tears on my cheek,\nAnd of my pain have some compassion,\nAnd with that word in swooning he fell down,\nAnd long time he lay in a trance,\nHis brother, who knew his penance,\nUp took him and to bed has brought him,\nDespairing in this torment & in this thought,\nLet this wretched creature lie,\nChoose he whether he will live. Aureragus, with helm and honor,\nComes home, and other worthy men,\nA blissful heart now has Dorigen,\nWho has her blessed husband in her arms,\nThe fresh knight, who loves her as his own heart's life,\nDesires nothing to be imaginative,\nIf any man had spoken to him while he was out,\nTo her of love, he had no doubt,\nHe does not intend to such matters,\nBut dances justice and makes good cheer,\nAnd thus in joy and bliss I let them dwell,\nAnd of Aurilius I will tell,\nIn langour and in furious torment,\nTwo years and more this Aurilius lay,\nUnable to go on foot on earth,\nComfort in this time he had none,\nSave his brother, who was a clerk,\nHe knew all this woe and all this work,\nFor no other creature certain,\nOf this matter he dared no word saying,\nUnder his breast he bore it more secret,\nThan ever did Phamphilus or Galate,\nHis breast was whole without appearing,\nBut in his heart was the arrow keen,\nAnd I well know in surgery,\nIn surgery, the cure is most perilous. might touch the arrow or come thereby\nHis brother wept and wailed privately\nTill at last he filled him with remembrance\nThat while he was at Orl\u00e9ans in France\nAs young clerks who were licorous\nTo read arts that were curious\nSought in every hall and every hern\nParticular science to learn\nHe reminded himself that upon a day\nIn Orl\u00e9ans in a book that he saw\nOf magical nature with his fellow\nThat was that time a bachelor\nAll were he there to learn another craft\nHad privately up on his deceitful left\nSuch a book as spoke much of operations\nAnd of many diverse conjurations\nThat longed to the moon and such folly\nAs in our days is not worth a fly\nFor holy church says in our belief\nDoes not suffer illusion to harm us\nAnd when this book was in remembrance\nAnon for joy his heart began to dance\nAnd to himself he said privately\nMy brother Warish shall be hastily\nFor I am sure there are sciences\nWhich men make diverse appearances\nWhich all these subtle tricksters play\nFor often at feasts have I heard say A tourist within a large hall has brought in water in a barge and rows it up and down. At times it has seemed to come in a great lion and at times flowers springing in a meadow. At times wine and white and red grapes. At times a castle of lime and stone. And when it pleases it suddenly disappears. It thus appears to many a man's sight. Now then, if I could find an old fellow who remembered the money's mansions or other natural magic, he should well make my brother fall in love. For the appearance a clerk may make to man's sight that all the rocks turn black. Of Britavoydid each one. And ships be the brand gone. Then were my brother warished of his woe. Then she must necessarily hold her peace or else he will shame her at the least. What longer tale should I make of this? To his brother's bed I come, and such comfort he gave him to go to Orliaunce and start at once. And on his way, he is fareward in hope to be released from his care. When they were A young clerk, coming almost to this city, met them. But if it had been a two or three day journey, a young clerk traveling alone might have greeted them in Latin. After he said a wonderful thing, he told them the reason for their coming. This British clerk asked his companions, the men he had known in old days. They answered that they were dead. For which he wept many tears.\n\nDown from his horse, Aurilius went at once with this magician. He went to his house and made them welcome. He lacked no provisions to please them. Such a well-provided house was there none. Aurilius, in his life, had seen no one so generous as he was, or went to Supper.\n\nIn Forestis Park, full of wild deer, he saw hearts with their high horns. The greatest he ever saw with his eyes. He saw a hundred does with hounds. Some of them had arrows in their bodies and bitter wounds. He saw where the wild deer had these wounds. The falcons were up on a fair river. With their beaks, they were killing herons. The knight, seeing him justifying in a plain manner, found such pleasure that he himself danced as he thought. When this master had finished his magic, he knew it was time to clap his hands together and bid farewell to our revelry. He remained never out of his house while they saw all this marvelous sight. But in his study there, as his books be, they sat still. To him this master called his squire and said, \"It is ready, sir, whenever you are.\" Almost an hour it has been since I promised to make supper for you. When these worthy men went with me into my study where my books be, the squire said to the knight, \"Sir, when it pleases you, it is ready now. Go, let us have supper.\" These armored men sometimes need rest, and after supper, fill them in with treat. What sum total should the master's reward be to remove all the rocks in Britain and also from Geronde to the mouth of the Seine? He made it strange, he swore by God he would not have less than a thousand pounds. Gladly for that sum, Aurilius would not go on,\nWith a blissful heart, Anon he says,\nFor a thousand pounds I would give it, if I were its lord,\nThe wide world, which men say is round,\nI would give it to you. This bargain is firmly made,\nYou shall be paid truly by my truth,\nBut look now for no negligence or sloth,\nYou tarry here no longer than tomorrow,\nNay, said the clerk, have faith in me to borrow,\nTo bed he goes, Aurilius, when he is weary,\nAnd nearly all that night he had rest,\nFor his bargain and for his hope of bliss,\nHis sorrowful heart, filled with penance, had ease,\nUp on the morrow when it was day,\nTo Britain they took the right way,\nAurilius and this Magician with him,\nAnd he descended there, they will abide,\nAnd this was as the book remembers,\nThe cold, frosty season of December,\nPhebus' heat was like lead,\nThat before in its hottest declination,\nShone as burnt gold with streaming,\nBut then in Capricorn it sank down,\nThere\nThe bitter frosts with the slit of rain,\nDestroyed them,\nIamus s,\nAnd drank of his bugle horn. The wine and after this good and fine ale cries every lusty man. Aurilius does all that he can to wait for a time of conclusion. This is to say, to make an illusion. Be such apparent jesters. I can no terms of astrology. They showed that every wight should beware, either the rocks of Britain were away or else they were sunken under the ground. So at last he found his time, to make his land his wreck, of such a superstition of curses. His tab, fully well corrected, lacked nothing. Neither his coat nor his expansion, nor his rots nor his other. And by his centers and his arguments, and his proportional contents, for his equations in every thing, and by his eighth working, he knew full well, from the head of that fixed star, which in the third house is considered, most subtly he called all this. When he had his first mansion, he knew the remainder by proportion. And knew the rising of the moon well. And in whose face and sign everlasting, and knew well the moon's mansion attending to his operation. And he knew also well his. For such illusions and such misconceptions,\nAs heathen folk believed in those days,\nAurilius, who despaired, no longer delays,\nBut through his magic awakens a way,\nIt seemed that all the rocks were a way,\nAurilius, who wonders where\nHe shall have her love or farewell,\nAnd waits night and day on this miracle,\nAnd when he knew there was no obstacle,\nThat were the rocks each one,\nDown to his master's feet he falls anon,\nAnd says, \"I am woeful, Aurilius,\nThank you, and my lady Venus,\nThat have helped me from harm.\nAnd to the temple, his way has he held,\nWhere he knew he should see his lady,\nAnd when he saw his time right,\nHe with dreadful heart and humble cheer,\nSubmits himself to his sovereign lady, dear,\nMy right lady said this woeful man,\nWhom you most fear and love as I,\nAnd loathe to be displeased in all this world,\nNear it for you I have such disease,\nThat I must die here at your feet anon,\nNothing would I tell you, but certainly,\nI must die or be in great pain,\nYou kill me guiltlessly for great pain,\nBut of my death. You have no mercy. Think now upon your truth and repent, or I shall condemn you before God. For Madam, you well know what you have named me. I do not challenge anything of right from you, my sovereign lady, but your grace. But in the garden yonder, in such a place, you well know what you have pledged to me. In my hand, you placed your truth. To love me best, God knows you said so, though I may be unworthy. Madam, I speak for the honor of you, more than to save my heart's life at this moment. I have done as you commanded me. And if you will, as you have sworn, you shall find me quick or dead, true to you. But well I know the rock. He takes his land; she stood there, a stone-faced woman. In all her face, not a drop of blood. She wept, and wailed a day or two. And swore that...\n\nBut why? \"was told to Noman she,\nA man had gone out of town. But to herself she spoke and said,\nWith pale and sorrowful face, in her complaint as you shall hear,\nAlas, she said on her fortune I complain,\nThat unwarranted have I been ensnared in your chain,\nFrom which to escape I know not how,\nSave only by death or great dishonor,\nOne of these two I must choose,\nBut nevertheless I have longer delayed,\nMy life than my body I would rather shame,\nOr know myself false or lose my name,\nAnd with my death I may be quit, I wot.\nHas not many a noble wife or maiden,\nRather than with their bodies committed trespass,\nYes, certainly this story,\nWhen the thirty tyrants\nHad cruelly slain Fidon at the feast,\nThey commanded his daughters to bring them,\nAnd lead them naked to fulfill their delight,\nAnd on their father's blood made them dance,\nUp on the pavement give them mischance,\nFor which the woeful maidens, full of fear,\nRather than lose their maidenhood,\nThey were secretly led into a well,\nAnd drowned themselves as the books tell.\" The fifty maidens intended to perform lechery with her, but none of them had been killed, and she refused to be defiled with glad intent. Why should I then die in fear? Also, the tyrant Aristoclides, who loved a maiden named Stymphalides, was slain on a night. Into Diane's temple she went and took the image in her hands. She would not release it until she was killed right there. No one could break her grasp until she was killed in the same place. Since the maidens showed such contempt for pleasure, a wife should be angry rather than be defiled, as I believe. What shall I say of Hasdrubal, who at Carthage took her children and jumped down into the fire and chaos rather than commit any Roman's villainy? Has not Lucrece killed herself many times at Rome because she was oppressed by Tarquinus, as she thought it a shame to live when she had lost her name? The seven maidens of Milles. \"Havere also feared for myself rather than the people of Galilee oppressing me. I could tell you over a thousand stories about this matter. When Herodias was killed, her own body let her blood flow in Herod's ointment and said, \"My body acts least way. No one shall defile it if I can help it. What more shall I say of them as an example but that many have killed themselves rather than be defiled. They would rather die than be defiled. I will conclude that it is best for me to kill myself than be defiled in this way. I will be true to Aureragus or else kill myself in some manner. Just as Demeter's daughter did, because she would not be defiled. Of Oedipus it is great pity to read how his daughters died in such a manner. It was a great pity or even more so. The Theban maiden slit herself for the sake of Nichamore in such a way. And another Theban maiden did the same for one of Macedon who had her pressed. She restored her maidenhood with her death.\" What shall I...\" \"sayn of Macarensis wife, who for such a cause took her own life. Alcestis also declared this, who preferred dying for her love rather than allowing her body to be unburied. A woman named Alcestis made the same statement. What does Homer say of Penelope? All of Greece knows of her chastity. Parca writes of Lady Lacedaemon, \"When Prothulus was slain at Rome, she no longer wished to live after his day.\" I can tell you about noble Prothyna. She could never live without Brutus. To whom she had given her heart entirely. The perfect wife of Archemache. Her honor is extolled throughout Barbary. O Tentareye, your chastity is a mirror to all women. Dorigen speaks thus for a day or two, determined to die, but on the third night, Ar returns and asks why she weeps. She wept longer and longer, and then told him the whole story. Unknowingly, she had made a promise to the squire, as you have heard before. It is unnecessary to repeat it again. This husband answered her with a glad and friendly countenance.\" \"I said as I shall decide. Is there anything else, Dorigene, but this? Nay, nay, she said. God help me, so I wish. This is too great and it was not God's will. You wife, he said, let him sleep and be still. It may be well yet, perhaps, today. You shall keep your truth be my faith. For God so wisely have mercy on me. I would rather stick for it, For very love which I have for you. But you should keep your truth and save it. Truth is the highest thing that man may keep. But with that word, she burst out weeping and said, I forbid you, on pain of death, That while you live or breathe, To any man tell of this my adventure, As I may, lest I wish my woe to endure. And make no contention of heaviness, That folk of you may deem harm or grief. And forth he calls a squire and a maid. Go forth anon with Dorigene. And bring her to such a place anon. They took her leave and on her way they went. But they knew not why she went there. He would not tell his intent. This squire, who was named Auril, On Dorigene, who was amorous, Of adventure happened.\" Here is the cleaned text:\n\nAmyd the town, in the quickest street,\nAs she would have gone the way forth, right,\nToward the gardyn there as she had hight,\nHe was in the gardyn ward also.\nFor well he spied when she would go\nOut of her house to any manner place,\nBut thus they met by chance and grace,\nAnd he saluted her with glad intent,\nAnd she answered half as if she were mad,\nTo the gardyn, as my husband bade,\nMy truth for to hold, allas, allas.\nAurilius was amazed in this case,\nAnd in his heart had great compassion,\nFor her countenance and her lamentation,\nAnd of Aureeragus the worthy knight,\nWho bade her hold that which she had hight,\nSo loath was he if she should go,\nAnd in his heart he felt great turmoil,\nConsidering the best on every side,\nThat from that lust yet were he preferable to abide,\nThan to do such a foolish deed,\nAgainst Frenchness and gentleness.\nFor which in few words he said thus,\nLady, speak to your lord Aureeragus,\nThat since I see his great gentleness\nTo you and also I see your distress,\nThat he... A squire would rather have shame and joy than break his truth to me. I have long been willing to endure sorrow rather than part from the love between you two. Receive Madame into your hands, release every bond you have made to me since the time you were born. My truth I pledge to you, I will never reprove you for any reason. I take my leave as from the truest and best wife I have ever known in my life. But every wife keep her promise. Remember Dorigene, act with caution. A squire can do a noble deed as well as a knight without fear. She thanks him on her bare knees and returns to her husband. He was well paid for it, and it was impossible for me to write more. Arueragus and Dorigene, his wife, live in supreme bliss, never again was there anger between them. He cherished her as if she were a queen, and she was true to him forever. Of these two. \"Aurilius, I can no longer give you more. Aurilius, who has lost all his cost. He laments the time he was born. Alas, alas, he said who brought you, of pure gold, a thousand pound weight, to this Philosopher. I see no way but that I must sell my heritage. And here I may not dwell as a beggar. I must shame all my kindred in this place, but from him I may get some grace. But nevertheless, I will ask him. At certain years and days I will pay him back. And thank him for his great courtesy. My truth I will keep, I will not lie. With a heavy heart, he goes to his couch. And brings gold to this Philosopher. The value of five hundred pounds I give. And I beseech him of his gentleness. To grant him a day. And said, master, I dare well make an avowal. I have never failed in my truth as yet. Certainly, my debt will be paid. Toward you, however that I face, I will go begging in my shirt bare. But if you would, grant me a respite of two or three years. Then I would rather sell my heritage. There is no more to tell of this Philosopher.\" And he answered and said thus when he heard his words:\nHave you not made a covenant with the woman?\nYes, certes, truly he replied.\nHast thou not had your lady as you pleased?\nNo, no, he sorrowfully shook his head.\nWhat was the cause? Tell me if you can.\nAurelius began his tale at once:\nAnd told him all as you have heard before.\nIt is unnecessary for me to repeat it to you.\nHe said Aurelius, a man of gentility,\nPreferred to die in sorrow and distress,\nRather than his wife be false to her truth.\nThe sorrow of Dorigen he told him of,\nHow unwilling she was to be a wicked wife,\nAnd that she would rather have lost her life\nAnd her truth she swore through Innocence.\nShe had never before heard of appearance,\nWhich made me have such great pity for her.\nAnd just as freely as he sent her to me,\nI sent her home to him again.\n\nPhilosophus answered, \"Leave it, brother.\nEach of you showed gentleness to others.\nYou are a squire and he is a knight,\nBut God forbid for his blessed might,\nBut a clerk could do as noble a deed\nAs well as any of you. It is not so.\" Sire, I release you from your debt of a thousand pounds,\nAs if you had just been extracted from the ground,\nNeither then nor now had you known,\nFor, sire, I will not take a penny from you,\nNeither for all my skill nor for all my toil.\nYou have well paid for my service.\nFarewell, and have a good day,\nAnd he took his horse and went his way.\nLords, this question then arises:\nWhich was the most sinful one?\nNow tell me before you go further,\nFor I can no more, my tale is at an end.\n\nHere ends the Franklin's tale. Here begins the Nun's prologue.\n\nThe mistress and ruler of all vices,\nWhich men call in English,\nWhich is the porter of the gate of delights,\nTo entice by her contrary ones to oppress,\nThat is to say, lawful pleasures,\nWe ought to do all our intent,\nLest the devil with Idleness ensnare us,\nFor he with his thousand cords slyly\nContinually waits to clap us,\nWhen he may spy a man in Idleness asleep,\nHe can so lightly catch him\nUntil a man is awake by the lap.\nHe has him not wavering in hand.\nWe ought to work and Idleness withstand.\nAnd though men fear. Yet men who are reasonable doubtless agree that idleness is a great hindrance, from which comes no good increase. And since it clings to us in laziness, it only serves to sleep and eat and drink, and to consume all that others labor for, and to keep us from such idleness that causes great confusion. I have here faithfully carried out my business, according to the legend and translation. Your glorious life and passion, thou with thy garland wrought of rose and lily, the Maiden I made and martyr Saint Cecilia, and thou who art the flower of all virgins, of whom Bernard speaks so well, I call upon thee at the beginning. Thou comforter of the wretched, thy maiden's death, when through it thou grantest eternal life and victory over the devil, as men may read in thy story. Thou Maiden and Mother, daughter of thy Son, thou well of mercy for sinful souls to cure, in whom God of bounty chooses to dwell. Thou humble and exalted one above every creature, that no disdain thy maker had of kind. Thou. Some in blood a flesh to clothe,\nWho within the cloister of thy blessed entrances,\nTook man's shape, the eternal love and p,\nThat of thy trinity, compasser Lord and g,\nWhom heaven and earth and sea without cease,\nHeard and thou, virgin, doubtless,\nBear of thy body and didst, pure maid,\nThe creator of every creature\nAssembleth in thee,\nWith mercy granting such pity,\nThat thou that art,\nNot only helpest them that pray,\nBut often times art,\nOur advocate and meek, fair maid,\nMoved me,\nThink on the woman of Canan who said,\n\"That he whom she bore,\nAnd though she,\nBear sin, and for that deed without works,\nSo to work and space,\nThat I may be quit from thence, that is most dark,\nO thou that art so fair and full of grace,\nBe my advocate in that high place,\nThere where without end is sung Osanne,\nThou, Christ's mother, dear of Anne,\nAnd of thy light, my soul in prison is,\nThat is troubled,\nOf my body and also of the weight,\nOf earthly lust and false affection,\nO have mercy, O salvation,\nFor them that are in sorrow. And I will now begin to dress myself, but I implore you to ready what I write, for if I do not make an effort, this story will not be completed quickly. The name of the saint I will reveal, as it can be seen in her story, is Heavenly. She is called so for her purity of virginity or because she bore witness to honesty and was green in conscience and of God. The sweet-smelling lily was her name, or Cecily, as it may also be called. She was joined with a man in her figurative representation. The heaven represents the thought of holiness, and the lion for her enduring qualities. Cecily may also be called the one wanting in blindness for her great light, of sapience and clear thews, or the bright maiden coming from heaven and Leo. Men might well call her the heavenly one. This is an example of good and wise work for all people in English, called \"The Second Nun's Prolog\" and \"The Tale of Cecily.\"\n\nAnd right as men can see in heaven,\nThe sun, moon, and stars every way,\nSo men spiritually in this maiden fair,\nSaw the great magnanimity and holiness of sapience,\nAnd many works bright with excellence.\nAnd right so as these philosophers write,\nHeaven is swift, round, and burning.\nSo was this fair Cecily, the white,\nQuick and busy in every good work,\nAnd round and whole in good preservation,\nAnd burning ever in charity, bright.\nNow I have declared to you what she is called.\n\n\u00b6This ends the Second Nun's Prolog. \u00b6Here begins the tale.\n\nThis maiden bright Cecily, as her legend says,\nWas born of Romans of noble kind,\nAnd raised in the faith\nOf Christ and bore his gospel in mind.\nShe never ceased, as I have found written,\nIn her prayers and God to love and fear,\nBeseeching him to keep her maidenhead.\nAnd when this maiden should be to a man,\nI wedded him who was full of young age.\nWho that was... Clepid was Valerian,\nAnd the day came for her marriage.\nShe was deeply and humbly devout in her heart,\nUnder her robe of gold, which sat so fair,\nI clad her next to her flesh in an heir,\nAnd while the Organs made melody to God above,\nThus in her heart she sang this song:\nO Lord, my body and soul,\nUnwilling lest I be confounded,\nAnd for His love that is up on the tree,\nEvery second and third day she fasted,\nAlways praying in her prayers most fast,\nThe night came and to bed she had to go,\nWith her husband, as it was the custom,\nAnd privately she said to him at once:\nO sweet and well-beloved spouse,\nThere is a counsel that I would tell you,\nWhich I would gladly reveal to you,\nSo that you swear that you will not betray it,\nValerian swore to her fast:\nThat for no reason or thing that might be,\nHe would never betray her to anyone.\nThen, at first, she said to him:\nI have an angel who loves me,\nWho is ready always, my body to keep,\nAnd if he may feel free from fear,\nThat you touch or love me in. He will right away kill you with the deed,\nAnd in your youth thus shall you die.\nIf that you in clean life serve me,\nHe will love you as me for your cleanness,\nAnd show to you his joy and his brightness.\nThis Valerian, corrected as God would.\nAnswer again if I shall trust thee,\nLet me that angel see and behold it,\nAnd if it is true,\nThen will I do as thou hast prayed me.\nAnd if thou lovest another man truly,\nRight with this sword then will I kill us both.\nCecily answered right away in this way,\nY.\nSo that you believe in Christ and you baptize,\nGo forth to the way that stands but miles three,\nAnd to the poor folk who dwell there,\nTell them rightly as I shall tell you,\nTell them that I, Cecily, sent to them,\nTo show you good Urban the old,\nFor secrecy and for good intent.\nAnd when you say Urban has beheld,\nTell him the words which I told you.\nAnd when he has purged you from sin,\nThen shall you see that angel or the two.\nThis Valerian has gone into the place.\nAnd right as he was. He found this holy man Urban among the saints, looking. And he, without delay, delivered his message. When Urban, for joy, raised his hands, the tears from his eyes fell. Almighty Lord, O Jesus Christ, he said. Sower of chastity, counselor of the virtuous, The fruit of that seed of chastity, That thou hast sown in Cecily, take to thee. Like a busy bee without guile, Thy servant ever thine own, Cecile, For the spouse she took but new, Sends forth, as meek as any lamb to ewe. And with that word, an old man in white clothes appeared. He held a book with golden letters in his hand and stood before Valerian. Valerian fell down in fear. When he saw this old man standing thus, He heard him forthwith read: O Lord of all faith, O God, without further delay, O Christianity and Father of all, Above all and everywhere, These words were all written in gold. When this was read, then said this. An old man asked you, \"Do you want this thing or not, say yes or no? I give up all that is valuable except for something else. Under heaven, no one can think otherwise. This old man did not know where [he was], and Pope Urban christened him rightly. Valerian went home and found Cecily with an angel standing in her chamber. This angel held in his hands two crowns, one of roses and one of lilies. First, he gave the rose crown to Cecily, then took the lily crown and placed it on Valerian's head. He kept the crowns well, saying, \"I have brought them from Paradise for you both. They shall never rot. Trust me, no one else will see them but the chaste and those who hate treachery. Valerian, you have a brother whom I love as much as you in this world. I pray that my brother may know the truth as I do here. The angel said:\n\n\"I have a brother named Valerian, whom I love more than anyone in this world. Please grant my brother grace to know the truth as I do here.\" Say God grants your request, and He welcomes you with the palm of majesty. Thou shalt come into His blissful rest. And with that word, Tiburce thy brother comes.\n\nWhich roses and lilies cast,\nHe spoke to his brother in great haste,\nAnd said, I wonder this time of the year,\nWhen does this sweet savor come so,\nOf roses and of lilies that I smell here?\nFor though I had them in my hands two,\nThe savor might not penetrate me deeper.\nThe sweet savor that I find in my heart,\nHas changed me into another kind.\n\nValerian said, we have two crowns,\nSnow white and rose red that shines clear,\nWhich those thine eyes have no power to see,\nAnd as thou smells't through my prayer,\nSo shalt thou see them leave, dear brother.\nIf it be that thou wilt without delay,\nBelieve truly and know verily.\n\nTiburce answered, \"Thou speakest this to me,\nIn truth or in dream I hear this,\nIn dreams, quoth Valerian, have we been,\nUnto this time, brother mine own.\"\nBut now at last our dueling in truth begins,\nHow knowest thou this, quoth Tiburce, and in what way? Valerian, I shall reveal\nThe angel of God has told me the truth I taught\nWhich you shall see if you will renounce\nIdols and be clean and nothing else\nAnd of the miracle of these two crowns\nSaint Ambrose in his preface says this:\nSolempuli, this noble doctor, commends\nAnd says in this manner:\nReceive the palm of martyrdom\nSaint Cecile, filled with God's gift\nThe world and even her chamber began to sway\nWitness Cecily and Tiburces' shrine\nTo whom God, in His bounty, would shift\nCrowns two of flourish's sweet smelling\nAnd His angel brought them\nThe maiden has brought them to bliss above\nThe world knew it was worthy certainly\nDevotion and chastity well to love\nShe showed him Cecily open and plain\nThat all idols are but a thing in vain\nFor they are dumb and therefore they are deaf\nAnd charged him to leave his idols\nWho so believes\nTiburce said, \"If I shall not lie,\"\nAnd she kissed his breast, hearing this\nAnd was full glad, able to see the truth.\nThis day I \"Take this for my ale, said the blessed fair maiden there. After that she said to me: \"Go right, as the love of Christ said she, and make me your wife in this way. Immediately, take this ale for my sake. Since you will, go with your band to the baptism and make it clean so that you may behold the angel's face which your brother told you about. Tiburce answered and said, \"Brother dear, first tell me whether I shall go and to what man. To whom did he come forth with good cheer? I will lead you to Pope Urban. Pope Urban, my brother, said Tiburce. Would you lead me thither, Tiburce? I think it a dreadful thing and do you not know Urban? He is so often condemned to die and dwells in hell always going to and fro, and dares not once put forth his head. He should be burned in a red-hot fire if he were found, if men could see him. And we also bear him company and while we seek that divinity hidden privately in heaven.\" To whom Cecily answered boldly, \"Men might well fear and\" This life is like my own dear brother, but if I were living only and nothing else, there is a better life in other places that shall never be lost nor feared the nothing. Which God's son told us through his grace that the Father's son has wrought all things with a skillful thought. The ghost that proceeded from the Father has sustained him without any sin by word and by miracles, God's son. When he was in this world, he declared that there is other life where men may live. To whom Tiburce, the first, answered:\n\nThere was but one God, Lord, in truth. And now of the three, how may we bear witness? I will tell you what she or I go.\n\nA man has three persons in such being of divinity. She began there to preach to him about Christ's son and teach about his pains and many points of his passion. How God's son in this world was willing to grant mankind plain remission, those bound in sins and cares. Colde. All these things she told to Tiburce. After this, Tiburce with Valerian went to Pope Urban in good intent. He thanked God and with a glad heart and light, he christened him and made him perfect in his learning, a knight of God. After this, Tiburce received such grace that every day he saw in time and space the angel of God and every manner of bone. It were full hard to order how many wonders Jesus worked for him. But at last, to tell it short and plain, the sergeants of the town sought them out and before all, the Prefect brought them. He apprehended them and sent them to the image of Jupiter. He said, \"Whoever will not sacrifice, swap his head; this is my sentence here.\" Anon, these martyrs that I appoint, one Maximus, who was an officer of the Prefect and his counselor, they seized and forced the saints out. He himself wept for pity that he had heard the saints' lore. When Maximus had heard the saints' teachings, he obtained leave from the tormentors and had them released. his house without more\nAnd with her, they went from the torturers to retract\nAnd from Maxime and from his folk each one\nThe false faith to believe in God alone\nCecily came when it was nearly night\nWith priests who christened them all in fear\nAnd afterward, when day was worn light\nCecily said to them with a steady cheer\nNow Christ's own knights live and dear\nCast away all works of darkness\nAnd arm yourselves with armies of brightness\nYou have indeed waged a great battle\nYour course is done, your faith has sustained you\nGo to the crown of life that will not fail\nThe rightful Judge whom you have served\nShall reward you as you have deserved\nAnd when this thing was said as you decreed\nMen led them forth to do sacrifice\nBut when they were to the place, I came\nTo tell you briefly the conclusion\nThey refused to encourage or sacrifice rightly\nBut on their knees they set themselves down\nWith humble heart and sad devotion\nAnd lost both their heads in the p\nTheir souls went to the King of grace. Maximus saw this thing betide,\nWith pitiful tears, he told her at once,\nThat he saw her soul fly to heaven,\nWith angels full of clarity and light.\nWith his word, he converted many a one.\nFor which Almachins behaved towards him so,\nWith whips of lead until his life ended.\nCecily came and buried him there,\nBy Tiburce and Val,\nWith her, his burial.\nAfter this, Almachins hastily\nBade his mistress fetch Cecily openly,\nSo that she might sacrifice and incense Iubiter,\nBut they converted at her wise words.\nWept she full sore and gave full credence\nTo her words and cried more and more,\nChrist, God's son, who without distinction,\nThis is our sentence,\nThat has a servant so good, him to serve.\nWe believe this with one voice, though we perish.\nAlmachins, who heard of this doing,\nBade fetch Cecily, so that he might see her.\nFirst, this was his asking,\n\"What kind of woman are you?\" she asked,\n\"I am a gentlewoman,\" she replied,\n\"Why do you ask, if it grieves\nYour religion and your belief?\" \"She who would conclude two answers in one demand, you asked lewdly. Almacha answered, \"Of when comes your rude answer? She asked when she was feigned in conscience and good faith. Almachins said, \"Do not heed my power.\" She replied, \"Your might is little to fear. For every mortal man's power is but like a bladder full of wind. With a prick of a pin, all its pride can be brought low. You began wrongfully and are yet persisting. Do you not know how our Prince mighty and free has commanded and ordained that every Christian shall be punished? It is a shame that the people should scorn and laugh at your folly. Commonly, men know well over all that mighty God is in his heavens high. And these images, you may well see near them. To the nether they can do no profit. In truth, they are not worth esteem. She said this and more, and he grew angry and bade men.\"\" should lead her\nA man brought her to her house and there he kept her\nHe placed her in a bath of red flames\nAnd as he commanded, it was done in deed\nFor in the bath, they bound her firmly\nAnd night and day, fire was kept burning beneath her\nThe long night and also the day\nFor all the fire and the great heat\nShe sat completely cold and felt no pain\nBut in that bath, her life she had to let go\nFor all-seeing ones with a wicked intent\nThree strokes on the neck he struck her then\nThe torturer, but for no chance reason\nCould not strike her neck twice\nAnd because of that time, there was an ordinance\nThat no one should do such a punishment to anyone\nThe fourth stroke to strike softly or gently\nThis torturer, however, was half dead with her neck twisted there\nHe left her lying and on his way went\nThe Christian folk who were around her\nWith shirts, they collected her blood up\nThree days she remained in this torture\nAnd never ceased them in teaching the faith\nThat she had fostered them, she began to preach\nAnd there she gave her possessions and And they went to Pope Urban, and said I asked this of heaven's king\nTo have respite three days and no more\nTo perform that which I before have done\nThese souls and that I may work magic\nHere in my house perpetually a church\nSaint Urban with his deacons privately\nThe body was fetched and buried by night\nAmong his other saints honestly\nHer house the church of Saint Cecilia is named\nSaint Urban consecrated it as he could\nIn which to this day in noble wise\nMen do to Christ and to his saints service\n\nHere ends the Second Nun's Tale. And begins the prologue of the Chaucerian Yeoman.\n\nWhen the life of Saint Cecilia was told\nOr we had ridden fully five miles\nAt Boton under\nA man that clothed was in cloths black\nAnd underneath he wore a white surplice\nHis hackney which was of pommel girth\nHe swung it so that wonder it was to see\nIt seemed that he had pricked me\nAbout the palfrey stood the man full high\nHe was of some size as speckled as a pie\nThe hackney also that his yeoman rode upon\nHe swung it so that beneath its might it went\nA mallet. twifold up on his crop, it seemed that he carried little array,\nThis worthy man was all light for summer's road,\nAnd in my heart I wondered began,\nWhat he was till I understood,\nHow his cloak was sewn to his hood,\nFor which, when I had long delayed,\nI addressed him,\nHis hing at his back down by the alehouse,\nFor he had ridden more than trot or pace,\nHe rode ever pricking as if he were wood,\nA cloth leaf he had under his hood,\nFor sweat and to keep his head,\nBut it was joy to see him sweet,\nHis forehead drooped as a stillatory,\nFilled with plantain or peppery,\nAnd when he came, he began to cry,\n\"God save you, good company,\nTo ride in this merry company,\nHis yeoman was also full of courtesy,\n\"Fast have I prayed he for your sake,\nBecause I wish to overtake you,\nAnd said, 'Sir,' out of your hostelry,\nI and warned my lord and sovereign,\nWho to ride with you is quite feign,\nFor his disport he hates dalliance,\nFriend, for your warning, may good chance attend,\nThen said our host certainly,\nThy\" A lord was wise and merry, and he could tell a joyful tale or two. He is full of mirth and jolly. Trust me, you would be surprised how skillfully and in various ways he could work. He has taken on many great enterprises, which are extremely difficult for anyone here to bring about, but they learn from him. He is as homely among you as he rides among you. If you knew him, it would be to your advantage. You would not forgo his acquaintance for anything I possess. For great good, I place all that I have in balance with him. He is a man of high discretion. I warn you, he is a very wise man.\n\nOur host asked me, \"Is he a clerk or none? Tell me what he is.\"\n\n\"A clerk, no, no, he is greater than a clerk, indeed,\" said this man, and in few words he showed me some of his craft. My lord can exhibit such subtlety that all of his craft you may not understand from me. For all the ground. To Canterbury town,\nHe could turn upside down so down\nAnd pay it all with silver and gold\nAnd when this yeoman had thus told\nTo our host he said, \"Benedicite\"\nThis thing is very wonderful to me\nSince your lord is of such high prudence\nIs the reason why men should revere him\nThat of his worship he counts so little\nHis overlord's slip is not worth a mite\nAs in effect to him so it seems, I must go\nIt is all bawdy and torn also\nWhy is your lord so sluttish, I pray?\nAnd of power is it better to buy\nIf his deed agrees with his speech\nTell me, and that I entreat\nWhy did this yeoman ask this of me?\nGod help me, for he shall never have it\nBut I will not acknowledge that I saw\nAnd there\nHe is as wise in faith as I believe\nThat is overdoing it will not do\nAnd just as clerics say, it is vice\nTherefore, in that I hold him lewd and nice\nFor when a man has more than enough wit\nIt often happens that he misuses it\nSo does my lord, and that grieves me\nGod have mercy, I can say no more\nThereof, no good man said our host. You are the steward of your lord's house,\nTell me how he speaks now, scarcely,\nSince he is so cunning and sly,\nWhere do you dwell if it is to tell, tell me,\nIn the suburbs of,\nLurking in herns and in lanes blind,\nWhere these robbers and these thieves hide,\nHolding their fearful private residence,\nAs those who dare not show their presence,\nSo fare we if we shall speak the truth,\nNow said our steward, let me speak to you,\nWhy are you so discolored in your face,\nPeter said, God give it hard grace,\nI am so used to the hot fire to blow,\nThat it has changed my color I believe,\nI am not accustomed in any mirror to look,\nBut I sink sore and learn to multiply,\nWe grind and pound in the fire,\nAnd yet we fail in our desire,\nFor ever we lack our conclusion,\nTo many people we do deceive,\nAnd borrow gold, be it a pound or two,\nOr ten or twelve or many sums more,\nAnd make them believe at least we can,\nThat from a pound we could make two,\nIt is false and yet we have good hope,\nIt is for this purpose that we grope,\nAnd this art is so far from us. \"mowe it not learn though we had sworn\nTo overtake it. it slips away so fast\nIt will make us beggars in the end\nWhile this yeoman was thus speaking\nThis canon drew him near and heard all things\nWhich this yeoman spoke for suspicion\nOf men's speech ever had this canon\nFor Cato says he that is guilty is\nDumb all things to be spoken of him indeed\nThat was the cause he drew so near\nTo this yeoman to hear all his saw\nAnd thus he said to his yeoman then\nHold thou thy peace and speak no more\nFor if thou dost thou shall it cost thee dearly\nThou scoundrel, you dare reveal this to me in this company\nAnd also discover that you should hide\nYou said our host tells of what befell\nOf all his treasures reckon thou not a mite\nIn truth, I do but a little\nAnd when this canon saw it would not be\nBut that his yeoman would reveal his privacy\nHe fled away in great sorrow and shame\nAha, said the yeoman, here shall rise a game\nFor it is earnest to me by my faith\nThat I feel well what any man says\nAnd yet for all my smart and all my\" For all my sorrow and misery, I could never leave it in any way. Now I wish that my wit would suffice to tell all that pertains to this art, but nevertheless, I will tell you a part. Since my lord has gone, I will not spare such things as I know. Here ends the prologue and begins the tale of the Chanon's yeoman.\n\nI lived with this Chanon for seven years, and of his science, I was never near. If I had it, I would have lost it there. And God knows, I have more than I. There, as I was wont to be right fresh and gay, In clothing and other good array, Now may I wear an hose up on my head, And there my color was both fresh and red. Now it is wan and of a leaden hue. Whoever uses it will sore repent. And of my swinkey blend is my ye. Such advantage it is to multiply, That sliding science has made me so bare, That I have no good where I ever fare, And yet I am indebted so sore there. Of gold that I borrowed truly, While I live, I shall it repay never. Let every man beware by me for ever, What manner of man that. If he continues, I'll hinder his thrift; for help me God, he shall not win,\nBut impoverish his purse and make his wits thin.\nAnd when he, through madness and folly,\nHas lost his own good through jeopardy,\nThen he incites others to do the same,\nTo lose their good as he has done.\nFor to a shrew's joy it is and ease,\nTo have her fellows in pain and disease.\nFor I once learned this from a clerk,\nOf no charge I will.\nWhen we are there, as we shall exercise,\nOur eldritch craft we seem wonder wise,\nOur terms have been so clerical and queer,\nI blow the fire till my heart is quiet.\nWhat should I tell each proportion\nOf things which we work up and down,\nAs on five or six ounces may well be,\nOf silver or some other quantity,\nAnd b:\nOf orpiment, burnt bones, Iren, squamys,\nThat in a earthy pot are put small and fine,\nAnd saltpeter and also paper,\nBefore these powders that I speak of here,\nAnd well covered with a lamp of glass,\nAnd of much other thing which was there,\nAnd of the... potions and glasses enveloping\nThat of the eye mixing and of the fire, easy and painful as well,\nWhich was made and of the care and worry we had in our sublime matter,\nIn a malting and calcining\nOf quicksilver, which I call crude mercury,\nFor all our trifles we cannot conclude,\nOur orpiment and sublimed mercury,\nOur grounded lime also on the furnace,\nOf each of them, of uncinis a certain,\nIt does not help us, our labor is in vain,\nAnd also our spirits' assent,\nNor our materials that lie all fixed down,\nMoreover, we are once hindered in our working,\nFor all our labor and trouble is lost,\nAnd the cost a twenty devil's way,\nIs lost which we laid on it.\nThere is also full many another thing,\nThat belongs to our craft,\nThough I order them to rehearse I cannot,\nAs bole Armoniak vertgrece borax,\nAnd various vessels made of earth and glass,\nOur vitriols and our descenders,\nViolins, crucibles, and sublimators,\nTurokis and alembics too,\nAnd other such dear ones.\nIt is not necessary to rehearse them all.\nWaters of ru and bores galle,\nArsenic salt. Armoniak and brimstone, and herbs I could tell many more, such as Egremoigne valerian and lunary, and others if I choose to stay. Our lamps burn night and day to bring about our craft if we may. Our furnaces of calcination and albificacion of waters. Unslaked lime, chalk, gleir of an eye. Powders various, ash, shits, and clay. Serid pottis, salt petre, vitriole, and various fires made of wood and coal. Sal tartar, alum, and salt preparat. And combust materials and coagulat. Clay made with horse dung or human her or oil. Of tartre, alum, glass berme, wort, and argule. Rosealgar and other materials absorbing and also incorporating. And of our materials, silver citrination. Our semetning and also fermentation. Our Ingottis tests and many more. I will tell you as I was taught also. The four spirits and the bodies seven. Be ordered as you heard my lord Neweyn. The first spirit quicksilver, called is. The second sulphur, the third mercury, surely. Sal ammoniac and the fourth brimstone. The bodies seven look here now. Sol is gold, and Luna is silver we. This is a fragment of an old text: \"Through Mercury, Mars, Iren, and Quicksilver we call Thee. Jupiter led Iu, and Venus is my father's kin. This cursed craft who will exercise It shall have no good that it may suffice For all the good it spends thereabout He shall lose of it thereof I have no doubt Whoever wishes to utter his folly Let him come forth and learn to multiply And every man that has anything in his coffer Let him appear and become a phoenix Prest or Canon or any other person Though he sits at his book day and night In learning of this elusive nice lore All is in vain and much more Is to teach an unlearned man this subtlety Do not speak of it, it will not be And can he letter or cannot he none As in effect he shall find it alone For both two are my salvation Concluding in multiplication All alike are\n\nThis is to say, they fail both two Yet I forgot to make rehearsal Of waters corrosive and of limpid\nAnd of bodies mollificacion\nAnd also of her induracion\nOylis ablacions metall fusibill\nTo tell you all it would pass any bibliol\nThat elsewhere is therefor as for the\"\n\nCleaned text: \"Through Mercury, Mars, Iren, and Quicksilver we call you. Jupiter led Iu, and Venus is my father's kin. This cursed craft who will exercise it shall have no good that it can suffice, for all the good it spends thereabout. He shall lose of it thereof, I have no doubt. Whoever wishes to utter his folly, let him come forth and learn to multiply. And every man that has anything in his coffer, let him appear and become a phoenix, be it a priest, a canon, or any other person. Though he sits at his book day and night, in learning of this elusive nice lore, all is in vain and much more. It is to teach an unlearned man this subtlety. Do not speak of it, it will not be. And can he letter or cannot he none? As in effect, he shall find it alone. For both two are my salvation. Concluding in multiplication, all alike are.\n\nThis is to say, they both fail. Yet I forgot to make rehearsal of waters corrosive and limpid, and of bodies' mollification and induration. Oylis ablations metall fusibill. To tell you all, it would pass any bibliol. That elsewhere is therefor, as for the\" I. Of these names now I will rest\nFor I believe I have told you now\nTo raise a find all like him who never rowed a boat\nA nay, let be the philosophers' stone\nElixir we call it, we seek it swiftly each one\nFor had we him, then we would be sure I now\nBut unto God in heaven I make an oath\nFor all our craft when we have done all we can\nAnd all our cunning he will not come to us\nHe has made us spend much good\nFor sorrow thereof almost we become wood\nBut good hope creeps in our heart\nSupposing ever though we sorely suffer\nTo be relieved by him afterward\nSuch supposing is hard\nI warn you well, it is to seek every year\nThat future times have made me disagree\nIn trust whatsoever they had\nYet of that art they can not be sad\nFor unto them it is a bitter sweet\nSo seemed they but a sheet\nWhich might wrap them in a night\nAnd a brake to walk in by daylight\nThey would sell it and spend it in this craft\nThey cannot cease until nothing burdens them\nAnd evermore wherever they go\nMen may know them by their smell. For all the world, they are such that:\nTheir scent is so strong and hot,\nThat though a man is a mile from them,\nThe scent will affect him, trust me.\nIf men wish to know these people,\nAnd if a man will ask them privately,\nWhy they are dressed so unwisely,\nImmediately they will round on him and say,\nIf they had seen such men,\nThey would be slain because of their science.\nThus passes over this, I go on with my tale,\nBefore the pot is on the fire, id est,\nAnd a certain quantity of metal,\nMy lord tempers it and no one but he,\nNow is he gone, I dare say boldly,\nFor as men say, he can do craftily,\nYet I know well he has such a name,\nAnd yet often it happens so,\nThe pot to break and farewell all is done,\nThe metal being of such great violence,\nOur walls cannot make resistance,\nBut if they were made of lim and stone,\nThey would persist and through the wall they go,\nAnd some of them sink down into the ground.\nThus have we. \"lost a great deal of money\nAnd some were skating around the room\nSome leapt into the fire without a doubt\nThough the devil in our sight did not show himself\nI believe that he is like us\nIn hell where he is lord and father\nThere is no more rage or anger\nWhen our pot is broken as I have said\nEvery man chats and holds himself badly paid\nSome said it was due to the fire making\nSome said no, it was due to the blowing\nThen was the fear for that was my duty\nStraw said you are lewd and nice\nIt was not tempered as it should be\nNay, said the fourth saint and listen to me\nBecause our fire was not made of beech\nThat is the cause and no other reason\nI can tell where the long one was\nBut well I know great strife is among us\nWhat said my lord there is no more to do\nOf these parallels I will be aware soon\nI am quite sure that the pot was cracked\nBe as it may be you are not amused\nAs custom is, let us sweep the floor quickly\nPick up your hearts and be glad and cheerful\nThe mullock on a heap was swept away\nAnd on the floor cast a\" And all the millok throw aside and sift and pick many a throw. Parde said that some of our metal yet is there, though we have not all. And though this thing has mishapened as now, another time it may be well now. We put our goods in adventure. A merchant, Parde, may not always endure. Tristith me well in his prosperity. Sometimes his gods were drenched in the sea, and sometimes it comes safely to land. Pes said, my lord, the next time I will find, to bring our craft all in another plight. And but I do, sirs, let me have the way. There was a defect in something, I well know. Another said the fire was our own. But be it hot or cold, I dare say this: that we conclude ever more amiss. We fail always of that which they would have. And in our madness ever more we ravage. And when we are to gather each one, every man seems as wise as Solomon. But all that shines as gold is not gold, as I have told here. Nor is every apple fair at the eye, not good whatever men cry. Right so it fares among us. He that seems wisest is sweet. Iesus is a fool when it comes to the prefect, and he who seems truest is a thief. He who wonders if I am from you will know this, for my tale will be told to an end. There is a charlatan of religion among us, who would infect an entire town, though it were as great as was Rome, Alexandria, Troy, or other three. His cunning and his infinite falseness could not be written as I speak. Though he might live a thousand years in all the world, in all the realm of falseness he is without a peer. For in his time he will wind himself and speak his words so slyly and so kindly, that when he comes with any person, he will make him dote at once. But if it is a fiend as he is himself, full many a man has he beguiled before this, and if he lives may a while, and yet men ride and go many a mile to seek and have his acquaintance, not knowing of his false governance. And if you list to give me audience, I will tell it here in your presence. But worshipful churchmen, religious, do not think that I slander your house. Though my tale is of a Canon, of every order some. In London lived a priest annulier,\nWho for many years had been so pleasing and so servable,\nTo the wife where he dined, that she would suffer him to pay\nNeither for board nor clothing, he went never in dismay.\nAnd spending silver, he had plenty,\nOf which I will not speak further now.\nThis false Canon came one day\nTo the priest, and brought him to confusion.\nThis false Canon came up one day\nTo the priest. The priest stayed where he lay, begging him to lend him a certain amount of gold, and he would repay him again. Lend me a mark, he said, for only three days; at my day I will surely repay it then. And if you find me false at that time, another day hang me by the neck. This priest took the mark and was very pleased, and this champion thanked him often and took his leave and went on his way. And on the third day, he brought back his money and gave it to this priest again, who was greatly pleased and glad. The priest said, I owe nothing to a man to lend him a noble or two or three, or any other thing that is in my possession, when he is so true to his condition. That in no way will he break his word to such a man. I cannot say no to that. The canon asked, what should I be unfaithful for? That would be a new and foolish thing. Truth is a thing that I will always keep. Until that day in which I shall creep into my grave or else Christ forbid it. B. G. I thank you, and it is well said. There has never been a man yet who was evilly repaid for gold or silver that he lent to me. N. \"And he said to him, \"You have never deceived me in my heart. And you have been so goodly to me and shown me such great gentleness. You want to make amends with your kindness. I will show you if you wish to hear, I will teach you more fully the matter. How I can work in philosophy. Take heed, you will surely see that I will either master it or go. He said, \"Sir, the priest, and you wish it so.\" Mary, at your commandment, truly, said the canon and Ellis, Christ forbid. Look how this thief could perform his service. Truly, such a profane one stinks, as the old wise man bears witness. And soon I will make it clear. In this Chanon's book of all treachery, that ever more delight and gladness has and such demonic thoughts in his heart to bring harm to Christ's people. God keep us from his false dissembling. Nothing did this priest know with whom he dealt. Nor did he feel anything of his harm coming.\" \"O pitiful priest, O pitiful Innocent. With covetousness, you shall soon be blended. O graceless, you are most blind.\"\" \"No thing are you a match for his deceit,\nWhose shape as a fox he assumes,\nYou cannot flee from his wiles or women.\nTherefore, to the conclusion this refers,\nBringing confusion to you.\nUnhappy man, I will hasten to tell,\nYour unwit and folly, and that wretch's falsehood,\nAs far as my knowledge allows.\nThis Canon was my lord, you would think,\nSir, in truth, and heaven's queen,\nIt was another Canon and not he,\nWho can betray a hundredfold more subtly.\nHe has betrayed many a time,\nOf his falsehood it torments me to rhyme,\nEvery time I speak of his deceit,\nMy checks grow red with shame,\nAt first they begin to glow,\nFor I have no right to redness I know,\nIn my face for fumes of diverse metals,\nWhich you have heard me recount,\nConsumed and wasted has my redness,\nNow heed this Canon's cursedness,\nSir said he to the priest, let your man go,\nFor quicksilver that we had anon,\nAnd let him bring uncooked two or three,\nAnd when he comes as fast you shall see,\nA wonderful thing.\" \"He who has not seen this, Sire, the priest said it shall be done. He bade his servant fetch this thing for him, and he was already at his command. He sent him forth and came back immediately with this quicksilver to show. He took the uncinals three to the canon, and he laid them down well and fairly. He bade the servant bring the crucible. He was to go at once to his work. The crucible was brought right away, and this canon took out a crucible from his bosom and showed it to the priest. This instrument, he said, whoever sees this, take it in your hand and put yourself therein. Begin in the name of Christ to become a philosopher. There are few whom I would wish to reveal so much of my science to. Here you shall see by experience that this quicksilver I will mortify, right before your eyes without lying. I will make it as good silver and as fine as there is any in your purse or mine, or else I am false and unstable among men forever.\" He had a powder. that cost me dere\nShal make al good for it is cause of al\nMy connynge whiche I you shewe shal\nVoidith your man and let hym be withoute\nAnd shit the dore whylis we be ther aboute\nOur priuyte that no man vs a spye\nWhylis that we worke in this phylosofie\nAllas as he bad fulfillid was in dede\nThis ilke seruaunt anone out yede\nAnd his maister shitte the dore anon\nAnd to her labour spedely they goon\nThis preest at this cursid Chanons biddyng\nVpon the fyre anon set this thing\nAnd blew the fyre and bisied hym ful faste\nAnd this Chanon in to the crosselet caste\nA powder not I neuer where of it was\nI made of chalk or of erthe of glas\nOr somwhat ellis was not worth a flye\nTo blynde with this preest and bad hym hye\nThe colis forto couchyn al aboue\nFor in tokenyng that I the loue\nQuod this chanon thyn hondis two\nShul werke al thing that here is do\nGraunt mercy quod the preest & was right glad\nAnd couchid the colis as the Chanon bad\nAnd whyle he bysy was this fendly wrecche\nThis fals chanon the foule send hym fecche\nOut of his bosom took a beching coal, in which subtly was made a hole. And therein was put of silver a small, unstoppered stopper. The hole was filled with wax to keep the liquid in. And understand that this false gyne was not made there but was made before. And other things that I shall tell you later. Hereafter, before he came there, he thought to beguile him. And so he did until he had deceived him. It wearies me when I speak of him. His feigned falsehood would make me avenge myself. If I knew how, but here and there He is variable, he abides nowhere. But take heed, sirs, for God's love. He took his coal of which I spoke above. And in his hand he bore it privately. And while this priest couched beside him, The colis, as you told me or this, This canon said, \"Friends, you do amiss.\" This is not cooked as it ought to be. But soon it shall be amended. Now let me meddle with it but a while. For of you I have pity by Saint Giles. You are right hot, I see how you are sweet. Here is an olive. And wipe always the wet\nAnd while the priest kept his face wide\nThis canon took his coal with sorrowful grace\nAnd laid it above upon the midway of the crosslet\nAnd blew well afterward\nUntil the colis began to burn fiercely\nNow give us drink, quoth the canon then\nAs swiftly as all shall be well I undertake\nSit down and let us merry make\nAnd when this canon had brought and the limel out of the hole\nInto the crosslet it fell at once\nAnd so it must needs be the reason\nSince it was even above couched was\nBut the priest knew nothing of that, alas\nHe deemed all the colis like good\nFor of the slightest he understood nothing\nAnd when this alchemist saw his time\nRise up, sir priest, he said at once & stand by\nAnd for I know well, you have none\nGoth goes forth and bring\nFor I will make of it the same shape\nThat an goth is if it may happen\nAnd bring also with you a b\nFull of water and you shall well see then\nHow our business shall prosper\nAnd yet for you shall have no misbelief\nNor wrong conception of me in your. I will not be away from you, but go with you and come back again. The chamber door will soon say, \"They opened and shut and went their way.\" And with them, they took the key and came back without delay. What should I wait all day long? He took the chalk and struck it like an ingot as I shall tell you. He took out of his own sleeve Ateyn of silver, evil may he chew, Which was not but an ounce of weight. And take heed now of his cunning trick. He struck his ingot in length and breadth, From this point without fear. So lightly that the priest did not see it. And in his sleeve again he hid it. And from the fire he took up his matter, And in the ingot he put it with merry cheer. And into the water vessel he cast it, When he pleased and bade the priest as fast as possible, Look what is put in your hand and grope, You shall find there silver as I hope. What devil of hell should it otherwise be? Showing of silver, yes, sir, indeed. He put his hand in and took up eatable, Of silver. \"This priest was fine and glad in every vein. Blithe was this priest when he said it was so, God's blessing and his mother's also, and all saints, have you, Sir Chanon. Said this priest, and I here malison. But if you vouchsafe to teach it to me this noble craft and this, I will be your man in all that ever I may. Quoth this Chanon, yet I will make an attempt. The second time that you may take heed and be expert in this at your need. Another day attempt in my absence. This discipline and this crafty science, let take another once, quoth he thus. Of quicksilver without further words, and do with it as you have done or this with that other which is quicksilver. The priest bids him all that ever, to do as this Chanon, this cursed man, commanded him and quickly blew the fire. Forthwith, this Chanon was ready to beguile, and for contention in his hand bore, an hollow stick take heed and beware. In the end of which was an once and more of silver lime put as said is before. Was in his cole and.\" stoppeth with wax seal,\nTo keep in his liminal every part,\nAnd while the priest was engaged,\nThis canon with his stick began to dress,\nTo him immediately and his powder threw in,\nAs he did before / the devil out of his skin,\nHim I pray to God for his falsehood,\nFor he was ever false in thought and deed,\nAnd with his stick above his crosslet,\nThat was ordained with that false get,\nHe stirred the colts until all relented,\nThe wax against the fire as every man,\nBut it is a fool who knows well it must yield,\nAnd all that in the stick was outed,\nAnd in the crosslet hastily filled,\nNow, good sirs, what will you bet then well,\nWhen that this priest was thus beguiled again,\nSupposing nothing but truth to see,\nHe was so glad I cannot express,\nIn no manner his mirth and his gladness,\nAnd to the Canon he offered himself,\nBody and good, quoth the canon anon,\nThough I be poor, crafty, thou shalt find me,\nI warn thee well, yet there is more behind,\nIs there any copy here Inne, quoth he,\nQuoth the priest, sir, I trust there be,\nEllis go by us some and. He went with his copy and the canon in his hand. The canon weighed out an once from it. It is simple for me to relate this. Thechan, in his wisdom, appeared friendly to those who did not know him. But he was friendly in both deed and thought. It grieves me to tell of his deceitfulness. Nevertheless, I will express it, for no other reason than that men may be warned by it. He put this once of copper in his crosslet and on the fire he set it swiftly. He cast the powder in and made the priest to blow. In his working, he stooped low. As he had done before, right away the priest he made his apperition. Afterward, in the incense, he cast it. In the pan, he put it last. Of water and in it he put his own hand. And in his sleeve, as you are beforehand aware, he had of silver a sign. He slightly took it out, this deceitful one, unwitting of the priest of this false craft. And in: The priest's bottom was left behind,\nAnd in the water it bobbed to and fro.\nHe took it up privately, also.\nThe copier's teenagers did not know the priest,\nAnd seized him by the breast.\nThen he spoke to him and said in jest,\nSit down, be God, you are to blame.\nHelp me now as you did before.\nPut in your hand and look what is there.\nThis priest took up this silver teen anon,\nAnd then said, \"Let us go to a goldsmith.\nFor by my faith, I would not do this for my hood,\nBut if it were fine and good silver,\nAnd if it were swiftly paid,\nTo the goldsmith with these three teaspoons we will go.\"\nThey went and put them in the assay,\nNo man could say nay,\nBut that they were as they ought to be.\nThis crafty priest, who was gladder than he,\nWas never brighter against the day,\nNightingale in the season of May,\nWas never one who most wanted to sing,\nOr lady more lusty in caroling,\nOr knight in armies done a lusty deed,\nTo stand in grace of his. This priest had the skill to teach\nAnd to the canon he spoke and said:\nFor the love of God, who died for us all,\nAs I may deserve it, grant it to you.\nWhat shall this receipt cost? Tell me now.\n\"It is dear,\" said this canon, \"I warn you well,\nSave I and a friar, in England no man can make it.\nNo force, sir, for God's sake, what shall I pay?\n\"It is full dear,\" I said he, \"Sir, if it pleases you to have it,\nYou shall pay forty pounds, so God save me.\nAnd near the friendship that you did or this to me,\nYou should pay more, indeed.\nThis priest demanded the sum of forty pounds at once\nFrom nobles, taking each one\nTo this canon for this same receipt\nAll his work was but fraud and deceit\n\"Sir priest,\" he said, \"I will keep it closely held,\nFor I will keep my craft concealed.\nAnd if you love me, keep it secret,\nFor if men knew all my subtlety,\nThey would have such great envy towards me\nBecause of my philosophy,\nI should be dead, there would be no other way.\n\"God forbid,\" said the [priest]. \"Yet I would rather spend all the good I have or be without, than fall into such trouble. Well, sir, have you well in hand and grant mercy. This canon spoke and went his way, never again to see him. After that day, when this priest should make his attempt, it would not be. Behold, this priest was beguiled and deceived. Thus he makes his introduction to bring people to their destruction. Consider, sir, how there is debate between men and gold in every station. Therefore, there is none of this multiplying that blinds so many. It multiplies and causes such scarcity. In this craft, men cannot come by it, for any wit that men may have nowadays, they must chatter as do jays, and in her terms setting her lust and pain. But to her purposes they shall never attain. A man may lightly learn if he has anything to multiply and bring his good to naught. Lo, what a lucre is in this lusty one.\" A man's mirth will turn to game, and empty great and heavy purses, making folk purchase curses from those who lent generously. O foolish one, who have been burned, I implore you to desist, lest you never reach the threshold, though you may presume to be as bold as Baiard the blind, who blunders forth and parries not a cast. He is as bold to run against a stone as to go beside in the way. So fare you who multiply, I say. If your eyes cannot see right, let your mind not lack his sight. For though you look right and brood and stare, you shall never win of that trade but waste all that you can rap and run. Withdraw the fire lest it burn too fast. Meddle no more with that art I mean, for if you do your thrift is quite clean. And right away I will tell you here what Philosopher did in this:\n\nArnold of the new town says, as his rosary makes mention, he says thus without any lie:\n\nThere is no man whom Mercury can kill, but if it is by his brothers. knowlechinge: I.e. \"knowledge.\"\n\nLo, how that he said this thing: Of Philosophers' father was Hermes. He says that the dragon doubts not but if he be slain with his brother, and that is f, the dragon is Mercury and no other. He understands this, and Brymstone is his brother. And out of Sol and Luna, therefore he said, \"Take heed to my saw.\" Let no man be busy himself with this art, but he who can understand the intention and speech of Philosophers. And if he does, he is a lewd man, for this science and this knowledge said he. It is of the secret of secrets, Paracelsus. Also, there was a disciple of Plato who once said to him, as his book Homer will bear witness, and this was his demand in truth: Tell me the name of that private stone. And Plato answered him at once: Take the stone that the Thracians call Magnesia. Magnesia is the same, he said. Plato said to him, \"Sir, is it thus?\" This is ignotum per ignocius. What is Magnesia, good sir, I pray you? It is a water, I say, made of the four elements, quod Plato. Tell me the route, good sir, quod. Of that water, if it be your will,\nPlato said certainly that I forbid\nThe philosophers,\nThat they should discuss it with no one,\nNor write it in any manner,\nFor to God it is a land grant,\nFor He will not that it be discoursed,\nBut where it pleases Him,\nTo inspire and also to defend,\nWhen that He pleases, this is the end,\nThen I conclude thus: that God of heaven\nDoes not want the philosophers new,\nHow a man shall come to this stone,\nI recommend as best let it go on,\nFor whoever makes God his adversary,\nAs to work anything contrary\nTo His will, never shall he succeed,\nThough he may prolong the term of his life,\nAnd there a point for ending is my tale,\nGod send every good man relief from his trouble,\n\nAnd begins the tale of the doctor of physics.\n\nThere was, as Titus tells,\nA knight named Virgil,\nFilled with honor and worth,\nStrong in friends and riches,\nA daughter he had as his wife,\nAnd never had he more in all his life,\nFair was this maid of excellent beauty. Above every creature that men can see,\nNature has with sovereign diligence formed,\nIn such great excellence, as if to say,\n\"Lo, I, nature, thus can I form and paint,\nA creature; when I list, who can refute me?\nPigmalion, not though he forge and beat,\nOr carve or paint, for I dare well say,\nTo carve or paint or forge or beat,\nIf they presumed me to refute,\nFor he that is the former principal\nHas made me his vicegerent,\nTo form and paint every earthly creature,\nJust as I list, for all things are in my care,\nUnder the moon that may wane and wax,\nAnd for my work, no thing I will ask,\nMy lord and I are fully in accord,\nI made this to the worship of my lord,\nSo do I all my other creatures,\nOf what colors they be or what figures,\nThus seems it to me that nature would say,\nThis maid was eighteen years of age and two,\nIn which nature had such delight,\nFor just as he can paint a lily white,\nAnd red as a rose with such painting,\nShe painted had this noble creature,\nBefore she was up on her limbs. Were she as bright as such colors could be,\nAnd Phoebus had had her tresses great,\nLike the streams of his burning heat.\nAnd if that excellence were her beauty,\nA thousandfold more virtuous she.\nIn her,\nTo praise her always by discretion,\nAs well in body as in go.\nFor whosoever in virginity,\nWith all human land abstinence,\nWith all temperance and patience,\nWith meek bearing of array,\nDiscreet she was in answering always.\nShe was as wise as Pallas, I dare say,\nHer wit also full womanly and plain.\nNo uncouth terms had she,\nTo seem wise but after her degree.\nShe spoke and all her words more and less,\nSowing in virtue and in gentleness.\nShamefast she was in maidens' shamefastness,\nConstant in her heart and ever in be,\nTo drive her out of her sloth.\nBacchus had no mastery over her mouth,\nFor will and thought does Venus incense,\nAs men in fire will cast oil or grease,\nAnd of her own virtue unrestrained,\nShe has often feigned sickness here,\nFor that she would flee the company,\nWhere lightly was to treat of folly,\nAs jesters and fools. \"Such things make children grow up to be as ripe and bold as men can see. Which is very dangerous and has been yours. For a child can learn boldness when she is a wife, and you mistresses in your old age, who have lord's daughters under your governance, neither for keeping your honesty nor for falling into folly do these things belong to you. Things that have been put under your governance of lord's daughters for only two reasons: either to keep your honesty or else you have fallen into vice. Now know well the old dance and forsake fully mischance. For evermore, therefore, for Christ's sake, keep well what you have undertaken. A thief of venison who has abandoned his lechery and all his thieves' craft can keep a forest better than any man. Now keep them well for yourself if you can. Look well to no vice that you assent to. Lamentable is he for your evil intent. For whoever does a traitor is certain, and take heed of what I shall say. Of all treason, sovereign pestilence, is when a person betrays Innocence. You fathers and you mothers, though you have children one or two, yours is the...\" This maiden, who had been in ignorance of her suffering,\nBe warned by examples of your living,\nOr else he was negligent in chastising,\nSo that they did not piss in my presence,\nIf they did, you should let it pass by,\nUnder a shepherd so soft and negligent,\nThe wolf has many a sheep to rent.\nSufficient are examples I now provide,\nFor I must turn again to my matter,\nThis maiden, of whom I tell expressly,\nShe kept herself and needed no masters,\nFor in her living, maids might read,\nAs in a book, every word in deed,\nThat which is longed for to promote virtue.\nShe was so prudent and so bountiful,\nFor which reason on every side,\nBoth of her bounty and of her wide beauty,\nThrough the land they praised her each one,\nThose who loved virtue rejoiced, save envy alone,\nAnd those who were sorry for other men's woes,\nWere glad for their sorrow and unmoved.\nThis doctor makes this description,\nThis maiden went into the town,\nToward the temple with her mother dear,\nAs is the custom of young maidens there,\nNow there was a Justice in the town,\nWho governed that region,\nAnd so befell this judgment. This yen caste, upon seeing this maiden emerging from there as the judge stood, his heart changed instantly from his previous mood. He was captivated by the beauty of this maiden and to himself he whispered, \"This maiden shall be mine for one man.\" Suddenly, the devil entered his heart and taught him how to win her over. He knew for certain that by no force or by no means could he win her. He thought he was not capable of achieving this, for she was surrounded by friends and she was confirmed in such sovereign beauty. He well knew he could not win her over with her body. With great deliberation, he sent after a boy in the town, a boy he knew to be both subtle and bold. The judge told this boy this tale in a secret way and made him swear, \"And if you do this cursed deed, you will lose your head.\" When the boy agreed to this wicked deed, the judge was pleased and gave him precious and dear rewards. When all this conspiracy was ready, the judge pointed out the details to the boy from one end to the other. A false judge named Appius, as you shall hear openly, had a servant named Claudius. This false judge, known historically for his notoriety, was indeed real. The truth of the matter is indisputable. This false judge was eagerly pursuing his pleasure and would soon be followed by another.\n\nAccording to the story, this false judge, as was his custom, sat in his courtroom and granted audiences on various occasions. This servant, a great one named Claudius, came forward and said, \"Lord, if it is your will, as I humbly plead in this pitiful petition I have presented on behalf of Virginius, and if he will admit that it is not as I claim, I will provide proof and good witnesses to support my case, which my petition will certainly express.\"\n\nThe judge replied in his absence, \"I cannot give a definitive sentence. Let him be summoned, and I will gladly hear him. You shall have right and no wrong here.\"\n\nVirginius arrived to hear the justices' decision and, right away, this wretched bill was read aloud. The sentence, as you shall, was as follows:\n\n\"Virginius came before the judges to hear the decision, and as soon as this wretched bill was read, the sentence was as follows: \" To my lord Appius,\nYour servant Claudius here,\nA knight named Virgilius,\nDefies both the law and equity,\nHolds my servant, whom I call my thrall,\nStolen from my house one night,\nWhen she was very young, I will prove,\nWitness, my lord, lest you be grieved,\nShe is not his daughter, as he claims,\nTherefore, my lord Justice, I pray you,\nGrant me my thrall if it is your will,\nBehold, this was all the sentence in his bill,\nVirgilius rose up on the bench and looked around,\nBut hastily,\nHe would defend it as a knight should,\nAnd by the testimony of many a true man,\nAll that was said by his adversary was false,\nThis cursed judge would no longer tarry,\nNor hear another word from Virgilius,\nBut gave his judgment and said thus,\nI sentence this boy to give up his thrall,\nYou shall no longer keep her in your house,\nFetch her forth and deliver her to our care,\nThis boy shall have his thrall thus I command,\nAnd when this worthy knight Virgilius,\nThrough the assent of the judge. Apius, Mus, to the judge in lechery, he went home and seated him in his hall. He allowed his dear daughter to call, and with a face as pale as ash's cold, he beheld her humble face. With father's pity stirring his heart, he would not abandon his purpose. Daughter said, \"I, a virgin, am named by thee. There are two ways, either death or shame, that you must endure, all because I was born. Never have you deserved this, to die with a sword or with a knife. O my dear daughter, whom I have raised up with such pleasure, that you were not out of my memory. O my last wife and in my life, my last joy also. O gem of chastity in patience, take your death, for this is my sentence. For love, not hate, you must be dead. My pitiful hands must strike off your head. Alas, that ever Apius spoke thus. And he, the judge, spoke all this to you as you have heard. It is needless for me to tell you more. Mercy, dear one. And with that word, she laid both her arms around his. \"neck as she was wont to do, the tears burst out of her eye and said, \"Good father, shall I die? Is there no grace, no remedy? No certain daughter, my lord, said he, than you grant me leave, father, said she. My death to comply a little space, for God's sake, give his daughter grace. To comply or he her slowly, alas, and God knows nothing was her trespass but that she ran to see her father and welcome him with great solemnity. And with that word she fell into a swoon. She rose up and to her father said, \"Blessed be God that you shall die a maid. Grant me my death or that I have a shame. Do with your child according to God's name. And with that word she prayed often that with his sword he should strike softly. And with that word she swooned down. Her father with sorrowful heart and feeling took her head in his hands and presented it to the judge. When the judge saw this, as the story says, he ordered them to hang him just as fast. But right away all the people in distress rushed to save him.\" The knight, for his rage and pity,\nKnew well the false iniquity.\nThe people soon had suspicion in this matter,\nThrough the behavior of this servant's jangling.\nThey knew it was by Appius' consent.\nHe was known to be lecherous.\nImmediately to Appius they went,\nAnd cast him in prison without delay.\nWhereas he slowly awaited and Claudius,\nAppius' servant, was summoned to be hanged up on a tree.\nBut Virgilius, out of great pity,\nPrayed for him to be exiled instead.\nOr else, certain death would have befallen him.\nThe remaining ones were hanged, both more and less,\nThose who consented to this wickedness.\nHere men see how sin has its reward.\nBeware, for no man knows how God will strike.\nIn no degree or manner whatsoever,\nThe worm of conscience will rise.\nOf wicked life, though it be so private,\nNo man knows of it but God and he.\nWhether he be a lewd man or learned,\nHe knows not how soon he may be struck down.\nTherefore, I advise you to heed this counsel,\nForsake sin or sin will forsake you.\n\n[End of the Physician's Tale. Here begins the Pardoner's Prologue.] \"This man swore as if he were mad. Harow said he was nailed and bleeding. This was a false thief, a cursed Justice. A shameful death as heart can devise. So fell upon his body and bones. To the devil I commend him atonements. Alas for her bought beauty. Therefore I say that gifts of fortune and nature have caused the death of many a creature. Her beauty was her death, I dare well say. Alas, so pitifully as she was slain. But here I will not proceed as now. Men have often caused more harm than good. But truly, my own master, this is a pitiful tale to hear. But nevertheless, pass over is no force. I pray to God save thy gentle co and thy virgins and thy servants. Thy Ipocras and thy gallons. And every boy full of lethargy. God bless them and our lady saint Mary. So may I thee be a proper man and like a prelate by Saint Damyan. Thou hast spoken enough, I cannot say in terms. But well I know thou makest my heart to ache. That almost I have caught a Cardiakil. Be corpus dominus, but if I have tried a tryakil. Or else.\" a draft of corn moist ale, or but I here anon a merry tale, My heart is lost for pity of this maid, Thou believest I, John Pardoner, he said, Tell us some merriment or Iapis right away, It shall be done, he said, by Saint Runyon, But first, he said, here at this ale stake, I will both drink and eat of a cake, But right away these gentlemen began to cry, Nay, let him tell us of no reprobate, Tell us some moral thing that we may learn, Some wit, and then we will gladly hear, I grant you that, he said, but I must think, Upon some honest thing while,\n\nHere ends the Pardoner's prologue. Here begins the Pardoner's tale.\n\nThe Lord asked him in churches when I preach, I cry out, \"I can root out all that I tell,\" For I have a theme ever one and always was, Radix malorum est cupiditas, First I pronounce when I come, And then my bill shows I all and some, Our liege lord's seal is my patent, That shows I first my body to warrant, That no man be so bold, neither priest nor clerk, Me to disturb from Christ's holy work, And after that, tell I. For my talis, I present to you the Bullis of Popis and Cardinalis, of Patriarchs and Bishops. In Latin, I speak a few words. To saveyn, with my predicacion, I show forth my long crystal stones. I encased in cloths full of bones. These relics are as if they still possess each one. Then I have in laton a shoulder-bone, which was an holy iwis sheep. God's men say I keep my words. If this boon was washed in any well, if cow or calf, sheep or ox, if any worm has eaten or stung it, touch he this boon immediately, and he shall be sound. And furthermore, from pox and scab and every sore, every sheep shall be whole that drinks of this well. Drink a draught and keep that I tell. Every wight or that the cook croweth, and would do anything that he oweth, fasting drink of this well, as the holy iew our elder taught his beasts and his store. His bestis and his store shall multiply. And syris also it heals jealousy. And though a man fall into jealous rage, let him make with this water his peace. And never shall he deceive his wife,\nThough she discovers his fault.\nShe had taken two or three priests,\nHere is a mete, see ye may,\nHe who puts his hand in that mete,\nHe multiplies his grey hairs.\nWhen\nSo that he offers pennies or else groats,\nAnd men and women, take heed I tell you,\nIf he who has done some horrible sin,\nDares not for shame to confess,\nOr any woman, be she young or old,\nWho has made her husband cold,\nSuch as find themselves out of such blame,\nCome up and offer in God's name,\nAnd I absolve them by the authority,\nGranted me by bull,\nBy this feast I have won many a year,\nA hundred marks since I was pardoned,\nI stand like a clerk in many a pulpit,\nAnd show lewd people and down they sit,\nI preach as you have heard before,\nAnd tell a hundred Iapis more,\nThan it pains me to stretch forth my neck,\nAnd east and west bend over the people,\nAs does a dove sitting upon a bench,\nMy hands and tongue burn so. I joy to see my business\nOf avarice and such cursedness\nIs all my preaching to make them free\nTo give her pence and namely to me\nFor my intent is not but to win\nAnd no thing for correction of sin\nI care not when that they be buried\nThough their souls go a blackberied\nFor certainly many a prediction\nSows often time of evil intention\nSome for pleasure of folk and for flattery\nTo be avanced by hypocrisy\nAnd some for vanity and some for hate\nFor when I dare not other while debate\nThan will I sting them with my tongue's sharpness\nIn preaching so that they shall not be\nDisgraced falsely if that\nHas trespassed other to my brethren or me\nFor though I tell not his proper name\nMen shall know it is the same\nBy simony or by other circumstances\nThus I quiet those that displease us\nThus spit I out my venom under cover\nOf holiness to seem holy and true\nBut shortly my intent I will disclose\nI preach of nothing but of covetousness\nTherefore my theme is yet and ever was\nRadix huium malorum est cupiditas I preach the same way to those using usury, but though I am guilty of that sin myself, I can make others turn from avarice and repent, except that is not my primary intent. I preach nothing but for the sake of covetousness of this matter, which is sufficient. I will tell you of many examples from old stories long ago. People loved such things which they could well report and hold. Why do you think I may preach, and win gold and silver to teach, when I will live in poverty willingly? No, no, I never truly thought that. I will preach and beg in various lands. I will not do any labor with my hands and make baskets and live by it. I will not beg idly. I will not consider any of the apostles equal to me, whether it be the poorest page or the poorest widow in a village. Their children should starve for famine. No, I will drink the liquor of wine and have a joyful mistress in every town. But listen, lords, in conclusion, your liking is that I shall tell. In Flanders, there was a company of young folk who were given to riot, hazard, and taverns. They played the harlots in many games, danced and played at dice both day and night, and ate and drank like a bull in a herd. Through these activities, they sacrificed themselves to the devil, with the devil's temple as their temple in a cursed way. The excesses were so great and damnable that it was grisly to hear them swear. They thought the jewels rent Him not enough, and each of them laughed at one another's sin. And right away came the Tomfool, Fetishes and small, young fruit vendors, Singers with harps, Bawds waferers \u2013 such were very the devil's officers. To kindle and blow the fires of lechery, which is annexed to gluttony. The holy... I. Witness for me the following:\nLechery is in wine and drunkenness.\nLo, how drunken Loth unkindly\nLay with his two daughters unwittingly.\nSo drunk he was, he knew not what he did.\nAnd therefore he deeply repents.\nHerodis, who seeks the stories,\nThere you may learn and by example teach,\nWhen he, replete with wine at his feast,\nGave his own steed to kill John the Baptist cruelly.\nSeneca also says, good words doubtless,\nHe says he cannot find a difference\nBetween a man out of his mind\nAnd a man who is drunk.\nBut madness lasts longer than drunkenness.\nO gluttony, full of wickedness,\nO cause first of our confusion,\nO origin of our damnation,\nUntil Christ redeemed us with his blood again.\nLo, how dear and shortly to see,\nA curse was this wicked villainy.\nThe world was corrupt through gluttony.\nAdam our father and his wife also,\nDriven from paradise to labor and to woo,\nWere banished for that vice, it is not to be feared.\nFor Adam, as I read, was as wanton as could be,\nHe was in. Paradise and when he had eaten of the fruit, he was cast out to woo and toil, O gluttony on the outside was well to play, O wist a man how many maladies follow excess and gluttony, He should be the more meek of his diet, Sitting at his table. Alas, the short throat, the tender mouth, Makes man eat east, west, north, and south, In earth, in air, in water, men to sink, To get a glutton's meal and drink. O Poul, of this matter, well against thee enter, Mete into womb and womb into mete, Shall God destroy both as Poul says, Alas, a foul thing it is by my faith, To speak this word and fouler is the deed, When men so drink of the white and red, That from his throat he makes his proof, Through that cursed superfluity, The apostle weeping says most pitously, There walk many of whom you told have I, I say it now weep they with pitiful voices, That they were enemies of Christ's cross, Of whom the end is death, the womb is her god, O womb, O belly, o stinking, Fulfilled of dung and corruption, At either end. The foul is the sound,\nHow great cost and labor is to find\nThese cooks, how they stamp, grind, and turn\nSubstance into accident to fulfill all your licorous talent\nOut of the hard bones they knock\nThe marrow for they cast not away\nThat may go through the gullet soft and sweet\nOf spicery, of levy's bark and root\nShall be his sauce made by delight\nTo make him yet a new appetite\nBut certes he that\nIs dead while he lives in the vices\nA lecherous thing is wine and drunkenness\nIt is full of stirring and wretchedness\nO drunken man, disfigured in thy face,\nFoul is thy breath,\nAnd through thy drunken nose, sown is thy sound\nAs though thou saidst \"ay, Sampson, Sampson\"\nAnd yet God wots, Sampson drank never a wine\nThou art as it were a sty's pig\nThy tongue is lost and all thy honest cares\nFor drunkenness is very sepulchral\nOf man's wit and his discretion\nIn whom drink has dominion\nHe can no counsel keep, it is no fear\nNow keep you from the white and from the red\nNamely from the white wine of That is to sell in Fish Street or Cheape:\nThis wine of Spain creeps subtly. In other ways, it grows fast. Of which there arises such fumes that when a man has drunken draughts three and thinks he is at the tonne in Cheape, he is in Spain, right at the town of Lepe, not at Rochell or Bordeaux town. Then he will say Sampson, Sampson. But, lords, I pray you one thing: That all sovereign acts I dare say of victories in the Old Testament, which through very God that is omnipotent were done in abstinence and prayer, look in the Bible and there you may learn it. Look at Attila the great conqueror, who died in his sleep with shame and dishonor, bleeding always at his nose in drunkenness. A captain should live in sobriety. And above all this, advise you right well. What was commanded to Lamuel? Not Samuel, but Lamuel say I. Read the Bible and find it expressly of wine yielding to him that has justice. No more of this, for it may well suffice.\n\nNow I have spoken of glottery. Now I will defend you, sa. Hasardrye is... (The text seems to be cut off at the end.) A very man of leasingis (i.e., usurers) and of deceit cursingly forswearingis also,\nIt is reprehensible and contrary to honor\nTo behold a Common hazardous man,\nAnd he who is higher in station,\nThe more he is held dissolute.\nIf a prince uses hazardous actions\nIn all governance and policy,\nHe is, by common opinion,\nHold in the least esteem.\nStillbone, who was held a wise embassador,\nWas sent with great honor\nFrom Calidon to make alliances,\nAnd when he came, it happened thus:\nThat all the greatest who were of that land\nReceived him home again to their country,\nAnd sent other wise ambassadors instead.\nI will not take on me such great shame,\nTo lie to no hazardous men,\nSend other ways ambassadors,\nFor by my truth, I would rather die\nThan I should lie to hazardous men.\nFor you who are so glorious,\nShall not lie you to hazard.\nAs by my will, nor by my treaty.\nThis wise philosopher thus spoke:\nLook thou use no play of dice in thine house,\nLook also how the king. Emetrus scornfully sent you a dishonorable challenge,\nFor he had acted recklessly towards you before,\nRegarding which he held his glory and reputation\nAt no value, as worthless as reputation,\nLords might find other ways to pass the day,\nHonest enough to drive the day away,\nNow I will speak of this false and great one,\nA word or two, as many books treat,\nGreat swearing is a detestable thing,\nAnd false swearing is a more reproachable thing,\nThe high god forbids swearing altogether,\nWitness Matthew, but especially,\nThe holy one says,\nThou shalt swear truthfully to thy neighbor,\nAnd swear in court and in righteousness,\nBut idle swearing is a curse,\nBehold and see that in the first table,\nOf the high god's honorable commands,\nHow the second commandment of him is this,\nTake not my name in vain,\nRather, he forbids such swearing,\nOr homicide or any other cursed thing,\nI say as it stands in order,\nThey know this, his commands,\nHow that the second commandment of God is that,\nAnd furthermore, I will tell you at once,\nVengeance shall not depart from his house,\nThat of his. This is outrageous:\n\n\"This is thy precious heart and His nails,\nAnd His blood that is in thine veins,\nSeyn is my chance and thine is five and three,\nGod's army, if thou falsely play with me,\nThis dagger shall through thine heart go,\nThis fruit cometh from the body's two bones,\nForswearing Ire's falseness and homicide,\nNow for the love of Christ that for us died,\nLeave your others, both great and small,\nFor Christ's sake and hearken to my tale,\nThese rioters three of whom I tell,\nLong ago were ranged none other so fine,\nSet them in a tavern to drink,\nAnd as they sat, they heard a bell ring,\nBefore a corpse was carried to its grave,\nOne of them called to his servant,\nGo quickly, he said, and ask readily,\nWhat corpse is this that passes forth,\nAnd look that thou report his name well,\nSir, the boy replied, it needs no seal,\nIt was me told or ye came here two hours,\nHe was paraded an old fellow of yours,\nSuddenly was he slain that very night,\nFor drunk as he sat on his bench upright,\nThen came a thief, the people call Death,\nThat in this country all.\" And with his sword he split his heart in two\nAnd went his way without a word more\nMaster, before you come in his presence\nHe has slain a thousand with this pestilence\nI think it necessary\nTo keep away from such an adversary\nDeath is ready to meet him evermore\nThus taught me my dam I say no more\nO Saint Mary said this taverner\nThe child speaks the truth for he has this year\nHens over a mile slain in a great village\nBoth man and woman, child and page\nI believe his habitation is there\nGreat wisdom it would be before he dishonors a man\nYou gods' armies said this rioter\nIs such peril with him to meet\nI shall seek him by dale and also by street\nI shall slay him by God's gracious bones\nHarken, fellowships, we three are alone\nLet each of us become other's brother\nAnd each of us hold up his hand to another\nAnd we will slay this traitor's death\nHe shall be slain, he who slays so many.\nBy God's dignity or it be night\nTo gather have these three hearts' names\nTo live and die alike of them with one another. though he were his own brother,\nAnd up they started, all drunk in this rage,\nAnd forth they went toward that village,\nOf which the taverner had spoken before,\nAnd many a grisly oath had they sworn,\nAnd Christ's blessed body they meant to rent,\nDeath shall be dead if we may seize him,\nWhen they had gone not fully a mile,\nRight as they would have gone over a style,\nAn old poor man met them,\nThis old man greeted them meekly,\nAnd said, \"Lords, God sees you,\nThe proudest of these rioters three,\nAnswer me, Charl, with hard grace,\nWhy art thou all wrapped up, save thy face,\nWhy,\nThis old man looked in her visage,\nAnd said, \"For I cannot find,\nA man, though I walk in the wild,\nNeither in city nor in village,\nWho will change his youth for my age,\nAnd therefore must I have my age still,\nAs long as time is God's will,\nNeath death will not always have my life,\nThus I walk like a reckless outlaw,\nAnd on the ground, which is my mother's gate,\nI knock with my staff early and late,\nAnd say, 'Leave, mother, let me in.'\" Allas, when shall my honey be at rest?\nMother, with you I would change my chest.\nBut in my chamber long time has it been,\nYe, for an heir's cloak, to wrap me in.\nBut yet she will not do me that grace.\nFor which full pal and wretched is my face,\nAnd it is no courtesy to speak\nTo an old man villainously.\nBut you may yourself in holy writ read,\nAgainst an old man, hoist up on your head,\nYou should rise, therefore I exhort you,\nDo not do harm to any old man,\nMore than you would men do to you.\nIn age, if you should long abide,\nAnd God be with you wherever you go or ride.\nI must go thither as I have to do.\nNay, old man, thou shalt not so,\nSaid this other hazardous one anon.\nThou partest not so lightly, by Saint John,\nThou speakest right now of that traitor's death,\nThat in this country all our friends sleeps.\nHold my truth, thou art his spy.\nTell where he is, or thou shalt die.\nBy God and by the holy sacrament,\nFor shortly thou art one of his accomplices\nTo slay us, young folk. thou thief\nNow are you the one who lives to find death?\nTurn up this crooked way, for in that grove I saw him last by my fee.\nUnder a tree and there he will abide,\nFor your boon he will hide nothing from you.\nSee that oak right there, you shall find,\nGod save you who bought all mankind,\nAnd you amend, thus said this old man,\nAnd every one of these rioters so they ran,\nUntil they came to the tree and there they found,\nOf flowery gold I coined around,\nWell near an authentic bushel as they thought,\nNo longer than after death they sought,\nBut each of them so glad was of that sight,\nFor that the flowers were so fair and bright,\nThat down they sat by the precious hoard,\nThe worst of them spoke the first word,\nBrothers, quoth he, take keep what I say,\nMy wit is great though I boast and play,\nThis treasure has fortune given to us,\nIn mirth and jolly our lives to live,\nAnd l\nToday it\nBut might this gold be carried from this place,\nHome to my house or else to yours,\nThen might we say that it were all ours,\nThen were we in high. Men would say that we are the thieves strong\nAnd for our own treasure, we do hold\nThis treasure must be carried by night\nAs wisely and as secretly as possible\nTherefore, let us look among us all\nDraw, cut, let see who has\nHe who\nShall run to town and do it swiftly\nTo bring us bread and wine privately\nAnd two of us shall keep subtly\nThis treasure we will carry if he will not tarry\nWhen it is night, we will carry this treasure\nLet us agree where it is best\nThat one of them brings in straw in his hand\nAnd bids him draw and look at whom it falls upon\nAnd it falls on the youngest of them all\nAnd he went forth toward the town at once\nAnd also as soon as he was gone\nOne of them spoke thus to the other\nThou knowest well thou art my sworn brother\nThy profit I will tell thee right away\nThou knowest well that our fellow is gone\nAnd here is gold and a great abundance\nThat shall be divided among us three\nBut nevertheless, if I can manage it so\nThat it be divided between us two\nI have not done a friend's turn to thee\nThat other answered not how it should be. I might be: I well know that the gold shall be ours two. What shall we say, what shall we do? Shall it be counsel said the first swindler, And I shall tell thee What we shall do and bring it about. I grant you, quoth he, that other than doubt That is my truth, I will not betray. Now thou knowest well we are two And two of us shall be stronger than one. Look when he is set and then at once Arise as though thou wouldst play with him. And I shall rush him through the sides two. While thou struggle with him in game And with thy dagger look thou do the same. And then shall all this gold be parted between us Two. My dear friend between me and thee, Then may we both fulfill our lusts And play at dice right at our own will. And thus agreed these two swindlers To slay the third as you have heard me say. This youngest which went to the town Frequently in his heart he rolled up and down The beauty of these new flowers bright. O lord, quoth he, if it were that I might Win all this treasure for myself alone. There is no man that lives. under the throne of God who should live as merry as I,\nand at last the fiend our enemy,\nput in his heart that he should poison beye (beye being a name),\nwith which he might sle his fellowis two,\nfor why the fiend found him in such living,\nthat he had leave him in sorrow to bring,\nfor this was utterly his intent,\nto sle them both and never to repent,\nand forth he goes, no longer would he tarry,\ninto the town unto the apothecary,\nand prayed him that he would sell him,\nsome poison that he might his rats quell,\nand eek (also) therewith was a polecat in his hawe,\nthat as he said his capons had slain,\nand said he would wreak them if he might,\nof vermin that destroyed them by night,\nThe apothecary answered, thou shalt have,\nA thing as wisely God my soul save,\nIn all this worlde there is no creature,\nThat eat or drinketh hath of this concoction,\nNot but the morsel of a corn of wheat,\nThat he shall not soon forsake his life,\nThou shalt stir it he shall and that in less while,\nOr thou wilt go passing half a mile,\nThis poison is so strong and so violent,\nThis cursed man hath in his hand. And he hurried into the street towards a man,\nAs fast as ever he could, he ran,\nAnd he bore before him three large bottles,\nAnd into the two he poured the poison,\nThe third he kept clean for his drink,\nFor all night he urged himself to swim,\nCarrying this gold. From this place,\nAnd when this rioter, with sorrowful grace,\nHad filled up his great bottles three,\nTo his fellows again he repaired,\nWhat need is there to speak more of it?\nFor right as they had him slain right away,\nThen spoke that one,\nNow let us sit and drink and make merry,\nAnd afterwards we will bear away his body,\nAnd afterwards it happened to him [perchance]\nTo take the bottle there the poison was,\nAnd drank and gave his fellow a drink also,\nFor which both of them were soon stirred,\nBut certainly Avicenna\nWrote never in any canon or in any sense,\nMore wonder, sorrow is of poisoning,\nThus these wretches two had their ending,\nThus ended these homicides two,\nAnd the false poisoner also,\nO cursed sin full of curses. \"traitors homicides or wickedness\nO gluttony, o luxury, o hazardousness\nThou blasphemer of Christ with villainy\nAnd others great of usage and of pride\nAlas, mankind how may it betide\nThat to thy creator which that the wrought\nAnd with his precious blood the bought\nThou art so false and so unkind, alas\nNow God have mercy on you for your transgressions\nAnd beware you from the sin of avarice\nMy holy pardon may you all receive\nSo that you offer nobility or sterling\nOr else silver spurs, brooches, or rings\nBow with your head under these holy seals\nCome up yours\nYour names I enter in my roll anon\nInto the bliss of heaven shall you go\nI absolve you by my high power\nYou that will offer as clean and as clear\nAs you were born, lo, I preach this\nAnd Jesus Christ that is our souls' healer\nSo grant you his pardon to receive\nFor that is best, I will you not deceive\nBut here a word forgot I in my tale\nI have relics and pardon in my possession\nAs fair as any man in England\nWhich were me ye given by the Pope's hand\nIf any of you will\" You shall come forth and have my absolution\nOffer and receive it humbly here below\nAnd you shall have my pardon, which is pure and new\nOr else take pardon as you think fit\nAlways new and fresh at every town's end\nSo that you offer always new and new\nNobles or pens that have been good and true\nIt is an honor to each one who is here\nThat you may have a sufficient pardoner\nTo absolve you in the confessional as you ride\nFor adventures that may befall\nPerhaps there may fall on or two\nDown from his horse and break his neck\nConsider what security it is for you all\nThat I am in your company and fall\nThat may absolve you both more and less\nWhen the soul shall pass from the body\nI bid that our host here shall begin\nFor he is most enmeshed in sin\nCome forth, sir host, and offer right away\nAnd thou shalt kiss the relics each one\nThou art a great unbinder anon thy purse\nNay, nay, said he then, have I Christ's curse\nLet it be, said he, it shall not be so hasty\nThou wouldst make me kiss thine old. And swore it were a relic of a saint,\nThough it were with thy foundation I paint,\nBut by that cross which that Saint Eleyn found,\nI would I had thy colius in my hand,\nInstead of relics other of sainthood,\nLet cut them off, I will help them to carry,\nThey shall be shrined in a hog's torse,\nThis pardoner answered not a word,\nSo wrath he was, he would no word say,\nNow said our host, I will no longer play\nWith thee or with any other angry man,\nBut right anon the worthy knight began,\nWh--\nNo more of this, for it is enough,\nSir Pardoner be merry and glad of cheer,\nAnd ye, sir host, that art to me so dear,\nI pray you that ye kiss the pardoner,\nAnd pardoner, I pray thee draw near,\nAnd as we did, let us laugh and play,\nAnon they kissed and rode forth their way,\nHere ends the Pardoner's tale. And begins the Merchant's tale.\n\nA merchant once was at Saint Denis,\nWho was rich, therefore men held him wise,\nA wife he had of excellent beauty,\nAnd compatible and reveling was she,\nWhich thing causes more expense\nThan worth is all. Among all these gestures great and small,\nThere was a monk, a fair and bold man.\nI believe he was over thirty winters old,\nThis young monk who was so fair of face,\nBecame acquainted with the good man.\nFrom their first knowledge on,\nHe was as familiar in his house\nAs any friend could be.\nBut despite this,\n(The favor and reverence\nThat men show at feasts and dances\nAre like a shadow on a wall,\nBut woe is he who must pay for all,\nThe happy husband must pay us both\nTo clothe and array us richly\nFor his own worship, in which we dance joyfully,\nAnd if he fails to pay,\nOrellis will not endure such expenses,\nBut thinks it is wasteful and a loss,\nThen another must pay for our cost,\nOr lend us gold, which is dangerous,\nThis noble merchant kept a noble house,\nFor which he had such great repair,\nBecause of his generosity and his beautiful wife,\nFolly is but a listener to my tale,\nBut among all these great and small gestures,\nThere was a monk, a fair and bold man.\nI believe he was over thirty winters old,\nThis young monk who was so fair of face,\nBecame acquainted with the good man.\nFrom their first knowledge on,\nHe was as familiar in his house\nAs any friend could be.\nBut despite this, This good man and the monk, both born in one village, claimed kinship. The monk admitted this and was as glad of it as if it were the dawn. To their hearts, it was a great pleasure. Thus were they bound in eternal alliance. Each ensured the other of brotherhood as long as her life lasted. John was generous, particularly known for his dispensation. He resided in that house, full of diligence, to do pleasure and great cost. He never forgot to give the smallest page when he did some honest thing. They were as glad of his coming as one is fond when the sun rises.\n\nBut here comes this merchant one day, urging him to make amends. Towards the town of B, he sent the merchant to buy their favor for which he had to send a messenger to Paris immediately. He begged John to come to Saint Denis and stay with him and his wife for a day or two before he went to Briggis in every way.\n\nThis noble monk, whom I commend to you, has, at his will, obtained from his abbot, A man of great prudence, he was also an officer, riding out to see his estates and borders. Saint Denys came to him promptly, welcome as Lord John our dear cousin, full of courtesy. With him he brought a jar of malmsey and another of fine vernage, provisions as was his custom. I let them drink, eat, and play for a day or two. The merchant and the monk stayed with me.\n\nThe third day, the merchant rose and, on his needs, sadly summoned himself to his country house. He wanted to reckon with himself for that year, how it had gone for him, and how he had spent his good. If he had increased or not, he had many books and bags before him on his counting board. His treasure and hoard were rich, and he wanted no one to disturb his accounting for the time being. He sat thus until it was past prime.\n\nLord John rose in the morning as well and walked in the garden to and fro. This good wife came walking privately\nInto the garden where he walked softly\nAnd she greeted him as she had done oft\nA maiden child came in her company\nWhich maiden she might govern and lead\nFor under the yew was the maiden\nO dear cousin mine John she said\nWhat vexes you so eagerly to rise\nHe said ne'er enough had sufficed\nFive hours to sleep on a night\nBut it was for an old pale-faced man\nAs were those old married men who lie and dare\nSitting in a form like a weary hare\nWere all for straight-witted hounds great and small\nBut dear niece, why look so pale\nI truly believe that our good man\nHas labored with you since the night began\nThat you were in need to rest hastily\nAnd with that word he laughed most merrily\nAnd with his own thought she grew red\nThis fair wife began to shake her head\nAnd said thus, God knows, she said\nNay, cousin, it does not stand thus with me\nFor by that God who gave me soul and life\nIn all the realms\nThat less lust has to that sorrowful play\nFor you may sing allas and well a way\nThat I was born to no one who would let me tell how it stands with me. Therefore, I intend to leave this land or end my own life. I am so full of fear and care. This monk began to stare at this woman and said, \"Alas, my niece, God forbid any sorrow or fear from you. Tell me your grief. Perhaps I may be able to offer counsel or help and therefore tell me all your troubles. They will be kept secret. Swear to me here by my cross that neither for any kinship nor alliance, but truly for love and affection, you will tell me the truth.\" She said to him, \"Swear and keep this secret between us. Though men may try to persuade me otherwise, I will never go to hell. Reveal not a single word of what you tell me.\" He said, \"Not for any favor or alliance, but truly for love and affection, we have sworn and kissed each other. Each speaks to the other of whatever they please.\" She said, \"If I had the space and particularly in this place, I would tell a legend of my life. What I\" I have suffered since I was a wife,\nWith my husband though he is your cousin,\nNo asked this monk by God and St. Martin,\nHe is no more my cousin,\nThan is the leaf that hangs on the tree,\nI call him so by St. Denis of France,\nTo have more acquaintance with him,\nAnd of you whom I love especially,\nAbove all women surely,\nThis I swear to you on my profession,\nTell him your grief lest he come down,\nAnd hasten you and go away quickly,\nMy dear love said she to John,\nFulfilling me this counsel to hide,\nBut it must not remain hidden long,\nMy husband is to me the worst man,\nThat ever was since the world began,\nBut since I became a wife it sits not me,\nTo tell any word our private,\nNeither in bed nor in any place,\nGod shield me I should it tell for his grace,\nA wife should not say of her husband,\nBut all honor as I can understand,\nSave unto you thus much I tell,\nAs help me God he is not worth at all,\nIn.\nBut yet it grieves me most his niggardliness,\nAnd well you know that women naturally,\nDesire things as well as I.\nThey would that theirs. husbands should be\nhardy and wise / rich and therefore free\nAnd buxom to his wife and fresh a bed\nBut by that same lord who bled for us\nFor his honor, I must array myself\nA Sunday next I must needs pay\nA hundred francs or else I am lost\nYet I would rather be to the unborn\nThan do dishonor or villainy\nAnd if my husband could see this\nI would not fail you, I pray\nLend me this sum or else I must die\nJohn, I say, lend me this 50 francs\nPardon me, I will not fail you my thanks\nIf you are willing to do what I pray\nFor at a certain day I will pay you\nAnd do to you whatever pleasure or service\nThat I shall do right as you can devise\nAnd but I do God take vengeance on me\nAs foul as ever had geniality of France\nThis gentle monk answered in this manner\nNow truly my own lady dear\nI have great love for you, I swear\nAnd pledge my truth\nThat when your husband is to the flames\nI will deliver you from this care\nFor I will bring you a 50 francs\nAnd with that word he She caught him by the thigh and here she embraced him fiercely and kissed him often. Go now your way, he said quietly and softly. Let us dine as soon as you can. For by my calendar, it is prime of the day. Go now and be as true as I will be. Now God forbid, said she, and she went forth as joyfully as a pie. And she bade the cooks that they should hurry. So that men might dine at noon. Up to her husband's house she has gone and knocks boldly at his door. Who is there, he said. It is Peter. How long will you reckon and count your sums and your books and your things? The devil take all such reckoning. You have enough of God's son. Come down to day and let us feast. Do not be shy, that dame Johanna will fast. What prevents us from going here and dining? You little can you divide, this man, the corpse. For us merchants, God save us all, by the lord who called himself Saint Yves. Scarcely among us ten or twelve will survive continually lasting to their age. We may well make cheer and good visage and drive forth the world as it may. And keep our estate in privacy until we are dead or otherwise playing a pilgrimage or going out of the way. Therefore, I have great necessity on this quiet world to ask for more. For evermore we must stand in fear of chance and fortune in our chapmanhood. To Flanders I will go tomorrow at daybreak, and come again. For this dear wife I beseech you, as you are to every man generous and meek, and keep our good estate curious and honestly govern well our house. You have enough in every manner to suffice a thrifty household. The lack of none in array nor victuals, of silver in your purse you shall not fail. And with that word his clerk departed, and down he went, unwilling to delay longer. But hastily the tables were set, and they quickly sped the dinner, and richly the chapman this monk fed. And after dinner Dan John soberly took a part properly and said to him: \"Cousin, it stands thus: That well I shall, God and St. Augustine speed you and guide you. I pray you, cousin, wisely consider the matter.\" Ride, govern yourself well in your diet, temperately and particularly in this heat, between us two, no strange farewell, cousin, God shield you from care. If anything by day or night, if it is within my power or might, whatever you command me in any way, it shall be done right as you desire. If there is anything you go, I pray you to lend it to me. A hundred francs for a week or two for certain things I must buy to store with a place that is mine. Help me, I would it were yours. I shall not fail surely of my day. Not for a thousand francs my mile away. But let this thing be secret, I pray. Farewell, my own cousin dear, gratitude for your cost and your cheer. This nobleman answered and said, \"Cousin mine, my John,\" Now certainly this is a small request. My gold is yours when you list, and not only my gold but my merchandise, take what you list, God shield that you spare. But one thing you know, of chapmen, their money is their plow, we may create while we have a name, goldless. For him it is a shame. Pay the hundred francs at once. After I wish to please you, this merchant took them privately to Dan John. No one in all the land knew of this secret except this merchant and Dan John. They drank and spoke and played a while until Dan John rode to his abbey. The next day this merchant came and presented himself to Flandris, his apprentice, until he came to Briggs and was welcomed well. Now goes this merchant quickly about his needs and creates and begets. He neither plays at dice nor dawns, but as a merchant, he soon tells his business. He led his life and left him there. The Sunday next, this merchant was gone, and Dan John came, with crown and beard freshly shaved. In all this house there was so little boy or man except he was very pleased. That my lord Dan John was coming again was a joy to all. And shortly to the point, this fair wife agrees with Dan John that for his hundred francs, he should spend the night with her. Here is the cleaned text:\n\nHere in his army, right up the street,\nWith legs so broad and wide as length requires,\nShe can herself stride, and this agreement is true,\nIn mirth all night they led a merry life.\nDan John Fideliad by the ribs did stand,\nHis minstrelsy sweeter than the quinny (quinny may be a misspelled word for a queen or a musical instrument),\nUntil it was day that Dan John rode his way,\nAnd bade the men farewell and have a good day.\nNone of them nor any person in the town\nHas any suspicion of Dan John.\nAnd forth he rides home to his abbey\nOr wherever he wishes, I say.\nThis merchant, when the fair ended,\nBegan again to repair,\nAnd with his wife he makes a feast and cheer,\nAnd tells her the merchandise is so dear,\nThat necessities must he make a concession,\nFor he was bound in a recognition,\nTo pay twenty thousand shillings at once,\nFor which this merchant is to Paris gone,\nTo borrow from certain friends he had,\nA certain amount of francs and some with him he led,\nAnd when he came into the town,\nFor charity and great affection,\nTo Dan John he went first to play. forto axe ne borowe of hym moneye\nBut forto wite and se his welfare\nAnd forto tellyn hym of his chaffare\nAs frendis doon when they mete in fere\nDan Iohn hym makith feste & mery chere\nAnd he hym tolde \nHow he hadde sped by and by\nThankid be god al hool his marchaundise\nSaue that he muste in alle maner wyse\nMakyn a cheuesaunce as for the beste\nAnd than he sholde be in ioye and reste\nDan Iohn answerde certis I am fayn\nThat ye in hele as comyn home agayn\nAnd yf that I were riche as I haue blis\nOf .xx. thousand sheldis sholde ye not mys\nFor ye so kyndely this othir day\nLent me gold and as I can and may\nI thanke you be god and be seynt Iame\nBut natheles I took it vnto our dame\nYour wyf at hoom the same gold ayen\nVp on your bench she woot it wel certeyn\nBe certeyn tokenys that I can you telle\nNow be your leue I may no lenger dwelle\nOur abbot wol out of this toun anon\nAnd in his company must I goon\nGrete wel our dame myn owen nece swete\nAnd farwel dere cosyn til we mete\nThis marchaunt which \u00fe\u2022 was ful waar & Wyse created and paid, in Paris,\nTo certain merchants, ready in hand,\nThe sum of gold and bond of them, his guarantee,\nAnd he goes as merry as a popping-day,\nFor well he knew he stood in such array,\nThat necessities must he win on this journey,\nA thousand francs above all his expenses,\nHis wife was ready to meet him at the gate,\nAs she was wont of old usage always,\nAnd all that night they were set in mirth,\nFor he was rich and clearly out of debt,\nWhen it was day, the merchant began to embrace,\nHis wife anew and kiss her on the face,\nAnd up he goes and makes it quite clear,\n\"No more said she, 'God have mercy, have you enough?',\nAnd wantonly again with him she played,\nUntil a...\n\n\"God's will, I say, I am a little angry,\nWith you, my wife, though it be against my will,\nAnd you know why, God willing as I suppose,\nThat you have made a strange thing between me and my cousin John,\nYou should have warned me or I would have gone,\nThat he had paid you a hundred francs,\nBe ready, beware and hold him ill-paid,\nFor I spoke to him of chess.\"\nBut nevertheless,... I am your heavenly king, I asked him nothing, I pray his wife does not ask more, Tell me now or I leave, If any detour has occurred in my absence, You paid the least, it is through your negligence, I could ask him for a thing that he has paid, This wife was not afraid or fearful, But boldly she said and that right away, Mary, I disagree that false monk John, I keep none of his tokens, He took certain gold that I well know, What evil the donor on his monk's face, For God I believe without a doubt, That he gave it to me because of you, To do with it my honor and my power, For cousinage and also for protection, He has had it often times here, But since I see it standing in such disarray, I will answer you shortly on the point, You have no slacker delay than I, For I will pay you promptly, From day to day if I fail, I am your wife, Swear it up on my tail, And else I will pay as soon as ever I may, For by my truth, I have arrayed it and not in waste bestowed it ever idly, And for I have bestowed it so well, For your honor. \"I say, it is not worth it, let us laugh and play. You shall have my joyful body to wed. I will not pay you more than a bed. Forgive me, my own spouse, dear. She who makes merry turns out better cheer. This merchant saw there was no other remedy. And to reproach it would be folly. Since the thing may not be otherwise, now wife he said, and I gave it to you. And may your life be no larger. Keep better your good, I give you charge. Thus ends my tale, and may God send us. Talking enough for our lives' end. Here ends the Sailor's Tale. Verbatim Hospites. We said, our host said, \"Now long must you sail by the cost. You gentle master, gentle mariner. May God give the monk a thousand last quid for a thousand years. A fellow, beware of such a jest. The monk put an ape in the man's hood. And in his wife's place, by Saint Austyn, draws no more monks to your Inn. But now pass over and let us seek about. Who shall tell a tale first of all this route? Another tale and with that word he said, As courteously as it had been a.\"\" My lady Prioresse, by your leave, I wish I would not grieve you, I would deem that you should tell a tale next, if you are willing. Now will you vouchsafe my lady, and she said, \"Gladly, I quote you, and say as you shall here.\"\n\nLord, our Lord, thy name ever marvelous,\nIs in this large world I spread, she said,\nNot only thy laude precious, performed is\nBy men of dignity,\nBut by the mouth of children, thy bounty,\nPerformed is, for on thy breast sucking,\nSometyme they show their hearing.\n\nWherefore in laude as I can and may,\nOf thee and of thy white lily flower,\nWhich that the bar and is mayde alway,\nTo tell a story I will do my labor,\nNot that you may increase her honor,\nFor she herself is honor and the route,\nOf beauty next her son and soul's boon,\nO mother maiden, O maiden and mother free,\nO bush unburned, burning in Moses' sight,\nThat ravished down from the delight,\nThrough thine humbles, the ghost that in the light,\nOf whose virtue, when he thy heart white,\nConceived was the father's wisdom,\nHelp me to tell it in thine. Reference Lady, your bounty, your magnificence,\nYour virtue and your great humility,\nThere is no tongue that can express in any science,\nFor a time, lady or men pray,\nThou goest before thee with thy benignity,\nAnd get us light of thy prayer,\nTo guide us unto thy dear son,\nMy knowledge is so weak, O blessed queen,\nTo declare thine high worthiness,\nBut as a child of twelve months old or less,\nWho cannot utter any word,\nSo far I am from thee, and therefore I pray,\nGive me a song as I shall say,\n\nHere ends the Prioress's prolog. Here begins her tale.\n\nIn Asia, in a great city,\nLived a jury, sustained by a lord of that land,\nFor foul usury and lucre of villainy,\nHateful to Christ and to his company,\nAnd through this street men might ride and wander,\nFor it was free and open at every end,\nA tavern,\nDown a,\nA heap of children coming of Christian blood,\nWho learned in school year by year,\nSuch manner of doctrine as men use here,\nThis is to say to sing and to read,\nAs small children do in their play. Among these children was a widow's son,\nA little clergyman, six years of age,\nWho daily to school was his custom,\nAnd also where he saw the Image\nOf Christ's mother, had he in use,\nAs he was taught to kneel down and say,\nHis Hail Mary as he went by the way.\nThus hath this blessed lady, Christ's mother,\nEver been my worship, and I forgot it not,\nFor the child would always soon learn,\nBut ever when I remembered myself on this matter,\nSt. Nicholas stood ever in my presence,\nFor he so young to Christ did reverence,\nThis little child his little book learning,\nAs he sat in the school at his primer.\nHe Alma Redemptoris Mater heard sing,\nAs children learned here their antiphoner,\nAnd as he dared he drew him near and near,\nAnd listened always to the words and the note,\nUntil he the first verse could all repeat,\nKnew not what this Latin was to mean,\nFor he so young and tender was of age.\nBut on a day his fellow began he pray,\nTo explain his song and his language,\nOr tell him why this song was in use,\nThis prayed he him to instruct. And he frequently declared this to his elder fellow:\n\"This song I have heard say,\nMade in reverence of our blessed lady,\nTo salute and pray to her,\nTo be our help and succor when we die.\nI can no more explain in this matter.\nI learn song, I can but little grammar.\nAnd this song was made in reverence\nOf Christ's mother, as Innocent said.\nNow certainly I will do my diligence\nTo learn it all or Christmas is all gone.\nThough I for my primer was sent,\nAnd should be beaten three times in an hour,\nI will learn it to honor our lady.\nHis fellow taught him privately,\nFrom day to day until he could have it all by heart.\nAnd then he sang it well and boldly,\nWord for word according to the note.\nIt was a day it passed through his throat,\nTowards school and home when he went.\nHis intent was set on Christ's mother,\nAs I have said throughout the jury.\nThis little child, as he came to and fro,\nWould merry sing and cry,\nO alma redemptoris mater, ever more,\nThe sweetness of his heart persisted so,\nOf Christ's mother.\" He must not cease from singing by the way\nOur first foeman is the serpent Satanas,\nWho has in his heart his wasps' nest.\nUp swallows and said to the Ebrew people, \"Is this a thing that is to us honest,\nThat such an abomination shall walk as he lists,\nIn our spite and sing of such sentence,\nWhich is against our laws' reverence?\nFrom thence forth the Jews have conspired\nTo chase this Innocent out of this world,\nAn homicide they have hired,\nRight at an alley at a private place,\nAnd as the child went forth by to pace,\nThis cursed Jew him caught and held fast,\nAnd cut his throat and in a pit him cast.\nI say that in a wardrobe they threw him,\nWhereas the Innocent purged her entrails.\nO cursed folk of Herod's new brood,\nWhat may your evil intent you avail?\nMurderers will certainly accomplish it,\nAnd namely as the honor of God shall spread,\nThe blood cries out on your cursed deed.\nMartyr sang unto virginity,\nNow may you sing following ever in one.\nThe whyte lamb celestial quoth she,\nOf which the great evangelist saith. Iohn in Patmos wrote which says that they went before this lamb and sang a song all new,\nA poor widow went away with her little child at night,\nAnd he came not, as soon as it was daylight,\nWith a pale face, dread, and busy thought,\nShe went to every place where she had supposed\nTo find her child and cried, and at last, she did this:\nAmong the cursed Jews she sought him,\nShe asked and implored pitifully of every Jew who dwelt in that place,\nTo tell her if her child had gone anywhere,\nThrough her deep maternal pity in her heart enclosed,\nShe went as if she were half out of her mind,\nTo every place where she had supposed\nHer child might be, and cried out to the kind and gentle Christ's mother,\n\"Where is he cast in a pit beside the road?\"\nO great God, who performest thy praise,\nBy the mouth of Innocent, behold thy power,\nThis gem. Chastise this emerald,\nAnd also the ruby bright,\nThere he with throat I corrony it upright.\nHe Alas, redeemer, began to sing,\nSo loud that all the place rang,\nThe Christian folk who passed by the street,\nCame to wonder at this thing,\nAnd hastily they sent for the Provost,\nWho found the child freshly yet bleeding,\nAnd they hailed Christ, the heavenly king,\nAnd also his mother, honor of mankind,\nAnd afterwards the Jews let him bind,\nThis child with pitiful lamentation,\nTaken up was singing this song always,\nAnd with honor and great procession,\nThey carried him into the next abbey,\nHis mother swooning by his bier lay,\nUnable were the people there,\nThis sorrowful Rachel mourned from the bier,\nWith torment and shameful death each one,\nThis provost does these Jews instigate,\nWho knew of this murder and that soon,\nHe would not allow such curses to prevail,\nEvil shall he have who evil wills deserve,\nWherefore with wild horses he drew them,\nAnd afterwards hung them by the law,\nUpon his bier lies this Innocent,\nBefore. the high mass last, and after that, the abbot and his convent hurried to bring him quickly to the holy water. Yet, as they did this, the child spoke, singing \"O Alma, redeemer, in this place.\" This holy abbot, as monks should be, began to conjure the child and said, \"O dear child, I summon you, In the name of the holy Trinity, tell me why you sing, since your throat appears to be cut.\" The child replied, \"My throat is cut to my neckbone. I should have died long ago, but Jesus, as books find, wants his glory to last and be in my mind. And for the worship of his dear mother, I may sing \"O Alma\" loudly and C. This well of mercy, Christ's sweet mother, I have always loved and after my knowledge. And when I should leave my life, she came to me and bade me sing. In truth, in my dying moments, as you have heard, and when I had sung, I thought she placed a grey veil on my tongue.\" sing and sing must I in her honor,\nthat blessed maiden fair,\nfrom this time on, and after this she said to me,\nmy little child then I will fetch thee,\nbe not afraid, I will not forsake,\nthis holy monk, this abbot of his men I call,\nhe caught out his tongue and took it away, the gray,\nand when this abbot had performed this marvel,\nhis salt tears trickled down like rain,\nand groveling he fell to the ground,\nand should be bound,\nthe nuns also lay on the pavement,\nweeping and Christ's mother dear,\nand after that they rose,\nand took away this martyr from his bier,\nand in a tomb of marble stones clear,\nthey enclosed this sweet little body,\nthere he is, the new god, come to meet us,\nO young hew of Lincoln also slain,\nwith cursed Jews, as it is notable,\nfor it is but a little while ago,\npray for us, sinful folk, unstable,\nthat of his mercy, God so merciful,\nmay multiply his great mercy on us,\nfor reverence of his mother Mary.\n\u00b6Here ends the Priores's tale.\n\nWhen this miracle was said, every man\nwas as sober that the wonder was to see,\nuntil our host to. Iapyn began. And then he looked at me and said, \"What kind of man are you?\" he asked. \"You look as if you would find a hare. Everywhere I see you stare, you approach near and look up merrily. Now beware, sirs, and let this man have his way. He is shaped like a poppy in an arm to embrace. For any woman small and fair of face, he seems elusive by his countenance. He deals with no one. Say now something since other folk have spoken. Tell us a tale of mirth and that anon. Host said, \"I am not ill-paid. I cannot tell another tale, but of a rhyme I learned long ago. You said it, he who is good, let us have some delightful thing from your face. Lords, listen in good intent. And I will tell truly, Of mirth and of solace, Of a knight fair and gentle, In battle and in tournament, His name was Sir Thopas. I was born in far-off Flanders, Beyond the sea, At Popering in the place, His father was a lord of that land, As it was God's grace. Sir Thopas grew up strong.\" Sir Sweyn had a painful face,\nHis lips red as a rose,\nHis rod like scarlet in grey,\nI tell you in good certainty,\nHe had a seemly nose,\nHis beard like saffron,\nReaching down to his girdle,\nHis shoes of cordwain,\nHis hose brought from Briggs,\nHis robe of sicilian,\nCosting much gold,\nHe could hunt wild deer,\nAnd ride hawking for rare birds,\nWith a greyhound in hand,\nHe was a great archer,\nNo one could match him in wrestling,\nThere was none who should stand,\nThey mourned for him in love,\nWhen they were to sleep,\nBut he was chaste and no lecher,\nSweet as is the bremele flour,\nThat bears the red hep,\nAnd so it came about one day,\nIn truth as I tell you,\nSir Thopas rode out,\nHe mounted on his bay horse,\nAnd in his hand a lance,\nA long sword by his side,\nHe rode through a fair forest,\nWherein there are many wild beasts,\nYou both book and hare,\nAnd as he rode north and east,\nI tell you truly,\nHe had almost brought sorrow to them all.\nThere sprang up great and small herbs. licorice and the Cetuale\nAnd many a clove gilofer put in ale, whether it be moist or stale, or forto lay in Cofir. The briddis sing: it is no nay, the sparrowhawk and the Popinjay, that joy was to hear. The thrush made eke his lay, the wood dove up on the spray, he sang full loud and clear. Sir Thopas fell in love longing, when he heard the thrush sing, and pricked as he were wood. His fair steed in his pricking, so sweet that men might him wring, his sides were all blood. Sir Thopas also was so weary, for pricking in the soft grass. So fierce was his courage, that down he laid him in the place, to make his steed, and gave him good forage. A saint Marie benedicite. What ails this love in me, to bind me so sore? I dreamed all this night, an elf queen should be my lady, and sleep under my goore. An elf queen will I have indeed, for in this world no woman is worthy to be my make in town. All other women I forsake, and to an elf queen will I take. Be dale and eke be down, and to his sadil he pricked overstand. An elf rode until he found a private dwelling in the land of fairy, for in that country there was neither wife nor child for him to fear. That is, until a great giant appeared, named Sir Ol, a fearsome man of death. He said, \"Child, beware, this is my domain. But if you dare to pry out of my domain, I will kill your steed with my mace.\" Here is this queen of fairy with her harp and pipe and symphony, dancing in this place. The child said, \"Tomorrow I will meet with her.\" When I have my armor, I hope, or it be fully prime of the day. For here you shall be slave. Sir Thopas drew back quickly. The giant threw stones at him. \"Beware, Sir Thopas,\" and all was through God's grace and the fair bearing of the queen. Yet I will tell you more, Meri. I will go with you round, how pricking over hill and dale is coming again to town. His merry men commanded him to make himself both game and glad, for he must fight with a giant with three heads, full of passion and fury. iolyte, of some that showed so bright, came here and said to my minstrels and gestured to tell tales, any in my army,\nOf Romans that were royal,\nOf Popes and Cardinals,\nAnd also of love longing.\nThey brought him first sweet wine,\nAnd made in a massively,\nA royal spicery,\nOf gingerbread that was so fine,\nAnd licorice and also comfits,\nWith sugar that is try.\nHe did next his white linen,\nA tunic and also a she,\nAnd next his shirt an haketon,\nAnd over that an habergeon,\nFor the persing of his heart,\nAnd over that a fine hanberk,\nWas all wrought of Ivy work,\nFull strong it was of plate,\nAnd over that his coat armor,\nAs white as is the lily flower,\nIn which he will debate,\nHis shield was all of gold so red,\nAnd therein was a boar's head,\nA carbokil by his side,\nAnd there saw sworn an ale and bread,\nHow that the Emperor shall be dead,\nBide what may be tide,\nHis jambedeaux were of quireboly,\nHis swords sheath of ivory,\nHis helm of lead bright,\nHis saddle was of rewlbone,\nHis bridle as the sun shone,\nOr as the moon. His spear was of fine Cypress,\nThat beheld war and nothing peace,\nThe head was full sharp, grounded,\nHis steed was all dappled grey,\nIt went an ambled in the way,\nFull softly and round,\nLo, lords here is one fit,\nIf ye will any more of it,\nTo tell yet I will find,\n\nNow hold your mouth in charity,\nBoth knight and lady free,\nAnd listen to my tale,\nOf a battle of chivalry,\nAnd of lady's love dreary,\nAnon I will you tell,\n\nMen speak of romances of price,\nOf hornchild and of Ipotise,\nOf beasts and of Sir Guy,\nOf Sir Lubeus and of Sir Playndemour,\nBut Sir Thopas bears the flower\nOf true Chivalry,\nHis good steed he began to stride,\nAnd forth up on his way he rode,\nAs sprightly,\nUp on his crest he bore a tower,\nAnd therein stuck a lily flower,\nGod shield his body from shame,\nAnd for he was a knight audacious,\nHe would not sleep in any house,\nBut lie in his hood,\nHis bright helmet was his wonger,\nAnd on herbs fine and good,\nHe himself drank water from the well,\nSo did the knight. \"You make me weary of your lewdness, which also blessed my soul. My ear is accustomed to your drafty speech. Such another rhyme the devil I beseech. This may well be a doggerel, he said. Why so, he asked me, why do you want to let me tell more of my tale than another man, since it is the best rhyme I can make? God's word, he said plainly, your drafty rhyming is not worth a straw. You do nothing but waste time. Sir, at God's word, you shall no longer rhyme. See if you can tell anything in gesture or tell something in prose that contains some mirth or some doctrine. Gladly, I said, by God's sweet pain, I will tell you a little thing in prose that will please you, as I suppose, or else you are in danger. It is a moral tale, virtuous, although it may be told in various ways, of various people as I shall describe. And thus you know that every evangelist who tells us the passion of Christ does not say all things as his fellow does. But nevertheless, his sentence is all true and in accordance with the truth as it is in his sentence.\" A young man named Mellebeus had a daughter called Prudence. Prudence was also called Sophie. One day, for his amusement, Mellebeus went into the fields to play. He left his wife and daughter and set up ladders for them. The walls of his house and through the windows were entered, and he struck his wife and wounded his daughter with five mortal wounds in five different places - in her feet, hands, and mouth. He left her for dead and went away. When Melibeu returned to his house and saw all this chaos, he acted like a madman, renting his clothes and weeping and crying.\n\nPrudence, his wife, begged him to stop weeping as soon as she dared, but he wept and cried even longer. This noble wife, Prudence, remembered a saying from the sentence of Ovid in his book, which is called \"The Remedy of Love.\" He says, \"A fool disturbs the mother's weeping at the death of her child until she has wept for a certain term.\" Therefore, this noble wife, Prudence, endured her husband's weeping for a certain period. And when she saw her time, she said to him in this way: \"Alas, my lord, why do you make yourself like a fool? It does not belong to a wise man to cause such sorrow for his daughter, by the grace of God she shall warrish and escape. And all were in such a state that she would have been dead right now/should suffer it in patience as well as he endures the death of his own person.\nThis Mellebeus answered immediately and said: \"What man should stop his weeping who has such a great cause to weep? Jesus Christ our Lord himself wept for the death of Lazarus his friend. Prudence answered: \"Indeed, I know that a temperate weeping is nothing blamed for him who is sorrowful among men in sorrow. But it is rather granted to him to weep. The apostle Paul to the Romans writes: 'Many shall rejoice with them that rejoice and weep with such people as sorrow.' But a temperate weeping, though it be granted to him, Outrageous weeping, certainly, is defended. Measure of weeping should be considered, he said.\" \"Mourn not too much for lost tears. Though your tears come late to your eyes, do not let them fall. And when you have lost a friend, strive diligently to get another. This is better than weeping for the friend you have loved. Therefore, if you govern yourself with wisdom, put sorrow out of your heart.\nRemember that Jesus says, \"A man who is joyous and glad in heart it cometh to him as a flower in the age. And truly, a sorrowful heart maketh his bones dry. He also says thus, 'Sorrow in the heart kills and the small worms the trees. Just as sorrow annoys the heart of a man. Wherefore we ought, in the death of our children as in the loss of our temporal goods, to have patience. Remembering the patient Job. When he had lost his children and his possessions had endured many a full grievous temptation, yet he said thus, 'Our Lord hath given it to me, Our Lord hath taken it from me, right so as our Lord hath willed, it is done. Blessed be the name of our Lord.'\" Lord.\nMellebus responded to his wife Prudence, \"All your words are true, and profitable. But truly, my heart is deeply troubled by this sorrow, and I do not know what to do.\" Prudence and all her wise relatives, come and tell your case to them, and listen to their counsel and govern yourself accordingly. Solomon says, \"Do all things through counsel, and you will never repent.\" Therefore, because of the counsel of his wife Prudence, Mellebus called together a great assembly of people: surgeons, physicians, old and young, and some of his old enemies reconciled by their appearance to his love and grace, and some of his neighboring wise advocates learned in the law. When these people had been gathered together, Mellebus presented his case to them in a sorrowful manner. It seemed from the tone of his speech that in his heart he bore a cruel desire for revenge. A surgeon, with the license and consent of those who were wise, rose up and spoke to Melpomene: \"Sir, it is our duty to do the best we can to every man. While we are withholding treatment from ourselves and not causing harm to our patient, it often happens that when two men have been wounded by the same weapon, the surgeon heals both. Therefore, it is not fitting for our art to incite war or support parties. However, if it is about your daughter, who is dangerously hurt and wounded, we will attend to her needs from day to day, so that with God's grace, she will be whole and healthy as soon as possible.\" The physicians answered similarly, saying a few more words: \"Just as diseases are cured by their opposites, so war is healed by peace.\" Feigned friends who seemed reconciled and his flatterers made blank faces, weeping and griping much in this matter. Praising greatly Melibee of might, power of riches, and of friends, disparaging the power of his adversaries, and said utterly that he should immediately wreck them, beginning war, acting as an advocate, a woman by law and by counsel of the wise. In this place, this business is urgent and a high matter, because of the wrong and the wickedness, and also because of the great damages that may come in time for the same, and also because of the great riches and power of both parties. For which reason it is a full great parley to err in this matter. Wherefore, for Melibee, this is our intent: we counsel you to do diligence in keeping of your proper person in such a way that you lack none to watch over your body to save it. And in your house. council that you set a sufficient garrison to defend both your body and your house / But certainly, we cannot move to wage war or immediately take vengeance. We cannot make a decision in such little time, and it is not prudent / The common proverb says, \"He who rushes in rues it.\" And it is also said that a judge is a woman who quickly understands a matter and judges harshly. Nevertheless, delay is unpleasant. However, it is not to be blamed in the young for hasty judgment or in vengeance. For this reason, we ask for deliberation. And we shall then, by the grace of God, counsel you on what is most prudent. Upstart then the young folk and most of this company have scorned this old wise man and begun to make noise, saying, \"Rightly, while iron is hot, men should strike. Rightly, while this thing is fresh and new, should men avenge her wrongs.\" And with a low voice they cried, \"War, war.\" Among the old wise men, one rose and made a show of submission with his hand, signaling for silence and granting him an audience. Lords spoke, expressing concern that there are many men who cry for war but know little of what war truly entails. War, at its beginning, has such great allure and expansiveness that anyone can join whenever they please. But it is not easy to foresee its eventual outcome. For when war begins, there are countless children yet unborn who will die or live in sorrow and misery because of it. Therefore, before engaging in war, one must exercise great caution and deliberation. When this old man attempted to reinforce his argument with reasons, the others grew restless and began to interrupt him, their patience waning. For who listens to one who preaches to those who have no desire to hear his tale? As Jesus Sirach says, \"music in its turn calms the soul.\" weeping is a nuisance thing / This is as much to say / As much annoyance lies in speaking before folks / to whom his speech annoys / As it does in singing before him that weeps. And when this old man saw that he had no audience, ashamed, he sat down again. For Solomon says / There where you may have none audience.\n\nThis wise man said that the common proverb is true / That good counsel wants when it is most needed.\n\nLet had this Melibeuys in his counsel many folk who privately in his ear counselled him certain things and counselled him contrary in general audience. When Melibeuys saw that the agreed upon that he should make war, they conceded to their counseling and fully affirmed their sentence.\n\nMy lord said Prudence, I beseech you as heartily as I can, and have no haste / And for all rewards as you give me audience / For Pierce Alfons says, he who does good or harm to the other, haste not to acquit it / For in this way, your friend will endure / And your enemy will live the longer. in fear, the proverb says he who acts wisely endures, and in hasty wickedness is of no profit.\nMelibeuus answered his wife, Prudence: \"I do not propose to act according to your counsel for many reasons and causes. For truly, every man would consider me a fool if I changed things that have been ordered and affirmed by so many wise people. Secondly, I say that all women are wicked and none good, for Solomon says that I find one good man in a thousand, but of all women, I have never found a good one. It seems to me that I would give them mastery over me if I were to act according to your counsel. And God forbid that should be.\"\nShe is contrary to her husband, and Solomon says, \"Give neither power over yourself to your wife, nor to your child, nor to your friend, in your life. It is better that your children ask for the things they need than that you be in their hands, and truly, if I were to act according to your counsel, my counselors must be sometimes. \" It was a time when it had to be known, and this may not be if I were counseled by the For women cannot keep counsel\nWhen Dame Prudence, in debonair and great patience, had heard all that her husband liked to say, she asked him for permission to speak and said, \"My lord, regarding your first reason, it may lightly be answered, for I say that it is no folly to think that things change or seem otherwise than they were before. And moreover, I say that though you have sworn and bound yourself to perform your enterprise and I am just cause for not doing so, men should not therefore call you a liar or forsworn. For the book says, 'The wise make no lying when they tear their hearts to the better.' And although your enterprise is established and ordered by a great multitude of people, yet you dare not accomplish that same order unless you like. For the truth of things and the profit are rather found in few people who are wise and full of reason.\" than be grete multitude of peple where euery ma\u0304 clatereth what \u00fe\u2022 hym liste / sothli suche multitude of peple is not honest And to \u00fe\u2022 seconde reson where as ye sayn that all wom\u0304en ben wicked / saue your grace / Certes ye despise all women in this wise / & he that alle despiseth / alle displeseth as saith \u00fe\u2022 book. & Seneke saith who so wole haue sapience shal noma\u0304 dispreise\nBut he shal gladly teche the science that he can withoute pre\u00a6samption or pride / and suche thinges as he can not / he shal not be ashamed for to lerne hem and enquyre of lasse folk than hym self / And that ther hath be many a good woman Hit may be preuyd / For Criste wolde neuer descende for to be born of a woman / yf alle women had be wicked / And after that for the grete bounte that is in our lord Ihesu crist Whan he was risen from deth to lyf Apperid rather to a woman than to his apostles / And though that Salamon saide he fonde neuer woman good / yet foloweth not therfore that alle women ben wicked / For though he fonde no good woman certes many another man has found a woman to be good and true, or else Salomon was the one who in sovereign bounty found no woman. This is to say, there is no being so good that he lacks some perfection of his maker, God.\n\nYour third reason is this: you say that if you govern women who are gossipers and wicked, of whom men say that three things drive a man out of his house: smoke, drooping of rain, and wicked wives. And of such women, Salomon says that it is better to dwell in the desert than with a woman who is unrighteous. And, by your leave, I am not that man. For you have often tested my great silence and my great patience, and also how well I can hide and endure things that men ought to hide secretly. And wicked counseling women vanquish men; God knows that reason stands here in no stead. For understand now that you ask counsel to do wickedness, and if you will work wickedness. And your wife Restrain that wicked purpose and overcome you by reason and good counsel. Certainly, your wife ought rather to be praised than blamed. Thus, you should understand the philosopher who says that wicked women conquer their husbands. And where you blame all women and their reasons, I shall show you an example that they are good and profitable. Some men have said that the counsel of women is worthless or of little price. But although many women are bad and their counsel evil and worthless, yet men have found many a good and discrete woman, wise in counsel. Lo, Jacob received the blessing of Isaac his father and the lordship over all his brothers through the counsel of his mother Rebecca. Judith delivered the city of Bethulia in which she dwelt from the hands of Holofernes, who had besieged it and intended to destroy it. Abigail delivered Nabal her husband from David the king who intended to kill him and appeased the king's anger with her good counsel. Esther also, through her good counsel, delivered her people from Haman's plot to destroy them. The council greatly enhanced the people of God in the reign of King Ahasuerus. The same generosity, in the wise counsel of many good women, is well-known. And moreover, before our Lord God created Adam, our first father, He said, \"It is not good for man to be alone. Let us make him a helper suitable for him\" (Genesis 2:18). A clerk once wrote in two verses, \"What is better than Iaphet's wisdom? And what is better than wisdom? A woman, and what is better than a good woman? Nothing.\" Therefore, good and their counsel are beneficial and profitable. And for this reason, if you trust my counseling, I will restore your doughter and also I will do so much that you will hear her voice, for I have tested and proven your great wisdom and your great truth. I will govern myself by your counsel. All manner of things, Dame Prudence, since you have vowed to be governed by my counsel, I will inform you how you shall govern yourself in choosing your counsel. First and foremost, for all works, you shall beseech the high God that He be your counsel. Cultivate such an intent that He grant you counsel and comfort, as Jobe taught his son. At all times, you shall please and pray Him to direct your ways. And ensure that all your counsel be in Him forever. Saint James also says, \"If any of you lack wisdom, ask of God. After that, take counsel in yourself, and examine well your thoughts concerning such things as you think are best for your profit. Then, drive away from your hearts those things that are contrary to good counsel: this is to say, anger, covetousness, and hastiness. First, he who asks counsel of himself, indeed, must be without anger for many reasons. The first reason is that he who has great anger and wrath within himself. He always does things he should not. Secondly, a jealous and angry man cannot judge well, and one who cannot judge well cannot give good counsel. Another point is that a jealous and angry man, as Seneca says, speaks only blameful things, and with his harmful words, he stirs up others to anger and irritation. Furthermore, you must drive covetousness out of your heart, for the apostle says that covetousness is the root of all evils. And trust me, a covetous man can neither judge well nor think, but only to satisfy the end of his covetousness, and that can never be accomplished. For every more a man has of riches, the more he desires. You must also drive out of your heart hastiness.\n\nFor things that seem good to do, another time they seem contrary to you. And when you have taken counsel in yourself and have judged by good deliberation what seems best to you, then I advise you to keep it secret and conceal your counsel. For only one person, but if you are certain that through your revealing your condition will be more profitable for you. For Jesus says, neither to your friend nor to your enemy discover your secret counsel or your folly. They will give audience, looking and supporting in your presence, and scorn you in your absence. Another clerk says that scarcely will you find anyone who will not hold you in his snare when you reveal it to any person. Therefore, it is better to hide your counsel in your heart than to pray him to whom you have revealed your counsel that he will keep it close and still. But nevertheless, if you believe that your revealing of your counsel to a person will make your condition stand in the better place, then you shall tell him your counsel in this way. First, you shall: Make no semblance whether they were less or more prone to war. Or this or that. Do not show him not your will or your intent. For trust well that commonly these counselors are flatterers, namely the counselors of great lords. They enforce them always rather to speak pleasing words encouraging the lord's lust, than words that are true and profitable. And therefore men say that a rich man has sold good counsel but if he has had it from himself. After that, you shall consider your friends and your enemies, and as for your friends, you shall consider which of them are most true, wise, oldest, and most approved in counseling. And of them, you shall ask your thing as if it were from a true friend. For certes, gold or silver is not so much worth as the good will of a true friend. And also he says that a true friend is a great defense, who finds one, he finds a great treasure. Then shall you also understand if your true friends are discreet and wise. book: \"Consult always the advice of the wise. And for this reason, you shall call your council of friends who are of an age that have seen many things and are experienced in various things and have been approved in counseling. For the book says that old men are wisdom and in long time, prudence. And Tullius says that great things are not always accomplished by strength or deliveries of the body, but by counsel and by the authority of persons and by knowledge. These three things are not weakened by age, but rather they increase and strengthen day by day. Therefore, keep this as a general rule among a thousand choices: that they be true, wise, and of old experience. And do not rely on one counselor alone in every need. For sometimes it is necessary to be counseled by many. I will now tell you which kind of people you should be counseled by. Regarding which kind of fools Salomon says, 'Take no counsel from them.' \" A fool's counsel is worthless. He can only counsel based on his desires and affections. The text states that the characteristic of a fool is this: he considers harm lightly of every person and considers all goodness in himself. You should also avoid the counsel of flatterers. Those who praise your person more through flattery than truth-telling. Therefore, it is more necessary to avoid and fear flatterers than any other person. Instead, heed the sweet words of flatterers and pray-ers rather than the harsh words of your friend who speaks the truth to you. Solomon says that the words of a flatterer are a snare to catch innocents. He also says that one who speaks sweet and pleasant words to his friend sets a net before his feet to catch him. Therefore, says Tullius, do not trust flatterers or take their counsel of flattery. And Cato says, \"Avoid words of flattery, sweetness, and play-saunce.\" Additionally, you should also avoid them. The council of old enemies that have been reconciled. The book says that no one returns safely to the grace of his old enemies. And Ysaye says, do not trust them with whom you have once had war or enmity, nor tell them your counsel. And Seneca tells the reason why it cannot be and says, where a great fire has long endured, there is no longer some vapor of warmth. And Solomon says, in your old foe, trust you never. For truly, though your enemy be reconciled and makes the appearance of humility and lowers his head to you, do not trust him the more. For surely he makes that feigned humility more for his own profit than for the love of your own person. Because he deems you to have victory over him by such feigned countenance, a victory he might not have through strife or war. Peter Alfons says, make no fellowship with your old enemies. For if you do, they will corrupt it to wickedness, and you must also shun them. The counsel of those who have been your servants and showed great reverence to you. They may say more out of fear than love, and a philosopher advises in this way: there is no one so great as an emperor who can endure for long unless he loves his people more than he fears. Avoid the counsel of those who are drunk privately and advise you the contrary openly. Cassiodorus says that it is a cunning trick when a man shows one thing openly and works the contrary privately. Suspect the counseling of wicked people, for the book says their counsel is always full of deceit. And David says, \"Blessed is the man who has not followed the counsel of wicked people.\" Also avoid the counseling of young people, for their counsel is not yet mature.\n\nNow, sire, I have shown you all this about whom you should seek counsel and whom you should not. eschew your counselors / Now I tell you how you shall examine your counselors / According to the doctrine of Tullius, in examining that of your counselors you shall consider many things. Firstly, you shall consider that in the thing that you are purposed and in that for which you shall have counsel, true truth be said and conserved. This is to say, tell truly your tale. For he who says falsely may not well be counseled in that case concerning which he lies. And after this, consider three things that accord with what you purpose: first, whether by your counselors reason accords therewith. And also whether your might can attain it. And further, whether the greater and better part of your counselors agree therewith or not. Then you shall consider what follows of that counseling: peace, war, grace, profit, or damage, and many other things. And of all these things you shall consider in what route is engendered the matter of your counsel and what fruit it may concern. Consider all causes from whence they have arisen. Examine your counsel as I have said, and determine which part is better and more profitable, and has been approved by many wise people and the old. Consider whether you can perform it and make a good end. For no man should begin a thing unless he can perform it as he ought, nor should he take on a charge that he cannot bear. The proverb says, \"He who undertakes too much distresses little,\" and Cato says, \"Attempt to do such things as you have power to do, less the charge oppresses you, and that the thing you have begun weighs you down.\" If you are in doubt whether you can perform it or not, choose rather to suffer than to begin. And Peter Alfons says, \"If you have the power to do a thing that you must repent, it is better not to do it.\" That is, it is better to hold back. tonge still than for to speken / Than maist thou vnderstonde by strenger resons That yf thou hast power to {per}forme a werke / the whiche thou shalt repente / than it is better that thou \nSyn they that defenden euery wight to assaye a thing of the whiche he is in doubte / whether he may performe it or noo And after whan ye haue examyned your counceyll as I hsaid beforn\u0304 and knowe well that ye may performe your emprise / conferme hit than sadly til it be at an ende.\nNOw it is reson said she and tyme that I shewe yow whan and wherfore that ye may chaunge your coun\u00a6ceyllours withouten repreef / Sothly a man may change his counceille or his purpoAnd Seneca saith Yf that thy connceyll come to the eeris of wicked men thyn enemyes / chaunge thy counceyll / Thou maist also chaunge thy counceyll yf so be that ther be errour or thou fynde ony other cause harme or dom\u0304age maye betyde / Also yf thy coun\u00a6ceyll be dishonest or ellis cometh of dishonest cause / chau\u0304ge thy counceyll For the lawe saith that alle beheestes that which is dishonest has been of no value, and if it is impossible or cannot be performed or kept, take this as a general rule: every counsel that is affirmed so strongly that it cannot be changed for any condition that may arise, I say that such counsel is wicked.\nThis Mellebus, when he heard the doctrine of his wife Dame Prudence, answered thus. Dame said, \"Up to this point in time, you have conveniently taught me, in general, how I should govern myself in giving and withholding counsel.\" But now, I would fain know, in earnest, what you think of our counselors whom we have chosen in our present need.\nMy lord said, \"Dame, I beseech you in all humility that you will not willfully contradict my reason or disturb your heart, though I speak of things that you know displease God, not intending it so. I speak it for your best.\" Indeed, I hope that your benignity will take it in patience. A council, as in this case, should not be called improperly a concealing but a motion or a meeting. In which council you have erred, in the assembling of your councilors. For you should first have called a few people to your council, and afterwards you might have shown it to more people if it had been necessary. But certainly, you have suddenly called to your council a great multitude of people, full of charge and annoying, for wanting to hear. Also, you have called for those who should have been called to your council your true friends, old and wise, instead of strangers, false flatterers, enemies, and those who do you reverence without love. Furthermore, you have brought with you covetousness and haste, which are contrary to every honest council and profitable, and which three things you have not acknowledged nor destroyed neither in yourself nor in your councilors as you ought. You have also shown to your councilors your talent. You have been urged to make war and take revenge. They have discerned from your actions what you are inclined towards, and therefore have advised you to act according to your talents rather than your profit. You have also erred in that it seems you have been advised by these counselors alone, and with little wisdom. In such great need and in such high stakes, it was necessary to have more counselors and greater deliberation to carry out your enterprise. You have erred in that you have not examined your counsel in the aforementioned matter in a thorough manner as the case requires. You have erred in that you have not made a distinction between your friends and your feigned counselors. Nor have you known the will of your old and wise friends, but you have cast all their words into a cauldron and inclined your heart towards the larger and greater number, and you have yielded to them. Furthermore, you know well that men will always find a greater number of fools than wise men. Of wise men. And therefore, the councils that have been at congregations and a multitude of folk there, reward the number rather than the sapience of Mellebus.\n\nMellebus answered again, \"I grant well I have erred, but there, as you have told me here before, that he is not to blame who changes his counsel in certain cases and for certain just causes. I am already ready to change my counselors right as you list and as you will deem fit.\"\n\nThe proverb says, \"It is human to sin, but certainly, to persist long in sin is the work of the devil.\"\n\nTo this sentence, Dame Prudence answered and said, \"Examine your counsel and let us see which of them have spoken most reasonably and taught you best counsel.\"\n\nAnd since the examination is necessary, let us begin with the surgeons and physicians who spoke first in this matter. I tell you that they have spoken wisely to you, for they said, \"It is fitting to the office of us to do honor to every man.\" \"Profit and no one to displease, and after their craft they greatly attend to the cure of those in their care. Rightly as they have answered wisely and discretely, so I recommend that they be highly and sovereignly rewarded for her noble speech. And furthermore, regarding the physicians increasing in this case, that is, one contrary being worsened by another contrary, I would like to know how you understand that text and what you mean by Mellebus. I understand this in the following way: just as they have done me a contrary right, so I should do them another. For just as they have avenged themselves on me and wronged me, so I should avenge myself on them and wrong them back and thereby have I cured one contrary with another contrary. Lo, said Dame Prudence, how lightly is every man inclined to do his own desire and his own pleasure. Certes, said she, the words of the physicians should not be understood in this way. Certes, wickedness is not contrary to\" wickednes / ne vengeance to vengeance ne wronge to wronge but euerych of hem encresid & aggreggith other / But certes the wordes of the phisicyens shold be vnderstande in this wise\nFor good and wickednes be two contraryous / and pees and warre / vengeance and suffraunce / and discorde and accorde / and many other thinges / But certes wickednes shal bewaresshed be goodnes / and discorde be accorde and warre be pees. and so forth be other thinges. And herto accordeth saynt Poule thappostle in many places / He saith yelde not harme to harme ne wicked speche to wicked speche But do wel to hym that doth the harme and blysse hym that saith the harm\u0304 / And in many other places he saith and amonessheth pees and accorde. But now wole I speke to yow of the counceyll whiche that was yeue to yow by the men of lawe and wise folke that saiden alle by one accorde as ye haue herde / that ouer alle thinges ye shold do diligence to kepe your persone and to warnscore your hows. And saiden also that in this caas ye oughte for to A person should work diligently and with great discretion and deliberation. Regarding the first point concerning the protection of your person, understand that he who goes to war should devoutly and humbly seek and pray to Jesus Christ for his mercy, asking him to be his sovereign helper in times of need. In this endeavor, there is no one who can be sufficiently counseled or kept without the protection of our Lord Jesus Christ. In accordance with this, the prophet David says, \"If God does not keep the city, he who watches over it is but a fool.\" Therefore, you should commit the protection of your person to your true friends who are proven and known. From them, you should ask help for your person to be kept. As Cato says, \"If you need help, ask it of your friend.\" After this, you should keep yourself from all strange people and liars and always suspect their company. According to Peter Alfons, \"Do not take any company by the way of strangers.\" men/ but if you have known them before time/ and if you have not known him/ And if you wish to join their company without your consent, inquire as subtly as you can about his conversation and his life beforehand. And feign your way and say that you will go there although you do not wish to/ And if he bears a spear, hold it on the right side/ And if he bears a sword, hold the left side/ And after this, keep yourself wisely from all such people as I have mentioned before and them and their counsel/ And after this, keep yourself in such a manner that for any presumption of your strength, do not despise or attempt the might of your adversary/ And thus beware that you do not let the keeping of your person for any reason/ For every wise man fears his enemy. And Solomon says, he is willful who has no fear of anything/ For certainly, he who through the hardiness of his heart or himself has too great a presumption, it will be evil for him/ You shall always continue to cultivate your land and appear to be in a secure place, yet you must always be vigilant in protecting yourself, not only from your greatest enemies but also from the smallest. Outside says, \"A little evil will kill a great one, and a great heart.\" The book says, \"A little thorn may prick the king severely.\" An hound will be sluggish. You shall fear being poisoned and keep away from the company of scorners. I would like to know how you understand the words and what is answered and said. I understand it thus: I shall fortify my house with towers and other kinds of buildings, with armor and other kinds of artillery, by such things which I may use to defend myself and my house, so that my enemies will be afraid to approach it.\n\nTo this sentence, Prudence answered immediately: \"warn with great towers and...\" edifices with great costages and great travail. And when they are accomplished, yet they are not worth a straw / but if they are defended by true friends who are old and wise / And the greatest and strongest son that a rich man may have, as well to keep his person as his goods, is that he be beloved by his subjects. Now, sir, as to your third point / Whereas your wise and old counselors said that you ought not proceed suddenly and hastily in this matter / but that you ought to prepare and equip yourself in this case with great diligence and great deliberation, truly I believe they spoke wisely and truly. For Tullius says, In every need ere you begin, yet prepare yourself with great diligence. Then says he, in taking vengeance in war and in warning, ere you begin I recommend that you prepare yourself and do it with great deliberation. For Tullius says that long preparation. before the batayll maketh short victorye And Cassiodre saith / that the garison is \u00fe\u2022 strenger whan hit is longe tyme aduysed. But now late vs speke of the counceyll that was accorded be your neygh\u2223bours suche as don\u0304 yow reuerence withouten loue / your olde enemyes reconsiled / your flaterers that counceylle yow cer\u2223teyn thinges openly / and pryuely counceylle yow the con\u2223trary. The yong folk that counceylle you to avenge you and make warre anon\u0304. Certes syre as I haue said before ye haue gretly erryd to haue cleped suche maner of folk to your counceyll / whiche counceyllours ben ynough repreuyd afore said by reson / But natheles late vs now descende to the specyall / ye shal first procede after the doctryne of Tul\u00a6lius. Certes the trouth of thys matere or of thys coun\u2223ceyll nedeth not dyligently tenquyre. For it is wist well whyche they be that haue don to yow thys trespaas and vilonye and how many trespassours / and in what maner that they haue doo to yow alle this wronge & alle this vilo\u00a6nye And after this You should examine the second condition that Tullius adds in this matter. Tullius puts forward a thing, which he calls \"consenting.\" This means who they are and how many of them consent to this counsel in your willingness to take hasty revenge. Consider also who they are and how many are they that consented to your adversaries. Indeed, as to the first point, it is well known which people they are that consented to your hasty actions. For certainly, all those who counseled you to make sudden war are not your friends. Now consider who are those you hold so dearly as friends to yourself. Although you are mighty and rich, you are alone. You have no child but a daughter, no brothers, cousins, or any other close relatives. Therefore, your enemies should not cease to plot against you or destroy your person. You also know that your riches must be dispersed in various directions. And when every one has his reward for avenging your death, But your enemies have three and they have many children. cousins and other near relatives. And even if you had slain two or three of them, yet there are enough to avenge her death and to kill you. And even if your relatives are more powerful and steadfast than those of your adversaries, yet your relatives are not as numerous; they are but little. And the relatives of your enemies are nearby And certainly, in her condition, they are better off than yours. Then let us consider also whether the counsel of those who advise you to take sudden vengeance accords with reason or not. And certainly, you know well it does not. For by right or reason, no man may take vengeance on any man but the judge who has jurisdiction over it, when it is granted to him to take that vengeance hastily or temperately as the law requires. And furthermore, concerning that word which Tullius speaks and calls consenting, you shall. Consider if your might and power can consent and sustain your willfulness and your counselors. You may well say no to such things. But only such things as we may do rightfully. And certainly you may not take vengeance as of your own authority. Then you may see that your power should not and this leads to another vengeance. Peril and war and other damages without number. Of which we are not unaware as concerning the fourth part that Tullius calls engendering. You shall consider that this wrong which is done to thee is engendered from the hate of thine enemies and vengeance taken upon them, which will engender another vengeance and much sorrow and wasting of riches, as I said before. Now, sir, regarding the fifth point which Tullius calls causes: Understand that the wrong you have received has certain causes which clerks call efficient, final, proximate, and remote. This is to say the former and the latter causes. The cause is almighty God, the cause of all things. The near cause is your three enemies. The cause accidental was hate. The cause material is the five wounds of your daughter. The cause formal is the cause of her working, which brought ladders and climbed in at the windows. The final cause was not to kill your daughter so much as in them, but rather to speak of this final cause as to what end they shall come or what shall finally befall them in this case, I cannot determine. For we shall suppose that they shall come to a wicked end, because the book of the decrees says, \"Seld or with great pain, causes are brought to a good end, when they are badly begun.\" If men would ask me why God suffers men to do this villainy, I cannot well answer, for the judgments of our lord almighty God are deep and incomprehensible to man. Nevertheless, by certain assumptions and conjectures, I Hold and behold, rightfulness has suffered this to befall the just cause and the reasonable. Your name is Mellebe. This is to say, a man who drinks honey. You have drunk so much honey of sweet temporal riches and delights of honor of this world that you are drunk and have forgotten Jesus Christ your creator. You have not done to him such honor and reverence as you ought, nor have you well kept the words of Ovid that say, \"Under the honey of the goods of the body is hidden venom that kills the soul.\" And Solomon says, \"If you have found honey, eat of it sparingly.\" For if you eat of it in need and perhaps Christ has turned away from you and his mercy, and also he has suffered you to be punished in the manner that you have transgressed. You have sinned against our Lord Jesus Christ. For truly, the three enemies of mankind, that is, the flesh, the devil, and the world, you have suffered them to enter into you. Her heart willfully by the windows of your body. And you have not defended yourself sufficiently against her assaults and her temptations, so that they have wounded your soul in five places - that is, the deadly sins that have entered your heart are your five senses. In this way, our Lord Jesus Christ has suffered that your three enemies have entered your house through the windows. And they have wounded your daughter in the manner described above.\n\nCertes said, \"Mellebe, I see well that you urge me greatly with words to overcome me in such a way that I shall not avenge myself on my enemies. Showing me the danger and the evil that might come from this vengeance, a man would never take vengeance, and that would be harmful. For through vengeance, wicked men are separated from the good men, and those who have a desire to do wickedness are restrained by the punishing and chastising of the transgressors. And yet, \" Say I more, I maintain that a man sins in taking revenge by singular perception. A judge sins if he does not take vengeance and fails to serve justice. Seneca says, \"He who reproves a shrew is a good master.\" Cassius says, \"A man fears to do outrageously when he knows and it displeases the judges and sovereigns.\" Another says, \"The judge who fears to do right makes shrews.\" And Saint Paul writes to the Romans that judges should not bear the spear without cause but to punish shrews and wrongdoers. And if you wish to take vengeance on your enemies, you shall return and have your concerns to the judge who has jurisdiction over them, and you shall punish them as the law requires.\n\nA said Mellebe. I dislike this vengeance. I reflect now and heed how fortune has nurtured me from childhood and helped me pass through adversity with God's help. It shall save me to take vengeance. Certes. \"You said, Prudence, if you will heed my counsel, you shall not say fortune favors you in any way, nor borrow nor bend to her under the pretense of fortune's favor will ever bring good results. Seneca adds that the more hidden and cunning fortune is, the more dangerous she is; she will deceive and betray. You say fortune nourished you in your childhood, I say there is less trust in your judgment for it. Seneca states that a man nourished by fortune makes him a fool. Since you now desire and ask for vengeance, and the vengeance carried out according to the law and before the judge displeases you, and the vengeance carried out in hope of fortune is perilous and uncertain, then you have no other recourse but to have your appeal to the sovereign judge who avenges all villainies and wrongs. He will avenge you himself, as he testifies where he says, 'Leave the vengeance to me, and I will do it.'\"\n\nMellebe answered, \"If I take vengeance myself...\" I not of the villainy that men have done to me, I warn those who have done this villainy to me and all others to do me further villainy. For it is written, if you take no vengeance for an old villainy, you summon your adversary to do a new villainy. Moreover, because of my suffering, men would do me such great villainy that I might not bear it nor sustain it, and then I should be put and held low. For men say, in many cases, much will fall to the one whom you shall not be able to endure.\nCertes said, Dame Prudence, I grant you well that too much suffering is not good. But yet it follows not that therefore the two authorities that you have cited before should be understood only in the judges. For when you punish them, they seem not to do only new wrongs, but they command him and bid him to sin.\nAnd the sovereigns and the judges, in their turn, grow in power and might through the passage of time, and at last they should put out the judges and the sovereigns from their places and make them to... Let us leave aside your lordships, but let us now put aside the fact that you have leave to avenge. I say, you are not mighty or powerful enough to avenge yourselves now. If you wish to make comparisons with the might of your adversaries, you will find in many things that their condition is better than yours. Therefore, I say that it is good for you to suffer and be patient. Moreover, you know well that after the coming of the saw, it is madness for a man to strive with a more mighty man than himself, and to strive with one weaker than himself is folly. Therefore, a man should flee from strife as much as he can, and if you are stronger and have the ability to do so, you should rather stop the same cruelty than take revenge. Seneca says, \"If a man has been wronged, he may be avenged another time and helped.\" However, I advise you to take heed of the things said before. That you take vengeance, for I say that there are many things that shall restrain you from taking vengeance and make you suffer and have patience in the wrongs that have been done. First and foremost, consider the faults that are in your own person. For which faults God has allowed you to endure all this tribulation, as I have said before to you. The poet says, \"That we ought patiently to take the tribulations that come to us, when we think and consider that we have deserved to have them.\" And Saint Gregory says, \"When a man considers well the number of his faults and sins, the pains and tribulations that he thinks are heavy and grievous to him, he ought to endure and bow his heart to take the patience of our Lord and sue him, for he never sinned nor did evil come out of his mouth, nor did he speak vile words when men cursed him, nor did he resist in tribulations that they inflicted on him.\" You have suffered without her desert or fault much, but it should not greatly stir your patience. You should enforce your patience, considering the tribulations of this world last but little and soon pass. And the joy that a man seeks through patience in tribulations is enduring. After that, the Apocalypse says in its epistle, \"God is enduring.\" Therefore, you should also believe steadfastly that he is not poorly nourished or poorly taught, he who does not have patience or will not receive patience. For Solomon says, \"The doctrine of a man and his wisdom is known through patience.\" And in another place he says, \"He who is patient rules himself with great prudence.\" Solomon also says, \"The angry and the wrathful man makes noise, but the patient man attempts and stills himself.\" He says further, \"It is more worthwhile to be patient than to be very strong.\" Therefore, Saint James says in his epistle, \"Patience is a great virtue of perfection.\" Certainly, I grant you, Lady Prudence, that. Patience is a great virtue, and I was subjected to it so much that it was almost a parody to my enemies to take vengeance upon me. Yet they paid no heed to the parody but fulfilled their wicked will and courage. Therefore, I think men ought not to reprove me, though I put myself in a little parody for revenge, and though I do a great one.\n\nA woman named Prudence says, \"You speak your will as you please,\" but in no case of the world, a man should not do outrage or excess to avenge himself. Cassiodorus says that he who avenges himself by outrage is as evil as the outrage itself. Therefore, you shall avenge yourself according to the order of right, that is, by the law, and not by excess or outrage. Moreover, if you wish to avenge yourself for the outrage of your adversaries in another manner, you sin. And therefore Seneca says that a man should never avenge himself with shrewdness by shrewdness, and if you say that right demands a man to defend violence with violence and fighting with fighting, certainly you speak the truth. When the defense is done immediately. Without interrupting or delaying, a man should defend himself not for revenge but to protect himself. However, he must exercise temperance in his defense so that others have no reason to reproach him for excess or outrage. Otherwise, it would be unreasonable. You know well that you do not defend yourself now to defend but to avenge, and therefore patience is good. For Solomon says, \"He who is not patient will suffer great harm.\"\n\nCertes said, \"I grant you that when a man is impetuous and angry about that which does not concern him, and though it harms him, it is no wonder. For the law says that he is culpable who enters or meddles in matters that do not concern him. And Solomon says, 'He who enters into the noise of another man's quarrel is like one who seizes a strange dog by the ears.'\"\n\nJust as he who seizes a strange dog by the ears. by the eeries, he is otherwise bitten with the hound, right in the same way, it is reason that he suffers harm because of my proximity to the noise of another man, and though I am wrathful and impatient, it is no marvel. Saving your grace, I cannot see that I should greatly harm myself though I took vengeance. For I am richer and mightier than my enemies are, and it is well known that through money and having great possessions all things of this world are governed. And Solomon says that a woman heard her husband boast of his riches and wealth, disdaining the power of his enemies. She spoke and said in this way, \"Certes, dear sir, I grant you that you are rich and mighty, and that riches are good to him who has obtained them well and knows how to use them. For just as the body of a man cannot live without a soul, neither can life exist without temporal goods. By riches, a man can gain great friends, and therefore Solomon says,\" \"Pamphilus promises a thousand men to take as husband. For of a thousand men, one will not abandon her. Pamphilus also says, if you are truly happy, that is, if you are rich, you will find a great number of companions and friends. But if your fortune changes, farewell companionship and friendship, for you will be alone without any company, except if it is the company of the poor. And Pamphilus further says, as riches bring many goods, they are also called \"Cassius' overthrowing\" or \"filling down.\" Peter Alfonso, one of the greatest adversities of this world, says that a man of kind or birth is constrained by poverty to eat the alms of his enemy. And Innocence writes in one of his books that the condition of a poor beggar is sorrowful and miserable. If he does not ask for food, he dies from hunger. If he asks, he dies from shame. And therefore Solomon says,\" That it is better to die than to have such poverty. And the same Salomon says, it is better to die a bitter death than to live such a life. Here are the reasons I have given you, and by many others I could have said. I grant that riches are good for those who acquire them well and for those who use them well. Therefore, I will show you how you should conduct yourself in acquiring your riches and how you should use them.\n\nFirst, you should acquire them without great desire, through honest labor and not too hastily. For a man who is overly desiring in acquiring riches is first subject to theft and to all other vices. And therefore Salomon says, \"Go from me, for I will hasten you, and you shall come to your end swiftly.\" Riches that come little by little and increase little also multiply. Therefore, you should acquire riches by your wit and by your industry, and that without doing any wrong or harm to anyone.\n\nThe law says that no man makes himself rich by doing harm to another. This is to say that nature defends and forbids, by right, that no man enriches himself at the harm of another person. And Tullius says that no sorrow or fear of death or anything that may befall man is so contrary to nature as a man increasing his own profit at the harm of another man. And though great and mighty men acquire riches more easily than you, yet you shall not be idle, but show yourself to do your profit. For you shall in all ways flee idleness. For Solomon says that he who labors in idleness teaches a man to do evil things, and the same Solomon says he who travels and strives to till his land shall eat bread. And he who is idle and casts himself to no businesses or occupations shall fall into poverty and die of hunger. And he who is idle and slow can never find suitable time to do his profit, for there is a verse that says:\n\nThe idle man excuses himself in winter because of the great cold,\nAnd in summer by the scorching heat;\nFor these reasons, says Cato, wake up. And it is not in my interest to sleep too much, for excessive rest nourishes and causes many vices. Therefore, Saint Jerome says, the devil, your enemy, will not easily approach those who are occupied in good works. To obtain riches, you must flee idleness. And afterward, use the riches you have acquired by your wit and labor in such a way that men have no reason to call you a wretch or a prodigal. It is a great shame for a man to have a poor heart and a rich purse. He also says, use the goods you have acquired measurably, that is, spend them moderately. For a hand wastes the goods. Goods that they have, when they have no more of their own, they shape themselves to take the goods of other men. I say, therefore, that you should flee avarice, using your riches in such a manner that men do not say that your riches are devoured but that you have them in your power and in your control. For the wise man reproves the avaricious man and says thus in two verses: \"Why and wherefore does a man bury his own goods, knowing well that need must have him die? For death is the end of every man, as in this life. And for what cause and reason does he join himself so fast to his goods, that all his wits cannot dissuade or depart him from his goods? And he knows well or ought to know that when he is dead, he will carry nothing out of this world with him. And therefore, says Saint Augustine, that the avaricious man is likened to hell; the more it swallows, the more it desires to swallow and to devour.\" You should keep and govern yourself in such a way that you are not considered a fool or hidden away, but open and generous to those in great need. Your goods should not be open to everyone, but rather used wisely in acquiring wealth. In acquiring riches, always keep three things in your heart: the Lord God, good conscience, and a good name. First, keep God in your heart and do nothing that displeases Him, our creator and maker. It is better to have little good with God's love than to have much gold and treasure and lose His love. A good man with little good and treasure is better than a scoundrel with great riches. Moreover, you should always strive to acquire riches with a good conscience. The apostle says that. There is no thing in this world that gives us greater joy than when our conscience bears us good witness. The wise man says that a man's substance is truly good when sin is not in a man's conscience. In acquiring riches and using them, you must have great care and diligence that your good name always be kept and conserved. For Solomon says that it is better and more valuable for a man to have a good name than to have many riches. And therefore he says in another place, \"do great diligence in keeping of thy friend and in keeping of thy good name; for it shall longer abide with thee than any other treasure, be it never so precious.\" A man should not be called a gentleman who, abandoning God and good conscience, leaves all things and does not keep his good name. Cassiodorus says that it is a sign of a gentle heart when a man loves and desires to have a good name. And therefore Saint Augustine says that there are two things necessary and essential: good conscience and a good name. A person who trusts him so greatly in his good conscience that he disdains and sets at naught his good name or reputation does not well understand. For one who disregards keeping his good name is not but a cruel fool. Sir, I have shown you how you should acquire wealth and how you should use it. And I see well that due to the trust you have in your riches, a philosopher says that a man who desires all things and wants war will never have sufficiency. The richer a man is, the greater dispensation he must make if he wants worship and victory. And Solomon says that the greater riches a man has, the more dispensation he has. Therefore, although by fortune and riches you may have many people, it is not necessary, nor is it good, to begin war where you may have peace in other ways for your worship and profit. For the victories in this world are not in great numbers and multitude of people nor in the virtue of man, but they lie in the will and determination. In the name of our Lord Jesus God Almighty. And therefore Judas Maccabeus, who was God's knight, when he should fight against his adversaries who had a greater number and greater multitude of people and were stronger than the people of the Macabees, yet he comforted his little people and said, \"Moreover, my lord God may give victory to a few as to many. For the victory of a battle comes not by a great number of people but from our Lord God in heaven. And furthermore, for as no man is certain that he is worthy whom God will give victory to or not, Solomon says, 'Therefore every man should greatly fear war and begin it because in battle fall many parcels, and it happens sometimes that a great man is slain as a little man. And as is written in the second book of Kings, the deeds of battle are uncertain and nothing certain. For as lightly is one hurt with a spear as another, and because there is great parity in war, therefore.\" A man should avoid and flee war as much as possible. For Solomon says, \"He who loves parley shall fall in parley.\" Afterward, Dame Prudence spoke on this matter. Mellean answered and said, \"I and, by your reasons that you have shown me, that war is not pleasing to you, but I have not yet heard in this council how I shall act in this need. Certainly, she said, I advise you to make peace with your adversaries, for St. James says in his epistles, 'By accord and peace the small riches increase, and by debate and discord, the great riches fall and fail.' And you know well that one of the greatest and most sovereign things in this world is unity and peace. And therefore, our Lord Jesus Christ tells his apostles, 'Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.'\" Mellean added, \"Now I see well that you do not love my honor or my worship. You know that my adversaries have begun this dispute and you see\" \"although they do not require my peace or ask for reconciliation, would you then have me go and make myself subservient to them and beg for mercy? This would not be becoming of me. For just as men say, excessive humility engenders great contempt. Therefore, it would not become me to do this great humility or servility. Then prudence began to feign anger and said, \"Sir, save your grace. I love your honor and your power as I do my own and have always done. Neither you nor anyone else has ever seen the contrary. And yet, if I had said that you should have purchased your peace and reconciliation from me, I would have greatly erred and spoken amiss. For the wise man says, 'discord begins with another man.' And reconciliation begins with him himself.' And the prophet says, 'wisdom and goodness seek peace and follow it as much as is in their power.' Yet I do not say that you should pursue peace with your adversaries more than they pursue it with you. For I know well enough that you are very hard-hearted.\"\" That you will do nothing for me. And Solomon says that he who has an overly hard heart he at least shall misfortune and mistime. When Melpomene had heard Dame Prudence feign anger, he said in this way: Dame, I pray you that you be not displeased with things that I say. For you know well that I am angry and that is no wonder. And those who are angry do not know what they do or what they say. Therefore the prophet says that troubled eyes have no clear counsel; me as you please. For I am ready to do right as you desire. And if you will reprove me for my folly, I, Dame Prudence, make no feigned anger or wrath, but for your profit. For Solomon says He is more angry that reproves or chides him in feigned anger than he who supports him and prays for him in his misdoing and allows him in his folly. And this same Solomon says afterward that by the sorrowful visage of a man, that is, by the sorrowful and heavy amends of Melpomene, I shall not answer you. So many fair reasons as you have put to me and shown, speak briefly your will and your counsel, and I am ready to perform and fulfill it. Then Dame Prudence revealed all her will to him and said, \"I counsel you above all things that you make peace between God and you and be reconciled to Him. For as I have said before, God has suffered you to have all this tribulation and disease for your sins. And if you do as you say, God will send your adversaries to you and make them fall at your feet, ready to do your will and your liking. He changes the hearts of men's adversaries and constrains them to seek Him for peace and grace. Let me speak with your adversaries privately. For they shall not know it is your will or your consent, and when I know her will and her intent, I may counsel you more seriously.\" Dame said, \"Mellebe, do your will and your liking. For I put myself only in your disposal and ordinance.\"\n\nThen when Dame Prudence saw the (illegible) A good wife, in the goodwill of her husband, pondered how to bring this matter to a good conclusion and end. When she saw the opportunity, she summoned her adversaries to a private place and wisely showed them the great benefits of peace and the great harms of war. She urged them in a gracious manner to have great remorse for the injury and wrong they had done to Melibeus, her lord, and her daughter.\n\nWhen they heard the words of Lady Prudence, they were so inspired and overjoyed by her that it was wonderful to behold. A lady exclaimed, \"You have shown us the blessing of sweetness after the savour of David the prophet, which we are not worthy to have in any way, but we ought to ask for it with great contrition and humility, that you, in your great goodness, have bestowed upon us.\" Now we see well that the science and art of Solomon is and \"Friends and make yourselves debonair and meek. Certainly, we put all our bodies and our substance and cause entirely in your good will. And be ready to obey the commandment of my lord Mellebe and his dear and gracious lady. We humbly pray and beseech you as meekly as we can that it pleases your great goodness to fulfill your words graciously. For we acknowledge and know that we have offended and grieved my lord Mellebe beyond measure, so that we are not able to make amends. Therefore, we oblige ourselves and our friends to do all his will and commandments. But perhaps and such wrath towards us is caused by our offense that he will inflict upon us such pain that we may not bear it nor sustain it. And therefore, noble lady, we humbly beseech your noble pity to take such advice in this matter that we and our friends are not disherited and destroyed through our folly.\"\n\nCertainly said Dame Prudence, it is a hard thing and right perilous for a man to put himself all in vain.\" I believe and place in the might and power of my enemy. For Solomon says, \"Believe me and give credence to what I shall say: do not give the power or governance of your goods to your son, your wife, your friend, or your brother. Do not give them your might or mastery over your body while you live. Now, since he defends that a man should not give the might of his body to his brother or to his friend for a stronger reason, he defends that a man should give it to his enemy. And yet, my lord. For I truly know and believe that he is noble, meek, generous, and courteous, and desires nothing in this world more than worship and honor. Furthermore, I am fully aware and do this deed without your counsel. And I shall work in this case so that, by the grace of our Lord God, you will be reconciled to us.\n\nThey replied with one voice, \"Worshipful lady, we put ourselves and our goods entirely in your will and disposition. Be ready to come whenever the day may be.\" It is like your noblesse to assign us for making our obligations and bonds, also send my lord Mellebe. When Dame Prudence had heard answers from these men, she bade them return privately. And she returned again to her lord Mellebe and told him how she found his adversaries full repentant, knowing their sins and transgressions lowly. And how they were ready to suffer all pain requiring his mercy and pity. Then said Mellebe, he is worthy to have pardon and forgiveness, which excuses him not of his sin but knows and repents it. Seneke says, \"There is the remission,\" and therefore I assent and conform that we do not grant without.\n\nThen was Prudence right glad and said, \"Certes, sir, goodly answered. For just as by the counsel's assent and help, you have stirred to do vengeance and make war, so without her counsel shall you not accord yourself nor have peace with your adversaries. For the law says, 'There is nothing so good that it is not without counsel.'\" A kind person, bound, urged Dame Prudence immediately to send messengers to her kin and old friends, true and wise. She ordered them in her presence and requested their advice on this matter. When Melibe's friends heard of this need and considered it with great diligence and counsel, they advised Melibe to seek peace and rest. Melibe should receive her adversaries with a good heart, granting forgiveness and mercy. Upon hearing this from Melibe and his friends, Dame Prudence was greatly pleased and said, \"There is a noble proverb that says, 'Do the good you can today, and do not delay it until tomorrow.' Therefore, I advise you to send discreet and wise messengers to your adversaries.\" On your behalf, they agreed to treat for peace and accord, and without delay or hesitation, came to us. This was accomplished in [And when the adversaries of Melibe, those repenting folk, had heard what these messengers said to them, they were right glad and joyful, and answered graciously and benevolently, yielding thanks to her lord Melibe and to all his company. They were immediately allowed to go with the messengers and to obey the command of her lord Melibe. And right away they set off for her lord's court and took some of their true friends with them to make faith for them and to be their bond.\n\nWhen they arrived in Melibe's presence, he said to them, \"It stands thus said Melibe, and truly it is that causelessly and without fault or reason, you have done great injuries to me, my wife Prudence, and my daughter.\" For you have entered into my domain. The wisest of them answered for them all and said, \"Sir, we know well that you are a worthy and noble lord. For we have greatly mistaken ourselves and offended and wronged you in such a way. But, due to the great goodness and kindness that the whole world witnesses in your person, we submit ourselves to the excellence and benevolence of your gracious lordship. We humbly beg you to consider our sincere repentance and lowly submission, and grant us forgiveness for our outrageous transgressions.\"\n\nThen Mellebe took them from the ground in a benign manner and received their obligations and bonds by her oaths on her pledges. Borowes and assigned them a certain day to return to his court to receive and accept the judgment that Melebe would command against them by the causes mentioned before. Each man returned to his own house after this was arranged. And when Dame Prudence saw her time, she feigned and asked her lord Melebe what vengeance he thought to take on his adversaries. To this he replied, \"Certainly, I think and intend to disinherit them of all that they ever had and put them in exile forever.\" \"Certainly, said Dame Prudence, that is harsh against reason. For you are rich now and have no need of other people's goods. And you might easily acquire a very covetous name in this way, which is a vicious living and should be avoided by every good man. For, as the apostle says, 'Covetousness is the root of all evils.' Therefore, it would be better for you to lose so much of your own than to take theirs in this manner. It is better to lose good with dignity than to gain it.\" With villainy and shame, and every man ought to do his diligence and business to gain a good name. Yet shall he not solely keep his good name but he shall always enforce doing something by which he may renew or rebuild his good name, for it is written that the old good name of a man is soon gone and passed when it is not renewed or rebuilt. And as touching what you say, you will expel your adversaries, that think I much against reason and out of measure, considering the power they have given themselves. And yet it is written that he is worthy to lose his privilege who misuses the might and power that is given him. I suggest that you might enjoy the penalty that is right and the law, which I believe you may not do. I say you might not put it into execution. For perhaps then it would be likely to restore the war as it was before. And therefore, if you will have men obey your obedience, you must demonstrate more. This is to say you must yield more easy penance and judgment. For it is written that he who most courteously commands to him, men most obey. Therefore, I pray you that in this necessity and in this need, you cast yourselves to overcome your heart. For Seneca says, He who overcomes his heart overcomes twice, and Tullius says, There is nothing so commendable in a great lord as when he is debonair and meek, and appears lightly. And I pray you that you will now forgive to do vengeance in such a manner that your good name may be kept and conserved. And that men may have cause and matter to praise you of pity and mercy, and that you have no cause to repent yourself of things done. For Seneca says, He overcomes an evil manner that repents him of his victory. Wherefore I pray you let mercy be in your heart, to the effect and intent that God almighty have mercy on you in his last judgment. For St. James says in his epistles, Judgment without mercy shall be done to him. That which has no mercy on another. When Melibe had heard the great skills and reasons of Dame Prudence and her wise instructions and teachings, his heart began to incline towards the will of his wife. Considering her great intent, he conformed to her counsel and assented to work accordingly. He thanked God from whom all goodness and virtue proceed, that He had sent a wife of such great discretion. And when the day came that his adversaries should appear in his presence, he spoke to them graciously and said in this way: \"Although it is so that through your pride and presumption, and the high folly of your negligence and unconscionable behavior, you have wronged and trespassed against me, yet, since I see your great humility and repentance, I receive you to my grace and utterly forgive you all the offenses, injuries, and wrongs that you have done to me. In this way, and to this end, may God, in His endless mercy, forgive me my transgressions at the time of my death.\" Here ends Chaucer's tale of Melibee and Prudence, his wife, and Sophie his daughter. And begins the Monk's Prolog.\n\nWhen ended was the tale of Melibee\nAnd of Prudence and her benignity\nOur host said, \"As I am a faithful man,\nAnd by the precious corpus Christi,\nI had rather then a barrel of ale\nThat good leave my wife heard this tale,\nFor she is not like this Melibee's wife Prudence,\nIn patience.\nBy God's bones when I strike my knaves,\nShe brings me the great clubbed staves,\nAnd cries, \"Slew the dogs, every one,\nAnd break both back and also bones,\nAnd if any neighbor of mine\nWill not in church to my wife incline,\nOr be so bold to her trespass,\nWhen she comes home she rages in my face,\nAnd cries, 'False coward, wreak thy wife,\nBy the body of Christ I will have thy knife,\nAnd thou shalt have mine.' \" dist and spin\nFrom day to night she thus begins,\nAlas she says that ever I was shaped,\nTo wed a milksop, a coward ape,\nWho will be overpowered by every one,\nThou darest not stand by thy wife, a right,\nThis is my life. But if I would fight,\nAnd out at the door, immediately I must arm myself,\nOr else I am lost. But if I am like a wild lion, fool hardy,\nI know well she will do me some harm, some neighbor, then go my way,\nFor I am dangerous with knife in hand,\nAlthough it be that I, dare not withstand her,\nFor she is big in arms, by my faith,\nHe who finds that she does or says,\nBut let us pass away from this matter,\nMy lord, sir Monk, he says, be merry of cheer,\nFor you shall truly tell the tale,\nLo, Rouchestr stands here fast by,\nRide forth, my own lord, break not our game,\nBut by my truth, I know not your name,\nWhether shall I call you my lord, John, or Dan, Thomas, or Robert, or Alan,\nOr of what house are you, your father's kin.\nI vow to God, thou hast a full fair chin.\nIt is a gentle pasture there thou goest,\nThou art. You are a penitent goest\nUp on my faith thou art some officer\nSome worthy sexton or some celestial\nFor be my father foul as to my doom\nThou art a master when thou art at home\nNo poor cloisterer nor novice\nBut a governor wily and wise\nAnd therewith of brawn and of bones\nA well faring person for the nones\nI pray to God ye give him confusion\nThat first brought in to religion\nThou wouldst have been a traitor a right\nHadst thou as great leeway as thou might\nTo perform all thy lust in kind\nThou hadst begotten many a creature\nAlas why were thou so wide a scope\nGod give me sorrow and I were pope\nNot only thee but every mighty man\nThough he were sure up on his pan\nShould have a wife for all this world is lost\nReligion has taken up all the corn\nOf trading and base men be shrimps\nOf feeble trees there come wretched impostors\nThis makes that our heirs be so scanty\nAnd fee.\nThis makes that our wives will try\nReligious folk for they may better pay\nOf Venus' payment than we\nGood wot no. But be not angry, my lord, though I often play games. This worthy monk bore all in patience and said, \"I will do my diligence as far as seems honest to tell you a tale or two or three. And if you wish to listen, I will say. I will first tell you about the life of Saint Edward, or else tragedies. I have a hundred in my possession. Tragedy is to tell a certain story as old books make memory of those who stood in great prosperity and have fallen from their degree into misery and ended wretchedly. These are commonly verified by the seven feet which men call the examen. In prose also, many have ended many a differently. And in meter, many a various way. This should be enough to suffice. Now listen if you wish to hear, but first I beg you in this matter. Though I am ordered not to tell these things, I will tell you about popes, emperors, and kings, and after their acts as men have written, some before and some behind, as it comes to my remembrance. Have me excused.\" I will be telling a tale in the manner of tragedy the harm of those who stand in high degree, and making it so that there is no remedy to bring them out of their adversity. For certain, when fortune wishes to flee, there is no one who can change her course. Many a man has she overthrown, both young and old.\n\nIgnoring unimportant:\n\nI will be telling a tale in the manner of tragedy. The harm of those who stand in high degree, and making it so that there is no remedy to bring them out of their adversity. For certain, when fortune wishes to flee, there is no one who can change her course. Many a man has she overthrown, both young and old.\n\nLucifer, though he was an angel,\nAnd not a man, I will begin with him.\nFor your fortune may not an angel spare\nFrom high degree yet fall he for his sin,\nDown in to hell where he is yet in.\nO Lucifer, brightest of all angels,\nNow art thou Satan, who can not twine,\nOut of misery which thou art fallen in.\n\nLo, Sampson, who was anointed,\nBy the angel long or his nativity,\nAnd was consecrated to God almighty,\nAnd stood in noble ranks where he might see,\nWas never such another as was he,\nTo speak of strength and thereunto hardiness,\nBut to his wives he told his secrecy,\nThrough which he sold himself for wretchedness.\nSampson, this noble and mighty champion,\nWithout equal. He saved his hands two\nHe tore and all to shreds the lion\nToward his wedding walking by the way\nHis false wife could please and beguile him\nUntil she knew his counsel and betrayed him\nTo his feet his counsel began to whisper\nAnd him forsook, taking another new one\nA hundred foxes took Samson for revenge\nAnd bound all their tails together\nAnd set the foxes' tails all on fire\nFor in every tail he had placed a brand\nAnd they burned all the corn in that land\nAnd her olives and her vines also\nA thousand men he slew with his hand\nAnd had no weapon with him but an ass's cheek\nWhen they were slain, so thirsty was he\nThat he was very near to dying for this\nAnd so he prayed that God would have mercy\nAnd send him drink or else he must die\nAnd from an ass's cheek\nOut of a wound, an well sprang up at once\nWhich he drank in quickly, as Indicus relates\nBe very fierce at Gaza on a night\nMighty all the Philistines of that city\nThe gates of the town he seized and lifted up\nAnd on his back he carried it. He is on a hill, where men could see\nHigh up, noble and mighty Samson lived and was dear\nHe, the strong, worthy, and noble one, had been\nIn this world, none before him or his peer\nThis Samson neither drank wine nor sidecar\nNo razor nor shaver came near his head\nBy the messenger's command, he had no strength\nAll his strength was in his hair\nHe had never lost it\nAnd for twenty years, he governed Israel\nBut soon, he would weep many a tear\nA woman brought him to shame\nTo his lover Dalila he confided\nThat all his strength was in his hair\nAnd she falsely sold him to his foes\nAnd while he slept on a mat on the ground\nThey tried to clip or shave his hair away\nAnd made his craftsman all his scorn\nAnd when they found him in such array\nThey bound him first and plucked out his eyes\nBut before his hair was clipped or shorn\nNo bond could hold him\nBut now he is in prison in a cave\nWhere they grind him at the mill of Quern.\n\nO noble Samson, strongest of mankind,\nO once Iuge in glory and in. The riches I find none similar, since you have fallen from prosperity into wretchedness. The end of this wretch was as follows: His companions made a feast one day and had him play before them in a grand temple. But in the end, he caused a foul brawl. He shook two posts and caused them to fall, and the temple and all within it lay in ruins. He then killed himself and his companions as well. This is to say, princes and a thousand others were slain. With the falling of the great temple of stone, I will say no more about Sampson. Beware of this example, old and plain, that no one may tell her (it) of such things if they touch her limbs or her life.\n\nOf Hercules, the sovereign conqueror,\nHe bore the flower of strength.\nHe slew the Centaur and brought down his pride.\nHe seized the cruel serpent's fell.\nHe hound of Hades.\nHe slew.\nAnd M.\nHe slew the very venomous serpent.\nHe slew Cacus in a cave of stone.\nHe slew the giant Antaeus. He shed the ghastly beast or anything that annon\nAnd bore his head up on his spear long\nWas never wight since the world began\nThat shed so many monsters as he did\nThrough the wide world his name ran\nWhat for his strength and his bounty\nAnd every remnant went he to see\nHe was so strong that no man could hinder him\nAnd both world's ends say of him, Timotheus\nIn place of bonds he set a pillar of brass\nA damsel had this noble champion\nWho was called Deyanira\nAnd as clerks mention\nShe sent him a shirt fresh and gay\nAlas, this shirt and well away\nAn enemy was subtly with all\nThat ere he had worn it half a day\nIt made his flesh from his bones fall\nBut nevertheless some clerks here excuse\nBe it on that high Nessus that it made\nBut as I may I will not accuse\nBut on his body the shirt he wore entirely\nTill the flesh was from the venom slackened\nAnd when he saw no other remedy\nIn hot coliseums he had himself drawn\nFor with no poison could he be slain thus died this worthy mighty. Hercules:\nWho can trust in fortune alone,\nHe who follows all this world of praise,\nOr he who is often laid low,\nIs wise he who can know himself,\nBe wary when fortune wishes to close,\nThen waits she for her man to bring down,\nBe gone as he would suppose,\nThe mighty throne, the precious treasure,\nThe glorious scepter and the royal majesty,\nThat had the king Nebuchadnezzar,\nWith tongue unable may I describe,\nHe twice took Jerusalem that city,\nThe vessel of the temple he led away,\nAt Babylon was his sovereign see,\nIn which his glory and his delight he had,\nThe fairest children of the royal blood\nOf Jerusalem he sold at once,\nAnd made each of them his slave,\nAmong all others Daniel was one,\nHe was the wisest child of everyone,\nFor he interpreted the king's dreams,\nThere, in Chaldea, were no clerks who knew,\nWhat end his dreams signified.\nThis proud king commanded to make a statue\nSixty cubits long and seven in breadth,\nTo that image, young and old,\nHe commanded. To loathe and have in dread\nOr in a furnace full of flames red,\nHe should be dead that would not obeye,\nBut never would accord to that deed.\nDaniel and his young fellows two,\nThis king of kings proud and elate,\nHe thought God that sitteth in majesty\nCould not repent his state.\nBut suddenly he lost his dignity\nAnd seemed like an ox and lay there out,\nIn rain with wild beasts walked he,\nTill a certain time was come about,\nAnd like an eagle's feathers were his hairs,\nAnd nails.\nGod relieved him at certain years\nAnd gave him wisdom, then with many a tear,\nHe thought God and ever his life in fear,\nWas he to do amiss or more transgressions,\nAnd ere that he lay was on his beer,\nGod was full of might and grace,\nHis son which that highteth Balthasar,\nThat held the reign after his father's day,\nHe could not keep his father,\nFor proud he was of heart and of array,\nAnd also an idolater was he ever,\nHis high estate assured him in pride,\nBut fortune cast him down and there he lay,\nAnd suddenly his reign began to divide,\nA feast he. Once upon a time, he made them happy and then called for his officers. He ordered the bringing forth of the vessels, which my father had taken from the temple of Jerusalem in prosperity. And to our gods, we give thanks for the honor that our elders left with us, his wife, his lords, and his concubines. They drank while their appetites lasted from these noble vessels, various wines. And on a wall, this king cast his eyes and saw a hand, armless, that writhed in fear. For fear of which he quivered and sighed sore. This hand that Baltasar had made so frightened, wrote Mane, tekel, phares, and more. In all that land, there was no magician who could explain what this letter meant. But Daniel explained it at once. He said, \"King, may glory and honor, treasure and rent reign for your father; and he was proud and nothing feared God. Therefore, great wrath came upon him, and he was deprived of the kingdom he had. He was cast out of mankind's company. With asses was his habitation, and he knew it by the wet and dry.\" And be thou, who art a god of heaven,\nThat hast dominion over every realm and creature,\nThen had God compassion on thee,\nAnd restored thy kingdom and thy form,\nEven thou, his son, art proud also,\nAnd knowest all these things privily,\nAnd art rebellious to God and his foe,\nThou didst drink boldly from his vessels,\nThy wife and thy concubines sinfully,\nDrank from the same vessels, various wines,\nAnd heard falsely the curses of false gods,\nTherefore to thee, great pain is appointed,\nThis hand was sent from God, written on the wall:\nMane techel Phares, trust me,\nThy kingdom is done. Thou wilt not all,\nDivided is thy kingdom and shall be,\nTo Medes and Persians it was decreed,\nAnd that same night the king was a slave,\nAnd Darius occupied his throne,\nThough he had neither right nor law,\nLords, beware, by this example take heed,\nFor when fortune wills to forsake a man,\nShe takes away his kingdom and his riches,\nAnd also his friends, both more and less,\nAnd what man has friends through fortune,\nMisfortune will make him. The enemy is this Queen of Belmarsh named Cenobia, as Perceval's nobles wrote. She was so worthy in armies and so bold that no one surpassed her in hardiness, lineage, or other nobility. Of king's blood, she is descended from Perce. I say that she had not less than fierceness, but her appearance could not be improved. From her childhood, I find that she fled from womanly duties and went into the woods. She shed many wild hearts' blood with arrows that she sent to them. She quickly seized them and when she grew older, she would kill lions and tear them apart. In her armies, she held them at her will. She dared to wrestle with very strong and mighty men, and nothing could stand in her armies. She kept her maidenhood from every man, but at last her friends married her to Prince Oneid of a city. it so. that she hem longe taryed\nAnd ye shul vnderstonde how that he\nHadde suche fantesies as had she\nBut natheles when they were knet in \nThey lyuyd in ioye and infelicite\nFor ech of theym hadde other leef and dere\nSaue o thing that she nolde neuer assent\nBe no wey that he sholde be her ly\nBut onys for it was her pleyn entent\nTo haue a child the worlde to multiplye\nAnd also sone as she myghte aspye\nThat she was not with childe with that dede\nThanne wolde she suffir hym do his fantesie\nEst sonys and nat but onys oute of drede\nAnd yf she were with childe at that cast\nNomore shulde he pleye that game\nTil fully .xl. daies were y past\nThenne wolde she onys suffir hym the same\nAl were this Onedak wilde or tame\nHe gat nomore of here for thus she sayde\nIt was to wyuys lecherie and shame\nIn other caas yf men with hem playde\nTwo sonys be this Onedak had she\nThe whiche she kept in vertu and lettrure\nBut now vnto our tale turne we\nI say that worshipfull creature\nAnd wise therwith & large with mesure\nSo penibil in warre And she was courteous and none could endure labor in war was unwilling. Though all this world men might seek, her rich array could not be told, as she was. She was glad in Peri and in gold, and left not for any hunting, to have of various tongued people knowing, when she lessened and wished to learn, books were her liking. And shortly of this story I will treat, so doughty was her husband as she, that they conquered many great realms in the east with many a fair city, belonging to the majesty of Rome. With strength they held them fast, and never could her enemies do her harm while Onedack's days lasted. Her battles, who so list to read, were against Sapor the king and others. And how this process unfolded and what title she had thereafter, as well as her misdeeds and her woe, I will take up. When Onedack was dead, she mightily held the remnants and, with her own hand, against her foes she [fought]. Let him go to my master Petrarch, who writes of this. When Onedack was dead, she mightily held the remnants and, with her own hand, fought against her foes. That there was no prince or king in all that land,\nBut were glad if they found grace from her,\nSo that she would not work on their land,\nWith them she made alliances be bound,\nTo be in peace and let them ride and play.\n\nThe Emperor of Rome, Claudius,\nNone before him, the Roman Gaul,\nNeither Hermes nor any Egyptian,\nNor any Phoenician, Arabian,\nWith him dared enter the field to fight,\nLest she would kill them with her hands,\nOr put them to flight with her men.\n\nTwo of her sons went out in kingly attire,\nAs her heralds for all to see,\nHermanno and Titamallo,\nWhose names were as precious to them,\nBut fortune ever has in her honeyed gall,\nThis mighty queen could no longer endure,\nFortune made her fall from her reign,\nTo wretchedness and misfortune.\n\nAurelian, when he came into power in Rome,\nHe summoned this queen to take vengeance,\nAnd with his legions he set out,\nToward Cenobia, and soon to see,\nHe made her flee and at last apprehended her,\nAnd feathered her. And her two children\nAnd won the land and home to Rome he went\nAmong other things that he won\nHer chariot that of gold was wrought and perre\nThis great Roman, this Aurelian,\nBrought with him that, for men to see,\nWalked before his triumph, she\nWith golden chains on her neck hanging\nCrowned she was, as after her degree,\nAnd full of Perseus charged her clothing\nAlas, fortune, she who once was\nDreadful to kings and to emperors,\nNow grieves all the people on her,\nAnd she who held was in sta,\nAnd won before towns strong and towers,\nShall wear on her head now an autocrat,\nAnd she who bore the scepter full of flowers,\nShall bear a distaff her cost to quit.\n\nOf Melan, great Barnabo, viscount,\nGod of delight and scourge of Lombardy,\nWhy should not I account your fortune?\nSince in estate you climbed so high,\nYour brother's son, who was your dowry,\nWas new and son in law,\nWith him, your prison made you die.\nBut why or how do I know that you were a slave?\nOf the earl Engelyn,\nThere may be no tongue to tell for. But little outside of this pit stood a tower,\nIn which tower was he, and with him his little children three.\nThe eldest scarcely five years was of age.\nAlas, fortune it was great cruelty,\nSuch hardships to put in such a cage.\nDamned he was to death in that prison,\nFor Roger, who was the Bishop of this place,\nHad made a false accusation\nThrough which the people rose against him,\nAnd put him in prison in such a way\nAs you have heard and seen and tasted and drunk,\nAnd with it all it was full poor and bad.\nAnd on a day it was filled that in that hour,\nWhen his food was wont to be brought,\nThe jailer shit at the door of the tower.\nHe heard it well but saw it not.\nAnd in his heart there came a thought,\nThat they for hunger would do him to die.\nAlas, he said, alas that I was wrought,\nThen the tears filled from his eyes.\nHis young son, who was three years old,\nTo his father he said, \"Why do you weep,\nWhen will our gaoler bring our pottage?\nIs there no morsel that they sleep?\"\nI am so hungry that I may not sleep.\nNow would God that I. mighty earl of Pise might sleep ever,\nThen no hunger would creep in my womb,\nThere is nothing bred that pleases me more,\nThis day is day, this child began to cry,\nUntil in his father's arms it lay,\nAnd said, \"Farewell, father, I must die,\nFor this pain I can no longer bear,\nAnd when the woeful father said,\nHis armies began to bite,\nAnd said, \"Alas, fortune and woe are mine,\nThy false wheel, my woe I may write,\nHis other child thought that for hunger it was,\nThat he gnawed and not for woe,\nAnd said, \"Father, do not so, alas,\nBut rather let the flesh be upon us two,\nAnd eat enough right thus the child said,\nAnd after that with you lay down and die,\nHimself despairing also for hunger's start,\nThus ended the mighty earl of Pise,\nOf this tragedy it ought to suffice,\nWhoever wishes to read it in a longer way,\nRead the great poet of Italy,\nThat is called Dante, for he can devise,\nFrom point to point, not one word will he fail,\nAlthough Nero were as vicious\nAs any fiend that lies full low down. tellith had subjected this world,\nBoth east and west and north,\nWith rubies, sapphires, and white perls,\nHe dressed and undressed his clothes in gems,\nDelighting greatly in them. More delicate,\nMore pompous in attire was never emperor,\nWhose such clothes he wore each day,\nAfter that time he would never see,\nHe had an abundance of gold threads,\nTo fish in the Tiber when he pleased,\nHis desires were as lawful for him,\nFor fortune, his friend, would obey him,\nHe burned Rome for his delicacy,\nThe senators he summoned every day,\nTo hear how women would weep and cry,\nAnd he slew his brother and dressed his mother,\nIn a pitiful array,\nFor he slit her womb to hold,\nWhere he had conceived so well,\nHe told so little of his mother,\nNo tears came from his eyes for that sight,\nBut only said, \"A fair woman was she.\"\nGreat wonder is that he could or might\nBe judge of her ded beauty.\nThe wine he commanded to be brought,\nAnd he drank it at once, no other wine he. When mere power is joined with cruelty,\nAlas, the venom will deepen and wade.\nIn ancient times, a master had this Emperor,\nTo teach him manners and courtesy.\nFor in his time, if his books lay by,\nAnd while his master held dominion over him,\nHe made him so knowledgeable and pliable,\nThat for a long time, tyranny or any vice\nDared not separate from him.\nSeneca was his master, of whom I speak.\nBecause Nero held such fear of him,\nFor he would say discreetly, by word and not by deed,\n\"An emperor must be virtuous and hate tyranny.\nFor this reason, he made him bleed in a bath,\nOn both his arms until he died.\"\nNero also had a custom in his youth,\nWhich afterward he thought a great grief,\nBecause he often chastised him.\nTherefore he made him die in this way,\nTo choose to die in a bath in this manner,\nRather than to undergo another torment.\nAnd thus Nero killed his dear master.\nNow may it be that fortune no longer delays,\nThe high pride of Nero. For though he was strong, yet she was stronger. She thought, by God, I am too kind to set a man filled with vice in his place, and call him an Emperor. By God, out of his seat, I will try him. When he least expects it, he shall fall. The people rose upon him on a night, for his fault, and when he saw them, he was immediately armed. Alone and there, he thought he would be allied. He knocked loudly and cried out, but the faster they answered. He knew well that he had brought this upon himself and went his way, no longer daring to call. The people cried and roared, and with their arrows, he heard them say, \"Where is this false traitor, Nero?\" In fear for his life, he ran into a garden to hide. And in this garden, he found two serving boys and sat by a great and red fire. To the serving boys two, he began to pray, \"Slew him and girded yourself with his.\" That when he was dead, there was no despair done for his defame. He himself could shed no better, of whom fortune was both kind and gave him game. No captain under a king was stronger in the field, or of greater renown, or more pompous in high presumption, than Holofernes, who, at last, so licentiously led him up and down until death came or he knew it not. Not only did this world owe him awe for lessening of riches and liberty, but he made every man renounce his law. Nabuchodonosor was called lord, it was said, whom God should honor. Against his horse, there was no trespas. But take heed of the death of Holofernes. Within his host he drank all night long. And yet, for all his pomp and all his might, Iudith, a woman, slept beside him, her head smooth and her tent far from his, and she stole away from every man. She had sent it to the city. What need is there for King Antiochus to know this? His high pride brought him to venomous deeds,\nFor no man like him had ever been,\nHe recounts what he was in Macha,\nAnd relates the proud works he laid,\nAnd why he fled from his prosperity,\nAnd in a hill wretchedly he died.\nFortune had exalted him so in pride,\nHe thought he might reach the stars on every side,\nAnd in a balance weigh each mountain,\nAnd all the seas' floods restrain,\nAnd God's people held him in hate,\nThey whom he would have slain in torment and pain,\nWishing that God could not abate his pride,\nAnd for Nicamore and Timothe,\nTwo Jews whom he hated greatly,\nHe hastily prepared his chariot,\nAnd swore and said contemptuously,\nTo Jerusalem he would soon\nInflict his wrath cruelly,\nBut of his plans he was quickly thwarted,\nGod struck him with an invisible wound,\nWhich gnawed at his guts so and through,\nHis pains were unbearable,\nAnd certainly the wretch was. For many reasons, he caused great pain, but from his purposes, he was cursed and damned for all his harm. He would not restrain himself but demanded immediately to prepare his horse. And suddenly, before he was aware, God humbled all his pride and arrogance. For he had so greatly sinned from his chariot that all his limbs and skin tore. He could not go or ride but was carried by men about him. All for broadside, both back and side, the wretch of God struck him so cruelly that in his body, wicked worms crept and with them, he stank so horribly that none of all his men who kept him, whether he looked or slept, could endure the stench. And in this misdeed, he wailed and wept, and knew God, lord of every creature, to be his judge and also himself. The stench was most wretched. No man could bear him, and in his stench and in his horrible torment, he started in full wrath. Thus, this robber and murderer, who made many a man weep and wail, received such a reward as belongs to pride. The story of Alisaundra. That every man. He who has discretion\nHas heard something or all of his fortune\nThis wide world\nHe won or was be strong and his renown\nThey were glad to send peace to him\nThe pride of man and laid a down\nWherever he came to the world's end\nComparison might never be made\nBetween him and another conqueror\nFor all this world quaked in fear of him\nHe was of knighthood and of freedom's flourish\nFortune made him the heir of high honor\nSave wine and women nothing could sway\nHis high intent in arms and labor\nSo he was\nWhat pity it would be to him if I told you\nOf Darius and a hundred thousand more\nPrinces. earls. and kings. bold\nWhich he conquered and brought to woo\nI say as far as a man may ride or go\nThe world was his. what should I more devise\nFor though I wrote or told you evermore\nOf his knighthood it might not suffice\nHe reigned for twelve years as I read in Machab\nPhilip II of Macedon he was\nThe first king of that country who counted\nO worthy gentle A\nThat ever should fall such misfortunes upon you\nEmpoyson of your people thou Thy strong fortune has turned into an ass,\nAnd for thee she never wept before.\nWho shall give men terrors to complain,\nOf gentleness and of pride,\nThat held the whole world in his domain,\nAnd yet he thought it would not suffice,\nSo full was his courage of high enterprise,\nAlas, who shall help me to recite,\nFals fortune and poison to despise,\nWhich of all this woe I write,\nGive me wisdom, manhood, and high labor,\nFrom humility and from royal majesty,\nUp rose he, Julius the conqueror,\nWho made all the occident his land and sea,\nBe strength of hand or else,\nAnd unto Rome he brought them,\nAnd since of Rome he was Emperor,\nUntil fortune weighed.\nO mighty Caesar,\nAgainst Pompeius,\nAs far as thou hast taken and enslaved,\nSave a few folk,\nThank fortune,\nBut now a little while I will delay,\nThis Pompeius, this noble governor,\nOf Rome, who fled at this battle,\nI say, one of his men, a false traitor,\nHis head smooth to win his favor,\nOf Julius, and brought it to him.\nAlas, Pompey of the Orient. conqueror Iulius returned to Rome with his triumph, his laurel crown lofty high. But once, Brutus and Cassius, who had long harbored envy of his high station, secretly conspired against him in subtle ways. They set the place of his death and laid in wait. Iulius went to the Capitol as was his custom, and there Brutus seized him with daggers, as I shall tell you. This Iulius, in the Capitol, was suddenly seized by Brutus from behind. And he struck him with daggers at once. But Iulius neither groaned nor complained, unless his story was a lie. So manly was this Iulius in heart, and so esteemed his estate, that he remembered his dying moments with honor. I recommend Lucan's account of this story, as well as Sallust and Valerius, for they have written the word and end of this tale. How these conquerors, Fortune first a friend and then an enemy, none should trust. vp, on his favor long-awaited,\nBut here in a wait for you, too,\nWitness all the conquerors strong,\nThe rich Cresus, once king of Lydia,\nOf whom Cresus Citrus sore feared,\nYet was he caught amidst all his pride,\nAnd to burn men to the fire he had,\nBut such an array from the firmament shaded,\nThat the fire was quenched and he escaped,\nBut to be ware yet no grace he had,\nUntil fortune on the gallows made him gape,\nWhen he escaped, he could not restrain,\nTo begin a new array again,\nHe thought well, for fortune had sent,\nSuch that he had escaped through the rain,\nAnd such a swift one up on a night he met,\nOf which he was so proud and also fine,\nIn vengeance, he set all his heart,\nOn a tree he thought it to be,\nAnd Phoebus also brought a fair towel,\nTo dry him with and therewith his pride grew,\nAnd to his daughter who stood beside,\nWhom he knew in high sentence to abound,\nHe told her what it signified,\nAnd she his dreams right thus explained,\nThe tree. \"She is the gallows to men, and Jupiter signifies snow and rain. Phoebus with his clean towel is a sign that the sun beams are truthful. Thou shalt be a hanged father certainly. Rain shall wash and the sun shall dry. Thus she warned plainly and clearly her daughter named Phanye. An hanged man was Cresus the proud king, his royal throne could not save him. Tragedy is nothing other than a manner of thing, it cannot be sung or be concealed. For fortune always assails those who are proud. With unexpected strokes, the regimes that are proud will be overthrown. For when men trust in her, she will fail and hide her bright face under a cloud.\n\n\"Our ost, sir Monk Piers, no more of this, what you have said is enough indeed. And much more for much sorrow is right for the people. Your tales do us no pleasure or game. Therefore, sir Monk Piers, in earnest tell us something else. For surely, the clinking of your bells hangs on every side. Be the heavy king who did it for us all.\"\" sholde or this fallen doun for slepe\nAl though the slough hadde neuyr be so depe\nThanne hadde your tale al be told in ve\nFor certenly as thyse clerkis seyn\u0304\nWhere as a man may haue non audience\nNot helpith it to telle his sentence\nAnd wel I woot the substaunce is in me\nYf ony thing shal wel reportyd be\nSere say sumwhat of huntyng I you pray\nNay quod this monk I haue no lust to play\nNow lete anothir telle as I haue told\nThan spak our ost with mylde speche & bolde\nAnd sayde to the Nonnys prest anone\nCom ner thou prest com hidir sir Iohn\nTel vs suche thing as may our hertis glade\nBe blithe though thou ryde vp on a Iade\nWhat though thy hors be foul and lene\nYf he wol serue the recke the not abene\nLoke that thy herte be mery euyr moo\nYes sir quod he so moot y goo\nBut I be mery I wis I wol be blamyd\nAnd right anon his tale he hath attamyd\nAnd thus he sayde to vs euerichon\u0304\nThis swete preest this gostly man sir Iohn\n\u00b6Here endeth the prolog of the Nonnys preest \u00b6And here begynneth his tale.\nA Poure wydow som deel A widow once dwelling in a cottage\nBeside a grove standing in a dale,\nThis widow, of whom I tell my tale,\nSince the day she was last a wife,\nIn patience led a simple life.\nHer cattle and rent were little,\nGiven by husbandry as God sent,\nShe found herself and her two daughters,\nThree large sows and nothing more,\nThree kids and also a sheep named malle,\nHer borough and hall were full,\nIn which she ate many a slender meal\nOf pungent sauce, never needed bread,\nNo morsel passed through her throat,\nHer diet was suitable to her condition,\nRepulsion never made her sick,\nA temperate diet was her physique,\nAnd exercise and heart's sufficiency\nThe great one let her dance no thing,\nNo reflection troubled her head,\nShe drank no white wine nor read,\nHer board was most served with white and black,\nMilk and brown bread in which she found no fault,\nSalt bacon and sometimes an eye,\nFor she was as amiable of a day,\nA yard she had enclosed all about,\nWith dry sticks and divided without. a cock hights chanting\nIn all the land of crowing was his peer\nHis wit was merrier than the merry organ\nOn mass days that in church went on\nWell surer was his crowing in his loge\nThan is a clock or in any abbey an orologe\nBy nature he crew each ascension\nOf the equinoxion in the town\nFor when degrees fifteen were ascended\nThen crew he that it might not be amended\nHis comb was redder than the fine coral\nAnd battled as it had been a castle wall\nHis bill was black as any jet it shone\nLike asure were his legs and his town\nHis nails whiter than the lily flower\nAnd like burned gold was his colour\nThis was\nSeven\nWhich were his sisters and his paramours\nAnd wonder like to him as in colour\nOf which the fairest she was in the throat\nWas called fair damsel Pertelote\nCourteous she was discreet and debonair\nAnd compatible and bore herself so fair\nS\nHe truly has her heart in hold\nOf Chanticleer looking in every lith\nHe loves her so that well was he with it\nWhen the bright sun began to spring a melody to hear them sing\nIn sweet accord, my life is far in land,\nFor that time as I have understood,\nBeasts and birds could speak and sing,\nAnd so it was that in the dawning,\nChant clear among his wives all,\nSat on his throne,\nAnd next to him sat his fair Pertelote,\nThis chant clear began to grow thick in his throat,\nAs a man in his dream is drenched,\nAnd when Pertelote heard him roar,\nShe was astonished and said, \"Dear heart,\nWhat ails you to growl in such a way?\nYou are a very sleeper, for shame.\nAnd he answered thus, Madame,\nI pray you not to take it amiss,\nGod forbid I met such mischief,\nRight now that my heart is sore afraid,\nNow God my sweet dream, may it end right,\nAnd keep my body out of foul prison,\nI met one who roamed up and down,\nWith him, our yard where I saw a B,\nWas like a hound and would have made a rest,\nUpon my body and would have had me dead,\nHis color was between yellow and red,\nAnd tippy was his tail and both his ears,\nWith black unlike the remainder of his ears.\nHis snout small with. \"glowing eyes two\nYet for his look almost fear I die\nThis causes me my grinding doubts\nAway said she for shame heartless\nAlas said she for the love of God\nNow have you lost my heart and all my love\nI cannot love a coward by my faith\nFor certain what any woman says\nWe all desire if it might be\nTo have husbands hardy wise and free\nAnd secret and none niggardly nor fool\nNor him that is afraid of every tool\nNor any around by God above\nHow dare you say for shame to your love\nThat anything might make you afraid\nHave you no man's heart and have a beard\nAlas and therefore you are afraid of nightmares\nNothing but vanity God knows in nightmares is\nNightmares engendered of reflection and of sin and of complexion\n\nCertainly this dream which you have met tonight\nI tell you truth you may trust me\nComes from your superfluity and red color, indeed\nWhich causes folk to fear in their dreams\nOf and of fire with red lemurs\nOf great beasts that will bite\nAnd all as a joke not worth a mite\nRight as the humor of\" \"Melancholy causes many a man to cry in sleep for fear of great bolts and Blake devils taking him, or else Blake devils will take him, of humors that work great sorrow in a man. But I will pass lightly as I can. Lo, Caton, who was a wise man, said not thus: \"Now, sir,\" she said when we fled from the bemys, \"for God's love take some laxative, up peril of my soul and my life, both of coler and melancholy. You purge yourself and for you shall not tarry. Though in this town there be no apothecary, I shall myself teach you two herbs that shall be for your health and for your prowess. And in your yard, though herbs shall I find, the which have of their proper kind, to purge you beneath and also above. Forget not this for God's own love. You are right coleric in complexion, where the sun is in its ascension, nor do you find of humors hot. For if you do, I dare lay a great tertian fever or an age that may be your bane. A day or two you shall have digestive issues or take your laxatives. Of laurel.\"\" Two centories and elderberries that grow there, of catapuce or gaytre berries, herbs joyful growing in your yard. Pluck them up as they grow and eat them. Be merry, good husband, for your father's sake. I cannot say more, Madam. But as for Catoun, he has such great renown in wisdom that he had no dreams to fear. God grant that men may read of many more authors in old books. That which all the revers say of his sentence and have well found by experience, dreams are significations. As well of joy as of tribulations that people endure in this present life. They need not make of this a mere argument. The very proof shows it in deed. One of the greatest authors that men read says thus: Once upon a time, two fellows went on pilgrimage in good intent. And happily, they came upon a town where there was such a congregation of people and also of strict herbergage that they found not as much as a cottage in which they both could stay. Despite the text being in Old English, it appears to be coherent and mostly readable as is. Therefore, I will not make any changes and simply output the text as given:\n\nmight I loggid be\nWhy they must of necessite\nAs for that night depart company\nAnd each of them goes to his ostery\nAnd took his logging as it would fall\nThat one of them was loggid in a stall\nFar in the yard with oxen of the plow\nThat other man was loggid well now\nAs was his adventure or his fortune\nThat us governeth all as in commune\nAnd so it be fil longe or it were day\nThis man met in his bed there that he lay\nThat his fellow began to him call\nAnd said allas for in an ox's stall\nThis night shall I be murdered there I lie\nNow help me dere brother or I die\nIn all haste come to me he said\nThis man out of his sleep for fear awoke\nAnd when he was wakened from his sleep\nHe turned him and took of this no keep\nHe thought his dream was but a vanity\nThus twice in his sleep dreamed he\nAnd at the third time yet his fellow\nCame as he thought and said I am now slave\nBehold my bloody wounds deep and wide\nArise up early in the morrow tide\nAnd at the west gate of the town said he\nA cartful of dung there shalt thou see. My body is hidden quietly. Do the cart horse stop boldly. My gold caused my death to say, And told him every point how he was slain, With a very pitous face pale in hue, And trust well his dream he found right true, For on the morrow as soon as it was day, To his fellows in he took the way, And when he came to the ox's stable, After his fellow he began to call, The ostler answered him at once, And said, \"Sir, your fellow is gone,\" As soon as day he went out of the town, This man began falling in suspicion, Remembering of his dreams that he met, And forth he went no longer would he, To the hand found, A dead cart as it were to drag land, That was arrayed in the same way, As you have heard the dead man describe, And with a hardy heart he began to cry, \"Vengeance and justice for this felony! My murderer is this same night, And in this cart he lies gaping up right.\" I, (should keep and revive) Harow allas h. What sh. The people started out and cast the cart to the ground. In it they found the dead man who had been murdered. Oh God. that art so good and true\nLo, how thou revealest murder always\nMurder will out that we see day by day\nMurder is so waltzom and abominable\nTo God that Justice is and reasonable\nThat he will not suffer it to be\nThough it abides a day or two or three\nMurder will out - this is my conclusion\nAnd right away the minstrels of the town\nHave seized the cartman and so sore pinched him\nAnd also the Ostler so sore engineered\nThat they knew her wickedness at once\nAnd were hanged by the neck bone\nHere you see that dreams can be dreadful\nAnd certainly in the same life I read\nRight in the next chapter after this\nI give not so; have I joy and bliss\nTwo men who would have passed over these\nFor certain causes into a far country\nIf the wind had not been contrary\nThat made them in a city to tarry\nThat stood full merry up on a high side\nBut on a day against an even tide\nThe wind began to change and blew as it listed\nIoly and glad they went to rest\nAnd cast them fully early to sail\nBut hear this: one of them sleeping. As he lay in bed, he had a strange dream the next day. He saw a man standing by his bedside and commanded him to stay and said, \"If you think you will go tomorrow, you shall hear the end of my tale.\" He looked and told his companion what he had seen and begged him to stay. As for that day, he begged him to stay by his bedside. His companion, who lay beside him, laughed and scorned him, saying, \"No dream can make my heart quake. I will let you have your way.\" He did not set a straw for his dreaming. For sweating Iapes (apples), men see every day owls and apes and many other things that never were or will be. Since I see that you want to stay here and deliberately slow down your pace, may God be with us both and have a good day. But before he had finished half his speech, I don't know why or what mischance it brought, but the ship's bottom was rent, and ship and crew went under the water. This happened in sight of other ships beside us. \"And therefore, fair Pertelot, you may hereby find, by examples old, that no man should be reckless of dreams, for I say the truth: many a dream is a cause for great fear. In the life of Saint Kenelm, I read that was Kenulphus' son, the noble king of Mercia, how Kenelm encountered a thing: a little thing or he would have been murdered on that day. His murder in his vision he said, his nurse explained it clearly. His horse and bade him keep himself well from treason, but he was only seven years old. And therefore, little tale he has told of this dream. Of any dream, so holy was his heart. I wish I had rather than my shirt, that you had heard his legend as I have. Dame Pertelot, I truly say to you, Macrobius who wrote the vision, in his book of the dreams of Scipio, affirms dreams and says that they are warning of things that we have seen afterwards. And furthermore, I pray you look well, in the old testament of Daniel, if he held any vain dreams. Read also of Joseph, and there you shall see wonders, but I say not all.\" Of things that should follow after this,\nThere was a king in Egypt named Pharaoh,\nHis baker and butler also,\nDid they experience no effects in dreams?\nWhoever seeks actions of various remedies,\nMay read of dreams wonderful things,\nThere was a Cresus, who was a Lybian king,\nHe did not know that he sat upon a tree,\nWhich signified he should be hanged by the neck,\nThere was Andrometa, Hector's wife,\nThe day that Hector should lose his life,\nShe dreamed in the same night before,\nHow the life of Hector should be lost,\nIf that day he went unarmed to battle,\nShe warned him but it could not prevent,\nHe went to fight nonetheless,\nBut he was slain immediately by Achilles,\nBut that tale is too long to tell,\nAnd,\nShortly I say, as a conclusion,\nThat I shall have from this vision,\nAdversity and I also say,\nThat I will not tell of laxatives, for they are venomous, I know it well,\nI separate myself from them, I love them never,\nBut now let us speak of mirth and cease all this,\nMadame Pertelot, I have given you joy,\nOf one thing, God has given me abundant grace,\nFor when I see the beauty of your face,\nYou are so beautiful. \"It makes me fear to live, for a woman is man's confusion, as the Latin sentence says. Woman is man's joy and his bliss. When I feel a night your soft side, though I may not ride on you, our passage is made so narrow always. I am so full of joy and solace that both sweet dreams and sleep are denied me. And with that word he flew down from the beams. It was day and also his hens were all there. With a chuck he began to call them. For he had found a cornfield in the yard. He was a king and no longer afraid. He fed Pertelot twenty times and traded as often or it was prime. He looked like a grim man and on his toes he roamed up and down. He did not hesitate to set his feet on the ground. He chuckled whenever he found a cornfield. And to him then ran his wives all. As royal as a prince in his hall. I leave this chaunterel in his pasture. And after I will tell of his adventure. When the month in which the God first made, that is, March, \" A man\nCompletely and passed were thirty days and two,\nWith his seven wives walking by his side,\nHe cast up his eyes to the bright sun,\nThat in the sign of Taurus was running,\nTwenty degrees and one, and somewhat more,\nHe knew by kind and by no other,\nThat it was prime and crew with a blissful steed,\nThe sun he said had climbed up to heaven,\nForty degrees and one, and somewhat more, I wise,\nMadame Pertelote, my world's bliss,\nListen how this blissful bird sings,\nAnd see the fresh flowers how they spring,\nFull is my heart of rejoicing and solace,\nBut suddenly him fell a sorrowful case,\nFor ever the latter end of joy is woe,\nAnd commonly it comes suddenly,\nAnd if a reason could fairly endite,\nHe in a chronicle might safely write,\nAs for a sovereign notable,\nNow every wise man listen to me,\nThis story is also true I undertake,\nAs is the book of Lancelot of the Lake,\nThat women hold in full great reverence,\nNow will I turn again to my sentence,\nA cunning fox, full of craft and iniquity,\nThat in the ground had dwelt years three. Imagination in the forest,\nThe same night the hedge burst,\nInto the yard there Chanticleer the fair,\nWas wont and also his wives to repair,\nAnd in a bed of herbs still he lay,\nPassed under the day's heat,\nWaiting for his time on Chanticleer to fall,\nAs gladly do the homicides all,\nWho in a wait lie to murder men,\nA false murderer lurking in thy den,\nO new Scariot and new Judas,\nFalse dissembler, O Greek Syon,\nWho brought Troy utterly to sorrow,\nO Chanticleer accursed be the merrow,\nThat thou in thy yard flew from the bems,\nThou were full well warned by thy dreams,\nThat same day was perilous to thee,\nBut that God before knew must needs be,\nAccording to the opinion of certain clerks,\nWitness to Him that any clerk is,\nWho in school is great altercation,\nIn this matter and great disputation,\nAnd has been of a hundred thousand men,\nBut I cannot build out the fire,\nAs can the holy doctor Austin,\nOr Boethius or the bishop Bradwardine,\nWhether God's will beforehand\nCompels me needlessly to do a thing,\nNedely call. I simply require or if the free choices be granted me, to do that same thing or do it not, though God forget it or it was wrought, or if His wisdom never strains at all, but by necessary condition I will not have to do such matter. My tale is of a cock as you shall hear, that took his counsel of his wife with sorrow, to walk in the yard up on the morrow, that he had dreamed as you told, Women's counsel is often cold, Women's counsel brought us first to woe And made Adam from paradise to go, There as he was full merry and well at ease, But for I, whom I might displease, If I counsel of women would blame, I passed over, I said it in my game. Read other authors where they treat of such matter and what they say of women you may hear. These were the cock's words and not mine. I can no harm of no woman divine. Fair in the sound to bathe her merily. Let Pandarus all hail, Against the sun and Chanticleer so free, Sang merrier than the mermaid in the sea. For Phoebus says truly, How that they sing well and. And fearlessly, as he cast his eye among the flowers on a butterfly,\nHe was wary of this fox that lay so low.\nNot through lust, but starting up he fled,\nAfraid.\nFor naturally a beast desires to flee\nFrom him\nHe had seen it earlier with his eye\nThis c [unclear]\nHe would have fled but that the fox at once\nSaid gently, sire, alas what will you do?\nBe you afraid of me that am your friend?\nCertainly, sire, be you unkind.\nIf I were to do you harm or villainy,\nI am not come to your counsel to spy.\nBut truly the cause of my coming\nWas only to hear how you sing.\nFor truly you have in music more feeling\nThan had voices or any that can sing.\nMy lord your father God's soul bless,\nAnd eke your mother of her gentleness.\nHave in my house be in good ease,\nAnd certainly, sir, I would please you.\nBut for men speak of singing I would say,\nSo must I break my yoke twain.\nSave you never heard I never man so sing\nAs did your father in the morning.\nAnd truly it was from the heart that he sang,\nAnd to make his voice the more strong. \"He would make him wink with both his eyes, he must cry out loud, and stand on his tiptoes, and stretch forth his neck long and small. There was no man in any region who could surpass him in song or wisdom. I have well found Burnel the ass among his verses. Among them was a cock. A priest's son gave him a knock on his legs while he was young. He made him forget his benefice. But there is no comparison between the wisdom and discretion of your father and his subtlety. Now sing, sir, for St. Charity. Let you see if you can count him worthy. This chauntecleer flapped his wings, as one who could not see his reason. So was he carried away by his flattery. Alas, ye lords, many a false flatterer is in your court and many a false loser. That pleases you more, by my faith, than he who speaks truth to you. Rejoice in the church of flattery. Beware, lords, of her treachery. This chauntecleer stood high up on his toes, stretching his neck and holding his eyes closed, and began to crow loudly.\" For the Nonnes,\nAnd Dan Russell started as VP at Onys,\nBy the gear hente Chantecleer,\nAnd on his back toward the wood he bore,\nFor there was no man that could escape him,\nO Destene that might not be avoided,\nAlas that Chantecleer flew from the bems,\nAlas his wife did not dream,\nAnd on a Friday this mischance was done,\nO Venus, that art god of pleasure,\nSince thy servant was this Chantecleer,\nAnd in thy service he did all his power,\nMore for delight than the world to multiply,\nWhy wouldst thou suffer him on thy day to die,\nO Gaufryde, dear master sovereign,\nWhen the worthy king Richard was slain,\nWith shot completed his death so sore,\nWhy had I not then thy sentence and thy lore,\nThe Friday to tell as you did,\nFor on a Friday he was shortly slain,\nThen I would show you how I could please,\nFor Chantecleer and for his pain,\nCertes such cry or lamentation,\nWas not made by ladies when Ilion was won,\nAnd Pyrhus with his bright sword,\nWhen he caught king Priam by the beard,\nAnd slowly he slew him, as Aeneas says,\nAll made so. the henns in the cloister\nWhen they had seen Chauntecler,\nBut sovereignly Dame Pertelot began to shriek,\nLouder than Hadrubalis' wife,\nWhen her husband had lost his life,\nAnd the Romans had burned Carthage,\nShe was so full of torment and rage,\nThat willfully into the fire she stirred,\nAnd burned herself with a steadfast heart,\nO woeful hens, cry out you,\nAs when Nero burned the city,\nOf Rome cried the senators' wives,\nBecause their husbands' lives should be lost,\nWithout guilt Nero had slain them,\nNow I will turn to my tale again,\nThis pitiful widow and her two daughters,\nHeard the hens cry and make a wooing sound,\nAnd out at the door started they at once,\nAnd saw the fox going towards the wood,\nAnd bore up on his back the cock away,\nAnd cried out and harried and wailed,\nAha, the fox and after him they ran,\nAnd also with statues many other men,\nRan Colle our dog Talbot and Garlonde,\nAnd Malkin with her distaff in her hand,\nRan and also the very hogs,\nFor they were so afraid of the dogs. showting of men and women also\nThey run so fast that their hearts thought to break\nThe dogs barked as men would quiet them\nOut of the haze the geese fly over the trees\nSo hideous was the noise a blessing\nCertainly Jack Straw or his men\nNever made shows half so shrill\nWhen they would ever kill a fleeing thing\nAs that day was made up on the fox\nOf horn and bone in which they bound him\nAnd therewith they shrieked and shouted\nIt seemed as though heaven should fall\nNow gentlemen I pray you listen all\nLo how fortune turns suddenly\nThe hope and the pride of her envy\nThis cock that lay upon this fox's back\nIn all his fear to the fox he spoke\nAnd said, sir, if I were as you\nYet would I say as God help me\nTurns always\nA very pestilence upon you falls\nNow I have come to this wood's side\nMargery your head the cock shall here abide\nI will him eat in faith and that anon\nThe fox answered in faith it shall be done\nAnd as he spoke the word all suddenly\nThis cock broke from his mouth deliveringly\nAnd high up on a tree he flew. And when the fox saw that he was discovered,\nAlas said he, Chantecler, alas,\nI have done you great wrong,\nIn as much as I made you fear,\nWhen I seized and brought you out of your yard,\nBut sir, I did it not with wicked intent,\nCome down and I shall tell you what I meant,\nI shall you say the truth, so help me God,\nNay then said he, we both swear,\nAnd first I swear by myself, body and bones,\nIf you deceive me again,\nYou shall no more with your flattery,\nDo me sing with a winking eye,\nFor he who winks when he should see,\nAs wisely may God let him never be,\nNay said the fox, may God give him mischance,\nThat is so undiscreet in governance,\nThat angelith we\nLo such it is to be reckless,\nAnd negligent and trust in flattery,\nBut you who hold this tale,\nAs of a fox and a cock and a hen,\nTake the moral good men,\nFor St. Paul says all that is written,\nIs to our doctrine is written,\nTake the fruit and let the chaff be still,\nNow good men, if it be your will,\nAs my lord says, make us all good. And bring us to his high bliss amen. Do you not know where there stood a little town, which is called Bob up and down, under the hill in Canturbury wey? There went our ostler to and to play, and said: Is this the one who will awaken our fellow behind? How, Se, is this? Do you do well? For he shall tell a tale by my faith. Even though it be not worth a bottle, hey. Awakened he gave you sorrow. What ails you that you sleep by tomorrow? Have you fled all night or are you drunk, or have you all night with some queen you swooned, so that you can no longer hold up your head? This cook, who was very pale and nothing red, said: So God my soul bless. There has fallen on me great hennes, not I know why. I would rather sleep than the best gallon of wine in the shop. Well said the Mayor, if it may do the ease, to the sir cook and to no one else who rides here in this company, and who our host will of his courtesy excuse from his tale. For truly, your visage is full, your eyes dazzlingly so, and I well know your brother. That foul stench bothers you not? You shall not be pleased with me. You shall not be praised. Behold how he gasps, this drunken wight, as if he would burst at once. Keep close your mouth by your father's kin. The devil of hell sets his foot there. Your cursed breath infects us all. Foul, stinking swine, may the boar bite thee. Take heed, sir, do you wish to be just at the game? And I think you are well shaped for it. I believe you have drunk wine from an ape. And that is when men play a game. The cook grew agitated with his speech, and on the Muncipal he began to nod heavily. For lack of speech, the horse cast him down. Where he lay until men lifted him up. This was a fearsome sight of a cook. Alas, that he had held himself by his lady's side, and before he was again in his saddle. There was a great showing to and fro, to lift him up and much care and worry. So weak and unsteady was this simple-minded ghost. And to the Muncipal then spoke our host. Because that drink has dominion. Upon this man, be my salvation. He will lewdly tell his tale,\nFor whether it be wine or old moist ale,\nThat he has drunken, he speaks so through his nose,\nAnd fumes fast and also he has the pose,\nHe has also to do more than enough,\nTo keep him on his caper out of the slough,\nAnd if he falls from his caper soon,\nThen shall we all have enough to do,\nIn lifting up his drunken corpse,\nTell on thy tale of him, I make no objection,\nBut yet maintain in faith thou art too nice,\nThus openly to reprove him of his vice,\nAnother day he will pawn the debt,\nRecover thee and bring thee to lure,\nI mean he speaks of small things,\nAnd forto pinch at thy reckonings,\nThat were not honest if it came to the proof,\nNo question the Mayor that was a great mischief,\nSo might he bring me in to the snare,\nYet hadst thou rather pay for the mare,\nWhich he rides on, than he should fight with me,\nI will not anger him, though I think,\nThat I spoke, I said it but in jest,\nAnd write ye well I have here in my purse,\nA draught of wine, ye of a rip,\nAnd right anon ye shall see a good jump,\nThis cook shall drink. When Phoebus dwelt, as old books relate,\nHe was the most lusty bachelor\nOf all the world and also the best archer.\nHe slew Pheton the serpent as he lay\nSleeping against the sun up on a day,\nAnd many another noble deed\nHe wrought with his bow, as men may read.\nPlay he could on every minstrelsy,\nAnd sing as it was a song. In this world, there was a man named Amphion, king of Thebes, who could never sing half as well as he. He was the most admirable man, both in honor and perfect worthiness, in the entire world. This Phoebus, renowned for his bachelorhood, was equally excellent in freedom and chivalry. He was renowned for his display of victory signs.\n\nPhoebus, with a cage, raised many a day an eagle and taught it to speak like a man. He could count the speech of every man and knew when to tell a tale. In the entire world, there was no nightingale or a hundred thousand others who could sing so wonderfully, merrily, and well.\n\nPhoebus had a wife whom he loved more than his life. He devoted night and day to please and do reverence to her, except for the truth if I. A jealous he was, and would have kept her fair\nFor himself was loath to part from her\nAnd so is every man in such degree\nBut all in vain, for it availed nothing\nA good wife that is clean of work and thought\nShould not be kept in any awe certainly\nAnd truly the more it is in vein\nTo keep a shrew for it will not be\nThis I hold for a very nice commandment\nTo spend labor to keep wives\nThus written old clerks in their lives\nBut now to purpose as I first began\nThis worthy Phebus does all that he can\nTo please her whim through such pleasure\nAnd for his manhood and for his governance\nNo man should put him from her grace\nBut God knows there may no man embrace\nAs to distress a thing which nature\nHas naturally set in a creature\nTake any bird and put him in a cage\nAnd do all your intent and your courage\nTo foster it tenderly with meat and drink\nOf all delights that you can think\nAnd keep it all so cleanly as you may\nAlthough his cage of gold be never so gay\nYet has this bird by twenty thousand fold\nRather in a [natural habitat] Finds cold\nGo eat worms and such wretchedness\nFor ever this bird will do its business\nTo escape from its cage when it may\nIts liberty the bird desires always\nLet take a cat and foster her with milk\nAnd tender flesh and make her couch of silk\nAnd let her see a mouse go by the wall\nAnon she wanders and all\nAnd every dainty that is in that house\nSuch appetite has she to eat the mouse\nLo, here lust has its dominion\nAnd appetite flees discretion\nAs the wolf also has a vile kind\nThe lewdest wolf that she may find\nOr le\nIn time when her lust wants to have a mate\nAll these examples speak I, these men\nWho have been unfaithful and nothing by women\nFor men have ever a lecherous appetite\nOn lower thing than on their wives they be they never so fair\nOr true or debonair\nFlesh is so newfangled with mischance\nThat we cannot in anything have pleasure\nThat sounds virtuous to us for any while\nThus Phoebus, who thought no guile,\nWas deceived for all his holiness,\nFor under him another had she\nA man of little reputation\nNot worth The more harm it happens oftentimes, in no comparison, when Phoebus is absent. His wife then sends for her lover. Her lover, who is a knave, assures me that I ask for your forgiveness. The wise Plato says that the word must agree with the deed. If men speak truly, the word must be akin to the action. I am a boisterous man, I declare this. There is little difference truly, between a wife of high degree, if she is dishonest in her body, and a poor woman other than this. If they both work amiss, but the gentlewoman is in a position above, she will be called his lady and his love. And because the other is a powerful woman, she will be called his mistress or his mistress. My own brother and I lay equal claim to that which one has, and so it is between an open tavern and an outlaw or a rogue outlaw. I say there is no difference. To Alisaundir was told this sentence: that for the tyrant is greater. Before me men sleep right down\nAnd burn houses and make all plain\nTherefore he is called a captain\nAnd for the outlaw has but small men\nAnd may not do so great harm as he\nNor bring a contest to such great mischief\nMen call him an outlaw or a thief\nBut I am a man not textual\nI will not of this treatise never a part\nI will go to my tale as I began\nWhen Phoebus' wife had sent for her lover\nAnon they worked all their lust voluptuous\nThis white crow that hangs always in the cage\nBeheld her work and said never a word\nAnd when the husband came, Phoebus the lord\nThis crow sang cuckoo cuckoo\nWhat quoth Phoebus what singer thou\nNever were thou not wont so merrily to sing\nThat to my heart it was a rejoicing\nTo hear this voice allas what song is this\nGod forbid thee sing amiss\nPhoebus said for all thy beauty and thy gentleness\nFor all thy song and thy minstrelsy\nFor all thy waiting bleared is thine eye\nWith one of little reputation\nNot worth thee in any comparison\nThe mountain's weight of a gnat I must throw\nFor on thy bed thy I saw him swiftly\nWhat will you more, the crow told him anon\nBy sad tokens and bold words\nHow his wife had committed adultery\nTo great shame and great vileness\nAnd told him again he saw it with his eyes\nThis Phoebus went astray and began to leer at him,\nHe thought his heart burst asunder,\nHis bow he bent and set it therein,\nAnd in his anger he had slain his wife.\nThis is the end, there is no more to say.\nFor sorrow he broke his minstrelsy,\nBoth harp and lute / together and sad,\nAnd also he broke his arrows and his bow.\nAnd afterward he spoke to the crow,\nTraitor quoth he with the tongue of a scorpion,\nThou hast brought me to my confusion,\nAlas that I was wrought so near to death,\nO dear wife, O gem of lusty life,\nThat lies there with a pale face,\nFul gently that durst I swear,\nO rash hand to do such foul harm,\nO troublous wit, O reckless ire,\nThat unadvisedly sinned gently,\nO wanton full of suspicion,\nWhere was thy wit and thy discretion,\nO every man beware of recklessness,\nDo not believe anything. Without witness, do not act too soon or question why. Be absolutely certain or you do any execution. Upon your anger for suspicion, thousands have acted rashly and brought themselves into ruin. For sorrow, I myself will die, and to the crow I will say, \"I will quit your false tale at once.\" You once sang like a nightingale, now shall you false thief forgo your song. Each of your white feathers shall never in all your life speak. Thus shall men be wreaked on a traitor. May your offspring ever be black, and never make sweet noise but ever cry out in the rain. In token that through my wife is slain, the crow began to caw and that immediately. He pulled out each of his white feathers and made him black and took away his song and speech and sent him out to the devil whom I betake him. And for this cause may all crows be black. Lords, by this example I entreat you, keep and guard what I say. Never tell anyone in your life how another man has wronged his wife. \"You hate mortally certain Salomon as wise clerks say,\nTeach a man to keep his tongue well,\nBut nevertheless thus taught me my dam,\nMy son think on the crow as a god's name,\nMy son keep well thy tongue and keep thy friend,\nA wicked tongue is worse than a fiend,\nMy son from a fiend men may them bless,\nMy son god of his endless godness,\nWallid a tongue with teeth and lips also,\nFor man should him avoid what he speaks,\nMy son full oft for too much speaking\nHas many a man been split as clerks teach,\nBut for little speaking spoken always\nIs no man hurt to speak generally,\nMy son thy tongue shouldst thou restrain,\nAt all times but when thou dost thy pain,\nTo speak of god in honor here,\nThe first virtue, son, if thou wilt learn,\nIs to restrain and keep well thy tongue,\nThus learn children when they are young,\nMy son of much speaking unwares,\nThere less speaking had I now sufficient,\nCometh much harm thus was me taught,\nIn much speech sin wanteth nothing.\" arm your two men right so\nA tongue cuts friendship for two\nAn angel is abominable to God\nRead Solomon, so wise and honorable\nRead David and his psalms, read Seneca\nMy son speak not with your head, bend it\nDissemble as though you were deaf if that you hear\nThe angel speaks of perilous matters\nThe flying one says learn if that you will\nThat little angel causes much rest\nMy son if you have not spoken wicked words\nThe dare not fear to be by wrath\nBut he that has wronged me may well say\nHe may by no way call his words back\nWhat is said / is said & forth it goes\nThough he is called\nA tale for paid\nMy son keep and be no new author\nOf tidings whether they be false or true\nWherever you come among high or low\nKeep well your tongue and think on the crow\n\nHere ends the prologue\nBy that the Mayor had his tale ended\nThe sun descended\nSo low that it was to my sight\nDegrees of five and twenty of height\nTen at clock it was so as I guess\nFor eleven feet a little more or less\nMy shadow. At that time, I had feet that were five in length, equally proportioned with the money's elevation. I always began to ascend in libra. As we were entering the towns, our ost, who was accustomed to go as he did in this case, this joyous company said: \"Lords, each one of us now lacks but one tale more than one.\" Fulfilled is my sentence and my decree. Who will now tell a tale? Almost fulfilled is my order. I pray to God that he grants him a good chance to tell this tale to us cheerfully.\n\nSir priest, are you a vicar or a parson? Speak the truth, by your faith. Do not break our play. Every man should save himself by telling his tale. Unbokil, show us what is in your heart. Truly, I think that you should knit up a great matter. Tell us a fable now for cock's bones.\n\nThe Parson answered all in one voice: \"You get no fable from me. For Poul, who writes to Timothy, reproves those who abandon truthfulness and tell such things.\" Why should I sow drag out of my fist, when I may sow where if I list? If you wish to hear morality and of virtuous matter, and if you will give me audience, I would gladly, at Christ's reverence, do you pleasure as I can, but truly I am a sober man. I cannot gesture rum, ram, ruf by letter, and God knows rhyme holds me but little better. And therefore, if you desire, I will not hide, I will tell you a merry tale in prose. To knit up all this feast and make an end, and Jesus, to show you the way in this voyage, of that like perfect glorious pilgrimage, that highteth Jerusalem celestial. And if you vouchsafe an oath, I shall begin upon my tale for which I pray, tell your eyes I can no better say, but nevertheless, this meditation I put it ever under correction, of clerks, for I am not textual. I take but the sentence, therefore I make protestation, that I will stand to correction. Upon this word we have assented soon, for it seemed it was about to end in some virtuous manner. And give him place and audience, and bade our host he should to him say,\nThat all we pray him to tell his tale, our ost had the words for us all.\nThe priest said he now must farewell you befall,\nSay what you list, and we shall gladly hear,\nAnd with that word he said in this manner,\nTellith quod he, your meditation,\nBut hasteth you the sonne will go down,\nBe fruitful, and that in little space,\nAnd to do well, God send you his grace.\n\nHere ends the Parson's prolog.\nHere begins his tale.\n\nOur sweet lord God of heaven, who will perish but he who wills that we all come to the knowledge of him and to the blissful life that is enduring,\nAmoshewas it by the prophet Jeremiah who says in this way:\n\nStand upon the ways,\nAnd see and ask you the good way,\nAnd walk in that way.\nAnd that is refreshing for your souls,\nMany are the spiritual ways that lead people to our Lord Jesus Christ and to the reign of glory,\nOf which ways, there is a full noble way and well-conducting way, which may not fail to. A man should go to a woman who has strayed from the right way of Jerusalem celestial. This way is called penance. A man should willingly listen and inquire about penance with all his penance or penance. And know when it is called penance, and how many kinds of actions there are in working on penance, and how many types there are of penance, and what things are fitting and appropriate for penance. Saint Ambrose says that penance is the confession of a man for the guilt he has committed, and nothing more should be done for the reason for which he should confess. And some doctors say that penance is the sorrow and affliction of a man who regrets that he has sinned. Penance with certain circumstances is true repentance of a man who keeps himself in sorrow and other penance, and he will first confess the sins that he has committed and steadfastly determine in his heart to seek forgiveness and to do satisfaction and never to do good works again. werkes / or ellis his repenand a gabber and not veray repentant / that eftsones doth thing for whiche hym oweth to repente ne stynte to doo synne / may not auaylle / But natheles men shold take hope that at euery tyme that men falleth be it neuer so ofte that he may aryse thurgh penytence yf he haue grace But certainly it is grete doubte / . For as seyth saint Gregore / vimeth ariseth he out of his synne / that is char\u00a6ged of euyl vsage. And therfore repentaunte folk that stynte for to synne and for to lete synne or synne forlete hem / Holy chirche holdeth hem syker of her saluacyon. /\nAnd he that synneth and verily repentith hym in his las Ihesu Crist for his repentaunce / but take ye the siker certayn waye. / And now sith I haue declared you what thyng is penaunce / Now shul ye vnderstande that ther be thre actions / the first is that a man be baptised after that he hath synned saynt Augustyn saith but he be peny\u2223tent for his old synful lyf / he may not begynne the newe clene lif / For yf he be baptised Without penitence for his old guilt, he keeps the mark of baptism but not the grace or the remission of his sins until he has true repentance. Another defect is that men commit deadly sin after they have received baptism. The third defect is that men fall into venial sins after their baptism from day to day. Good and humble people are the penance of every day. The spices of penance are three: one of them is solemn, another is common, and the third is private. Public penance is for sins of which the fame is openly known in the country, and then the holy church by judgment distains him for doing open penance. Some penance priests enforce commonly in certain cases, such as going naked on pilgrimage and receiving private penance. Now you shall understand what is required and is necessary, and\n\nRegarding satisfaction, for which John Chrysostom says, penance accepts every pain that is imposed with contrition of heart and shame of mouth with. satisfaction & worching of al maner humylite And this is fruytful penance ayenst tho thinges in whiche we wratthyn our lord Ihesu Crist / This is to saye delyte in thinkyng / by rechelesnes in spekyng / by wicked and synful wirchyng / Ayenst these wicked giltes is penance That may be likened to a tree. The roand leuys of confession and fruyt of satisfac\u2223and not by the rote that is hyd in the herte of a man / Ner by the braunchis ne leeuys of confession / And ther\u2223fore our lord Ihesu Crist saith thus / by the fruyt of hem ye shal knowe hem / Of thys rote spryngeth a seed of grace whiche seed is moder of sikernes / And this seed is eger and hoot / the grace of this seed spryngeth of god thurgh the remembraunce of the day of dome and of the peynes of helle / Of this mater Salamon saith that in the drede of god a man forlettith his synne / The heete of this seed is the loue of god and desiryng of the ioye perdura\u00a6ble / This hete draweth the herte of man to god and doth hym hate his synne / For ther is nothyng that The milk of sauourethchild is more abhorrent to him than milk mixed with other milk. A sinful man loves his sin more than anything, but from the time he sadly loves and desires the lasting life granted by Lord Jesus Christ, there is nothing more abhorrent to him. For truly, the love of God is God's law. As David the prophet says, \"I have loved your law and hated wickedness.\" He who loves God keeps his law and word. The prophet Daniel, inspired by the vision of Nabugodonosor, advised him to do penance. Penance is a tree of life to those who receive it. And he who holds it very penitent is blessed, as decreed by Solomon. In this penance or contrition, a man should understand four things: what causes contrition, how he should be contrite, what contrition avails to the soul. Contrition is the very sorrow that arises from these causes. A man restrains in his heart, with sad determination, to confess his sins and do penance, nevermore to sin. This sorrow will be in this manner, as Saint Bernard says: it will be grievous, heavy, and very sharp and painful in the heart. First, a man has offended his lord and creator. It is even sharper and more painful because he has offended his celestial father. And yet more sharp and painful because he has angered him who bought him, delivering him with his precious blood from the bonds of sin and from the cruelty of the devil and from the pains of hell. These causes move a man to contrition.\n\nA man shall remember his sins, but let this remembrance be no delight to him in any way, but great shame and sorrow for his guilt. For Job says, \"Wicked men do works worthy of weeping.\" And Ezekiel says, \"I will remember all the years of my life in the bitterness of my heart.\" And God says in the Apocalypse, \"Remember from what I have taken away from you.\" Before you sinned, you were children of God and inhabitants of God's kingdom. But due to your sin, you have become slaves and food for the false serpent. And it is even more abominable for you because of the frequency with which you return to sin, like a hound that tears again to eat its own vomit. And it is even fouler for your continual sinning and sinful usage. For these reasons, you are rotting in your own filth. Such thoughts make a man ashamed, and they will displease you. Sins are the ways that lead people to hell.\n\nThe second reason that should make a man despise sin is that sin puts a man into great bondage. And the prophet Ezechiel says, \"I walked sorrowful and had contempt for myself.\" Indeed, a man should have contempt for sin and withdraw himself from that bondage and vileness.\n\nFor lo, what does Seneca say in this matter? He says, \"Though I knew that neither God nor man should ever know it, yet I would have concealed it.\" And the same Seneca says, \"I am born to greater.\" Things are more terrible than to be enslaved to my body. More enslaved may no man or woman make of his body than by yielding it to sin. And were it the foulest charlatan or the foulest woman who lives and has the least value, yet he is charged and most foul and most in servitude ever from the higher degree that a man falls. The more he is enslaved and more to God and to the world vile and abominable. O good God, well ought a man have contempt for sin since through that he was once free, now made a bondservant. And therefore says Saint Augustine: If you have contempt for your servant, if the reward of your own worth is that you are not base to yourself or to yours, alas, well ought those who have contempt for being servants and slaves to sin. It is shameful for him to be ashamed of himself, that God, of His endless goodness, has set him in a high estate or given him strength of body, beauty, prosperity, and bought him from death with His precious blood, that they so unkindly against His gentleness quench him so villainously to the slaughter of their own souls. O. \"Good women who have been of great beauty, remember the proverb of Solomon: he compares a beautiful woman who is a fool of her body to a ring of gold worn in the sow's groin. For just as a sow writes her beauty in every filth, so she writes her beauty in stinking filth of sin. \u00b6The third cause that should move and the horrible pains of hell. For, as Saint Jerome says, at every moment that I remember the day of judgment, I tremble when I eat or drink or do what I will, and the trumpet sounds in my ears. Rise up, you who are dead, and come to the judgment. O good God, much ought a man to fear such a judgment as we shall all face, as Saint Paul says. Before the strict judgment of our Lord Jesus Christ, where we shall make a general assembly, where no man may be absent. For truly, none will escape.\" \"We shall reckon with every idle word. There shall be a judge who cannot be deceived or corrupted. And indeed, all our thoughts are revealed to him, not for prayer or money he will not be corrupted. He also says, \"The wrath of God will not spare anyone for prayer or gift. And therefore, on the Day of Judgment, there is no hope. Therefore, as Saint Anselm says, great anguish shall the sinful folk have at that time, where the stern and wrathful Judge will be sitting. And beneath him, the horrible pit of hell will be open to destroy him who will not acknowledge his sins. Which sins shall be openly displayed before God and every creature. And within the hearts of men, the biting conscience will be, and outside, his works will accuse him. Then the wretched soul will flee to hide himself, but indeed, he may not hide himself; he must come forth and show himself.\" For certainly, as Saint Jerome and the see also mention, and the Eye likewise, that shall be full of thunder claps and lightning, Now truly, whoever remembers these things, I guess that his sins shall not turn him to delight but to great sorrow for fear of the pain of hell. And therefore Job prays to God: Suffer, Lord, that I may a while bewail and weep, or I go returning to the dark earth and covered with darkness; the land of misery and of darkness, where there is shadow of death, where there is no other order but grisly fear that ever shall last. Lo here may you see that Job prayed for respite awhile to bewail and weep his trespasses. For truly, one day to respite is better than all the treasure of this world. And for as much as a man may acquit himself before God by penance in this world and not by treasure, should he pray to God to give him respite awhile to weep and bemoan his trespasses. For certainly, all the sorrow that a man might make from the beginning of the world is but a little thing. In the consideration of the sorrow of Hell-London of darkness and will never fail in darkness. For horrible sights with the darknesses of death that are the sins that the wretched man has committed, which have turned him away from seeing the face of God. Just as a dark cloud between us and the sun. Land of misery because there are three defects against the three things that people of this world have in this present life: honor, delight, and riches. Against honor, they have shame and confusion in Hell. For indeed, they call honor the respect that men give to men, but in Hell there is no honor nor reverence. For certainly, no more reverence will be there for a king than for a knave. God says through the prophet Jeremiah, \"The people whom I despise shall be despised.\" Honor is also called a great lordship; there will be no one serving another but harm and torment. Honor is also called great dignity and highness, but they shall all be trodden down by devils in Hell as God says. And upon the heads of the damned, this is why: the more they were in this present life, the more they shall be abated and defiled in hell. Against the riches of this world, they shall have misery, and this misery will be in four things. In the lack of treasure, which Dame Fortune cherished in all her heart, the riches of this world shall sleep in the sleep of death, and they shall find nothing in their hands of all her treasure. Moreover, they shall have hunger and thirst. For God says thus through Moses: \"You shall be wasted with hunger. And the birds of hell shall devour them with bitter death. And the gall of the dragon shall be their morsel. And naked shall they be in body as for clothing, save the fire in which they burn and other filth. And naked shall they be in soul of all manner virtues, which is the clothing of the soul. Where then are the gay robes and the soft sheets and fine shirts? Lo, what says God of them through the prophet Isaiah: that under them shall be. Strawed mothes and their courters shall be of worms of hell. And furthermore, their misery shall be in lack of friends, for he is not poor who has good friends. But there is no friend. Neither God nor good creature will be a friend to them. Each of them shall hate the other with deadly hate, as God says through the prophet Micha. And the loving children who once loved so fondly, each of them would eat the other if he could. For how should they love each other in the prosperity of this life? For truly, their fleshly love is deadly hate, as the prophet David says. Who loves wickedness and hates his own soul? Certainly, he can love none other in any manner. And therefore, in hell, there is no friendship but ever the more cursing, the more chiding, and the more deadly hate is among them. And furthermore, they shall lack all manner of goods. Hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching. But it is full of tears, and her hearing is full of weeping and grinding of teeth, as Jesus Christ says. Her nostrils shall be filled with stinking. And as Isaiah the Prophet says, her tasting shall be full of bitter gall. And concerning her body, it shall be covered with fire that shall never be quenched, and with worms that shall never die, as God says by the mouth of Isaiah. And because they shall not believe that they may die for pain and by her death flee from pain. That may they understand in the word of Job that says that there is the shadow of death. Indeed, a shadow has a likeness of the thing of which it is a shadow. Just so, the pain of the hand wounds them ever as though men should die anon. But truly they shall not die. For as Saint Gregory says, to wretched cities shall be death without death and end without end and default without failing. For her death shall ever live, and her end shall be evermore. \"beginning and their default shall not end, and therefore says Saint John the Evangelist: They shall follow death and they shall not find a hand to desire to die. Death shall flee from them. And likewise, Job says: Even if it is so that God has created all in right order, and nothing without order, but all things are ordered and numbered. Yet, those who are damned are nothing in order and hold no order. For the earth shall bear no fruit from them. For as the prophet David says: God shall destroy the fruit of the earth from them. Nor shall water give them any moisture, nor the eye any refreshing, nor the fire any light. For as Saint Basil says: The burning of the fire of this world shall God give to those who are damned in hell. But the light and the clarity shall be given in heaven to his children. Right as the good man gives meat to his children and bones to his hounds, and so they shall have no hope to escape. And therefore speaks Job: At last, horror and grisly fear shall dwell without end.\" end and this fear shall ever dwell in the hearts of the damned. And therefore let him who is their Judge be without mercy towards them, nor may they please Him or any of His saints, nor may they pay anything for their sins. And therefore says Solomon: the wicked man dies, and when he is dead he shall have no hope to escape from punishment. Whoever truly understands these punishments and reflects upon it well, he should have more cause to sigh and weep than to sing and play, for, as Solomon says, he who has the knowledge to know the punishments established and ordained for sin would forsake sin. The fourth point that a man ought to make contrition for is the sorrowful remembrance of the good that he has left undone and also the good that he has lost. Truly, the good works that he has left undone, the good works that he did before he filled in to death. synne or elisions of the good works he wrought while he lay in deadly sin / In truth, the good that he did before he fell into deadly sin are annihilated and stunned by subsequent sinning /. The other works he wrought while in sin are utterly dead as far as eternal life in heaven is concerned /. Then, the good works that are annihilated by subsequent sinning, which good works he did while in charity, can never be revived again without very restraint and withdrawal of the strengths of human courage and the movements in his heart in such a manner as they do not shine forth through anger or ire /. And God, through the mouth of Ezekiel, says of this that if the righteous man returns from his righteousness and works wickedness / he shall not live /. For all the good works that he has done shall never be remembered /. For he shall die in his sin / And on that chapter, Saint Gregory says that we should primarily understand that when we commit deadly sin, it is nothing / Neither for our consideration /. Draw to memory the good works that we have wrought before. For truly, in the working of deadly sin, there is no trust to good works that we have done before, that is to say, as to have them by the life pardonable in heaven. But certainly, the good works that men do while they are in deadly sin, for as much as they may never quicken and revive the life, yet they lead to a bridge of the pain of hell or else to gain temporal riches or else that God wills to lighten the heart of the sinful man to have repentance. And also they lead a man to do good works, and thus the courteous Lord Jesus Christ wills that no good work be lost. For in some way it shall avail, but for as much as the good works that men do while they are in good life are all mortified by following sin, and also all the good works that men do while they are in deadly sin are utterly dead as for having the life perishable. \"A man who does not do good work should not sing a new song. I waste my time and labor on him. For truly, the grace of the Holy Ghost works like fire that cannot be idle. Fire fails as soon as it ceases to burn. Similarly, a sinful man loses the goodness of glory that only benefits those who labor and work. May he be sorry then, who owes all his life to God as long as he lives, and as long as he shall live, for not having any goodness to pay back to Him to whom:\n\nBernard, of all the goods that have been given to him in this present life, and how he has spent them, not so much that a grain of his head or a moment of an hour will perish, but he must give an accounting for it.\n\nThe fifth thing that should move a man to contrition is the remembrance of the Passion that our Lord Jesus suffered for our sins. For, as Saint Bernard says, 'as long as I live, I shall have.'\" Remember the trials that our Lord Jesus Christ suffered in preaching, his weariness in traveling, his temptations when he fasted, his long wakefulness when he prayed, his tears when he wept for the pity of good people, the woe and shame and filth that men spoke to him. The foul spitting that men spat in his face, the buffeting and the foul reproaches that men spoke to him of the nails with which he was nailed to the Cross, and all the remaining passion that he suffered and found nothing for his guilt. And you shall understand this turned upside down, for it is true that God and reason and sensuality and the body of a man are so ordered. Each of these four things should have lordship over that which it should, and reason should have lordship over the soul, and sensuality over the body of man. But truly, it seems that this order of arrangement is turned upside down. And therefore, since the reason of man will not be God who is lord by right, let it be so. lordship that it should have in sand over the body of man, and why then does sensuality rebel against reason, and by that way over the body. For just as reason is rebellious to God, so is sensuality rebellious to reason and the body also. And truly this rebellion our Lord Jesus Christ endured on his body well, and therefore God is worthy of sorrow and death. This suffered our Lord Jesus Christ after he was betrayed by his disciple and distressed and bound, so that the blood burst out at every nail of his hands, as St. Augustine says. Furthermore, because as much as the reason of man will not restrain sensuality when it may, therefore man is worth, and this suffered our Lord Jesus Christ bitter passion, and all this suffered Jesus Christ that never forsook. I am deeply pained by these things that I never deserved. my defiled soul is the devil's by reason of covetousness of temporal prosperity and is tormented by impetuence of adversity and beset by servitude in subjection to sin. And at last, it is finally slain. For the discordance of the sinful man, Jesus Christ was first betrayed, and after that, he was bound, who came to undo us from sin and from pain. Then he was scourged, who should be honored in all things and above all things. Then his face was spit upon, which ought to be desired to be seen by all mankind. In whose face angels delight to look, and there was vilely bespattered, and nothing was gilt. And finally, then he was crucified and killed. Then were accomplished the words of Isaiah that say, \"He was wounded for our iniquities and defiled for our transgressions.\" Now since Jesus Christ took upon himself the pain of all our wickedness. A sinful man ought to weep and be sorrowful that God's son of heaven should endure all this pain on account of his sins. The reasons that should move a man to contrition are the hope of three things: forgiveness of sins, the gift of grace to do good, and the joy of heaven, which God will reward a man for his good deeds. Since Jesus Christ bestows upon us the gifts of His grace and sovereign bounty, He is called Jesus Nazarene. The angel said to Joseph, \"You shall call His name Jesus,\" and Peter also says, \"There is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved, except the name of Jesus, Nazarene.\" Nazarene is as much to say that in Him a man hopes that he who grants him remission of sins will also give him grace to do good. For in the flower is the hope of fruit in due time, and in the forgiveness of sins, the hope of grace to do good. I was at the door of your heart, said Jesus, and called to enter. When I enter God's presence with His grace, I will have forgiveness for sins. I will dine with Him through the good works He will do, which are the food of God. He will give him His kingdom in full, that is, a man will be truly received, consenting in affection. When a man is moved to commit sin against God's law, even though his reason does not consent to sin in deed, and he should sorrow especially for all that he ever desired against the law of God with perfect consent to the deed. Therefore, I say that many men repent of thoughts and delight and never shrive themselves of it but only of the deed of great sins outward. Therefore, I say that such wicked delights and wicked thoughts are subtle beguilers of those who will be damned. Moreover, one ought to sorrow more for his wicked words and for his wicked deeds. For truly, repentance of one sin and not repenting of all other sins, or repenting him of all other sins and not of a singular sin, does not avail. certes God Almighty is all good, and therefore He forgives all or nothing / And therefore, Saint Augustine says, \"I certainly know that God is the enemy of every sinner / And he who observes one sin shall have forgiveness of the remaining sins of his other sins, no / And further, contrition should be most sorrowful and humbling / And therefore, pray to God plainly for His mercy / And therefore, remember God that my prayer may reach Him / Furthermore, contrition must be continual, and men should have steadfast purpose / From this comes hatred of sin that destroys sin both in oneself and also in other people at one's power / For which David says, \"You who love God, hate wickedness.\" Trust well to love God is to love that He loves and hate that He hates. The last thing that a man shall understand in contrition is this, which delivers contrition from sin, David says, \"I purpose firmly to sin and thou, Lord, hast pardoned my iniquity.\" synne\nAnd right so as contricion auaylleth not witsad purpose of shrifte and satisfaction / right so confession ne satisfaction auayle not withoute contricion. For muche contricion destroyeth the prison of helle / and maketh week and feble the strength of tand restoryth the yefte of the holy gost and of alle vertuys and interclen\u2223and fro the company of the deuyll / And fro ser\u2223uage of synne / and restorith to alle goodes spirituel in to the company and com\u0304unyon of holy chirche / And ferther\u2223ouer hit maketh hym that was whylom sone of yre / to be the sone of grace / And alle these thynges he putteth to holy wryt / And therfore he that wyl sette his entent to thyse thinges he were ful wyse / For thenne he shold not in al his lyf haue corage to synne / But thenne his body and alle his herte he shold confourme to the seruyse of Ihesu Crist / And therfore do hym homage for certes our swete lord Ihesu Crist hath sparid vs so benyngly in our folyes that yf he ne had pyte on mans sow\n\u00b6Explicit prima pars penitencie. The second part of penance is confession, which is a sign of contrition. Now you shall understand what is confession and whether it is necessary or not, and which things are fitting for a true confession, showing of sin to the priest. For he must confess all the conditions pertaining to his sin, and nothing excused, hidden, or concealed, and not excuse himself for his good works. Furthermore, it is necessary to understand when sins arise and how they increase. And there are origins of sins as Saint Paul says in this way: Just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all men, because all sinned\u2014for before the law was given, sin was in the world, but there was no law to make sin a matter of guilt. This man was Adam, through whom sin entered the world, and he sinned and transgressed and in doing so all sinned. Therefore, he who was the mightiest so that he should not have died, became one who could not help but die, whether he wanted to or not, and all his descendants. Children who are in this world, behaving in such a manner, look at how it was in the state of Innocence when Adam and Eve were naked in paradise and had no shame in their nakedness. The serpent, who was the most cunning of all the animals that God had made, spoke to the woman, commanding God and saying, \"You shall not eat of every tree in paradise.\" The woman answered, \"Of the trees in paradise we may eat.\" But truly God had forbidden us, \"No, no, you shall not die of death.\" For truly God knew that on the day that you eat of it, your eyes will be opened, and you will be like gods, knowing good and evil. The fruit was good to eat and a delight to the eye. She took fruit from the tree and ate it. And she gave some to her husband, and he ate. Immediately their eyes opened, and when they realized they were naked, they sewed fig leaves together to cover their private parts. Here you can see that deadly sin has its first suggestion from the devil. Here is the cleaned text:\n\n\"here by the devil, and afterward the delight of the flesh, as it is here described by Eve, and after by consent of reason, as it is here described by Adam. For truly, though the devil did tempt one, that is to say, the flesh, and the flesh had delight in the beauty of the fruit, defended itself, yet certainly until that reason, that is to say, Adam, consented to the eating of the fruit, he stood high in the state of Innocence. Of him descended flesh, and from him we all and were engendered from vile and corrupt matter. And when the soul is put in our body, right away is original sin contracted. And that was afterward both pain and sin. And therefore we are all born sons of wrath: of damnes Concupiscence, when it is wrongfully disposed or ordained in man, makes him covetous of flesh and fleshly sin by sight of his eyes as to earthly things, and also covetous of highness by pride of heart. Now, as for speaking of the first covetousness, that is concupiscence according to the law of our flesh,\". Members that were lawfully made and by righteous God I say, for as much as a man is not obedient to God, that is his heart disobedient to him / through concupiscence, it is impossible but he be tempted some time and distressed in his flesh to sin / And this thing may not fail as long as he lives / it may well weaken and fail by virtue of baptism / and by the grace of God through penance / But fully shall it never quench That he shall some time be moved in himself / but if he were entirely restrained by sickness or by the malice of sorcery or cold drinks / For what says the spirit against the flesh they are so contrary / And so strive that man may not do always as he would / The same Saint Paul after his great penance in water and in land by night and bound in great pain in land in great famine and thirst in cold and once stoned almost to death / Saint Ilong dwelt for a long time in the desert / Whereas he had no company but beasts / Whereas he had no meat but hand water to drink nor any bed. But the naked earth bore fruit. For this reason, flesh was black as coal and destroyed, said he, because of the burning of lechery boiling in all his body. Why are those who say that they are not tempted in her springing seat? As well may the servant be saved as the lord. The same death that the servant dies, the lord dies. Where is the lord in your plight? If you were in his place.\n\nEvery sinful man is a servant to sin. I advise you, Lord, that you rule them in such a way that your servants love you more than they hate you. But there is a degree above a degree, as reason and skill are, that men do their duty there as it is due. But certainly extortions and despites of your underlings is damning. Furthermore, understand blood as those who said that Canaan should be a servant to his brothers for his sin. What then of those who pilfer and do extortions to holy church? Certainly, the sword that men yield first to a knight when he is new-dubbed signifies that he should defend holy church and not rob. Whoever does this is a traitor. In the time of grace, God ordained that some people should be raised to higher states and degrees, while others should be made lower. Each person should be served according to his state and degree. Therefore, in some countries, lords were turned into feudal lords, and the lord owes service to his man, who in turn owes service to the lord. The Pope calls himself the servant of the servants of God. Since the state of the Church could not be kept in peace, and God had ordained that some men should have higher degrees, and others lower, a sovereign was ordained to keep and maintain and defend its subjects, not to destroy or confound them. Thus, I say that such lords who unjustly devour the possessions or property of others without mercy or measure, should be relieved by the same measure that they have used. I have measured it for you: I have interceded on behalf of Jesus Christ for the mercy of the people, but they have amended themselves. Now you shall understand in what manner concupiscence, which I spoke of before, increases and grows. It is the inclination towards sin. After that comes the suggestion of the devil, that is, the devils below, with whom he inflames in man the fire of concupiscence. And after that, a man considers whether he will do or not the thing to which he is tempted. And if a man resists and denies the first temptation of his flesh and of the devil, then it is not sin. And if he does not, then he feels an immediate flame of delight, and it is good to beware and to keep oneself well, or else one will fall immediately into the consenting to sin. And then he will do it if he may have time and space. And concerning this matter, Moses speaks of the devil in this way: The devil says, \"I will harass and pursue the man through wicked suggestion, and I will dishonor him by stirring up sin, and I will deprive my praise or my prayer.\" deliberation and my lust shall be accomplished in delight. I will draw my sword in consenting, for truly as a sword parts one in two pieces, so conscience parts from God from man, and then I will kill him with my hand in the death of sin. Thus says the devil, for truly then a man is altogether dead in soul, and thus sin is fully accomplished by temptation, by delight and by consenting. And then sin is called a marvel, for indeed sin is in two ways, either it is venial or deadly sin. Truly when a man loves any creature more than Jesus Christ our creator, then it is deadly sin. And venial sin if a man loves Jesus Christ less than he ought. Indeed the death of this venial sin is very dangerous, for it diminishes the love that men should have for God more and more. And therefore if a man charges himself with many such venial sins, certainly if he discharges them by confession, they may easily be avoided. In this way venial sin passes into deadly sin. The more a man charges his soul with venial sins, the more he is inclined towards deadly sin. Therefore, let us not be negligent in discarding venial sin. For the proverb says, \"many small things make a great one.\" Consider this example: a great wave of the sea comes sometimes with such violence that it drenches the ship. And the same harm can sometimes be caused by the small drops of water that enter through a little crevice in the thwartholes and in the bottom of the ship if men are so negligent that they do not discharge them in time. And so, although it drenches, yet sometimes it causes deadly sin and annoying venial sins when they multiply in a man so greatly that the worldly things he loves through which he commits venial sin are as great in his heart as the love of God or more. And therefore, the love of every thing that is not principally for God's sake, though a man loves it less than God, is still venial sin and deadly. Sin is when the love of anything weighs in the heart of man as much as or more than the love of God. Deadly sin, as Saint Augustine says, is when a man turns his heart from God, who is the very sovereign bounty that cannot be changed, and yields his heart's devotion, which can change and fluctuate, to anything save God. In truth, every thing save God in heaven is subject to change. If a man gives his love, which he owes to God, with all his heart, and therefore sins, he who is indebted to God owes not all his debt to God, that is, not all the love of his heart. Now, since a man understands generally what is venial sin, it is permissible to speak specifically of sins which many a man perhaps does not consider sins and does not confess of the same sins. And yet, as clerks write, this is to say that every time a man eats or drinks more than is necessary for the sustenance of his body, he sins. Furthermore, when he fails to hear the complaints of the poor men, and when he: Speaks more than is necessary is a sin. / Also when he is in good health of body and does not fast when other men fast without a reasonable cause, / also when he oversleeps more than necessary or comes late to church or to other charitable works, / also when he lies with his wife without desire or for any reason other than to honor God or to fulfill his marital duty, / also when he does not visit the sick or prisoners when he can, / also if he loves wife or child or any other worldly thing more than is required, / also if he flatters or blandishes more than is necessary for any necessity, / also if he withholds alms from the poor, / also if he prepares his food more deliciously than necessary or eats it too hastily due to gluttony, / also if he talks vanities in the church or at God's service or is a talker of idle words of folly or of vice, / For he shall give an account of it at the day of judgment, / also when he intends or assures to do things that he cannot. performe or echo when there is suspicious doubt of something not being truthful. These things and more, as Saint Augustine states, are sins. Now, you shall understand that although no earthly man may avoid all venial sins, yet he can be restrained by the burning love of the Lord Jesus Christ, and by prayers and confession and other good works, so that it will cause but little harm. For as Saint Augustine says, \"if a man loves God in such a manner that a drop of water that falls into a furnace full of fire annihilates or grieves him so much, a venial sin grieves a man who is perfect in the love of Jesus Christ. Men can also restrain venial sin by receiving the precious body of Jesus Christ, by receiving also holy water, by alms deeds, by a general confession of the confiteor at mass and at prime and complying, and by the blessing of bishops and priests and by other good works.\n\nIt is necessary now to explain which \"ben dedley sins / that is to say, a captive of sins / All of them rush into colis (hell) but in diverse manners / Now they are called captives because they are chief and springing of all other sins / Of the root of these seven sins is pride, the general root of all harms, from which certain branches spring as anger, envy, acedia or sloth, avarice or covetousness, gluttony, and lechery / And each of these sins has its branches and twigs, as will be declared in the following chapters / And though a man may not utterly know the number of the twigs and the harms that come from pride / yet I will show a part of them / Inobedience is he who disobeys the commandments of God, his sovereigns, and his spiritual father / Avaunt is he who avoids harm or the one who mocks / Avarice is he who craves more than is rightfully due / Hypocrisy is false pretense / Despite is a feeling of contempt / Arrogance is excessive pride / Imprudence is lack of wisdom / Swelling is self-importance / Many other twigs that I cannot declare\" Disdainful is he who scorns his neighbor, that is, his very Christian neighbor, and has contempt to do what he ought. Hypocrite is he who hides to show himself as he is and shows himself to the people.\n\nDisdainful is he who despises his neighbor, that is, his very Christian neighbor, and has contempt to do what he ought. Hypocrite is he who hides to show himself as he is.\n\nArrogant is he who thinks that he has the bounty in himself that he does not, or who thinks that he should have it by his merit, or who deems himself to be what he is not.\n\nImprudent is he whose pride has no shame for his sin. Swelling of heart is when a man rejoices in harm that he has done.\n\nInsolent is he who disdains in his judgment all other people, regarding his value and his knowledge and his speaking and his bearing.\n\nElated is he when he cannot suffer to have master or fellow. Impatient is he who will not be taught or corrected of his vices and, by strife, wages war against truth, defending his folly.\n\nObstinate is he who, through his Indignation, is against every authority or power that has been his. A man's presumption is when he takes on an enterprise he ought not to do or cannot do, known as surquidry. Irreverence is when a man fails to honor those he ought to and expects reverence in return. Pertenacity is when a man defends his folly and trusts excessively in his own wit. Vanity is the desire to have pomp and delight in temporal greatness and glory in worldly estates. Jangling is when a man speaks excessively to many people and claps as a mill and takes no heed of what he says, and there is yet a private pride that waits to be sold or sits or goes before him in the way or kisses the peace or goes to offer before his neighbor and such a proud desire to be magnified and honored before the people. Now there are two kinds of pride, one of which is within the heart of man, and the other is without. Of the aforementioned things and more, these belong to the pride that is within the heart of man. And there are also other signs of pride that are not mentioned. But nevertheless, one of these signs of pride is a sign of another / Just as the gay left of taverns is a sign of the wine that is in the cellar / and this is in many things as in speech in countenance in outlandish behavior / of array of clothing, Christ would not have noted and spoken of the clothing of that rich man in the gospel so soon if it had not been a sin / . For as St. Gregory says / Precious clothing is culpable for its dirtiness and for its strangeness / for its disguises and for the superfluity / or for the inordinate scantiness / As to the first sin that is in the superfluity of clothing, which makes it so costly to harm the people, there is also costly lining in gowns / And also much pounding of chestels to make holding of sherries with the superfluity in length of the aforementioned gowns, trailing in. the people wade and wallow in the mire on horseback and on foot, both men and women. All that trailing is indeed as effectively wasted, consumed, threadbare, and rotten with dung as it is given to the poor, to great detriment of the said poor folk. This wastage is increased because it must cost more for the scabs. Furthermore, if they would give such pounds and daggers as clothing to the poor, it is not convenient for her to wear, nor sufficient for her needs. On the other hand, speaking of the disgraceful scantiness of clothing, such cut slops or homemade rags, through their shortness, cannot cover the shameful members of a man to wicked intent. Alas, some of them show in shape and form the horrible swollen members that seem like the lady of Hermione in the wrapping of her hose and also the emaciated, white and red, half-hidden private parts. And so by that means, half the private parts appear to be fleeing from her hose. They parted her hosen in other colors: white and black, or white and blue, or black and red, and so forth. It seems that half of his precious limbs are corrupted by the fire of Saint Anthony or by canker, or by other such mischances. Yet the hind part of her buttocks is truly horrible to see. For indeed, in that part of her body where they purge her stinking ordure, she proudly shows it to the people in spite of honesty. I say not that the superfluity or disordered scarcity of clothing for man and woman is unendurable. But certainly,\nthe sin of ornament or in apparel, as in things that pertain to riding, is reproachable. Also, the sin of ornament or in riding equipment, as in many delicate horses that are kept for delight because they are so fair, fat, and costly, and also many a vicious knave. \"Maintained because of them, and in curious saddles, crops, pepperills, and bridles adorned with precious cloth and rich bars and plates of gold and silver. God says through Zachariah the prophet, \"I will confound riders on such horses.\" These people took little regard for riding God's son and his horses when he rode upon an ass and had no other trappings but the clothes of his poor disciples. I speak of superfluity, not for its honesty when it is required, and furthermore, pride is greatly signified in holding great means, especially when the means are foul and the damsel a devil of their wickedness, or when these people of low degree, who keep hostelries, sustain thieves by their hostelers, and that is in many ways following the honey or else caring for the aforementioned people strangely. Do no improvement right as a blessing to Laban because of Jacob, and to Pharaoh for the sake of...\" festis and poverty-stricken people are driven away and reprimanded. There is an excess of various foods and drinks, particularly curious baked goods and similar waste. It is an abuse to think so, and in great preciousness of vessels and the curiosity of minstrelsy, a man is led more to the delights of luxury. If he sets his heart less upon our Lord Jesus Christ, it is a sin. And truly, the delicate meals and delight might be so great in the case that men might more easily fall into deadly sin through them. The spices that sour from pride are deadly sins, whether they sour from malice imagined and intended, or from us. They are no doubt deadly sins. And when they suddenly sour from good fortune or nature, and suddenly withhold and spring up, I say that sometimes it springs from the goods of nature, and sometimes from the goods of fortune, and sometimes from the goods of grace. Clever wit with sharp understanding, subtle engineering, natural virtue, good memory. Sing of the people / Goods of grace are science,\nEnduring temptation and similar things. Of these goods, certainly, it is foolish for a man to pry into any of them all;\n\nNow, speaking of goods of nature, God knows that sometimes we have them in nature as much to our harm as to our profit.\n\nAs for the body's health, it passes lightly, and it is often thence a great enemy to the soul. And therefore, the more that a body is whole,\nthe more we are in peril to fall.\n\nLikewise, it is a great folly for a man to pride himself in his bodily strength. For certainly, the flesh fights against the spirit,\nand the stronger the flesh is, the sorrier may the soul be.\n\nAnd over all this, strength of the body and worldly hardiness cause many men to peril and misery.\n\nAnd yet we are all of one father, and all we are of one rotten and corrupt nature, both rich and poor.\n\nA man's manner of gentriness is to be praised for its appearance. A man should have a courageous heart and make children. Trustmeasures try is very choosy of vicars or ribaldry, and serving sin in word and deed in countenance. Use vanity to be liberal, that is, large by measure. For that which passes measure is folly and sin. Another is that he remember the bounty that he has received from others. Another, he should be benevolent above his nothing more worthy to a man of high estate than debonair. And these flies that men call bees when they make a king, they choose one who has no prick with which he may sting. Another is a man to have a noble heart and a diligent tongue to raise virtues. Certes, he who prides himself in the goods of fortune is full like a great fool. For sometimes a man is a full great man by tomorrow that is a wretch or a captive, or it be night. And sometimes delights of man are the cause of grievous maladies through which he dies. Certes, the commendation of the people is sometimes full false and broody to trust. This day. They praise/tomorrow they blame God, know/Eke desire to have commendation of the people has caused death to many a man. Now certainly, a man who prides himself in the goods of grace is also an outrageous folly, for the gifts of grace that should have turned him to goodness and to medicine turn to venom and to confusion, as Saint Gregory says. Since you have understood what pride is and which are its sources, and how pride sours and springs up, now I will tell you which is the remedy against pride. And this one holds himself no title or price, considering only his own frailty.\n\nThere are three kinds of humility: the first is humility in the heart; the second is when a man knows in his heart that he is such as he thinks he is, and nothing bothers him about it; the third is humility in works. The humility in the heart is in four forms: the first is the humility of the heart towards God in heaven; another is when a man knows with his own mouth that he is such as he thinks he is, and nothing displeases him about it; and the fourth form of humility in the heart is in works. The first form of humility in works is: is when he puts men before him / The second is gladly to stand in obedience of his sovereign or of him who is higher in degree / Certainly that is a great work of humility. After pride, I will speak of the foul sin of envy. Which, as the word of the philosopher says, is sorrow of another's profit / And, according to St. Augustine, it is joy of another's harm / This foul sin is plainly against the Holy Ghost / Although every sin is against the Holy Ghost. Yet, for as much as envy comes properly of malice / Therefore, it is properly against the bounty of the Holy Ghost / Now malice has two faces, that is to say hardness of heart and wickedness / or else the flesh of man is so blind that he considers not that he is in sin / which is the hardness of the devil / That other also, when he receives the grace that God has given to his neighbor / And all this through envy / certainly then is envy the worst sin that is / For truly all other sins are some. time is against one special virtue, but certainly envy is against all manner of virtues and all goodness, for it is sorrowful of all the bounty of its neighbors. And in this way it is diverse from all sins, for there is not any sin that it does not have some delight in itself, save only envy, which ever has in itself anguish and sorrow. The spices of envy are these: first, there is sorrow over another's goodness and prosperity, which ought to be kindly matter for joy; then envy is a sin against kindness. The second spice of envy is joy in another's harm. Of this second spice comes backbiting or detraction, which has two parts: some men praise their neighbor with wicked intent, for they make knots that always end in evil, making a butt of him, which is a sign of more blame than worth is all the praising; the second part is that a man be good and do and say a thing with good intent, but the backbiter will tear all the goodness down to his shrewd intent. The third is to abhor goodness. If men speak. The goodness of a man, the backbitter will say, yet is such a one better than he, in despising him that men praise. The fifth is to consent gladly to hear harm spoken of others. This sin is great and a wicked intent of the backbiter. After backbiting comes grumbling or murmuring. And sometimes it springs from impatience against God and sometimes against God is when a man grumbles against pain of hell or poverty or loss of cattle or against rain or tempest, or when good men have adversity. And all these things should men suffer patiently. For they come by the rightful judgment and ordinance of God. Sometimes comes grumbling from avarice, as Judas did against Mary Magdalene when she anointed the head of our Lord Jesus Christ with her precious ointment. This manner of murmuring is such as when men grumble against Mary Magdalene when she approached Jesus Christ and wept at his feet for her sins. And sometimes it sourds from envy when men discover a man's harm that was hidden. \"Beware of one thing that is false: murmuring is often among servants when their sovereigns bid them do obedient things. And since they dare not openly defy their master's command, they instead speak harm and nurture rancor in their hearts, as I will declare later. Then comes discord, which unbinds all manner of friendship. Then comes scorn, no matter how well a man does, and then comes accusing, when men seek occasions to annoy their neighbor. This is like the craft of the devil, who waits both night and day to accuse us all. Then comes malice, through which a man privately annoys his neighbor if he can. And if he cannot, his wicked will shall not lack, as for burning his house privately or employing him or slaying his best animals and similar things. Now I will speak of the remedy for this foul sin of envy. The first is the love of God primarily and loving oneself and him.\" neighbor: For truly one cannot be without the other, and Christ will have you understand your brother in the name of your neighbor. For indeed we all have one fleshly father, that is to say, Adam and Eve, and one spiritual father, that is to say, God of heaven. Your neighbor you are to love and will him all good. And therefore God says, \"love your neighbor as yourself, that is, with your life and soul and salvation.\" And moreover, you shall love him in word and deed and kindness and cheerfulness and chastisement to comfort him, and pray for him with all your heart. And in deed, you shall love him in such a way that you will do to him in charity as you would have done to your own person. And therefore you shall do him no harm in wicked word, nor injury to his body nor to his goods nor to his soul through wicked example. You shall not desire his wife nor any of his things. Understand also that in the name of your neighbor is comprehended his. A man should love his enemy for God's commandment, and truly you should love your friend in God. I say, you should love your enemy for God's sake because of His commandment. For it is reasonable that a man should hate his enemy, since God does not receive us into His love if we are enemies. Against the three ways in which his enemy wrongs him, a man should do three things: against hate and rancor in his heart, he should love him; against chiding and wicked words, he should pray for his enemy; against the wicked deed of his enemy, he should do him good. Christ says, \"Love your enemies and pray for those who speak evil against you, and do good to those who hate you\" (Matthew 5:44). Our Lord Jesus Christ commands us to do good to our enemies. Nature drives us to love our friends, but our enemies have a greater need to be loved. And we should do goodness to them, and in that deed remember. Love of Jesus Christ who died for his enemies, and as much as that love is the more grievous to perform, so much is the merit greater. Therefore, the loving of our enemy has confounded the venom of the devil, for just as the devil is discomfited by being wounded to death by the love of our enemy, certainly love is a remedy that checks envy.\n\nAfter envy, I will declare about the sin of anger. Forsooth, he that hath envy upon his neighbor will find him matter for wrath in word or in deed, against him to whom he hath envy. Truly, he that is proud or envious is quickly wrathful. This sin of anger, after the description of St. Augustine, is wicked will to be avenged by word or by deed. Anger, after the philosopher, is the fiery blood of man, quickening in his heart, through which he wills to do harm to him that he hates. For truly, the harshness and meanness of his blood grows so troubled that he is out of all judgment of reason. But you shall understand that anger is in two manners: one of them is good. And that other is wicked. The good anger is by Ielesia of goodness, through which a man is angry with wickedness and against wickedness. Therefore, the wise man says that anger is better than play. This anger is with debonairte and it is wrath without bitterness. Not angry against the man, but angry with the sin of the man, as the prophet says. Anger is in two manners: the first is sudden or hasty anger without the consent of reason; and the second is fully wicked that comes from the felony of the heart, instigated and cast beforehand with a wicked will to do vengeance, and therein his reason consents, and truly this is deadly sin. This anger is so displeasing to God that it troubles His house and chases the Holy Ghost out of man's soul and puts in him the sickness of the devil and binds the man from God, his rightful lord. This anger is fully. \"Gret pleasure, behold how that fire of small glowing embers almost dead under ash will quicken again when touched with breath. Right so anger will ever more quickly revive when touched with pride that is covered in man's heart. For truly fire cannot come out of nothing unless it is first naturally present in the same thing, as fire is drawn out of flints with steel. Right so is pride a matter of anger. Just as rancor nourishes and keeps it. There is a tree, as Saint Isidore says, that when men make fire from it and cover its coals with ash, the fire of it will last all year or more, and it lasts by rancor. When he is once conceived in the hearts of some men, it will last certainly from one Easter day to another or more. But truly that man is far from the mercy of God all that while. In these aforementioned wicked forests, they forge three shrews. Pride then blows and increases the fire by chiding and wicked words. Then envy and...\" holdeth the iron upon the hearts of men with a pair of long tongs with long prongs, and then stands the sin of continual strife and cheating and forgets the villagers' reproaches. Indeed, this cursed sin annoys both the man himself and also his neighbor. For truly, almost all the harm that one man does to his neighbor arises from wrath. For outrageous wrath spares neither Christ nor his sweet mother in its outrageous anger and ire, but speaks and slanders its neighbor. This is a cursed life which should be debonair and spiritual, that should keep his soul.\n\nIndeed, this wrath or anger is also called God's due lordship and that is man's soul and the love of his neighbors. It stirs up strife against truth, it repents him the quiet of his heart and breeds stinking passions. First, hate that is renewed old age, through which a man forsakes his own friend whom he has loved so long, and then comes war and every kind of. A man is not supposed to harm his neighbor in body or in cattle. From this curse of anger comes murder as well. And understand well that murder is in various ways. Some forms of murder are spiritual, and some are bodily. Spiritual murder is in six ways. First, by hate, as Sacrabys says, those backbiters have two swords with which they wound his good name as his life. Homicide is also in the eye of wicked counsel through fraud or for giving counsel to instigate unjust customs and disputes, of which Salomon speaks. A lion roaring and hoarding or withholding or encouraging the wages of the poor is likened to cruel lords for these things. The wise man says, \"Feed him who is almost dead from hunger, for truly, if you feed him, you kill him.\" And all these are deadly sins. Bodily murder is when you kill him with your tongue. Another form is when you come to kill a man or else you yield counsel to kill. A man is guilty of manslaughter in four ways:\n\n1. By law: A man is condemned by a justice for a culpable homicide, but the justice allows him to carry out the deed rightfully, provided he does not do it for pleasure to shed blood, but for maintaining righteousness.\n2. For necessity: When a man kills another to defend himself and cannot escape his own death otherwise. However, if he can avoid killing his adversary without shedding his blood, he sins and will be punished as for a deadly sin.\n3. By accident or chance: When a man shoots an arrow or throws a stone that kills a man, it is homicide.\n4. By woman: When a woman, through negligence, smothers her child in sleep, it is homicide and a deadly sin.\n5. Conception: When a man destroys the conception of a child or makes a woman bear a stillborn child through poisonous herbs, or kills her child by poison or puts certain material things in her secret place to kill her child, or does anything else to harm the child in the womb, it is homicide. Unkind sin / committed by man or woman, who in its place cannot be conceived by a child, or else if a woman has conceived and harmed herself and killed her child, it is still homicide. What about women who murder their children out of fear of worldly shame? Certainly, it is also a heinous form of homicide. If a man approaches a woman through desire for lechery, by which the child is harmed, or strikes a woman, causing her child to be slain, all of these are heinous and deadly sins. Anger gives rise to many more sins, in word, thought, deed, as well as those who blaspheme God or despise Him and all His saints. This cursed sin is committed when they feel wickedly in their hearts against God and His saints. Also when they treat the sacrament of the altar unworthily. This sin is so great / that it cannot be forgiven except for the mercy of God passes over it. workis / why such mercy is great and beneficial / There comes also of wrath a terrible anger / When a man is sharply confronted in his shame to forsake his sin / Then will he be angry and respond angrily to those who reprove him. Or else he did it for his youth / Or else his companions did similar things / All such people wrap themselves in their sins and will not deliver themselves / For truly no one who excuses himself willfully from his sin / may be delivered from his sin / until he humbly acknowledges his sin / Afterward comes swearing, which is expressly against God's commandment, and this brings forth anger and wrath. God says thou shalt not take the name of thy lord in vain / Also our lord Jesus Christ says by the word of St. Matthew / thou shalt not swear at all / neither by heaven / for it is God's throne / neither by the earth / for it is the footstool of his feet / neither by Jerusalem / for it is the city of a great king / neither by thy head / for thou canst not make it white or black / but thy oath shall be yea or nay. And yet, you say this: \"For Christ's sake, swear not so sinfully in dismembering of Christ. By soul, heart, bones, and body. For you think that the accursed Jew did not dismember Him, but you dismember Him more. If the law compels you to swear, then rule your swearing according to God's law, as Saint Jerome says in the fourth chapter. You shall keep three conditions: You shall swear in truth, in justice, and in righteousness. This means you shall swear the truth. Every falsehood is against Christ, for Christ is truth itself. Consider this: Every great swearer, not compelled by law, shall not escape the plague of vengeance while he uses such unlawful swearing. You shall compel your dominion's man to witness the truth. Moreover, you shall not swear for envy, for favor, for money, but for righteousness, for declaring the truth to the worship of God and helping your own Christian.\" Idle or falsely swear with your mouth, or else takes upon himself the name of Christ to be a hypocrite and lives against Christian living and teaching. All such take God's name in vain. Look also what Saith St. Peter in Acts fourth: \"There is no other name under heaven given among men, by which we must be saved.\" That is to say, but in the name of Jesus Christ. Take heed how that precious name of Jesus Christ is kept. As Saith St. Paul at Philippians &c, In the name of Jesus and c, That in the name of Jesus every knee of heavenly creature or earthly or of hell should bow.\n\nFor it is so high and so worshipful that the most hated fiend in hell should tremble to hear it named. Then it seems that men who swear so horribly his blessed name that they despise it more boldly than the cursed Jews who trembled when they heard his name. Now certainly swearing, unless it be done lawfully, is most holy defended. Worse is to swear falsely and also needlessly. What do we also say of those who delight in swearing and? Hold it a gentleman or manly deed to swear great oaths, And what of those who cease not of their own usage to swear great oaths. All causes not worth a straw. Swearing also without advice is also sin. But late go I now to that cursed and horrible swearing of adjuration and conjuration, as do these false enchanters and necromancers in basins full of water, or in a bright sword, in a circle, or in a fire, or in a shoulder bone of a sheep - I cannot say but they do wickedly and damagingly against Christ and all the faith of the holy church. What say I of those who believe in dim nails as by flight or by the noise of birds and beasts, or by sortilege, by churching of doors, by gnawing of rats or cracking of houses, and such manner of wretchedness? All this thing is defended by God and also by the holy church, for which they are cursed until they come to amendment, that on such filth set their belief. Charms for wounds and maladies of men or beasts, if they take any effect. It may be perhaps that God favors it, for men should give more faith and reverence to his name. Now I shall speak of lies which generally signify a false representation of truth with the intent to deceive his even Christian. Some lies bring no advantage to anyone. And some lies bring ease and profit to one man and damage to another. Another lie is told to save one's life or out of necessity. They will forge a long tale and paint it with all circumstances, whereof all the grounds are false. Some lies come from a desire to speak, and some lies come from reasons without justification and similar things. Let us now address the vice of flattery. It comes not gladly but for fear or for covetousness. Flattery is generally harmful praise. Flatterers are the devil's nurses, nourishing his children with the milk of flattery. For Solomon says that flattery is worse than detraction. For sometimes detraction makes a haughty god, and these. Flaterers betray a man to sell him to his enemy, that is the devil. Flaterers are the devil's cursing that comes out of your hearts. Malison may be said generally, every manner of power of harm. Such cursing robs a man of the reign of God, as Saint Paul says. And often such cursing wrongfully returns to him who curses. As a bird returns again to its own nest. And above all things, men ought to curse their children and give to the devil their engendering, as far as it is in them. Indeed, it is a great parley and a great sin. Let us then speak of chiding and reproving, which are great wounds in a man's heart. For certainly, a man cannot be plainly accused with him whom he has openly reviled, reviled, and disclandered. This is a full grisly sin. And take heed now, he who reproaches his neighbor by some harm or some pain that he has in his body, as measles, crooked harlot, or by some sign that he does. Now if he reproaches him by harm of pain returns the repentance to Jesus Christ. Pain is sent by the righteous son of God and by His suffering, be it misery or sickness or sin. And if one reproves him uncharitably for sin, then rejoicing belongs to the devil who always rejoices when men sin. Chiding cannot come from a virtuous heart, for after the heart's binding, the mouth often speaks. And you should understand that when any man chastises another, he should be wary of chiding or reproving, for truly, he may easily fan the fire of anger and wrath, which may kill him instead of chastising with benignity. As Solomon says, \"A gentle tongue is a tree of life. A deceitful tongue crushes the spirit.\" Saint Augustine says, \"There is no creature like the devil's child, who chides often.\" Saint Paul also says, \"I, a servant of God, urge you not to chide.\" that chiding is Avelyn's thing among all manner of folk / yet it is certainly most unwelcome between a man and his wife / For there is never rest / And therefore Solomon says / An uncovered house in rain and drooping / and a chiding wife are like a man who is in a drooping house in many places / though he escapes the drooping in one place / it droppeth on him in another place / So it fares with a chiding wife; she chides him in one place, she will chide him in another place / . And therefore, it is better to have a morsel of food with joy / than a house full of delights with chiding / Lo what Solomon and St. Paul say / O ye women, be ye subject to God / . And ye men, I speak of scorning wicked sin and especially when he scorns a man for good works / . For truly such scorners fare like parting friends and sorrow when he leaves. They are adversaries to Jesus Christ / For they hate his counsel / He that wicked counsel follows, wicked counsel fills him.\n\nA man should not take counsel of discord among folk / This is a sin that Christ hates utterly / And no wonder is / for he died to make concord / And more shame on them than on those who crucified him / For God loves better that friendship be among folk than he did his own body, which he gave for our sake / Therefore, they are likened to the devil who is ever about to make discord / Now comes the sin of double tongue and wickedly behind / or else they make a semblance as though they speak of good intention / or else in game and play / and they speak of wicked intention. Now comes the whispering of counsel / through which ma_ is defamed / unless he can restore the damage / Now comes manace, an open folly / For he who openly threatens threatens more than he can overcome / and all who speak idle words / yet men should doubt them / For we shall give accounting of them before God / Now comes Iangeling who cannot come without sin / as faith Salomon says / it is a A sign of apparent folly, and therefore a philosopher said, when a man asked him how one should please others, and he answered, \"Do many good works and speak few irrelevant words, and of other sins.\" The remedy against anger is a virtue called meekness and another virtue called philosophy. A man is a quick thing by nature, debonair and treatable by goodness. But when debonairness is informed by grace, it is more worthy. Patience is another remedy against anger and is a virtue that men endure every man's goodness and is not angry for any harm done to them. The philosopher says that patience is that virtue which suffers debonairly all the outrage of adversity and every wicked word. This virtue makes a man like God and makes him his own dear child. As Christ says, this virtue conquers one's enemy. Therefore, the wise man says, \"Be patient, suffer.\" Suffering is another virtue against anger, and outwardly, one should understand that a man suffers the first grief to be wicked words. \"Grievously, Jesus Christ endured patiently when the Jews despised and reproached him frequently. Therefore, be patient yourself. The wise man says if you argue with a fool, if he becomes angry or laughs at you, you will have no rest. Another grief is to have damage done to your property. Patiently, Christ endured when he was dispossessed of all that he had in this life, which was only clothes. The fourth grief is to suffer bodily afflictions. Christ patiently endured all his passions. Therefore, I say that people make their servants toil excessively outside of their designated work hours, even on holy days. Truly, they commit great sin. Christ suffered patiently and taught us patience when he bore the cross upon which he would endure contemptible death. Here men can learn to be patient. For truly, not only Christian men are patient as a reward for the blessings of heaven and\" Of the blessed life that is everlasting, but truly the old pains that did not Christianize us commend patience to us and urged a philosopher to chastise his disciple for his great transgression. He brought a rod to scourge the child, and when the child saw the rod, he said to his master, \"What will you do?\" \"I will chastise you,\" said the master. But the child replied, \"Soth [sic] have you the rod, my dear son, and chastise me for my lack of patience.\" For truly, said the child, \"You ought first to correct yourself, who have lost your patience for the fault of a child.\" \"Soth [sic] have you the rod, my dear son, and correct me for my impatience,\" said the master, weeping. \"Patience begets obedience, through which a man is obedient to Christ and to all whom he ought to be obedient in Christ. Understand well that obedience is perfect when men do gladly and quickly, with a good heart, entirely all that they should do. Obedience generally is to perform the doctrine of God and to His sovereigns to whom one ought to be obedient in every way.\"\n\nAfter the sin of I will speak of the sin of accusive anger or sloth. Envy blinds the human heart, and wrath troubles a man. Accusive anger makes him and his wife bitter, which St. Augustine says is an annoyance of good and an annoyance of harm. This is a damning sin. For it wrongs Jesus Christ inasmuch as He receives the service that men ought to do to Him with all diligence, as Solomon says. But accusative anger does none of this; it does all with slackness, excuses, dullness, and unwillingness. The book says that he who does the service of God negligently is cursed. Another state is the state of poverty, in which state men are held to labor in praying to God for the amendment of their sins. Another state is in the state of grace, in which state one is held to do works of penance. And certainly, to all these. The thing is an accident, an enemy and contrary to the body, for it has no purpose against temporal necessities. It is slothful and forslept, and destroys all temporal goods through recklessness. The fourth thing is that accident is like those in the pain of hell due to sloth, for they are so bound that they neither can do well nor think well. Of accident comes first that a man is annoyed and encumbered, and God has abhorrence of such an accident, as Solomon says, who will endure no hardness or penance. Therefore, he scatters all the horrible sin of accident or sloth. Men should exercise them to do good works and manfully and virtuously catch courage well to do. Thinking that our Lord Jesus Christ redeems every good deed, however small, as Saint Bernard says, makes the laborer have strong arms and hard synapses. Sloth makes them feeble and tender. Then comes fear to begin to work any good works. For certain, he who is inclined to sin thinks it is too great an endeavor to undertake work that is despair of God's mercy, which comes at times from excessive outrageous sorrow and at times from great fear, imagining that he has done so much that it would not avail him even if he repented and did good. Through this despair or fear, he opens his heart to every manner of sin, as Saint Augustine says, which is damning if it continues to the end, and is called sinning in the Holy Spirit. This horrible sin is so perilous that he who is despaired has no fear of felony or any sin that he doubts for doing, as shown well by Judas, and the greatest adversary to Christ. For certain, he who despairs is like the coward champion recalcitrant; yet God is ever ready to the penitent. Alas, can a man not remember the gospel of Saint Luke, Luke 15: Whereas Christ says that there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine just persons who need no repentance. \"nyeti and nine rightful men who look further in the gospel for the joy and feasts of the good man who has lost his son, when his son, with repentance, was returned to him. The thief who was crucified beside the Lord remembered Christ. This day you shall be with me in paradise. Indeed, the distraught, through the virtue of Christ's passion, are comforted by penitence. Alas, what need is there for man to endure suffering when his mercy is so ready? Ask and have. Then comes slothfulness, which is a sluggish, sleepy condition that makes a man heavy and dull in body and soul. This sin comes from sloth. And truly, men should not sleep in the morning unless it is reasonable. For indeed, in the morning is most convenient for a man to say his prayers, to think on God, and to honor God and to give alms to the poor who come in the name of Christ. Whoever will wake by the morrow to seek me, he shall find me.\" Then comes negligence or. Recklessness and ignorance are the root of all harm. Negligence does not abandon doing a thing, whether it is done well or badly. The remedy for these two sins, as the wise man says, is that he who fears God spares not to do what he ought to do, and he who loves God will do diligence to please God through his works and abundantly help himself to do so. Then comes idleness, and wicked thought, of all Englishmen. Heaven is given to those who will labor and not to idle men. Moreover, David says, \"They shall not be in the labor of men, nor shall they be whipped with men,\" that is, in purgatory. Indeed, it seems they shall be with the devil in hell. But if they do penance, then comes the sin that men call tarditas. That is, when a man lets it be and delays or turns to God, and indeed, that is a great folly. He is like him who falls into a ditch and will not arise. A vice of false hope leads a person to believe they will live long, but this hope often fails. Then comes laziness, who, when beginning any good work, immediately abandons it, as do those who have no self-control and take no care of themselves. They find any contrary or annoying situation intolerable. These are the new shepherds who let their sheep go unwatched, leading them to the wolf in the breach and doing no good of their own governance. Poverty and destruction follow, both spiritual and temporal. Then comes a manner of coldness that chills the entire human heart. Then comes uncertainty, through which a person becomes so dull and insensible that, as Saint Bernard says, they have such a languid work, but it is harmful to them and all pallid. They then become excessively sluggish and sleepy, and soon they are angry and soon inclined to hate and envy. And then comes the sin of worldly sorrow, called Tristia, which kills a man as sand kills the body. This is a passage about the virtue of fortitude, or strength, which enables a person to endure suffering and withstand the temptations of the devil. Fortitude is a powerful and vigorous virtue that can resist and wrestle against the snares of the devil and keep oneself safe from wicked perils. Fortitude enhances and enforces the soul, just as adversity weakens it. Fortitude can endure long suffering and has many aspects. The first aspect is called magnanimity, or great courage. A person needs great courage to face hard and grueling things willfully and reasonably, as the devil fights against man more by cunning and guile than by strength. Therefore, a person should resist him with wit, reason, and discretion. Then there are the virtues of faith and hope in God and his saints to achieve and fulfill this. good work is which he purposefully contains certainty / and that is when a man does and performs great works of goodness that he has begun / And that is the end why men should do works / For in the completion of good works lies the great reward / Then is the constancy that is stability of courage / and this should be in heart by steadfast faith and in mouth and in bearing / in cheer and in deed. Also, there are more special things and remedies against accident in diverse works & in consideration of the pain of hell and the joy of heaven / And after accident, I will speak of avarice and covetousness of which sin says St. Paul / The root of all sin is covetousness. For truly, when the heart of a man is confused in itself and troubled, and the soul has lost the comfort of God, then he seeks and gives nothing to those in need / And understand well that avarice is not only in good / And the difference between avarice and covetousness is this / Covetousness and avarice are:\n\ncovetousness is an inordinate desire for having or possessing more than one has, especially when it interferes with the welfare or happiness of others. Avarice, on the other hand, is an excessive and obsessive desire for wealth or material possessions, often at the expense of moral values or ethical behavior. To withhold and keep such things as you have without rightful need wrongfully tears it back against all reason, making the avaricious man have more hope in his treasure than in God. Therefore, Saint Paul says, \"What difference is there between an idolater and an avaricious person? But an avaricious person loves his treasure more than God. Through this sin of avarice and covetousness, these harsh lordships come about, through which men are oppressed by taxes, customs, and carriages more than their duty or reason requires, or else they take from their bondmen fines. Which fines and reasonings of bondmen some lords' stewards call rightful, for as much as a servant has no temporal thing that is not his lord's, as they say. But these lordships do wrong, for they take from their bondservants things that they never gave them. Augustine, City of God, Book IX. The condition of thralldom and its cause is for sin, as it is written in Genesis. The guilty deserve thralldom, not nature. Therefore, lords should not glory in their lordships, since by natural condition they are not lords of their thralls, but thralldom comes first through sin. Live peacefully with your thrall lord. A new deceit arises between merchants. Merchandise is in many ways. One is bodily and honest, and the other is dishonest and unlawful. Bodily merchandise, which is honest and lawful, is that which a kingdom or country is sufficient unto itself. Therefore, there must be merchandise to curb deceit with lying and cursed things. Spiritual merchandise is properly simony, that is, an enticing desire for spiritual things. That which pertains to the sanctuary of God and the cure of the soul, if a man does his duty to perform it, even if his desire takes no effect, it is still a deadly sin for him, and if he is ordered, he is irregular. Simony is called after Simon Magus, who sought to buy with temporal goods the gift that God had given by the Holy Ghost to St. Peter for the apostles. Therefore, both he who sells and he who buys spiritual things are called simoniacs, whether it be cattle, provisions, or kin and friends. Truly, if he prays for one who is not able or worthy, it is simony if he takes the benefit. And if he is worthy and able, it is none. Another manner is wicked, in service for which men give spiritual things to their servants. It must be understood that the service and also that it be without bargaining and that the person be able. For as St. Damas says, all the sins of the world, in comparison to this sin, are as nothing. For it is the greatest sin that may be after the sin of Lucifer and Antichrist. For by this sin, God allows the church and the soul He bought with His precious blood to be given to those who are not worthy. They put in their own unworthy people, who steal the souls of Jesus Christ and destroy His pastoral curates. Men have less reverence for the sacraments of the holy church, and such ones put the devil's own children into the churches. They sell the souls that shall keep the lambs to the wolf that strangles them. And therefore, they shall never have a part of the pasture of lambs, which is the bliss of heaven. Now comes hazard and reveling, all raucousness; blasphemy, reining of God, wasting of time, and sometimes manslaughter. Hasardors cannot be without great sin while they haunt that craft. Of avarice comes also leasing, theft, false witness, and false and express lies. False witness is also in word and deed, as it bears false witness to your neighbors. good name by your false witnessing or accuse him by your false witness or else falsely excuse yourself, beware you questers and notaries. Indeed, for false witness was and pain and many another mo. The sin of theft is expressed also against God's commandment, and that in two ways: temporal and spiritual. The temporal theft is as for to take your neighbor's cattle against his will, be it by force or by guile, be it in meeting or measure, by stealing, by false endorsements upon him, and in borrowing your neighbor's cattle in intent never to pay and similar things. Spontaneous of holy things or of things sacred to Christ in two ways, by reason of the holy place: as churches and churchyards, for every violent sin that men do in such places may be called sacrilege. Also, those who falsely withhold the rights of holy church. And plain and generally, sacrilege is to give holy thing out of holy place or unholy thing out of holy place or holy thing out of unholy place. Now shall you understand that relieving:\n\n(Relieving is not a term used in the original text, and its inclusion seems to be an error. It is unclear what the author intended to write instead.) of avarice is Mysterycord and pity largely taken, and men might ask why that mysterycord and pity are relieving of avarice. Certes the avaricious man shows no pity nor mysterycord to the needful man. For he delights in keeping of his treasure and not in the rescuing nor in the relieving of his even Christian. Therefore, I speak first of mysterycord. Then is mysterycord, as the philosopher says, a virtue by which the heart of man is stirred by the misery of him who is misered. Upon this mysterycord with pity in performing of charitable works of mercy helps and comforts him who is misered. And certainly this means men to suffer for our guilt. He suffered death for mercy, and forgave us our original sins, and thereby released us from the pain of hell and absolved the pain of purgatory. The spices of mercy are as to lend and also to give, and to forgive, and to receive, and to have pity in the heart and compassion of misery of thine even Christian, and also chastisement. There is a need for another remedy against avarice, which is reasonable largesse. But truly, we should consider the Lord Jesus Christ and His grace and His temporal goods, and also remember the death that we do not know when, and likewise to dispense and acquire in good things. But for as much as some men are unmeasurable. Men ought to eschew foolish largesse, which men call wanton to the world, for he has done sin and none alms. Certes, good seeks nothing but sin, and truly, it is akin to damnation.\n\nAfter avarice comes gluttony, which is expressly against the commandment of God. Gluttony is an unmeasurable appetite to eat or to drink, or else to eat unmeasurably and out of time more than is needed. This sin corrupts this world, as is well shown in the sin of Adam and Eve. Lo, what does St. Paul say about gluttony? Many men say of whom I have often spoken to you, and now I say it weeping, that they are enemies of the cross of Christ. The end is death and of whych her womb is her god / And her glory in confusion of them that serve earthly things / He that is given to this sin of gluttony / He may no sin withstand / He may be in servitude of all vices for it is the devil's horde there he hides himself in and rests / . \u00b6This sin has many forms / The first is drunkenness / that is the horrible sepulcher of man's reason / And therefore when a man is drunk, he has lost his reason and this is a deadly sin / . But certainly when a man is not accustomed to strange drinks / and perhaps knows not the strength of the drink or has weakness in his head or has traveled through which he drinks the more / although he is suddenly caught with drink, it is no deadly sin but venial. \u00b6The second form of gluttony is / that the spirit of a man grows troubled / Drunkenness takes away his discretion of his wit / . \u00b6The third form of gluttony is when a man devours his food and has no rightful manner of eating. \u00b6The fourth is When the body is excessively nourished, the humors are disturbed. The fifth is forgetfulness due to excessive drinking. A man forgets by morning what he did over the evening.\n\nAccording to St. Gregory, the species of gluttony are distinguished in another way. The first is to eat beyond need. The second is when a man takes to delicate food. The third is when men take more than is necessary. The fourth is curiosity with great intent to prepare and adorn his food. The fifth is to eat greedily. These are accompanied by patience. Abstinence, he says, is of little worth, but if he has good will, and is compelled by patience and charity, and men do it for God's sake, and in hope to have the bliss in heaven, the fellows of abstinence are temperance, which holds men in all things, shame which eschews all dishonest things, sufficiency which seeks no rich foods or drinks, and restrains delay. After gluttony comes lechery; for these two sins are close relatives, often occurring together. God knows this sin is conspicuous to Him, for He said, \"Do not commit adultery.\" He imposes great penalties against this sin. According to old law, if a woman was caught in this sin, she should be beaten to death with staves. If she was a gentlewoman, she should be stoned to death. If she was a bishop's daughter, she should be burned by God's command. Furthermore, for the sin of lechery, God damns the whole world. And after that, He burned five cities and separated married couples. Saint John says that adulterers will be in a burning pit of fire and brimstone. Lechery is likened to brimstone for the stench of its filth. Certainly, the bearing and breaking of this sin. A sacrament is an horrible thing, confirmed by Jesus Christ, as Saint Matthew states in the gospel: \"A man shall let father and mother and take her to his wife, and they shall be two in one flesh.\" This sacrament signifies the binding of Christ and the church. Christ not only forbade adultery in deed but also commanded that \"thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife.\" In this passage, Saint Augustine says, \"All manner of covetousness to commit lechery is forbidden.\" Saint Matthew in the gospel states, \"Whoever looks at a woman to lust after her, he has committed adultery with her in his heart.\" Here you see that not only the deed of this sin is grievously harmful to the soul, but it also obliges it to sin and the punishment of death. It dries him out, and from his blood, he makes a sacrifice to the devil of hell. It wastes his cattle and substance. If it is a foul thing for a man to waste his cattle on women, yet it is still a sin. A foul thing that when women spend on men their cater and substance, this sin, as the prophet says, brings a man and a woman disgrace and all their honor. It is delightful to the devil, for the most part of this world takes pleasure in it. And just as a merchant delights in trade who has the most advantage, so the devil delights in this filth. This is the other hand of the devil with five fingers to catch people in this vice. The first finger is the foul looking of the fool. The second finger is the villainous touching in wicked manner. And therefore Solomon says that he who touches and handles a woman, he kills through his or as if he were kissing the mouth of a pig or a whore's. And truly, a great fool would be he who would kiss the mouth of a pig or a whore's. And especially these old lechers, when they come by the rose or other benches, make faces to this filth. And a man thinks that he may not sin for this reason. Lust that he holds with his wife, certainly false opinion is deceitful. God knows a man can kill himself with his own knife and make himself drunk with his own tonne. Certainly, it is his master, and he is an idolater. A man should love his wife discretely and patiently, and then she is as though she were his sister. The fifth finger of the devil's hand is the stinking deed of lechery. He seizes him by the reins to throw him into the furnace, and the worm-eating and wailing, sharp hunger and thirst. Grisly sins of the devil that shall all torment him without respite and without end. Of lechery, I say, woman who are not married, and this is deadly sin and destruction to nature, against nature. Reason also tells him that it is deadly sin because God forbade lechery. Saint Paul yields him the kingdom that is due to no one but to those who do no deadly sin. Another sin of lechery is to: A maiden of a hundred fruits, I can only say it another way in English, but in Latin it is called centesimus fructus. Indeed, he who does such a thing causes more damages and vices than any man can count. Just as he is the cause of all damages that beasts cause in the restored state, for surely maidenhood can be restored less than an arm that is struck from the body can return. She may have mercy, I grant, if she does penance, but it will never be, for she is corrupt. And although I have spoken somewhat of adultery, it is good to show more perils that lead to adultery, to warn against the foul sins of adultery. In Latin, it is called the approaching of another man's bed, through which those who were once one flesh surrendered their bodies to other persons. Of this sin, as the Wise Man says, come many harms. First, the breaking of faith. And truly, when that key is broken and a man acts against his will, this is certain. the foul husband gives it to her to defile it and steals her soul from Christ and gives it to the devil. This is a foul theft for stealing and breaking the chalice. For these adulterers spiritually break the temple of God and steal the vessel of grace, that is the body and soul. For which Christ will destroy them, as St. Paul says. Truly, I, Joseph, doubt greatly about this theft. When his lord's wife prayed to him for chastity, he said, \"My lady, my lord has given me under my care all that he has in this world, except for you. How then should I do this wickedness and this horrible sin against God? Alas, such truth is little found now.\" The third harm is the filth through which they break God's commandment and defile the water of their matrimony, which is Christ. For truly, the sacrament of marriage is so noble and so worthy, the greater the sin to break it. God made marriage in paradise. The state of innocence multiplies mankind for the service of God. Therefore, its breaking is grievous. From this breaking come false heirs who wrongfully occupy inheritances. Christ will cast them out of heaven, which is the heritage of the good. This breaking also brings forth those who unwarily wed or sin with their own kindred. Among them are harlots who haunt brothels. These foolish women can be likened to a common sewer, purging their filth. Understand also that adultery is commonly set between the seventh and eighth commandments. It is the greatest sin against the soul, and it is like homicide. By the old law, they should both be slain, but by the law of Isaiah, the woman found in adultery should not be slain. With stones according to Jewish law / \"Good quod Ihesu Crist and have no more will to sin\" / Truly, vengeance for avidity is awarded to the pain of hell / but it is disturbed with penance / Yet there are more forms of this cursed sin when one is religious or both / or of people entered into order as subdeacon, deacon, priest, or hospitalers / and ever the higher he is in order, the greater is the sin / For they have made great vows to keep chastity / This sin of breaking his vow of chastity is when he receives order / And truly, holy order is chief among all the treasures of God and is a special sign and mark of chastity, which is the most precious life that is / And also, this ordered people are specifically dedicated to God. For when they commit deadly sin, they are the special traitors of God and of his people / For they live among the people to pray for the people / And while they are such traitors, their prayers fail to reach them. peple / Prestis ben as aungellis as by the mystery of her dignyte / But forsorlikned to an aungel of derknes transformed in to an aungel of light / He semeth an aungel of light. but forsothe he is an aungel of derknes / Suche prestis ben the sonys of hely as is shewd in the book of kynges that they were the sonys of Belyal / that is the deuyll / Belial is to saye withouten Iuge / And so faren they hem thyn\u2223keth that they be fre and haue no Iuge nomore than hath a free bole that taketh whiche kowe that hym liketh in the\ntoun / so faren they be women / For right as a fre bole is ynowh for al a toun / right so is a corupt preest ynowh for al a parysh or a contre / Thyse preestis as saith the book knowe not the mynistery of preesthode to the peple ne to god ne they holde hem not a paid as saith the book of sode flesh that was to hem offryd / But they take by force the flesh that is rawe / Certis right so thyse shrewis holde hem not a payd of rostid flesh and soden with whyche the pepyl and her doughters / And These women who consent to her harlots do great wrong to Christ and to the holy church, to all saints and to all souls, as they deny holding worship for Christ and the holy church. They also refuse to pray for all Christian souls. And this is when they take no regard in their assembling but only for fleshly delight, as Saint Jerome says, and care for nothing but that they are assembled because they are married. All is not good, now as they think, but in such people the devil has power, as the angel Raphael said to Tobit. For in their assembling they put Jesus Christ out of their hearts and give themselves to all disorder. The fourth vice is of those who assemble by their kin or of those who are afflicted with the sin of lechery. This sin makes them like hounds that take no heed of kinship. And truly, kinship is in two ways: spiritual or fleshly. Spiritual is for dealing with one's kinsfolk, for just as a godfather is her spiritual father, a woman may in this way be related to another woman. No sin seems more apparent with her neighbor than with her own brother. / The fifth sin is that abominable sin of which no man ought to speak or write, yet it is openly recited in holy writ. / Certainly, holy writ may not be defiled more than the sun that shines on a dunghill. Another sin pertains to lechery that comes in sleeping, and this sin often comes to those who are priests and also to those who are corrupt. This sin is called pollution, which comes in four forms. Sometimes it comes from the languishing of a man's body. Sometimes it comes from infirmity due to the weakness of the retentive power, as physicians mention. Sometimes it comes from fear of food and drink. And sometimes it comes from violent thoughts that are enclosed in a man's mind when he goes to sleep. And it is generally chastity and continence that restrain all disordered movements that come from fleshly desires. The greater merit one has in refraining from this sin. And this is in two ways. This is to say, the chastity of marriage and the chastity of widowhood of man and woman who receive the virtue of the sacrament - a bond which may not be broken in their entire life - is referred to as a great sacrament. God instituted it, as I have mentioned in Paradise, and He Himself was present at a wedding to sanctify marriage, turning water into wine being the first miracle He performed on earth before His disciples. The true effect of marriage purifies fornication and replenishes the holy church with good lineage. For as the end of marriage changes carnal sin into venial sin between those who are married and makes their hearts as one as their bodies, this is true marriage, established by God or instituted when natural law was in its rightful place in Paradise. A woman should have but one husband, as Saint Augustine states for many reasons. First, marriage is figured between Christ and His Church. And a man is to be superior to a woman by ordinance; for if a woman had more men than one, she should have more hands, which would be an horrible thing before God. A woman could not please many at once, and there would never be peace or rest among them. No man should know his own engendering or who should have his heritage, and a woman should be less loud from the time that she was commixed with many. Now bear him with his wife, and this is why: she should not have too great lordship or mastery, she makes too much disorder.\n\nThe experience that we have day by day ought to suffice. Also, certainly he did not make woman from the feet of Adam; for she should not behold to lowly, for she cannot patiently suffer. But God made woman from the rib of Adam. Woman should be fellow to man; man should bear himself to his wife in faith. In faith. A man should speak the truth and in love, as Saint Paul says, and die for it. A wife, as long as she is a wife, has no authority to swear or bear witness without her husband's leave. She should be honest and temperate in her attire. They should seek to please their husbands, not through the finery of their attire, but in their intentions. Saint Jerome says that a woman adorned in silk and purple cannot clothe herself in Jesus Christ. Saint Gregory also says that a woman should not have great outward appearance and be filled with inner emptiness. A wife should be measurable in her appearance, her bearing, and her speech. Above all worldly things, she should love her husband with all her heart and be true to him in body. Every man should do the same. A husband should be true to his wife, and a wife should assemble. The first reason is for the generation of children, serving God. Indeed, that is the final cause of matrimony. The second is to yield each of them the debt of the body. The fourth is deadly sin. As to the first, it is meritorious. The second also, for the decree says she has merit for yielding her body to her husband, even against her will and the lust of her heart. The third kind, which is lechery, I hold to be no deadly sin, but many of these are not without venial sin for the corruption and delight thereof. The fourth kind is to understand if they assemble only for amorous love and for none of the aforementioned reasons but for the accomplishment of delight, they care nothing about how often. Truly, it is a dead thing, yet some people willingly forsake their husbands. And women who have committed lechery and are reconciled by penance. And certainly, if a wife can keep herself chaste. by license of her husband / so that she gave no reason or occasion that he could be provoked / These are the types of women who are veiled and in appearance chaste in eating and drinking, in speaking, and in deed\nAnd then she is the vessel of the blessed Mary's servant who fulfills the holy church with a good odor. / The third form of chastity is virginity / and it is necessary that she be holy in heart and pure in body / then she is the spouse of Jesus Christ / and she is the life of angels / she is the praising of this world and she is like these martyrs in royalty / She has in her a tongue that cannot tell / virginity bears our Lord Jesus Christ / and virginity was itself another remedy against lechery / Specifically, withdrawing such things as you see occasion for that vice as eating and drinking. For truly, when the pot boils strongly / The best remedy is to withdraw the fire / Long sleep in great quiet is also a great temptation to lechery / Another remedy against lechery is A woman or a man should avoid the company of those who tempt them, even if the deed is resisted; great temptation exists in such cases. A white wall, though it may not burn fully, is blackened by the stench of a candle. Likewise, people are often given evil names because they associate with vicious company. I have often read that no man trusts in his own perfection unless he is stronger than Samson or holier than David. Augustine declared you as I can about the seven deadly sins and some of their branches and remedies. If I could, I would tell you the ten commandments, but they are touched upon in this treatise in each of their entirety.\n\nRegarding the second part of penance, it consists of confession of the mouth, as I began to explain in the second chapter. Augustine says sin is in every word and every deed, and all that men forbid against the law of Jesus Christ. This refers to sinning in thought, word, and deed. Five wisdoms to understand: young or old, gentile or servant, free or enslaved, ordained or secular. If she is of your kind and length of your sinning, the church-goer, dedicated or not, a man or woman commits sin within that place through sin or wicked temptation. The priest, entered into that deed, should no longer sing mass, and if he did, he would commit deadly sin each time he sang mass. The fourth circumstance is through such mediators as messengers or for enticement or consent to keep company. For one who keeps company willingly goes to the devil. Those who egg on or consent to the sin are partners to the sin and of the damnation of the sinners. The fifth is how many times he has sinned and if it is in his mind, and how often he has. A man falls / For God and increases his sin / And is unkind to God / And grows weaker to endure sin / and sins more lightly / and the later and more he shuns to confess / and especially to him who has been his confessor. When people fall again into their old folly, they forgive their old confessors all shrift and deserve no mercy from God for their sins. The sixth circumstance is this: why a man sins - by what temptation, and whether he himself seeks out that temptation or is incited by others, or if he sins with a woman by force, or through covetousness or poverty. You must tell all this, and whether it was her instigation and how people dealt with her, and the man must tell all the circumstances. And if he has sinned with common prostitutes or none, in fasting times or none, and has broken his penance in holy times or none. Enjoyed by whomsoever helps and counsels, by sorcery or craft, all must tell these things after they become great or small and gnaw at the conscience of man or woman. And also the priest who is the judge may be better aided in his judgment, and that shall be according to his penance. For understatedly, after the time that a man has defiled his baptism by sin, if he will come to salvation, there is no other way but penance and confession and satisfaction, and namely by the two, if there is a confessor to whom he may confess. And that he first be very contrite and repentant. And the third, if he has life to perform it. Then shall man look and consider if he will make a true and profitable confession. There must be four conditions. First, it must be in sorrowful bitterness of heart, as King Ezechiel said to God: \"I will remember all the years of my life in the bitterness of my heart.\" This condition of bitterness has five signs. The first is that: \"A confession should be sincere, not to conceal or hide one's sin, but because one has wronged God and defiled the soul. According to Saint Augustine, the heart is troubled by shame for its sin, and the more shame one feels, the more worthy one is of great mercy. This was the confession of the people who would not lift up their eyes to heaven because they had offended God and sought His mercy immediately. Therefore, Saint Augustine says that such penitent people are near to forgiveness and remission. Another sin is the humility of confession, as Saint Peter says, \"Humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God in confession.\" Through this humility, God forgives sins because He alone has the power to do so. This humility should be both in the heart and outwardly expressed. Just as one humbly submits to God in the heart, so too should one humble the body outwardly to the priest who sits in God's place. Since Christ is sovereign and the priest is His mediator between the sinner and God.\" Synnes are less by reason, a sinner should not sit as high as his confessor, but kneel before him or at his feet, unless malady prevents it. He shall not watch over one who sits there but in whose place he sits. A lord would hold him outrageous and unworthy of mercy and remission so soon. The third sign is that one's penance should be full of tears, if a man can weep with his bodily eyes. If a man cannot weep with his bodily eyes, let him weep in his heart. Such was the confession of St. Peter. For after he had forsaken Jesus Christ, he went out and wept bitterly. The fourth sign is that a sinner should show his contrition to his lord, Jesus Christ, and acknowledge his sin. The fifth sign is that man and woman are obedient to receive the penance that is enjoined upon them. For truly, Jesus Christ submitted to death for the guilt of one man. The second condition of true confession is that it be hastily done. A deep wound delays a man's desire to heal it, the longer he waits, the more it corrupts and hastens him to his death, and the worse the wound becomes. Similarly, sin lingers in a hidden corner of a man, he ought to confess it hastily for many reasons, and for fear of sudden death which comes unexpectedly and at an uncertain time, and the longer he delays, the farther he is from Christ. If he remains until his last day, scarcely can he shrive or amend himself for his sins or repent for the grievous malady of his death. And since he has not known Jesus Christ in his life when he has spoken to him, he will cry out to our Lord at his last day, and scarcely will He listen to him. Understand that this condition has four things. First, that his confession be prepared and heard; second, that a man can confess his sins, be it of pride or envy, and so forth with the specifics; and third, that this is included in his confession. Remember the name and great magnitude of his sins and how long he has remained in sin, as well as being sincerely contrite for his sins and steadfast in purpose with God's grace, never again falling into sin. Confess all your sins to one person and not divide your confession among several, lest it be a source of shame or fear for you. For truly, Jesus Christ is all good, and in Him there is no imperfection. Therefore, He is the one to whom you have been assigned to confess, unless it is due to your humility. This is not a matter of dividing confessions. If you have permission from your curate to confess to a discreet and honest priest, and it pleases you, and with his permission, you may confess all your sins to him, but let no sin remain unconfessed as far as possible. When you are confessed to by your curate, tell him all the sins that you have committed since your last confession. The shrift also asks certain conditions. First, you must confess willingly, not coerced or out of shame or sickness. He who transgresses by his free will confesses his transgressions, and no other man shall tell his sin or reproach him for it. The second condition is that the shrift be lawful, that is, both the priest and the penitent are not discouraged from the mercy of Jesus and Judas were. A man must accuse himself and not another, but he shall blame and accuse himself of his own malice and no other. However, if another person is involved in your sin or if the state of a person is such that he cannot confess freely, then he may tell the person with whom he has sinned. Through humility, a lesser falsehood may be made. of thy self though thou were not in synne a fore / yet art thou in synne thenne thurgh thy lesynge / Thou shalt eke shewe thy synne by thy propre mouth but thou be dombe / and not by letter / for thou that hast do synne / thou shalt haue the shame of thy confession. Thou shalt not eke peynte thy confession by faire & and not the preest / thou muste telle it pleinly be it nAnd eke thou shalt not shriue the for veyn glorye ne for ypocresye / ne for no cause but only for the doubte of Ihesu Crist and the hele of thy soule / Thou shalt not eke renne to and general to shriue the god / bothe of synne and of payne / And certis onys a yere at the lest weye / it is lawful for to houselid. For sothly ones a yere alle thynges renouelyn.\nNOw haue I tolde of vs part of penitencie / The thirde part is satisfaction / & stondeth generally in almes dede & in bodely payne / Now ben\u00a6ther thre maner of almesse Contricion of herte where a ma\u0304 offrith hym sgod / Another is to haue pyte of defaute of his neyghbours / The thirde is In the young, provide good counsel and comfort where men have need, and especially in substance of men's food. A man has need of these things generally: food, clothing, and shelter; charitable counseling and visiting in prison; and the care of maidens and sepulture of dead bodies. If you are engaged in these works, hastily and privately, but only for the sake of having God's thanks, do not light a lantern and put it under a bushel, but perform these works and glorify your Father who is in heaven. In fasting and in virtuous teaching of prayers, redress yourself in God and express it outwardly to remove and have spiritual and durable, as well as temporary, things. Of these prayers, in the enclosed most important things, are the three things in his dignity for which it is more worthy than any other prayer, for which Ihesu Crist himself made it, and it is short, so that it could be called:\n\n\"Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.\" More lightly, and fortunately hold yourself more lightly in heart, and help yourself, and for a man should be the less weary to say it, and for a man may not excuse himself from learning it, it is so short and so easy, and for it comprises in itself all good prayers. The exposition of this holy prayer, which is so excellent and so worthy, I commend to the masters of theology. Save this much I say. That when you pray that God should forgive your sins, beware that you are not out of charity. Therefore it is said in very faith, and that men pray to God ordinarily, devoutly, and always. A man shall put his whole will in God. This orison must also be said with great humility and full purity and honestly, and not to the annoyance of any man or woman. It must also be continued with works of charity. It avails also against the vices of the soul. For, as Saint Jerome says, \"by fasting the vices of the flesh are saved, and by prayers the vices of the soul.\" After this, you shall: Understand awakening, for Jesus Christ says, \"Wake up the wicked temptation, and you shall understand that fasting stands in three things: in the preparation of bodily food and drink, and in the preparation of worldly joys, and in the preparation for mortal sin with all its might. And you shall understand that God ordained fasting.\n\nFasting has four aspects: generosity to the poor, gladness in heart spiritually, not being angered, annoyed, or grudging because one fasts, and a reasonable hour for eating, that is, a man should not eat in haste or sit too long at his table because he fasts. Then you shall understand that bodily pain endures in discipline or teaching by word or writing, or by example, as well as in wearing hair shirts or scourges or an habit on one's naked flesh for Christ's sake, and in afflicting oneself, for it is better to cast away one's hair than to cast away the sweetness of our Lord Jesus Christ. And therefore Saint Paul says, \"Clothe yourselves as those who have need of nothing.\" chosen of God in heralding, where Ihesu Crist is more revered than in a herald or habergeon, not only in disciplining the body by striking one's breast, scourging with thorns, kneeling, tribulations, suffering, and patiently enduring maladies or lands. This is in three ways: fear, shame, and despair.\n\nRegarding fear, which he thinks he cannot endure any punishment for, there is a remedy in considering that bodily punishment is but short in comparison to hell, which is cruel and everlasting.\n\nAgainst shame, that a man must bear, he should reason that he should not be ashamed to do foul things, for he ought not to be ashamed to do fearful and good things. And that is confessions. A man should remember that God knows all his thoughts and works and nothing is hidden from Him. Men should also remember the shame that is to come at the Day of Judgment for those who are not. person in this present and in earth and in hell shall see clearly all that they have hidden in this world. Now, to speak of those who are so negligent and slow to shrive themselves, it stands in two ways. The first is that one hopes to live long and to purchase much riches for his delight, and then he will shrive himself as he says, he may come to shrift in good time. Another is the fear of the future that he has in Christ's mercy. And against the first, he shall think that our life is in no certainty, and also that all the riches of the world are in uncertainty and passing as a shadow on a wall. And as God says, the pain shall never cease for those who never withdraw themselves from sin, but they shall continue in sin. If they have perpetual pain, the first despair comes from the mercy of God, and the second is that they think they cannot long persevere in goodness. The first despair arises from the belief that he has not. Sinned so greatly, so often, and for so long that he shall not be saved. Against the first despair, he should think that the passion of Jesus is stronger to unbind. And against the second despair, he shall think that as often as he falls, he shall be strengthened. Though he may have lain in sin for a long time, he shall not long persevere in it, but men will suffer him. And also, he shall have strength from God and all the holy church, and the protection of angels if he desires. Then men shall understand what is the land after the word of Jesus Christ; it is endless bliss of blessed company that rejoice in one another's joy, where the body of man, which was once dark, is clearer than the sun, where once the body was sick and free. It is now strong and whole, such that there is nothing that can harm it, hidden with the sight of the perfect knowing of the Trinity. This blessed reign can be purchased by spiritual power, and the glory by humility, the plenitude of which is inexhaustible. I owe it by hunger and travail, and the rest by death and the mortification of sin, To that life I bring him who bought it with his precious blood. Amen.\nExplicit: Tractatus Galfredi Chaucer on Penance, as the title says.\nNow I pray to all who listen to this little treatise or read: if there is anything that pleases you, may our Lord Jesus Christ, from whom all that is written comes, have mercy. And if there is anything unsuitable, our book says that all that is written is written for our doctrine. That is my intent, therefore I humbly ask for the mercy of God that you pray for me: that Christ have mercy on me and forgive me my sins, and especially for my translations of worldly vanities, which I renounce in my retractions, such as the Book of Troy, the Book of Fame, the Book of the Twenty-Five Ladies, the Book of the Duchess, the Book of St. Valentine's Day, the Parliament of Fowls, the Canterbury Tales, and the Book of the Fables, Morals, and Proverbs. \"We give thanks to our Lord Jesus Christ and his blessed Mother and all the saints in heaven, seeking pardon in this present life through the benign grace of him who is king of kings and Lord. Quia tu pater et filio vivis et regnas Deus. Per omnia saecula saeculorum. Amen.\"", "creation_year": 1477, "creation_year_earliest": 1477, "creation_year_latest": 1477, "source_dataset": "EEBO", "source_dataset_detailed": "EEBO_Phase1"},
+{"content": "In the frosty land called Trace,\nWithin thy grim temple full of fear,\nThou art honored as patron there,\nWith Bellona/Pallas, full of grace.\nBe present and my song continue & thrive,\nAt my beginning, thus I cry,\nFor it is deeply rooted in my mind,\nWith pious heart in English for tenderness,\nThis old story I found in Latin,\nOf Queen Anelida and false Arcite,\nThat ancient tale which can fright and bite,\nAs it has frightened many a noble story,\nHas not yet consumed from my memory.\nBe favorable also thou Polymia,\nOn Perseus that with thy sisters glad,\nBy Elycon/not far from Circe,\nSingest with wise memorial in the shade,\nUnder the laurel which may not fade,\nAnd do that I may have my ship have good wind,\nFirst follow I, then Corynne,\nWhen Theseus, with long and great wars,\nHad overcome the people of Cithea,\nWith laurel crowned, he rode in triumph,\nHome to his country whole is come,\nFor which the people, blissful all and some,\nSo cried out that it went to the stars. And honor them all before this duke in sign of victory,\nThe trumpets sound, and in his banner large,\nThe image of Mars, and in token of glory,\nMen might see of treasure, many a charge,\nMany bright helms and many a spear and shield,\nMany a fresh knight and many a blissful route,\nOn horse and foot all the field about,\nIpomeda his wife, the hardy queen,\nOf Cythia, whom he had conquered,\nWith Emelie, her young sister, sheen,\nFair in a chariot of gold, he with him led,\nWho spread around her chariot the brightness of her face,\nFully endowed with the largesse of all grace,\nWith this triumph and laurel crowned thus,\nIn all the flower of Fortune's youth,\nLet I this noble prince Theseus\nToward Athens in his way riding,\nAnd I will soon bring you the subtle plot\nOf Queen Anelida and false Arcite.\nMars, who with his furious course of Ire,\nBore the wrath of Juno to sustain,\nHas set the peoples' hearts both aflame,\nOf Thebes and Greece, each other to slay. With bloody spears / never rested style\nBut through / now here / now there among bottle\nUntil every other was so wrathful\nFor when Amphiorax and Tideus,\nIpomedon and Parthenope also,\nWere dead and slain and proud Capaneus,\nAnd when the wretched brothers two\nWere slain and King Adrastus home went,\nSo desolate stood Thebes / and so bare\nThat no wight / could remedy of his fare,\nAnd when old Creon began to spy\nHow the royal blood was brought down,\nHe held the city by his tyranny,\nAnd did the gentles of that realm\nTo be his friends / & women in that town,\nSo what for love of him / & what for awe,\nThe noble folk were to the town drawn,\nAmong all these / Anelida the queen\nOf Ermione / was in that town dwelling,\nShe was fairer than is the sun shining,\nThrough the world so her name sprang,\nThat her to see had every wight liking,\nFor as of truth / is there none her like,\nOf all the women / in the world rich,\nYoung was this queen / of twenty years old,\nOf middling stature / & of such fairness. That nature had joy in holding her, and speaking of her steadfastness,\nShe pressed Penelope and Lucres, and if she could be comprehended in her might, nothing would be amended. This Theban knight, indeed, was young and with all a lusty knight, but he was double in love and nothing plain, and subtle in that craft above any. With his wooing, he won the lady bright. For so forth, he began to ensure her truth, and she trusted him above any creature. What should I say? She loved Arcite so, that when he was absent, her thought her heart burst asunder. For in her sight, he bore it low. So that she thought she had all his heart known. But he was false; it was but feigned cheer. Alas, the while for it was rout and sin, that she upon his sorrows would rewe. But the false thinks not as the true. She found favor in such a way that all was hers, whether much or little,\nShe showed no kindness to any creature,\nBeyond what pleased her,\nThere was no lack wherewith he might woo her,\nShe was so yielding to please him,\nThat all that pleased him it did obey,\nThere was no one who touched love from any kind of being,\nThat she did not show it to him, or it was burnt,\nSo plain she was and did her full might,\nThat she could hide nothing from her knight,\nLest he be provoked by any untruth,\nWithout a word, his horse she obeyed,\nAnd also he made himself jealous over her,\nThat whenever any man had spoken to her,\nImmediately he would pray her to swear,\nWhat was the word, or make him pay dearly,\nBut all this was but slight and flattery,\nWithout love he feigned jealousy,\nAnd all this she took so debonairly,\nThat all his will she thought skillful,\nAnd ever the longer she loved him tenderly,\nAnd did him honor, as if he were a king,\nHer heart was to him wedded with a ring. So forth upon truth / is her intent\nThat where he goes, her heart with him weeps,\nWhen she shall eat, on him is all her thought,\nAnd when it is brought to her rest,\nOn him she thinks always till she sleeps,\nWhen he is absent, privately she weeps.\nThus lies fair Anelida the queen\nFor false Archite, who did all this deceive,\nThis false Archite, of his newfangleness,\nFor she to him, so lowly was and true,\nTook less delight of her steadfastness,\nAnd saw another lady proud and new,\nAnd right away he clad himself in her hue,\nI know not whether, in white, red, or green,\nBut falsely he deceived fair Anelida the queen,\nBut nevertheless great wonder was it none,\nThough he was false, it is kind of man,\nSince Lameth was, who is so long ago,\nTo love two, and was in bigamy,\nAnd he first found tents, but if men lie,\nThis false Archite, somewhat must he feign,\nWhen he was false, to cover his treachery. Right as a horse, both biting and pleasing,\nHe bore her in hand, of treachery.\nAnd swore he could her doublenesses spy,\nAnd all was falsehood she meant to him.\nThus swore this thief, and forth he went his way.\nAlas, what heart could endure it?\nFor rough and woe, her sorrow to tell,\nOr what man had the skill or the wit,\nOr what man might dwell within thee,\nIf I should recount the hell\nThat suffers fair Anelida the queen,\nFor false Arcite, who did all this to her,\nShe weeps, wails, and faints.\nTo ground dead, she falls as a stone,\nCramping her limbs,\nShe speaks as if her wit were all gone,\nAnother color than ashen, has she none,\nNone other word speaks she much or little,\nBut mercy, cruel heart, my false Arcite,\nAnd thus she endures until she was so mated,\nThat she had not foot on which she might sustain,\nBut forth languishing, ever in this state,\nOn which Arcite had been unable to hold.\nHis heart was elsewhere, new and green,\nThat on her woe, it did not weaken him to think. He reckons not / whether she weeps or sinks\nHis new lady holds him so narrow\nUp by the bridle / at the statue's end\nThat every word / he dreads as an arrow\nHer danger made him both bow and bend\nAnd as her pleasure / made him turn and wind\nFor she grants him in her living\nNo grace / why that he has lust to sing\nBut d\nHe was a servant / unto her ladyship\nBut lest he be proud she held him low\nThus serves he / without mete or drink\nShe sent him now to land and now to ship\nAnd for she gave him danger / all his fill\nTherefore she had him / at her own will\nExample of this ye thrifty women all\nTake heed of Anelida and Arcite\nThat for her list / him dear heart call\nAnd was so meek / therefore he loves her little\nThe kind of man's heart / is to delight\nIn things that are strange / also God save me\nFor what he may not get / that he would have\nNow torn we to Anelida again\nThat pines day by day languishing\nBut when she saw / that her gate no gain\nOn a day / full sorrowful weeping. She complains and with her own hand she writes it,\nSending it to her than knight, Arcite.\nThus, the point of remembrance pierces,\nThe sword of sorrow, sharpened with false pleasure.\nMy heart bears bliss and black in hue,\nTorn in quaking, all my dance.\nMy service in a shaped containment,\nSince it avails not to be true.\nFor who is truest, it shall comfort her.\nHe who serves love and does her observance,\nAlways to one and changes not for new.\nI know myself as well as any light,\nFor I loved one with all my heart and might,\nMore than myself, an thousand times.\nAnd called him my heart's life, my knight.\nAnd was all his, as far as it was right.\nAnd when he was glad, then was I blithe.\nAnd his disease was my death as swift.\nAnd he again, his truth has me plight.\nFor evermore, his lady me to know.\nNow is he false, alas, and causeless.\nAnd of my woe, he is so thoughtless,\nThat with a word, him list not once to die,\nTo bring again my sorrowful heart in peace.\nFor he is caught up in another's arms. Right as he pleases / he rules over me,\nAnd I cannot restrain / my heart from loving him,\nAnd of all this / I complain to whom it may concern,\nAnd shall I complain / alas, the harsh sound,\nTo my foe / who gave my heart / a wound,\nAnd yet desires / that my harm be more,\nNay, indeed / for there shall never be found\nAny other help / my sores to heal,\nMy destiny has shaped it so / entirely yours,\nI will none other medicine / nor knowledge,\nI will always / be where I was once bound,\nThat I have said, let it be said forevermore,\nAlas / where has your gentleness gone,\nYour words full of pleasure and humility,\nYour observances / and lowly manner,\nYour attendance / and your busyness,\nUpon me / that you called your mistress,\nYour sovereign of this world is here,\nAlas / and is there now no word,\nYou wish only, upon my heaviness,\nAlas / your love / I give it all to you,\nNow indeed, sweet / though you cause me,\nWithout cause / the cause be,\nOf my deadly / adversity,\nYour manly reason / ought it to spare,\nTo slay your friend / and especially me. That never yet in any degree\nOffended as wisely he\nWho entirely knew out of woe my soul quiet\nBut for I was so plainly artful\nIn all my works, much and little\nAnd so busy, you to delight\nMy honor saved, meek. kind. and free\nTherefore you put on me this white\nAnd also you reckon not a might\nThough that the sword of sorrow bite\nMy woeful heart through your cruelty\nMy sweet love, why do you so. for shame\nAnd think you, that furthered be, your name\nTo love a new one and be untrue, nay\nAnd put yourselves in slander now and blame\nAnd do to me adversity and grumble\nThat love you most, God knows, always\nYet come again, & be thou plain, some day\nAnd then shall this, you now are, be game\nAnd all forgive, while I live, may\nLo heart, mine; all this is for to say\nAs whether shall I pray or else plainly\nWhich is the way, to make you be true\nFor either might I have you in my chain\nOr with the death, you might depart from us twain\nThere lie none other men's ways new.\nFor God so wisely, on my soul rely. As very truly you seem to torment me with the pain,\nThat may you see unfeigned my hew, and should I pray and weep,\nNay rather die, than do such a cruel deed,\nAnd ask for mercy causelessly, what need,\nAnd if I plead, what life have I led,\nThen will you laugh, I know it out of deceit,\nAnd if I to you beseech for my excuse,\nA scorn shall be my reward,\nYour cheer flourishes, but it will not confess,\nFor long ago I often have taken heed,\nFor though I had you to mourn again,\nI might as well hold April for rain,\nAs hold you to make you steadfast.\nAll mighty God of truth, sovereign,\nWhere is the truth of man who has it slain,\nWho loves him shall find him as fast,\nAs in a tempest is a rotten mast,\nIs that a tame beast, that is always obedient,\nTo flee away, when it is least afraid,\nBut sweet mercy, if I mistake,\nHave I not said out of the way,\nI note, my wit is half a way,\nI fare as does the song of a chantecler,\nFor now I plead, and now I play,\nI am so marred that I die,\nArcturus has borne away the key. Of all my world and good fortune,\nIn this world, no creature wakes in more distress or sorrow than I,\nAnd if I sleep, a furlong or two,\nThen your figure stands before me, clothed in azure,\nTo prove it again and new assure,\nTo be true and love me till he dies.\nThe long night, this wondrous sight I dry,\nAnd on the day, for this affray, I die.\nAnd of all this, right nothing you reckon,\nNeither my eyes two, be dry.\nBut woe away, far from them, to fetch.\nThus holds me, my destiny, a wretch.\nBut me to read, out of this fear or fly.\nNe may my wit, so weak is it, not stretch.\nThen I thus, since I may do no more,\nI yield it up, for now and evermore.\nShall I never again put in balance\nMy certainty or learn love's lore?\nBut as the swan, I have heard say full yore,\nAgainst his death, shall sing his penance.\nSo sing I here, my destiny or chance,\nHow Arcite and Anelida loved so sore. \"Thus ends the complaint of Anelida to you, my lord, and to none other do I complain. I am sorry now that you are light, for truly, you now make me heavy-hearted. I was as laid upon a burden for which to your mercy I cry. Be heavy again, or else I must die. Now I entreat this day or yet by night, that I may hear from you the blissful sound, or see your color like the sun bright. That of yellow had never been there. You are my life, you are my heart. Queen of comfort and of good company, be heavy again, or else I must die. Now, purs, who is to me my life's light and savior, help me by your might. Since you will not be my treasurer, for I am but a poor supplicant. I pray to your courtesy, be heavy again, or else I must die. O conqueror of all Albion, who by line and free election were a true king, this I send to you. And you who can, all harms amend. Have regard for my supplication. Explicit.\" When faith fails in priests' laws,\nAnd lords' horses are held for laws,\nAnd robbery is held as purchase,\nAnd lechery is held as solace,\nThen shall the land of Albion\nBe brought to great confusion.\nIt falls for every gentleman\nTo say the best that he can,\nIn man's absence,\nAnd the truth in his presence.\nIt comes by kind of gentle blood\nTo cast away all heaviness,\nAnd gather together good words.\nThe work of wisdom begins to witness.\nAnd so it ends.", "creation_year": 1477, "creation_year_earliest": 1477, "creation_year_latest": 1477, "source_dataset": "EEBO", "source_dataset_detailed": "EEBO_Phase1"},
+{"content": "The life is short, the craft long to learn,\nThus art the tasks hard, so sharp the conquering,\nThe dreadful joy that ever flees so near,\nAll this I ponder by love's feeling,\nAstonished by his wonderful working,\nSo sore it is that when I think on him,\nI well consider whether I weep or sink,\nFor all that I know not love in deed,\nNor how he quiets folk in their despair,\nYet often do I find in books read,\nHis miracles and his cruel ire,\nThere I find he will be lord and sire,\nI dare not say his strokes are so sore,\nBut God save such a lord I can no more,\nOf usage what for lust and what for lore,\nIn books I often read as you told,\nBut why I speak all this not to you,\nIt happened to me to behold,\nUpon a book was written with old freezes,\nAnd there upon a certain thing to learn,\nThe long day full fast I read and yearned,\nFor out of old fields, as men say,\nComes all this new corn from year to year,\nAnd out of old books, in good faith,\nComes all this new science that men learn.\nBut now to the purpose of this matter. To begin, I delight myself so much in this matter that the day seems short to me. This book, which I shall mention, is entitled as follows: \"Tullius on the Dream of Scipio.\" It contains seven chapters, dealing with heaven, hell, and souls dwelling therein. I will treat of his sentence as briefly as I can. First, Scipio, having come to Africa, met Macenas for joy in arms. Macenas then spoke to him and brought him all the bliss that was between them until the day began to misbehave. And African told him that his ancestor, Africanus, appeared to him in a starry place. He showed him the way to a place of great grace and said to him that a man who loves common profit well should go there. Where joy is everlasting. African then asked him if those who are here dead have life and dwelling in another place. African replied, without any fear, \"Yes.\" And how our present world's life span\nIs but a mere death, the way we trace\nAnd rightful folk shall go after they die\nTo heaven and show Him the galaxy\nShe showed Him the little earth here is\nAt the regard of the heavens' quantity\nAnd after showed Him the nine spheres\nAnd after that the melody He heard\nThat comes from those spheres three\nWhose wells of music are and melody\nIn this world here & cause of harmony\nThen He said to him since the earth was so light\nAnd full of torment / and of hard grace\nThat He should not delight Himself in this world\nThen He told him in certain years' space\nThat every star should come into its place\nThere it was first & should be out of mind\nThat in this world is done of all mankind\nThen He praised Him Scipion to tell Him all\nThe way to come unto that heavenly bliss\nAnd he Him said first, know thyself, mortal\nAnd look attentively that thou work and wisse\nTo come profitably & thou shalt not miss\nTo come swiftly into that place dear\nThat is full of joy & of souls clear But breakers of the law, so they say,\nAnd lecherous folk, after they are dead,\nShall whirl about the world in pain,\nTill many a world has passed out of fear.\nAnd then, their wicked deeds forgiven,\nThey shall come to that blissful place\nTo which God sends His grace.\nThe day was falling and the dark night\nDrew beasts from their business,\nTook from me my book - for lack of light,\nAnd to my bed I went to dress,\nFilled with thoughts and heavy cares,\nFor I had things that I did not want,\nAnd also things that I did want,\nBut finally, my spirit, weary of my labor all day,\nTook rest - and that made me sleep fast.\nAnd in my sleep, I met as I lay,\nAn African, right in the self same array,\nThat Scipio saw, before that time,\nStanding right by my bedside.\nThe weary hunter sleeping in his bed,\nTo the wood again his mind goes,\nThe judge dreams how his pleas have fared,\nThe cartman dreams how his carts have gone,\nThe knight rich in gold fights with his son. The seeker meets him by the tonne, drinking.\nThe lover meets him, having won his lady.\nCould I not say, if the cause were not\nThat I had read of Africa before\nWhich made me meet him standing there\nBut thus he said, \"Thou hast the sweet-born\nIn looking at my old books to find\nFrom which Macrobius rightly not a little\nThat some part of thy labor I will repay\nWherefore, thou blessed lady, sweet\nWho with thy fiery gaze dost daunt whom you least\nAnd made me this dream for me to meet\nBe thou my help in this, for thou canst best\nAs wisely as I saw the north northwest\nWhen I began my dream for to write\nSo give me might to rhyme it and end it\nThis African led me there at once\nAnd forthwith him to a gate brought\nRight by a park walled with great stone\nAnd on the gate, with large letters wrought\nThere were verses written, as I thought\nOn either side, of full great difference\nOf which I shall you plainly tell the meaning\nThrough me men go in to that blissful place\nOf hearts' hell and deadly wounds' cure Through me men go to the well of grace,\nWhere green and lusty may ever endure,\nThis is the way to all good adventure,\nBe glad thou reader and thy sorrow cast,\nAll open am I, pass in and speed the fastest,\nThrough me men go then speak ye other side,\nUnto mortal strokes of the spear,\nOf which disdain and danger is the guide,\nThere never tree shall fruit nor leaves bear,\nThis stream you leadeth to the sorrowful were,\nThere as the fish in prison is all dry,\nThe showing is only the remedy,\nThese verses of gold and black Ywain were,\nThe which I began a wonder to behold,\nFor with that one I was enkindled, ay my fear,\nAnd with that other began my heart to bold,\nThat one me heats that other me chills,\nNone in wit had I for error to choose,\nTo enter or flee or me to save or lose,\nFor right as between adamants two,\nA piece of iron cannot move to or fro,\nFor what that one may haul, that other lets,\nSo far I went that I knew not whether,\nTo enter or leave, till Africa my guide. Mehent and show in at the gate's side,\nAnd said it stands written on your face,\nThy error if thou tell it not to me,\nBut fear not, come in to this place.\nThis writing is not meant for thee,\nUnless thou art a servant who loves me.\nFor thou, of love, hast lost the taste I guess,\nAs a man has, of sweet and bitterness.\nBut nevertheless, if thou art dull,\nIf thou canst not do, yet mayst thou see.\nFor many a man thou mayst not withstand,\nYet liketh to him at wrestling to be.\nAnd deemeth yet whether he does better or he.\nAnd if thou hadst knowledge for tenderness,\nI should show matter to write,\nWith that my hand in his he took at once,\nOf which I caught comfort and went in fast.\nBut lo, I was glad, and well gone,\nFor all elsewhere that my eyes cast\nWere trees clad with leaf, you ever shall last,\nEach in his kind with colour fresh and green,\nAs emerald, that joy it was to see.\nThe elder oak, and also the hardy all he,\nThe pine elm, the coffer to carry,\nThe box tree cypress holding to whippings base. The saying: four yews / the shorter ewe, the ash for shafts,\nThe olive of peace / and also the drooping vine,\nThe victor palm / and laurel to divine,\nA garden saw I full of blossoming bows,\nUpon a river in a green mead,\nThere evermore sweetness is,\nOf flowers white, blue, yellow, and red,\nAnd cold well streams, nothing dead,\nThat swim with small fishes, light,\nWith fins red / & scales silver bright,\nOn every bough the birds heard I sing,\nWith voices of angels in their harmony,\nSome besieged them their birds forth to bring,\nThe little hares to their play began to climb,\nAnd further all about I saw,\nThe dreadful Xoo, the book, the heart and hind,\nSquirrels and small beasts of gentle kind,\nOn instruments of strings in accord,\nHeard I so play a raucous sweetness,\nThat God, the maker is of all and lord,\nNever heard better, as I guess,\nThere with wide open it might be less,\nMade in the leas green a soft noise,\nAccording to the birds' song a lofty peace. The air of the place was so temperate,\nNever was there a scarcity of heat or cold.\nThere was also every wholesome spice and grass,\nNo man could be sick or old there.\nYet there was more joy a thousandfold\nThan any man can tell or would believe.\nBut always clear day to any man's sight,\nUnder a tree beside a well I say,\nCupid, our lord, had his arrows forged and filed.\nAnd at his feet, his bow already lay.\nAnd while his daughter, Venus, teased all,\nShe touched them after they should serve.\nSome to sleep, and some to wound and cure.\nThere I was aware of pleasure right away,\nAnd of array and lust, and our taste,\nAnd of the craft you can and have the power\nTo make a wight do folly by force.\nDisfigured was she; I will not lie.\nAnd by himself, under an oak I guess,\nI saw delight that stood by gentleness.\nI saw beauty without any adornment,\nYouth full of game and jolly,\nFolly's hardness-flattery and desire,\nMessenger and medicine and other three,\nTheir names shall not be told for me. And upon pillars great of Iasper long I saw a temple of brass, strong. Around the temple, dainty women always dwelt. Some of them were fair in themselves, and some of them were gay. In kirtles all disheveled, they went there. That was their office year by year. And on the temple, of dues white and fair, I saw sitting many a thousand pairs. Before the temple door, they sat soberly. Dame Peace sat with a courtesan in her hand. And by her side, sitting discreetly, was Dame Patience. I found Dame Patience with a pale face upon a hill of sand. And next to her, both within and without, were Beseech and Art, and of their folk a route. Within the temple of sighs hot as fire, I heard a sigh that began to run. These sighs were engendered with desire, that made every altar burn. Of new flame, I then clearly saw. All causes of sorrows that they dry, come from the bitter goddess Jealousy. The god Priapus I saw within the temple, standing in a sovereign place. In such array as when the ass hym enchanted. With crye by night and holding his scepter,\nMen quickly try and find, and on his head they place,\nCrowns full of fresh new flowers,\nAnd in a hidden corner, I found Venus and her rich treasure,\nWhich was most noble and proud in her presence,\nThe place was dark but later became light,\nI saw a little one, hardly less,\nAnd on a bed of gold she lay to rest,\nUntil the hot sun went to the west,\nHer hair was gilded with a golden thread,\nAnd her unyielding attendants stood by,\nNaked from breast to head,\nMen could see her and truly say,\nThe remainder was well covered to my payment,\nWith a subtle coverlet of velvet,\nThere was no thicker cloth for defense,\nThe place gave off a thousand sweet smells,\nBacchus, god of wine, sat by her side,\nAnd Ceres, who cures hunger, was next,\nAnd among them lay Amor, eager,\nTwo young people knelt before her, crying out for help,\nBut I let her lie there,\nAnd further in the temple I began to see,\nThat despite Diana, the chaste one, Ful many a vow broken are hung on the wall\nOf maidens such as wasted their time\nIn their service and painted overall\nFul many a story which I shall touch\nA few as of Caliste and Athalant\nAnd many a one of whom the name I want\nSemiramis / Candace / and Hercules\nCibelle / Dido / Tesbe / and Piramus\nTristram / Ysode / Paris / and Achilles\nHelene / Cleopatra / and Troilus\nSilla / and also the mother of Romulus\nAll these were painted on that other side\nAnd all their love & in what position they died\nWhen I was coming again / into the place\nThat I spoke of as so sweet and green\nTherefore I went / my own self to take solace\nThere was I where, where there sat a queen\nWho, as the light summer sun shines\nPasses the star / right so beyond measure\nShe was fairer than any creature\nAnd in a lawn upon a hill of flowers\nWas set this noble goddess nature\nOf branches were her halls & bowers\nYou wrought after her taste and measure\nNo foul thing that comes of engendering\nWas not pressed in her presence To take her place and give her audience, this was on St. Valentine's day,\nWhen every bird comes to choose its mate,\nOf every kind that men think may,\nAnd such a noise they made,\nThat earth and tree, and sea and every lake,\nWas so full that there was not enough space,\nNor room for me to stand, so full was the place,\nAnd right beside in the same place,\nNature designed such array and face,\nIn such array men might find this noble empress, full of grace,\nWho bade every fowl to take its place,\nAs they were wont from year to year,\nOn St. Valentine's day to stand there,\nThat is to say, the bird of Xauyne,\nWas highest set, and then the small birds,\nThat eat as nature inclines,\nAs worm or thing of which I tell no tale,\nAnd waterfowl sat lowest in the dale,\nBut birds that live by seed sat on the green,\nAnd so many that it was a wonder to see,\nThere might men the real eagle find,\nThat with its sharp look pierces the soon,\nAnd other eagles of a lower kind,\nOf which clerks well devise a connection. There was the tyrant with his father done,\nAnd gray I mean the hawk it does torment,\nThe gentle falcon that with its fet binds,\nThe king's hand the hardy spearhawk also,\nThe quail fool the merlion that repents,\nHimself often the lark for to seek,\nThere was the dove with her eyes meek,\nThe jealous swan against its death it sings,\nThe owl also that bodies from death it bore,\nThe crane the giant with its troop sounds,\nThe thief the crow and also the Anglican pie,\nThe scornful jay the eagles food,\nThe false lapwing full of treachery,\nThe star that the council can discern,\nThe tame rook and the coward kite,\nThe cock the orologe of the thorpes light,\nThe sparrow Venus' son the nightingale,\nThat calls forth the green leaves new,\nThe swallow mother of the birds small,\nThat makes nests of flowers fresh of hue,\nThe wedded turtle dove with her heart true,\nThe peacock with his arms full of bright feathers,\nThe pheasant scorner of the cock by night,\nThe waker goose / the cuckoo ever unkind. The population is filled with delicacies. The drake, destroyer of his own kind, The stork, wreaker of adultery, The hot cornered one filled with gluttony, The ravens and crows with their voices of air. The thrush old and the frosty field fare. What should I say of birds of evil kind That in this world have feathers and stature, Men might in that place assemble, Before the noble goddesses of nature, And each of them did her busy cure, Benevolently choosing or taking, By her accord his form or his making, But to the point nature held on her hand, A formless eagle of the gentlest shape, That ever she among her works found, The most benevolent, and the goodliest, In her was every virtue at rest, So therefore, nature herself had bliss, To look on her, and often her beak began to kiss, Nature, the vicar of the almighty lord, That hot, cold, heavy, light, moist and dry, Has knitted by even number and accord, In easy ways began to speak and say, Birds take heed of my sentence I pray, And for your ease in furthering of your need. As fast as I can speak, I will hasten you\nYou know well how Saint Valentine's day\nBy my statute and through my governance\nYou come to choose and find your way\nWith your make as I prick you with pleasure\nBut nevertheless, my rightful order\nMay I not let for all this world to win\nHe who is most worthy shall begin\nThe tercel eagle as you who know well\nThe foul Xial above you in degree\nThe wise, the worthy, secretly true as steel\nThe which I formed as you may see\nIn every point as it best pleases me\nIt needs not his shape you to devise\nHe shall first choose and speak in his guise\nAnd after him by order shall you choose\nAfter your kind / each as you like\nAnd as your luck is / shall you win or lose\nBut which of you / you love most entreats\nGod send him her / who sorrows for him most sincerely\nAnd there with all / the tercel began she to call\nAnd said, \"My son, the choice is yours to fall\"\nBut nevertheless, on this condition\nMay the choices / of each that is here\nThat she agrees to his election. Who shall be her knight,\nThis is our custom / always year by year,\nAnd he who has at this time his grace,\nIn blissful time he comes to this place,\nWith head inclined and with humble cheer,\nThis real tercel speaks and tarries not,\nTo my sovereign lady / and not my knight,\nI choose and choose with my heart and thought,\nThe form on your hand so skillfully made,\nWhose I am all / and ever shall serve,\nDo what her pleasure to do me live or die,\nBeseeching her of mercy and of grace,\nAs she who is my sovereign lady,\nOr let me die present in this place,\nFor truly I may not live in pain,\nFor in my heart corrupted is every way,\nAnd having reward only for my truth,\nMy dear heart have of my love some kindness,\nAnd if I am found unfaithful,\nDisobedient or willfully negligent,\nAwaken / or in the process of loving anew,\nI pray to God this be my judgment,\nThat with these birds I may be rent whole,\nThat same day / that ever she finds me,\nTo her unfaithful / or in my guilt unkind.\nSince none loves her as I do. Although she never showed love for me,\nThen she ought to be my wife through mercy.\nFor no other bond can I form with her,\nNor will I let myself love another,\nSo far and beyond what she may think,\nSay what you will, my tale is at an end.\nJust as the fresh red rose new blooms,\nAgainst the summer sun's colored face,\nSo too, for shame, did the hue of this woman,\nWhen she heard all this,\nShe neither answered well nor said amen,\nSo abashed was she, until nature said,\nDaughter, do not fear, I assure you,\nAnother ternary eagle spoke at once,\nOf lower kind and said that should not be,\nI love her better than you do, by Saint John's truth,\nOr at least, I love as much as you,\nAnd I have served her longer in my degree,\nAnd if she should love me for a long time,\nI alone should be the reward,\nI dare also say, if she finds me false,\nUnkind jester, or rebellious in any way,\nOr jealous, do me hang by the neck.\nAnd yet I bear myself in her service,\nAs well as my wit allows me.\nFrom point to point, I save her honor. Take my life and all the good I have, the third tertle egg answered thus: Now size you see the little leasor here. For every foul creature cries out to be gone, Forth with his mate or with his lady dear, And eke nature herself will not hear, For tarrying, not half that I would say, And but I speak, I must forsooth we die, Of long service, aunt, I mean nothing, But as it is possible for me to die this day, For woe, as he that hath been languishing, This twentieth year, and well it may happen, A man to serve better and more to pay, In half a year, all if it were no more, Than some men do, it hath served you fully, I say not this by me, for I can do no service, That may my lady please, But I dare say, I am her truest man, As to my doom, and fairest would her please, At short words, till that death me sees, I will be here, whether I wake or wink, And true in all that heart may think, Of all my life, since first that I was born, So gentle plea in love or other thing, Never heard I, nor man me before. Who had leisure and knowledge\nTo rehearse their cheer and speaking\nAnd from the morn gan their speech last\nTil downward went the sun wonder fast\nThe noise of fouls for to be delivered\nSo lowde ronged have done, and late we wended\nThat well I wended the wood had also\nCome off, they cried, alas ye will us rend\nWhen shall your cursed pleading have an end\nHow shall a judge either party leave\nFor thee or nay without any proof\nThe goose the duck and the cock also\nCryden keke. keke cuckoo. queke. queke hie\nThrough my ears the noise went thus\nThe goose said, \"This is not worth trying\nBut I can shape from it a Xemedie\nAnd I will say my truth fair and swift\nFor waterfowl, who so be wrath or bright\nAnd I for wormfowl, said ye lewd cuckoo\nFor I will of my own authority\nFor coming speed, take on me ye charge now\nFor to deliver us, it were great charity\nYou may abide a while yet, parde\nSaid the turtle, if it be your will\nAwight may speak, he were better still\nI am a sedentary foul one of unworthiest. I cannot directly output the cleaned text without context as to the original source and intent of the text. However, based on the given requirements, I can provide a suggested cleaning of the text:\n\nThat I well and little of conjuring\nBut better is that a wise tongue rest\nThan enter them in such doing\nOf which they neither read can nor sing\nAnd he who thus fouls himself uncommittedly\nFor office often annoys\nNature, which always had an ear\nTo murmur of the lewdness by kind\nWith faces said, hold yourselves together there\nAnd I shall soon, I hope, find a council\nYou to deliver, and from this noise unbind\nI charge every folk, that you one call\nTo say the truth, for you birds all\nAssented were to this conclusion\nThe birds all, and the fowls of Xauyne\nHave chosen first, by plain election,\nThe tercelet of the falcon to define\nAll his sentence, and as he lists termine\nAnd to nature, him present\nAnd she accepts him with glad intent\nThe tercelet then spoke in this manner:\nIt would be hard indeed to prove by reason\nWho loves best this gentle fourme here\nFor each has such a reply\nThat by skills none can be brought down.\nI cannot see that arguments avail. Theme it seems we must have a battle\nAll ready quoted these terse words though\nNay, sirs, he said, if I dare to say it\nYou do me wrong, my tale is not all done\nFor sirs, take not offense, I pray\nIt may not go as you would in this way\nOur is the way that has the charge in hand\nAnd to the judges, you must stand before them\nTherefore, I say, as to my wit's ability\nI would think, how that the worthiest\nOf knighthood and longest practiced it\nMost of estate, of blood the gentlest\nWere sitting for her, if that her least\nAnd of these three, she knew herself I believe\nWho that he be, for it is easy to know\nThe waterfowl have gathered their heads\nAnd when every one had his large gold said\nThey said truly all by one assent\nHow the goose with her fair countenance\nThat she desired to pronounce our need\nShall tell our tale, & pray to God for speed\nAnd for these waterfowls, the goose began\nTo speak in her cackling\nShe said, now take care every man. And here's the reason I shall bring\nMy wit is sharp, I love no tarrying\nI say I heard him, though he were my brother\nBut she will love him late, love another\nLo, here's a reason from a goose,\nQuoth the spearhawk, never may she see him\nLo such is it to have a tongue loose\nNow, fool, yet were it better for thee\nHold thy peace, then show thy nicety\nIt lies not in his wit nor in his will\nBut truly said, a fool cannot be still\nThe laughter rose of gentle fowls all\nAnd right away the seed fowl chosen had\nThe turtle true, and began to call her\nAnd prayed her to say, the truth, sad\nOf this matter, and asked what she heard\nAnd she answered plainly, her intent\nShe would declare, and truly what she met\nNay, God forbid, a lover should change\nThe turtle said, and grew ashamed to speak\nIf his lady ever be strange,\nYet let him serve her ever till he's dead.\nFor truly, I praise not the goose's speech\nFor if she died, I would none other make. I would be hers until death takes me\nWell bounded was the dock by my hat\nMen should always love causelessly\nWho can find a reason or wit in that\nDawn sets, merry is he who is merryless\nWho should care, he who is careless\nThe duck said, \"Quite well and fair,\" the doe\nThere are more stars, God knows, than a pair\nNow, fie, sir, said the gentle tercel\nOut of the donghyl came that word, quite right\nYou cannot see which thing is best set\nYou fare by love as an owl does by light\nThe day they blisses well, they see by night\nYour kind is of such low wretchedness\nThat what love is, you cannot see nor guess\nThus the cuckoo put himself forth in presses\nFor birds that eat worms and said by living\nSo I said he may have my make in peace\nI care not how long you sorrow\nLate each of them be solemn all their life\nThis is my counsel since they may not agree\nThis short lesson needs not to record\nYou have the glutton filled, now his paunch is said the merlion\nThou mother of the heysug on the branch. That brought forth the rude glutton,\nLiving solely on worms' corruption,\nFor no force lacks in your nature,\nBe lewd you while this world endures.\nNow peace said nature I command here,\nFor I have heard all your open opposition,\nAnd may we never be nearer,\nBut finally, this is my conclusion:\nShe herself shall have the election,\nOf whom she lists, he who is worth or pleased,\nHim that she chooses shall have her, swiftly,\nSince it may not be here discussed,\nWho loves her best, as the terselet said,\nThen I will do this favor to her,\nThat she shall have him on whom her heart is set,\nAnd he her, whose heart is on her knight.\nThis judgment I give, for I may not lie,\nTo no estate I have no other eye,\nBut as for counsel, I would make\nIf it were reasonable, then I would\nCounsel you to take the Xyal tercel,\nAs the tercelet skillfully said.\nAs for the gentlest and most worthy,\nWhom I have wrought so well to my pleasure,\nThat to you ought to have been a sufficiency.\nWith dreadful voices you form her answer. My rightful lady goddess of nature,\nI am under your yard, and must be yours while my life lasts,\nAnd so must every creature,\nTherefore grant me my first bone,\nAnd my intent is to say this right away,\nI grant it to you, quick and right away,\nThis formal eagle spoke in this degree,\nMy mighty queen, grant this to this year,\nI ask for respite to advise me,\nAnd after that, to have my choice freely,\nThis is all and some, that I will speak and see,\nYou get no more if you do me die,\nI will not serve Venus nor Cupid,\nIndeed, as it may not betide in any other way,\nNature herself has no more to say,\nThen I will that these birds were away,\nEach with his kind for lingering longer here,\nAnd said to you, tersellis, quod nature,\nBe ye of good heart and serve you all three,\nA year is not so long to endure,\nAnd one of you pays him in his degree,\nFor to do well, God knows quite is she,\nFrom you this year, what comes after so falls. This message is addressed to you all\nAnd what this work brought was added\nTo every foul nature gave its form\nBy even accord and on their way they went\nAnd the Lord the bliss and joy they made\nFor each of them took wings and embraced\nAnd with their necks each took turns to wind\nThanking always the noble gods of kind\nBut first were chosen birds to sing\nAs it was always their custom\nTo sing a roundel at her departure\nTo do nature honor, praise, and pleasure\nThe note I believe was in France\nThe words were such as you may find\nThe next verse / as I now have in mind\n\"May you love late, forget early\"\nAnd with your shouting, when your soul was done\nThat birds made at her flight away\nI woke / and other books took me to\nTo read upon / and yet I always read\nI truly hope to read someday\nThat I shall meet something to fare thee well\nThe better / and thus I will not spare to read\nExplicit. The temple of brass\nMy noble sons / and also my lords dear\nI, your father, called you unworthy. Send to you this little treatise here, written with my hand roughly. And though it be that I have not reverently written to your estates, I pray you take it benignly. For God's sake, and hear what I say:\n\nI complain when I remember the sudden age that is upon me falling. More I complain, my misspent youth which is impossible to call back. But certainly, the most complaining of all is to think that I have been so nice, that I would not call virtues to myself in all my youth, but vices instead. Of such I ask mercy from the Lord, who art almighty God in majesty.\n\nBeing seen to you, make such accord between you and my soul, that vanity, worldly lust nor blind prosperity have no lordship over my flesh so freely. The lord of virtue and perfect unity put from me vices for my soul's health. And give me might while I have life and space, to conform fully to your pleasure. Show upon me the abundance of your grace in good works, and grant me perseverance. Of all my youth, forget ignorance. Give me good will to serve always to come to your command, And set all my life after your order, And able me to mercy, or thou deem, My lords, why I this complaining write, To you, whom I love entirely, Is for to warn you, as I can express, That time lost in youth folly grieves a man bodily and spiritually, I mean him, who to vices inclines, Wherefore I pray you, my lords specifically, Your youth in virtue shape you to dispend, Think how between virtue and estate, There is a blessed perfect marriage, Virtue is cause of peace, vice of debate, In man's soul, for which with full courage, Cherish ye virtue, the vices to outrage, Drive ye away, late they have wooing, That your souls lose not the heritage, Which God has given to virtuous living, Take heed also how folk of poor degree, Through virtue have been set in great honor, And ever have lived in great prosperity, Through cherishing of virtuous labor, Think also, how many ancestors, Called to estate, have been set low. Through misusing of right and of error, therefore I counsel you, virtuous one, that you may not claim anything as my master Chaucer says expressly, but a temporal thing, it may hurt and harm you. Then God is the source of virtuous nobility, and He is the lord of blessedness, and made us all and for us all died. Follow Him in virtue with full diligence, and of this thing, hear how it is said. The first stock, father of gentility, what man who claims to be gentle must follow his trace and his wit's direction. Virtue to follow and vices to flee. For virtue belongs to dignity, and not the reward, safely I deem. Alas, he may be a villain, even if he seems a crown or diadem. Vice may well hold riches. But there may be no man / anyone may well see\nBequeath his eyes / his noble virtues\nThat is appointed to no degree\nBut to the first father in majesty\nThat makes them eyes / that can open them\nAl were he crown mitre or diadem\nPlant the root of youth / in such a way\nThat in virtue / your growing may always be\nLook always on this word & work every day\nThat shall you mighty make at each attempt\nThe friend for to withstand / and his attack\nPass wisely this perilous pilgrimage\nThink on this word & work every day\nThat shall you give a perfect flourishing age\nTake also heed / how you these noble clerks\nWrite our books / of great wisdom\nSaying that faith is dead without works\nSo is estate without intelligence\nOf virtue / therefore with diligence\nShape of virtue / so to plant the root\nThat you come by experience\nTo worship of life / and souls' salvation\nThink also that lordship / nor any other state\nWithout virtue / may not long endure\nThink also / how vice and virtue are at debate. \"Hath been and shall be while the world endures,\nAnd ever the wicked, by chance,\nAre overthrown, and think forever,\nThat God is lord of virtue and form,\nOf all goodness, therefore follow the lore,\nMy master Chaucer, God have his soul,\nWho in his language was so curious,\nHe said the father who is dead and in the grave,\nBequeaths nothing his virtue with his house\nTo his son, therefore laborious,\nOwe ye to be, by the grace of God,\nThrough which, ye ought to be virtuous,\nAnd grant you to get part of his place,\nHere you may see that virtuous nobles\nCome not to you by way of ancestry,\nBut it comes through lawful labors\nOf honest life, and not by sloth,\nWherefore in youth, I recommend you educate,\nThe house of virtue, in such a manner,\nThat in your age, it keeps you and gives,\nFrom the tempest of worldly waves severe,\nLo, he, the noble poet of Britain,\nHow he tells in virtuous sentence,\nThe loss of youth, and virtue begins to couple,\nTherefore I pray you do your diligence,\nFor God's love, and God's reverence.\" To print virtue in your mind,\nWhen you come in your lord's presence,\nYou should not be set aside as virtues are behind,\nLords, can a man nowadays,\nThough one shows you a virtuous matter,\nYour fervent thought is of false allures,\nThat of that art, you have no joy to hear,\nBut as a ship that is without a rudder,\nRowing up and down without governance,\nThinking the calm will last year by year,\nRight so you fare through ignorance,\nFor very shame, know you not by reason,\nThat after an ebb, there comes a flood's rage,\nIn such a way, he who passes his youth's season,\nComes crooked and unsteady with age,\nAnd soon after come calendars of dotage,\nAnd if your youth no virtue has provided,\nThen all men will say, \"Fie on your vassalage,\"\nThus sloth has divided you from worship,\nBorrow the clerk's book of consolation,\nWhat man desires to have of the vine tree,\nPlentiful fruit in the ripening season,\nMust always eschew doing oppression,\nUnto the root, while it is young and green,\nYou may see by this conclusion. That youth the virtues often much retain,\nYou've seen again how virtuous noblesse,\nRooted in youth with good perseverance,\nDrive out a way all vice and unrighteousness,\nAs slothful Xyot and distant,\nHoliness also causes sufficiency,\nAnd sufficiency expels covetousness,\nThus he who has virtue, has all honor,\nAs far as reason can decree,\nTake heed of Tullius and him hostile,\nWho from poverty came to high degree,\nThrough virtue, read also of Julius,\nThe conqueror, how poor a man he was,\nWho through his virtue and humanity,\nGoverned over many a land,\nThus virtue lifts to high degree,\nEvery one who will do him homage,\nRead again of Nero's virtues,\nTake heed also of proud Baltazar,\nThey hated virtues, equity and peace,\nLook how Antiochus flees from his chariot,\nThat the skin and bones all tear apart,\nLook what mischief they had for their vices,\nWhoever will not by these signs beware,\nI dare well say, Infortunatus or nice he is,\nI can say no more, but hereby may you see. \"Hou virtue causes and perfect charity excludes all prosperity. The best is to choose as I guess, but do as you will; I excuse myself expressly. I will be sorry if I mischese. God confirm you in virtuous goodness, so that through negligence, you lose nothing. Thus ends the treaty which John Skogan sent to the lords and estates of the king's house. With empty hands, men cannot lure hawks. If you can, for all is for sale. Little wit suffices with good fortune. And always as the wide stands, set your mind. The heavenly lord to heaven, and the fiend to hell, man to the world, and you shall stretch and believe yourself to be nothing and a wretch. Flee from your pressures and dwell with sincerity. Suffice it to you if it is small. Hate has hoard, and climbing tickleness envy has, and wealth is blended over all. Savior no more than the beehive shall hold. Read well yourself, and truth will deliver it; it is no fear. Pain does not each crooked one to redress.\" In trust of her, who tears as a ball,\nGreat rest stands in little busyness.\nBeware also to spurn against all\nStrife not as does a crock with a wall.\nDeme thyself, that demest others' deed,\nAnd truth thou shalt deliver, it is no fear.\nThat which is sent, receive in buxomness,\nThe wrestling of this world asks for a fall.\nHere is no home, here is but wilderness,\nForth pilgrim, forth best out of thy stall.\nLook upon high, and thank God of all,\nWithhold thy lust, and let thy ghost the lead,\nAnd truth shall deliver, it is no fear.\nBallad of the village without painting,\nThis wretched world's transmutation,\nAs well as woo, now pour, & now honor,\nWithout order or due discretion,\nGoverned is, by fortune's error.\nBut nevertheless the lack of her favor\nMay not prevent me from singing, though I die.\nI ever have deemed my time lost, it labors.\nFor finally, fortune I despise.\nYet am I left the sight of my reason,\nTo know friend from foe, in thy mirror.\nSo much have yet thy turning up and down\nTaught me, to know in an hour. But truly no force can harm you,\nHe who has mastery over himself,\nMy sufficiency shall be my solace,\nFor finally, I defy fortune,\nO Socrates, steadfast champion,\nShe could never be your tormentor,\nYou never feared her oppression,\nNor found favor in her countenance,\nYou knew her deceit and that her most worship is a lie,\nI also know her as a false dissembler,\nFor finally, I defy fortune,\nNo man is wretched but himself it seems,\nAnd he who has himself / has sufficiency,\nWhy do you then say I am so keen,\nWho has taken himself / out of my control,\nSay this, grant mercy of your abundance,\nYou have let this go on, or else you shall not strive,\nWhat do you still want / how I will withdraw,\nAnd also you have your best friend alive,\nI have taught you the decision between,\nFriend of deed / and friend of countenance,\nThe gall of none need touch yours,\nHe who cures eyes dark for penance,\nNow you see clearly you were in ignorance,\nYet hold your anchor & yet you may arrive. There bears the key to my substance\nAnd thou hast thy best friend alive\nHow many have I refused to sustain\nSince I have fostered thee in thy pleasure\nWill thou then make a statute on thy queen\nThat I shall be ever at thy command\nThou art born in my realm of change\nAbout the wheel with others thou must drive\nMy lore is better than wick is thy grief\nAnd thou hast thy best friend alive\nThy lore I condemn; it is adversity\nMy friend mayst thou not revoke blind goddess\nThat I may know thy friends, I thank it well\nTake them again; let them lie in a press\nThe niggardly keep in guarding their riches\nPrenostik wilt thou assault her tour\nWick appetite comes always before sickness\nIn general, this rule may not fail\nThou pinch at my mutability\nFor I have lent a drop of my riches\nAnd now I like to withdraw myself\nWhy dost thou oppress my Xyalte\nThe sea may ebb and flow more and less\nThe well-being has might to shine time and hail\nRight so must I yield my brotherliness In general, this rule will not fail. The executor of the magesty that pursues his righteousness calls that same thing/fortune \"ye blind beasts full of lewdness.\" Heaven has the property of certainty. This world has ever restless trouble. The last day is the end of my entrees.\n\nPrinces, I pray you of your gentleness, let not this man continue to cry and plead on me, and I shall recompense you for this trouble. If you wish to release him from his pain, pray his best friend among his nobles that he may attain to a better estate. To break the statutes high in heaven, which were created eternally enduring, since I see the bright gods' seven, weep and wail, and endure passion as a mortal creature may in earth. Alas, frowns may this thing proceed, from which error I die almost in fear. By eternal word, why was it decreed that from the fifth circle, no terrestrial being might escape? But now Venus weeps in her spear, and with her tears, she will drench us here. \"Alas, Scogan, this is for your offense,\nYou cause this deluge of pestilence,\nHave you not spoken in blasphemy of the goddesses,\nThrough pride or through your great recklessness,\nSuch things as in the law of love are forbidden,\nThat for your lady, you did not see her distress,\nTherefore you gave her up to Michelmas,\nAlas, Scogan, neither old nor young,\nWas Scogan ever blamed for his union before.\"", "creation_year": 1477, "creation_year_earliest": 1477, "creation_year_latest": 1477, "source_dataset": "EEBO", "source_dataset_detailed": "EEBO_Phase1"},
+{"content": "For as long as late, by the commandment of the right high and noble princess, my right revered lady, My Lady Margaret, by the grace of God Duchess of Burgundy and so forth, I translated above out of French into English, named Recuyel of the histories of Troy, in which is contained how Troy was destroyed three times, and also the labors and histories of Saturn, Titan, Jupiter, Perseus, and Hercules, and other things therein recounted. But as to the history of Jason, concerning the conquest of the golden fleece, my author has not set in his book. But briefly, and the reason is, for as much as he had before above translated the whole life of Jason, which he presented to the noble Prince in his days, Philip the Second, the said book should have been too great. If he had said book newly made apart from said Jason and the history of him beginning with the conquest of the said golden fleece, by occasion whereof grew the cause of the second destruction of the said city of Troy, is not said book. I intend to translate the book of Troy's stories, \"Recuyel of Troye,\" as faithfully as I can, adding nothing except insofar as the greatest fame and renown stem from the quest for the Golden Flesh, upon which an order of knights is founded. Our sovereign lord, King Edward, by the grace of God of England and France and Lord of Ireland, is one of them and has taken the profession. Some people claim and say that the said order took its original from the Flesh of Gideon. I will not dispute this. But I know that the noble Duke Philippe, the first founder of this said order, made a chamber in the Castle of Hesdin. In this chamber, the conquest of the Golden Flesh by Jason was craftily and carefully painted. I have been in this chamber and have seen this history depicted. In memory of Medea. And of her command, and all within should please him. Which said most revered liege lord, who has taken this order, I have under the most excellent princess, the redoubted young lord. My lord Prince of Wales, our sovereign lord, whom I pray God save and increase in virtue, and bring him unto as much worship and good reputation as ever had any of his noble progenitors. To the end, he may begin to learn red English. Not for the sake of ending our English tongue that is therein. But for the novelty of the histories, which, as I suppose, has not been begged of my said most dread sovereign and natural liege lord the king and also the queen to pardon me so presumptuously. And my said coming sovereign lord, my lord the Prince, to receive it graciously and thank me, his humble subject, for pardoning and rude translation.\n\nHere ends the prologue of the translator.\n\nThe gallant ship of my engine floating not long since in the depths of the seas of ancient histories in such a way as I will. haue brought myn esperite vnto the porte or hauen of rest. Sodaynly apperid by me a ship conduited by one man\u0304 only. This man anon\u0304 behelde my regarde and contenan\u0304ce. Whiche gaue me tytle & cause of thoughte & of abasshement\u00b7 for asmconceyued that I so beheld henge engen my fconquerd the flees of golde in the yle of colchos. And that dayly laboure in sorowe roted in tristresse for the dishon\u0304our that som\u0304e perso\u2223nes hurte & empesshe my glorie\u00b7 Inposing to me not to ha\u2223ue holden my promys anoist medXed the trouh. Then\u0304e I pray the that thou do make a boke vn\u00a6to them that daily speke & inpugne my gloire maye knowe their indiscrete IugemAnd for and of Brabant &c / The whiche hath ben in aenclined and of grete affeccion to he\u2223re and see red the auncient histories / And to here told\nthe faytes of the worthy and noble somtyme flourisshing in vertues in valyance and prudence for his singuler pas\u2223setemps\u00b7 Thyse wordes accomplisshid the shippe & Iason vanisshed away and I abode there pensyf / But in thende desiring to Anciently, kings and princes of high felicity were attended and awaited when their seed should bring generation. But when they could not, what prosperity they had: Their life was troubled in continual bewailing, and they visited temples and oracles to the consolation of their days. Or to their shame among all other things, worldly prosperity was right nobly reigning. Indeed he had him in peace, He had a right fair lady for a wife, but they were long to gather without having generation, whose days were full of bewailings and little pleasure. The goodies of fortune. But and oracles. And nothing of their desire befell them until the time that the king began to fall and wax old by age. Then he conceived of his seed and multiplied the human generation with a right fair son. At the birth of this son, the noble queen died. And when the king Esau saw his wife so depart from life to death, he wept her long time and made her obsequy right solemnly. And after, he rejoiced in his son newborn. Whom he named Iason. Iason then grew in beauty marvelously. In so much that his father the king Esau took great pleasure to nurse him. The time passed, Iason grew so long that he could give speech. And the noble king his father became ancient in such manner that he might no more help himself. And on a day, Esau his son and said to him:\n\nFair son Iason, it is forced that I pass out of this world by age which leads me to death. For it is the dowry then endowed to me & the passage which I must needs make, how be it I take My dear son, it displeases me greatly to leave the tree I have planted before I see what fruit it will bear. You are the tree, and the fruit that you will bring forth will be your works. My heart is troubled, fair son Jason, that I must depart from this world and leave you unprovided with wisdom and discretion, still young in age. You begin daily to grow, and then you will render the fruit that I desire to see. But when you have reached your full growth, you will decline a little and a little, and after that be shadowed by death, like the day wanes. And since there will be nothing in the world but the Renown of your life, and that nothing is more lowly than virtues and sins, my dear son, keep these: let Covetousness blind you not. But apply the unto all things virtuous in one way. It is over great damage when a man lives rich in sins and poor in virtues. Ensue always those who are wise and well renowned. Learn while you are young and believe no liars, thieves, idlers, nor defamers of women. Be not idle, nor prodigal with your tongue. Take heed, behold and see, and say little, blame none, and hurt not your neighbor. Do no wrong to any man, be friendly to your neighbor, and be a good lord and father to your subjects in time and place. Thus, my fair son, put my doctrine into effect. And if you do thus, I doubt not but you shall have abundance of all good and prosperity, such that he was compelled to cease his speech. And the damoisels, notwithstanding that he was yet a child, began then to find him uncomfortable and displeased them. Among all other the brother of King Aeson named Peleus being present, could not contain himself among these weeping, and called Peleus and said to him: I. My right-hand man, the one closest to me in blood after my right dear son, thou art also my secret and right especial friend. Among all men in the world, in whom I have greatest affiance, take heed and listen to my testament, my ordinance, my commandment, and the conclusion of my last will.\n\nI. I am ready and content to die when it pleases the gods to send me death.\nII. I recommend unto my dear son Iason.\nIII. I recommend to thee, and I constitute thee the Regent and governor of my realm, until my son Iason reaches an age. Finally, I pray thee that then thou wilt crown him with my crown that belongs and appertains to him by right. With this, the noble king finished his testament. And from thence forth, Peleus took charge of the government of the realm. And from thence forth, the city was ruled by Peleus. Iason, who was a goodly young man, fair of visage, marvelously, and well made, reached the age of eighteen years. The noble king Eson instructed and admonished him always to do virtuous works, rendering the man noble. Nothing could quieten the noble stock or progeny. Tidings reached the king of Thebes that he should make a great solemn feast in his city for the love of a new knight he intended to create. Iason learned that the king his father required him to ask for permission to attend and begin training in arms. The king was well disposed, and ordered Pelus to go with him. What shall I prepare for you, Pelus, and your new men, in arms and horses? And when they went to Thebes on the day assigned for the feast to be ordained and kept, they found many princes, kings, barons, and knights. They were warmly received and greatly feasted. Hercules himself, for whom the feast was made, welcomed them cordially and with great reverence. At this time, Thebes was great and hospitable for:\n\nThapparail was in Thebes on this day, being very hospitable. The king held open court, and the princes, barons, knights, ladies, and damoiselles dined in the hall. After dinner, the ladies and damoiselles mounted on the scaffolds, while the knights armed them and mounted on their horses. They drew near a place for the jousts. When the king of Thebes gave the order of knighthood to his son Hercules, one by one they couched their spears courageously and began to joust in such a way that many were brought down to the ground. Hercules displayed great and high prowess, and similarly maintained Iason, as they encountered no knights in return. At this time, the worthy named him his brother and held him as the most addressed knight in arms that he had seen in his time. In this journey. Hercules and Iason wrestled each other to the earth. All who saw it were greatly astonished, for Hercules was larger and taller than Iason, yet Iason was so skillful on horseback that no one could unhorse him. The ladies and damsels admired Iason for his high valor and beheld him with joy, praying and honoring him above all others. And so did all others, marveling at his noble deeds. Peleus, seeing Iason so highly recommended by everyone, deliberated and concluded that by his power he could obtain a great prize and by his valor acquire the honor of all assembled. He conceived a marvelous envy for Iason's glory and wished that Hercules had pierced his heart with his spear.\n\nIason overthrew the king of Mycenae, the king of Mycida, and the king of Epidaurus, and thirty other good knights. He had no equal in harshness and ferocity. most expert in arms / And in truth, as those who beheld him attested, he seemed above all others in the feats of arms. And throughout his life, he had a distinctive style, other than issuing great blows and poisoning. So fierce was his demeanor.\n\nFor a long time, these justices persisted. These two worthy gentlemen, Hercules and Jason, overcame their adversary. Ladies and damsels departed from the scaffolds and returned to the palaces. The justices disarmed them and dressed them in fine attire. Afterward, they went with them to the palaces, where then began the dances, carols, and festivities, which were noble and joyous until the tables were cleared and every man was seated according to his degree and estate.\n\nAs for Hercules and Jason, and especially the damsels, they said that they had never seen such a fair and handsome young man. Pyrithron of Thesalian origin was among them, whom they beheld when he appeared. that each had well eaten and drunk reasonably. He stood up and required all who were there that a month following they would come to the wedding. What shall I say? Some said they would come and some said no. And so Sand Iason was feasted there for a long time, especially the king, princes, and princesses. Afterward, when it was time for him to go to the land of Pythion, as sent by his father, he arrayed himself nobly and put himself in readiness. Then he went there, and his uncle Peleus with him. They made such diligence that they arrived in the noble city of Thesalonica in a short time.\n\nWhen the good and renowned king looked and descended in his palaces, and afterward brought him into the chamber where Hercules was. He required him to make him a knight, saying that it was time, and that his pleasure was that at the wedding of his son he would do so. Among the knights, he seemed fitting / And Hercules, a right worthy man, gladly listened to the king's speech. He made Iason a knight with great honor. Iason, full of good will, spoke in this manner:\n\n\"Right noble, wise chosen knight, and shining in all virtues, it has pleased you to call me unworthy and unfit for the high and commended order of knighthood. I thank you with all my heart, and this noble king, from whom some honor has come to me. But among all this well-being and worship, I pray that you assign me a place where I may perform chivalrous and knightly deeds. This has not been a waste of your time, and I may, in the days of my youth, learn the high and praised virtues of you, the true and worthy Hercules.\"\n\nIt is now that you have been promoted to the dignity of knighthood. I have none:\n\n(Note: The text appears to be in Middle English, and there are some missing letters and symbols. The text provided may not be complete.) And if you desire to bear arms and occupy yourself in them, inquire about the wars of the world. If it happens that you put yourself in arms, beware in the lists not to oppress anyone. Be humble and courteous to all people. Nature has begun in you a man garnished with virtues; may the gods continue it.\n\nWith these words, Peleus approached Hercules and Jason. And Jason declared that he would go to the first war he would speak of. Then they began to devise and speak of the prowesses of Hercules.\n\nWhat shall I keep you lingering here? This day passed, and the morning came. And on this day, Pyrithion espoused the fair Hipodame with great honor, and they made such great cheer that Eurichus, the head and captain of the Centaurs, was drunk. And in the same way were their companions. These Centaurs were an C-men who always lived and remained in one place, which was named Molossus. They were great and formed like giants.\n\nWhen they were so drunk as Pyritheon and some others reversed roles in the heated argument among them, leading to a brawl. Pyritheon, along with others, began to fight with fists and blows, causing Hercules, Iason, and the ladies to be unable to intervene. This battle lasted so long that Euricus and many other Centaurs departed, intending to commit great harm, but they came too late to repent. Armed hastily, they returned to the wedding. In their drunken state, they abducted the fair Ypodame from among all the other ladies and damsels. Hercules and Iason then readied themselves to leave, following the drunken Centaurs in the fields. They overtook them and were left only with the two of them. That many regarded them as knights as well as ladies and gentlewomen, but that was not far from the truth. When the worthy Hercules and noble Pricepsion had subdued these centaurs, they each had a bow which they bent. And since they had frightened all the drunken centaurs into death with their arrows, they shot them in such a way that Hercules caught one named Grinus between the eyes and nailed him fast to a tree that stood behind him. And the noble one struck him down in the presence of one named Guericus, who cried out furiously upon Hercules and Pricepsion. And with this cry, all the centaures rallied against the two knights and marched against them so troubled that they soon retreated as much as people replenished themselves with measure of drink and food. For Iason and Hercules pressed them with their arrows as long as they endured and slew a great number. And when Hercules' arrows failed, they drew out good swords and came and fought hand to hand the miserable gluttons with such vigor that their. Centaurs were soon slain with their own blood\nWhen the centaurs saw the swords of Hercules and Jason drenched in their blood, and also when they beheld their companions dying sorrowfully before them, feeling the lingering pain of their wounds, some of them fled. Others defended themselves with all their might. Noble Jason showed remarkable restraint; he struck no one with a fair blow but either knocked them to the ground or separated their souls from their bodies. Those who remained and saw his sword red with the blood of their comrades were not well reassured. He defended himself as one who doubted nothing, and Hercules did the same.\n\nJason slew with his own hand four giants among the Centaurs named Petreus, Doillas, Cillarus, and Perthones, and many others who were not as great. Worthy Hercules slew and beheaded more than thirty, and endured great toil. Iason aided him and wanted the place among them, approaching the one supposed to be Euricus, who was attempting to flee. But Iason, with such ardor in discharging his sword upon the right shoulder of Euricus, cut through his heart, causing it to fall at his feet. Seeing this, the others were immediately discouraged and scattered. Most of them were slain and dismembered without making any defense, while some fled here and there. In this way, the fair Ypodame was delivered from these vile, outrageous rogues by the high valor of the two worthy knights, Iason and Hercules. After this noble victory, they were rendered and delivered to her parents and friends.\n\nGreat rejoicing and marveling greeted Iason as he returned with the noble Hercules for his high virtue. Hercules brought her back to the palaces with great joy, and all the world acclaimed Iason's victory and praised him. Peleus died due to the great worship paid to him in his presence. Then, the ladies rejoiced among themselves and changed their sorrow into joy. The fair Iphodame was arrayed anew, and she slept that night with her lord. The night passed. And on the morrow, Peleus called for Jason and said that his long delay displeased him and that he intended to return to his court, unanswered by him. In the meantime, he sent Jason to secure the presence of King Lycus of Pirithous, of Iphodame's father Iphodamus, of Hercules, and many others. After they had returned, but when they supposed they had taken their leave, two esquires came to Jason bearing for him two fine and excellent horses - one from King Lycus and the other from Iphodame. Certainly, Jason received this gift with great joy and thanked the noble king and queen many times. Then, he mounted on one of the same horses. Offrid the other to his uncle Peleus, but he would never accept it. He said that he was not worthy to receive such a noble gift. And when he had said this, he struck his horse with spurs and departed. Iason followed after Ceretes. Peleus did not say that he was not worthy to receive the gift that Iason presented him, for he was a traitor to Iason, who intended to do him no favor. O cursed blood! Certes, this Peleus could not rest nor sleep, he was so pensive, how he might bring about making Iason his enemy and to this end:\n\nHA / a / Right Miserable and right unnatural envy. Those who incline and give themselves to these treacherous intentions may have no rest day or night. You lift them up into high thoughts of glory, you make them move towards the highest pinnacle by your poisons. It is now no need to bring forth examples of such deceitfulness and falsehood. thou abusest and deceives those who have affiliated and trusted in him.\n\nPeleus and Jason departed from Thessalonica one morning, one filled with sadness and sorrow, the other with joy. And when they were on the field, Jason, fresh and lusty, began to prove and examine his horse. Peleus, sorrowful and traitorous as he was, began to hang his head and said to himself in his evil heart:\n\nShall I never come to my desire? What is this? How shall I do? Truly, I don't know. Shall I murder Jason? Nay. And why not? For if I were to be disgraced, murder cannot be hidden. Notwithstanding, he must certainly be dead. Or else, I shall be put down and abandon the royal honors, and come to mend and put out. O what mortal pain shall I make him to die. It must be thought upon. If I need someone else to do this, perhaps he will have pity on Jason because he is in the grace of the whole world and will accuse me. If I order anyone to prepare poison and Jason is put to death by it, those who have made and mixed it will not be able to keep it secret, and Jason will also be careful not to partake of it. O what thoughts have I. I see no other way but that I must confess this case with my own hand. Pelus, conspiring in this manner, not knowing how he might exploit this to execute his damning envy, which he plotted on this day against the very one - whom he took logs (received with great joy) in the house of an ancient lady. And as soon as Pelus and Jason had dismounted from their horses, the ancient lady spoke enticing words. What he was and what he sought? In truth, noble gentleman and little servant to the queen of the country that I have named. I certify you that in remembrance of the whole world, there is no fairer lady, and there is none more desperate and sorrowful. The mighty king of Scandinavia desired her to be his wife for her great beauty, to whom she would in no way accord herself, and because she had plainly refused him, he entered her realm in arms, destroying all before him with fire and sword. He had come and besieged her city of Olferne. Before this city and during the siege, he had many fair victories against the allies and helpers of the queen. In granting truce battles to the Scandinavians, which they had lost and been greatly diminished in their forces and strength, they had slain a great number of the knights of the said lady. Though few of them remained, they dared not now issue out to make any assault or skirmish against their enemies. Therefore, the valiant princess, willing to defend herself unto death, had sent her messengers into various places, and me among them. The other is assembling for her, your and men learned in war, to aid her against her enemies, as well for her money as to help keep the honor of ladies. Therefore, I pray you, if you know any in this country, please address me to them, and you shall do great charity and to me great courtesy.\n\nThe knight, who said this, could not keep himself from weeping, but wept tenderly. And when Iason had understood and considered the necessity of the lady, as well as her great beauty, he wept also for pity, and addressed his words to Peleus and said:\n\n\"Uncle, you have heard this good knight speak. What do you think, Peleus? To whom Peleus answered: \"Fair newcomer, I think in my adversity that the king of Escalonia does great and evil for warring and destroying the country of one so fair a lady. And if I had no greater charge than yours, without making a long journey or tarrying, I would go to her aid.\" I ensure and promise I answered Iason then. I will mount on horseback and, in the company of this good knight, go to this lady in the morning as early as I may. I will do to her all the service and pleasure that I can do and may, to begin and instill the order of knighthood. I pray you recommend me to the good grace of my lord, my father. And I pray you, of your good grace, will often pray to the goddesses for me.\n\nWhen Jason understood the vow, he was very joyful, for he believed he would no longer be burdened by it with his worship and honor. Then, Pelias promised Jason that he would fulfill all that he had required of him. And since it was time to withdraw, they went to rest until the morning. Then, they arose and took leave of each other. And thus, Jason went with the strange knight to the noble city of Oliphant, and Pelias returned to Mirmydon, praying. The goddesses who might punish Jason with thunder or through the five Ceres or bury him in the sea to prevent further tidings of him were the prayers made by the persuerers for the total destruction of his gentile new Iason. The most addressed knight that we were in the midst of - this notwithstanding - noble Jason always conducted himself skillfully on his journey and presented himself to the queen to serve her in her war. This queen was called Mirror, which is to say, a mirror in beauty.\n\nWhen Jason saw him before the queen, he beheld her with great intent and made to her reverence. And she, seeing that he was very fair and a young gentleman well made in all his members and having a face of a vexed look, conducted him and brought him from the palaces into the town and delivered for him a good lodging.\n\nThe fair Mirror had trials with her enemies for fifteen days at that time. Certainly these trials annoyed much. Iason demanded nothing but to employ him in all military affairs, as this was out of his mind. You should understand that since Iason had beheld and seen the great beauty of the lady, she was ensnared by love in his heart so certainly that he could not keep himself from thinking of her, admiring and praising her youth, her countenance, her wit, and all her other virtues, with whom she was endowed and adorned. She was only sixteen years old, and he was captivated by her fair and fresh complexion, her ladylike manners, and her noble appearance. Among these things during these true encounters, he was given charge to say to her certain agreed-upon words. And then the said messenger departed and reported to the king that the far mirror had become contaminated. Therefore, he disguised himself as wisely as possible and took two of his knights with him, to whom he declared He would go secretly to his lady, feigning to be a simple knight of the king's court. He explicitly defended them from doing anything. He put him on the way so humbly that he knelt down before her. His wonder and admiration were great, for he had never seen such a creature before. After the reverences were made, he said to her in this manner:\n\nNoble and renowned princess, the king of Escalon recommends him humbly to your good grace and noble memory. Since he has understood that you are willing to hear his petition, and that he offers himself for your love, for your welfare, and for honor, the king has commanded him to stand up, and since you did not know what he was, he drew her a little aside. The king of Escalon has requested you through his barons and ambassadors that it please you. The king requests that you be his wife and companion. He always revered you and, due to this, he has waged war against me because of your refusal, as you can see. Yet, he always puts himself in danger. He has sent me to ask for your gracious favor, as one who has greater pity for you and your country than you seem to have for yourself. Therefore, he requests that at this time you show pity for your true lover, whose fortune is such that the lady after the judgment of men is the very mirror of all virtues and nobility. Here, the voices of my servants speak through my mouth, humbly requesting your grace and pity. The poor and desolate king, your true well-wisher, cannot be in any place without thinking of you. His imagination is captivated by your name and beauty. His stomach finds no satisfaction but in your triumphant glory. His prayers and suffrages cannot reach the gods unless he calls upon them in your name. To the augmentation of your welfare, have mercy on him, on your people and your realm, and on me, his secret messenger of love. Condescend to be his lad. In pronouncing these or similar words, the doking made many sighs and began to choke and sweat in such agony as if he had been a prisoner presented before a judge to receive sentence of great discretion. Myrrh comforted him. And when he had finished all that leave signified to him, I, abashed, considered how my mortal and cruel enemy had brought his armed hand into my realm, plundered my land, slaughtered my people, besieged me in my city of Oliferne. And when I had destroyed him in any manner, what then of his requests and submission to my will? Madame, asking me, thinks you not well advised? Do you not consider that your disdain has caused the death of fifty thousand men? And how have you no regard for the fact that he is so noble and so powerful a king, and that he loves you with such perfect love that all? His desire is not only for your good grace, but it appears that he has greater pity for your noble person, your men, and your desolate kingdom than you do yourself. Therefore, madam, consider these things and beware that through your cruelty and neglect, your good lover and friend does not fall into despair. I never knew what could incline you, and by all my gods, it is great folly that drives you there.\n\nCerts messenger answered the wise maiden to the slave king. The wrestling of your words is not strong enough to overcome the constance of my continence. I love my men and people naturally, and to this end that the whole world knows that I speak the truth, I shall never have love or alliance unto my enemy, and speak no more of it to me. With this, the king was entirely vanquished and comforted of succor, and was so terribly displeased and angry withAspre and mortal anger fell upon him. lady & most rebell & leste pieto{us} that eu de{per}ted out of womans bely syn that I must acquite me whan I {per}ceyu\nme\u00b7 ne entende vnto the continuel supplicacions of yowe so trewe louer / I me deporte from hens forth for to speke ony more of this mater / but I yow ensure as sone as the triewguerdoned after yower fyerste \u00b6 With thkyng of Sdeparted thens with a chiere penfyf / And retour to his Ooste more desiring to come to his entencion And the fayr Myrro litil s by his me\u2223naces / brecou\u0304ting to them the prayers & request had made to her \u00b6 What shal I faylled at tyme sette & exsp And whan they were thus faylled the king of Shoping that they of O\u2223liferne sholde come out & make him skarmuches / but he los\u2223te his payne / for ther was not in the cyte ony man that dur\u2223ste yssue out for to assaylle them / for asmoche as they had alway agaynst hem the worse / & than whan he knewe that they of Oliferne were so cremall / one after an other / & syn band & ran vnto the bateillement & lowpes of the walles\nIAson wente Ioustes, finding himself among the other men and seeing the manner of the Slavonian woman, was greatly distressed within himself. With marvelous courage, he went to the palaces to speak with the fair Myrro. After paying his respects, he said to her, \"My esteemed lady, I cannot help but be amazed by the great sloth and laughter of your men. I have seen your mortal enemies design and plan to attack your city with a small company, leaving Oliver's forces completely unprepared in every way, both in men and defense. Madame, what is this? Indeed, all those who are involved in this receive great blame. Therefore, I humbly request that you grant me ten of your soldiers, and allow me to lead them against your enemies. I believe we shall make quite an affray, as great as they have had for a long time.\"\n\nThe fair Myrro, hearing Iason's request, allowed his goodwill and asked him the number of their enemies. When Iason declared his request, she replied, \"A-\" Iason and his noble companions beheld him and saw that he was the best and bravest knight they had ever seen. Moved by a right noble heart, they answered that they would accompany him to death. The fair maiden then granted Iason's request. When Iason perceived that his request was granted, he thanked the fair lady with a good heart. After that, he requested the twelve knights to hasten and arm themselves, promising them good fortune. They did so and mounted their horses. When their helmets and shields were donned, they opened one of the gates of the city, which they had kept closed continually for all doubts and drew out the drawbridge. They rode out into the field and joyously rode against the slaves, who, as was said, were jousting against their king by deceit.\n\nThe noble Iason then... Mayde Myrro and the ladies knew that Jason was on his way. They mounted on a high tour, from which they could clearly see their enemies to the east. They did not tarry long once the king of Scythia had perceived Jason and his companions, who came to him in peace. Therefore, he left the jousting and called his knights. To them he said, \"Fair lords, you have made an exploit of chivalry for the love of my lady. But now think of gaining honor and laude for my sake. Prove yourselves mightily against these little knights of Olifernoys who come against us. We are four against one. Therefore, we shall put them to death as lightly as a lion devours a lamb with its teeth and claws.\"\n\nWith these words, the noble Jason and his companions affirmed on their horses, took up their shields, which were firmly bound to their breasts, brandished their spears, and faced their enemies. The enemies broke their horses with their spears and received them, and retreated with the might of their horses. Iason and his men were severely assaulted, and it seemed they would have been overwhelmed, but they received the first blow. With his spear, the king of Scalloway attacked Iason with such force that he pierced his shield on the right side. The spear broke, and Iason struck him in the exact same spot with such force that he caused him to reverse his head and made him lose control of his horse's reins, causing it to bolt into the field. Iason, now joyous about his good fortune, retrieved another spear from his esquire and went to recover one of the best knights of Scalloway. He gave him a devastating blow in the middle of his shield, piercing both the shield and hauberk into his body. The men dismounted from the horse and fought on both sides with the strength of their sharp spears. Regarding those who retreated, some went to comfort their king who lay on the ground, stunned and seemingly dead. The others intended to supply their enemies. The battle began fiercely and relentlessly, with spears that were soon truncated as if with good trenchant swords. The Damascans maintained them, inspiring them with the example of noble Jason, and with jousting they brought down five of their enemies. Four were dead on the field, and the other two were so injured in their fall that they could never help themselves again.\n\nYou can well understand that this battle began fiercely and marvelous. The slaves set their king back on his horse as best they could on one of the dead horses. Then all they saw came forwards. Iason and his companions were engaged in a fierce battle with him. Iason knew that he would be killed if he didn't defend himself with all his might. In that moment, he decided that before he left his life, he would make Renoome grow in Oliferno and Esclavony, or die in the process. With that, he charged his clear weapon and attacked the one in front of him, cutting off a quarter of his left arm. When the others saw Iason dealing such blows, they doubted his person. He was indeed a worthy and valiant man, but he was Iason, destined for death. And so, the one who came at him with his truncheon struck him mightily upon the top of his helmet, causing the sparks to fly and his head to bow low. Iason was not stunned but cried out, \"Servant, you have shown me well how to recover a man with a spear.\" But I shall show you the sharpness of my sword and how I am a better knight than you. And if you escape from my hands without receiving death, I well know what you say to my lady, fair Myrro. Her lover and friend of Sklauonye has neither force nor might. More was Jason displeased when he had understood the tricks of his mortal enemy. But when he was with Sklauonye, he was well joyous to know him and thus said to him in derision: \"Ha, you right outrageous fool! Are you the one who is afraid, lady? Now I see well that there is more presumption than valor in you, and more vainglory than faith and truth. And so, many gave him in making Reed his sword from the blood of the Sklauon king that the right malicious king was compelled to cry out and call his knights to his aid and help. But there came so many that Jason was assailed on all sides.\n\nWhen the Noble Jason felt himself surrounded on all sides by He was more fortified than his enemies before him. And began to strike with his good sword of steel on the right side and the left side, endowing it with such power and might that the ladies of the city knew him among all others and perceived that he scarred his sword with new blood here and there. And after saw him cut off heads, arms, and legs, and fists, and made arms at will and more than all the remainder. And truly, by his might, he seemed a thing of that other world than a human being. From this time forth, the fair Mirro, seeing this, took Iason so in her good grace that, to the death, she favored him over all other knights. As she who had long endured the battle and the dangerous turmoil that surrounded their master, among them who compelled him Iason to make him yield the place and his knights, that then all wore themselves out following him. And then the noble Iason followed the chase and chased. After this marvelous battle, fewer than ten survivors remained from the great army. However, they were all slain, detained, or hacked to pieces. Only two remained from Jason's party on the field. And of the remainder, all were injured, some more anguishingly than others.\n\nAfter this remarkable battle, and as the worthy Jason had driven his enemies nearly to the east as mentioned, he tarried for two reasons. The first was because he saw his comrades weary and sore wounded by their wounds. The second was because he saw the Orientid, with great honor and glory that day. Every man in the army, as soon as Jason returned, saw none like him in beauty or more valiant knight of his body. And then, as soon as the fair mirror thought that Jason was unarmed, she sent for him. He came gladly to her, for that was all his desire. When he came before her, he saluted her, and she rendered to him his salute. Then she asked him how he felt. Iason spoke thus to the noble lady, as it is said. She tried to calm and comfort him without responding. In the meantime, a messenger of the king of Damascus arrived, who had sent him to ensure they were well provided with food and drink. He covered them. tablereced this Prusian right solemnly, but when each was seated at the table, the fair Myrrha and Jason were served by the reception of love in such a way that they took no heed of food nor drink. The messenger of love, that is to say, was continually on the way. One was ashamed and changed color, and the other did the same. Iason could not contain himself, and Myrrha perceived well enough his maintaining. But Myrrha was very subtle; for she beheld him reasonably and did more by wisdom than her heart desired, in these respects and in these appearances they passed through unharmed, lest pestilence harm them. But the next day following they should go out under Iason's conduct for trial of the siege of the king of Scythia, and then each man took leave and withdrew h.\n\nWhen Iason was withdrawn into his lodgings and lay down in bed to rest, the memory of his lad's sweetness kindled in him such a terrible fire in the midst of his heart that him. Iason thought he was in a burning furnace. He first began to think about the fate of his lady. And after he had long labored in these things, he spoke to himself softly. \"Ah, a fortune, knight, what shall become of me and this noble lady? It is befitting that I pray her for love. And why am I not bold enough to do so? Reason she may be, but she scorns the bravest of all the world, and even a king. Truly, I am a fool for thinking of her. Yet, I have given my heart to her; it is hers, and it shall remain with her. The gentle damsel Iason spent most of the night in restless thoughts. And after sleeping, he dreamed of his lady. For the sake of love, it must be said that she did not leave entirely, for she was not completely chaste as she was laid in her bed. Her thoughts were that she saw Iason flourishing. Above all other men, she began to pine for his love. And she longed for the day she might see him again. So much did she pine for him during the night that she began to say, \"Ha, obscure and dark night, why do you endure so long? It displeases me much. And not without cause. For I am in terrible pain because the day tarries so long before he comes. Ha, day where are you? If you were here, I would see my love and friend, my solace and comfort. Certainly, you make a long journey. By your tarrying, my eyes cannot bear to see my heart's longing for your coming.\"\n\nSuch or similar were the words of the noble lady enamored of love. She desired the presence of Paris. And he pined for her also. And in the same way, the king of Troy did not fail. For in the same night, the sorrow and pain of his wounds were so great to him that he could not rest. And then, to pass the pain more easily, he began to lament the grace of his noble lady and fainted. this manner among all others. Have a dear lady shall you never have pity on my poor and desolate heart. The which, notwithstanding your refusal and great rudeness may not put you in oblivion or out of his desire / the which more and more you love / the which cannot traverse himself to find a way to gain your benevolence and good will. And whether it pleases you or not, it is all yours. O my desire, if you will always remain without mercy. Wherefore were you ever so handsomely provided, so well of excessive and chief of all beauty. Your resplendence is clear among women as the sun is among the stars. Shall you be without mercy and without compassion. I suppose that you shall not / shall have little regard for my good will. The ladies otherwise take pleasure in making their true servants to languish. And their honor accords well with that, for in truth a lady soon abandoned and given over embraces not great honor. Then it is expedient that She suffers her lovers to tarry by prayers and entreaties / And in this manner I will conclude in myself, not only for one refusal / nor for a few of the grace of my lady / I will not fall into despair / The true courage of a loyal lover can in no way be known except by the means of many refusals. How well the stone is polished and hollowed by continuous droppings of water. And then shall not the rigor and the refusal of my noble lady be softened by my bondservant prayers and entreaties. Yes, verily. That shall she be, or nature will fail. And if not / the goddesses will be unjust and against me\n\nIn these or similar imaginings, the Esklauon king passed the night until early morning / And Corfus, a marvelous giant born in Tuscany, demanded to know / how he fared and how it went with him.\n\nCertainly Corfus answered the king, \"For as much as I dreamed of my loves. And they occupy me so sorely / that they kill me because I occupy them.\" And Corfus said further, \"Yes, indeed, said the king.\" Corfus said, \"You are a fool and poorly advised. For all things considered, he is not wise who enforces himself to have a wife, even if the king says so. You say rightly, but do you not know that some one is better and more worthy than some five hundred? Certainly, my lady is the outmatch of all other ladies; ought I to leave her for your sake? You will believe me, you shall leave her for such as she is said to be, the giant, and never tire of loving no woman but for one night, you may have a new one every day; there is no greater pleasure than to change often. Ha, Corfus said then, the king, a true lover uses not such terms as you speak. And when a prince comes to the love of a lady, fair, true, discreet, and of good house, is that not enough for him? If he who comes to such felicity and goes to change, truly he is worthy of reproach, Sir Giant Corfus said. Do you not know any more than that, and what is that, said the king? I shall tell you what you said.\" \"Gentleman, take the fairest lady that liveth and be as amorous over her as enjoyment allows you; you shall be weary and full of her. She shall seem to you foul; and yet I shall tell you that soon you shall wish her burned. And if you leave her and take another, if it is in your power, Ha, Corpus said then to the king, if I should believe your counsel, I would not do well, and as for my safety, I deem that you say to me what I have said does not proceed from any fear or dread that I have of all your enemies. But I counsel you to my true power, for it seems to me that it is beneficial for you and profitable. And to ensure that your journey is found unfaithful, without further delay, I shall send your messenger unto the noble Queen Myrro, to signify her that for maintaining the noble business of arms, I offer myself again against eight the best knights that are in the city of Oliferne. For to fight in the camp as it befits in such as\" When the king of Slavonya heard the giant's answer and perceived that he was angry, he waited so long that the giant armed him in his tent. Then he put him on the way toward the city, in the company of a messenger of the king's whom he sent to Queen Myrrha. When the messenger had said that he had this message in charge, the queen called together more of her knights and declared to them that the giant had demanded this. As soon as those from Olferne had heard the content of this message, Iason and many other knights from that country, who were present, offered to speak first to their companions about this matter to give their advice on the affair. They all said in unison that this giant, Corfus, was the one who had put to death most of the nobles of Olferne with his strength and valor. It seemed to them a great folly to equip the battle that he demanded. Strangers so abashed that they concluded I was conducted by the knights of Oliferne. I, the noble and proud Iason, who could not longer hold my noble courage in check but said with such a high voice that I was well understood by all men in this manner.\n\nFair lords, do not displease you, if the virtue of my courage does not now know the weakness of my body. I know well that I am not great or mighty as a giant. Nevertheless, I will well that it be known that there is no greater heart than mine. And to make this evident, and the noble lady where my heart and all my wealth resides, may always here good tidings of me, I undertake to fight man to man against the giant Corfus. And I shall never rest until I have proved myself against him. Then, the noble lady the queen, who was present and had heard the enterprise of the noble Iason, was so moved that she was struck through the heart with a spear, so much did she rejoice. Iason maintained a good countenance as much as possible. And directly after Iason had declared this, she said to him, \"Fair sir, beware what you say, and be mindful not to let your youth lead you astray. For if you were armed and prepared for battle, he would never leave but would face you, even if you had sworn his death.\nCerte's dear lady said to Iason, \"Know this, if your youth tempts and deceives me, the giant is not immune. For to slay a man, whether great or powerful, requires but one stroke. Be prepared. But whether it is of iron or steel or any other thing, I have no doubt that it will come to a point. When the noble queen Myrro had understood this, she did not know what to answer. She was at a loss for words, for she had informed the messenger of the king of Eetion that Iason would fight the giant Corus. And when the noble Iason was armed, he mounted his horse. Spear in hand, he departed from the city and addressed himself toward the giant, who was extremely skillful in arms and war. He had all his harness trussed and his horse saddled and bayed.\n\nImmediately as the giant perceived that the valiant prince Iason came riding toward him, he started up on his horse and rode toward him. And by great treachery, he said to him, \"What do you seek?\" To which Iason replied, \"Are you Corpus? You answered, 'I am he truly.' Then know that you are the one I seek. You said, 'I am Corpus, truly I.' I replied, 'I am Iason.'\n\nCorpus considered not the strength and force of my body and the fearsome way I had caused the desolation of Olferne. If it seems good to you, you shall see me by the head and back of your neck as the neck of a serpent. Go your way and fetch your spear, and then show what you can do. You have found a man to furnish you with supplies. Little speaking and well working.\n\nIason covered him with his shield, assuring himself in his saddle. And when he had done this and seen that the giant struck his horse with his spurs and came towards him, he turned towards him so courageously that it seemed more like thunder descending from heaven than anything else, and struck back so fiercely that they could or might, and their strokes rebounded on the sad horses. The impact of the two great strokes caused the reins of his horse to fall and his two legs to bend behind him in such a way that he tumbled, with his head downward and feet upward, to great harm.\n\nMany knights of Salerno and Olferne were greatly dismayed when they saw that Iason had received such a heavy and great stroke without death or injury. Iason and the giant, released from their struggle, stood up and set one foot on the ground. Then the strong giant drew his good sword from its scabbard and said to Iason, \"Vassal or fellow, you have done this to me, the most disgraceful or uninvited thing. Therefore, keep yourself from me.\" my fate is in your hands, the best and wisest, for if the arm with the good sword fails me not at this time. I shall confront you in short order and after, I shall drink your blood and eat your heart in spite of the tears and sorrow that you have caused my heart. Have you, tyrant, felonious and outrageous one, an evil answer for the noble prince Iason? What harm would you do if it were not to me but to Caesar and all your threats I make no account nor doubt in anything. And in that you say, of drinking my blood and eating my heart, I shall keep well by the aid and help of the gods, to fall into such inhumanity or fury. And I hope that in your heart where you have angered me, it will not be long before you are angry in heart, body, and soul. Then, when Corfus, the right cruel giant, had understood the words of Iason, he lifted up his head and charged all around him with a roar, like a bull. And after, he enhanced his. The giant, with great courage and anger, wielded a large sword and struck Jason. When Jason felt the giant's mighty blow on his helmet, he raised his sword high, intending to meet his mortal enemy on the helmet's crest. Many were amazed.\n\nThe two champions began to clash with their sharp swords. After receiving this powerful stroke, the giant raised his hand with his sword, assuming he had struck Jason. But Jason, who was quick and agile, drew back just in time. The giant's stroke struck the earth instead, and if he had hit Jason directly, he would have been defeated. Then, the nimble Jason stepped towards the giant and dealt him a blow on the right shoulder, shattering his harness and rendering him powerless. Iason wounded him deeply, and when Corpus the strong giant felt that Iason had hurt him so, he was certain that he would lose his wits, seeing the sword of his adversary was stained with his blood. But Iason showed little concern, smiling and laughing. And if the Greeks were glad, so were those of Olympus who witnessed the battle of the two champions. However, it was not long before their cheers turned to tears. For the giant, despairing, rushed upon Iason so fiercely that he did not know how to save himself. On the other side, he saw his shield in pieces. And with that, he gave him a wound on the left side, causing the blood to flow freely. The two valiant champions fought fiercely against each other, detaching their shields in pieces by force. But when their shields were broken, it was a sight to behold how Iason, the noble knight, fought. Delivered again the giant Corpus, so marvelous battle coming to him, pressing him so closely that the giant began to grow weary from suffering so many strokes / and began strongly to sweat. Then, to refresh himself, he was forced to depart and leave Iason / and withdraw himself.\n\nWhen the worthy Iason perceived the giant's manner and that he sought rest, he had great joy. How well he had as gladly rested himself as his adversary had. When he considered in himself that he could rest and ease himself, and that he was not hurt but in one place, he approached the giant and said to him: \"Ah, a right miserable tyrant, Approach towards me and let us perform and bring an end to this battle now begun. I perceive now right well that a bed for resting the one of us / should be more pleasurable than a battle or a tumult to be furnished. But I advise you that it is necessary for us to come to the end of our enterprise / And that there is no remedy.\" And know that my courage has brought and conducted my body to this point, but from here forth my body shall be conducted by the virtue of love. By which I think that I feel my power doubled when I remember her, who above all others ought to be best beloved by me. As she who is truly without exception.\n\nImmediately, Corfus the crimson-faced Gaelic knight, I require you in the name of her. By the faith that you owe to her, come and rest beside me a little. And we shall devise our adventures together. He answered the noble damsel reluctantly and wearily, but for only a rest. And if I accede to your request, it is to my prejudice, for you may no longer be mine. Nevertheless, in the name of my right high mistress, I am content to do as you have required. But beware that you do not remain long.\n\nWith these words, the giant Corfus and the noble Iason sat down upon the grass. And after they... The giant Corfus spoke to him, \"Right noble knight, as I understand, you are amorous. It may be said of Iason, of whom the giant speaks, about a lady. Iason asked the giant, \"What did the lady say?\" The giant replied, \"As you perceived in your semblance, the world judges her the same. Ha! A sir knight said the giant, \"you are a great fool. For perhaps you have never seen your lady. And yet you say and name her as the fairest of all others. And yet that is worse. You hold her as your own, and it is possible that she longs for more than a hundred. I loved not long since a lady fair to my advice. But she is foul, truly terrible. Men praise and allow much to the fair Mirror. But I believe, he who beheld her well round about, should find something to reproach.\" The disloyal woman answered Iason, \"How dare you, by your great outrage, address yourself to me, who is garnished with so many high and noble virtues.\" And is a very dear one to me above all others. Therefore, by the faith that I owe unto love or honor, you shall have it. Stand up lightly on your feet and keep it from me if you think good.\n\nThe noble and gentle knight Jason arose with these words, all inflamed with anger and malice. And he took at once his sword that lay on the grass, all bloody. The Giant rose also. But it was not lightly, for his legs were red like a voyager who had spent the whole day voyaging or traveling. And then Jason came and struck him upon his left arm, and so employed all his strength that he severed the arm from the body in such a way that it fell to the earth. Then the Giant, in righteous distress, made a marvelous and right horrible cry. After this, as one full of terrible courage, he raised his sword, swearing by all his gods that he would avenge himself. But he knew not how he might find Jason for so much as he was light and fleet-footed and able, well knowing the tour of his strokes in battle. A wise man defended himself valiantly, turning aside his enemy's blows and keeping him at bay. The battle lasted so long that the sun began to set in the west. However, the noble Preu Iason, among many strikes, wounded the giant Corfus severely by striking him three times in one spot on his helmet. At the third stroke, the giant's helmet and crest were split open, revealing his head. The great anguish the giant felt caused him to fall down, and all of Oliferne's men and the Esclavons, who were sorrowful and abashed, saw this.\n\nImmediately after slaying and smiting down the giant as it is said, Iason disarmed him. But he found that he was dead. Therefore, he left him there lying, and in sign of victory, he raised his sword. Iason found his sword, and afterwards went to his horse, which he found pasturing. But he had no time to saddle him because of many Slaves who were moving to reclaim his horse by the bridle and mount without a saddle. And for all doubts, he withdrew into the city as soon as possible, which the Slaves greatly despised. And when they realized they had gained nothing from Iason, they withdrew to Corfu, where they found him dead. They were greatly discomforted by this, and it seemed that all their trust and hope was lost. And among other things, when the king learned of the misfortune of his Giant, he was so sorrowful that for the evening after, he spoke not one word. For he had great anxiety in his enterprise. The Greeks and men of Olferne rejoiced greatly and made great joy for the death of the strong Giant Corfu. And on the contrary, Queen Myrro and all the city of Olferne rejoiced greatly. I am assuming that the text is in Early Modern English, as indicated by the use of characters like \"\u00fe\" and \"\u021c\". Here is the cleaned text:\n\nI joyous face for the noble victory of Jason. Then the Queen Myrrha, accompanied by a great number of ladies and damsels and squires, came to the gate against Jason, expressed with such gladness and consolation that it cannot be spoken. And anon as Jason espied her, he sprang down from his horse and made to her the reverence, and afterwards presented to her the sword of the giant. And said, Madam, behold here is the sword that your knights have so much doubted hitherto, behold it well, & do with all your pleasure. Then the noble lady answered to Jason, Right excellent knight, thanked be the goddesses that by your valiant hand have this day delivered the city and all the people of Olferne from a wonderful fear. And since the crimson giant Corfus is dead, all the remaining as who say is as good as vanquished. Therefore come ye unto our palace. And we shall do visit your wounds by our surgeons, who shall order right well and diligently for your health. Thence was the. Iason, a nobleman, brought great offerings and praises to the palaces, greeted by the ladies, damsels, knights, and citizens of Olferne. The widows mourned deeply because he had not come earlier, for the loss of their husbands. Those who were married rejoiced and were glad of his coming. Those who were discomforted and desolate recovered their courage anew. In Iason's valor and high virtues, they found all their hope. In his strength, they took affiances. In his wit, they trusted. In his valor, they were comforted. And in his good fortune, they found solace. It seemed to them then, as if they were delivered from the pains of hell and brought into paradise. Fair Myrro often thought and dreamed of Iason, the knight she loved most in the world. Iason remained in the palaces for three days without bearing any arms. During these three days, fair Myrro went often, hoping that Iason would ask for her hand. The fourth day, when the nobles of Olferne knew that Iason had recovered from his wounds and was able to bear arms, they assembled and went to Queen Myrrh, saying to her, \"Madam, you have good reason to rejoice if an unfortunate heart, grieving upon grief, can find respite when fortune favors and aids. We and your council have often seen and acknowledged the great prowess and discrete conduct of your knight Iason. Indeed, it may be said that his like has never been found. It seems to us that fortune has brought him to your hands to revive and raise you, to take vengeance for your men during this war, and for many reasons we advise you. Order and constitute the said noble Iason as captain of this realm and chief of your war.\" A nobleman, who held such rank in him that he would never find peace in his heart until he had driven away your mortal enemies from your kingdom and brought them to disgrace: it is uncertain whether the noble Queen Myrrha was truly joyful in her heart when she heard him so highly recommended, and she graciously granted the request of the nobles and her council. The queen then summoned Jason, and in their presence, she appointed him general captain of all her kingdom. Jason expressed his gratitude and thanks to the noble Queen Myrrha and the nobles and council for their good judgment. He humbly excused himself, stating that he was not suitable or worthy of such a high charge and honor to undertake, but all those present replied that: notwithstanding his excuses, they would have no other captain but him. He was to be it, as far as he would not disobey Queen Mirro. They showed him so many demonstrations that he took upon himself the charge. And when noble knight Iason felt himself in this high honor in his estate, he sent forthwith to the king of Escalon, commanding him to depart he and all his host from there. And that he should immediately voyage the kingdom of Olferne, or else on the morning he should dispose him and make him ready to be received by battle.\n\nWhen the powerful king of Escalon understood that Iason had sent him this command, he was greatly astonished. The herald answered him that he had no intention of dislodging him or raising his siege. He would first have Queen Mirro under his command. do with her his will, and sent word again to the noble Priam Iason, that as long as he had his life, he should keep him, lest he come not in his presence. And if he came into his hands, he should die a miserable death.\n\nIncontinent as noble Priam had understood this answer, he published it in all the quarters of the city: that all who were of age to bear arms should be ready on the morrow early to go with him to enforce and fight against their enemies. And thus passed that day until the night. Then Priam began to think of the great honor and charge that he had received. And when he was withdrawn into his chamber, continuing in his amorous thoughts and reflections, he began to say to himself in this manner:\n\nAh, my dear lady, how have you done this great honor to me, and given me more goods than my estate deserves? And how shall it be possible to number the excess of all other virtues that are in you? I ought not to marvel if you have shown such favor to me. Right excellent beauty draws the courage of strange princes to your love. For you are addressed in all bounties, the fairest creature and most discrete that God and Nature ever formed. The right pleasing one of all people, indeed you are worthy that the air be replenished with callings and voices crying after you and requiring your grace and mercy. Hail to you who are so excellent and virtuous. All my thoughts and imaginings are turned and given to you, those of so high valor. Nevertheless, I shall not abstain from loving your noble person. For I shall prosper the better and be more.\n\nIn such or similar words, the priest Jason passed the most part of the night, and early in the morning the day appeared fair and clear. And immediately after, in a short time after the death of the giant Corpus, Iason and the Syrians acclaimed them. And they assembled them before the palaces of Queen Myrra. And when Iason saw and knew that his people were set in order, he: Went to Fair Myrrh and said to her, \"Madame, pray for your knight, who desires above all things, to do that which is right agreeable and profitable to you and your city. He is highly recommended and respected by my men. In return, I pray that in this journey you have courage to defend my quarrel, which is good and just. Regarding myself, I put my army and men under your prudent and wise conduct, praying to the goddesses that they will make your fortune shine clear and tenaciously hold my good quarrel.\n\n\"Thus, as the noble queen spoke and admonished worthy Iason and his men to do well and fight valiantly in defending her just and good quarrel, Iason began to behold her so ardently that she was ashamed. He then took his leave and that of the ladies.\" damoiselles departed from the palaces with great bewailings and mounted on their horses. But there were many ladies and damoiselles of the court who began to weep for him, praying to the goddesses to give him good fortune. They said one to another that it would be great damage if anything but good fortune came to him, and that they had never seen anyone so courteous and gracious. He was the very source and well of nobility.\n\nThen, as the noble Preu Iason rode on horseback, he set his men in right order and arrangement. And after setting them on the way toward the field, the people by all the way that he passed knelt down before him and called upon the goddesses to aid and help him. And when he had come into the field, he assembled all his people and put them in fair order of battle. And then, after urging them instantly and admonishing them to do well, he led them against their enemies who stood a foot's length away and were well-prepared. At the meaning of Iason, they sounded trumpets, tabors, and cornets, and other instruments so melodiously that it seemed they had gone to a wedding or marriage or some great feast. And thus, triumphing with one high will, they mingled with joy, desiring to do well. Rejoicing themselves singularly in the valiance and good conduct of the right worthy and noble knight Iason, they approached their mortal enemies in such a way that they began to couch their good spirits and begin the fight. And in that same time, as the king of Sklauonye held his men in array, a marvelous great Raven flew screeching over his head, crying right horribly.\n\nIncontinent as the king of Sklauonye heard such a cry, he began to tremble for fear and was in a great agony, & looked after the Raven and said, \"O ever hard and trembling hope, this makes me to an ugly countenance, and this is a sign, for I feel my veins all void of blood. Ha, a my dear lady, what shall I now do, and let here my life.\" The valiant knight Iason was at the forefront of his people, holding his bow and letting arrows fly against his enemies. But eventually, his arrows lost their effect. When Iason saw this, he mounted his horse, took up his shield and spear, and charged into the midst of his enemies so swiftly that neither Prusus nor the Sirens could keep up with him at the beginning. Then, when it came to hand-to-hand combat with spears, the king of Toscana and others joined the fray. the king of bon\u2223gye knewe him anon\u0304. wherfore they ran\u0304 ayenst him. sayng that they wolde auenge the deth\u0304 of the strong Geant corf{us} And bothe vailliau\u0304tly smote him tronchonyng their spe\u2223ris vpon his shelde / with\u0304 oute endomagyng his shelde / but hit is well to beleue that the noble preu Iason failled net at this first cours\u00b7 for he smote the king of bongye by such radeur that he lefte him oute of his arson\u0304s / and bare him there vnto the erthe. And so passid forth / and then\u0304e cam agaynst him the king of Poulane. but that was to his euyl helthe / For Iasons spere trauersid his shelde his hau\u2223berk & the body alle to breking his spere. And then\u0304e cam on vnto the bataille Prusus acompanyed of his knyghtes That meruaillously mayntened them self in ensewing the faytes of Iason / and thus began one and other to shewe them self with\u0304 right grete effusion\u0304 of blood on bothe par\u2223ties. But moche more of them of Esclauonye / then\u0304e of them of Oliferne\nINcontinent that the noble Iason had broken his spe\u2223re he griped Iason, in his hand held his clear and sharp sword. Pretending to speak of his deeds, he approached the royal banner of Escalonian, intending to enter among his enemies. But they held firm together. They cast and struck at Iason fiercely, and Iason struck back, causing a great number of their heads to fall. As Iason attacked, his knights joined the fight, bathing their swords in the blood of the enemies with every stroke. Iason performed such great feats of arms on all sides that those who beheld him and his men called him \"Death,\" saying, \"Flee, for he who reaches for him shall never see fair day again.\"\n\nIason continued to wield arms at his will. Riding on horseback, he made the Slavic knights march on foot, and many others without. The name was said to be of stone, and that he was no mortal man, but a thing of another world. His adversaries believed they had no spear or sword that could pierce his body. What shall I say to you? He fought so well that with his sharp sword, he broke the walls and gates of the Esklauons and came to the banner of King Esklauon, accompanied by thirty knights who guarded it. But as soon as they saw Iason's red sword ready to strike them, the most assured of them began to tremble. Nevertheless, they put on their armor, took up their shields, held their swords, and stood firmly and steadfastly at foot. Iason, swinging in a new courage by great pleasure and appetite for good loot and good fame, struck among those knights who opposed him with all their power. Then, in this manner, he began: against the battle and a marvelous storm, on all sides men could see knights striking each other, shields shattering and splitting in pieces, helmets splintering, and blood spurting out of their wounds and falling to the earth.\nCertes, the noble prince Iason, had much to do and suffer, both to keep his men in order and to engage his enemies. His shield was struck in many pieces, his armor damaged in numerous places. Despite this, he entered the fray, never ceasing until he reached the king of Escalon and the knight who had struck down Iason from his horse and taken his banner from the ground in the presence of the king of Escalon. As soon as the king perceived the blow had been withdrawn, one of the knights advanced to relieve the banner. But the noble prince Iason dealt with him as he had with the other, and after that he broke and rent the banner in pieces at the horse's feet. This don't began to strike on the right side and left side. Then the Esclauons lost courage and valor. On the contrary, they of Oliferne, the good conduct of their captain, began to improve. So in the end, it happened that as the noble Iason ran here and there, he recovered the king and slew him with one sword. Then all the Esclauons dispersed and despaired, as those who had no more expectation or hope of obtaining victory, crying, \"Flee and save ourselves. For all is lost. The king is dead.\" With this cry, they turned their backs and fled in disorder. Fortunately, they were still more than 500,000. Then the valiant Captain Iason and all his battle pursued them, chasing and killing them out of the kingdom of Oliferne. This deed the Noble Iason and his company did. They returned to the place where the Esclauons had held their siege. There they found riches and plenty. And when they had gathered their gains and booty, they departed. The following person was tasked with pitching tents and pavilions for his enemies. Afterward, he and his company returned to the city as victors, with much great glory and triumph. The fair Myrrha came then to meet Iason, who was received with the greatest honor and reverence possible. She led him to her palaces, where he entered with great difficulty, for the people had assembled there and cried out with loud voices, \"Now returns again victorious our defender. Our sword, our health, and all our hope, which lies only in him, should be honored and recommended above all others. Indeed, the noble Iason was feasted this night and recommended by such and similar lengths from the people of Olferne, who danced and held revelries in the streets, thanking their gods. Iason was continually in the favor of the ladies, for he was the best born, the fairest, the most accomplished.\" The most special ones fixed their love on him. All were jealous of him. But Jason never thought of any of them, but only of the surpassing beauty and virtue of the gracious, witty, and perfect Myrro. And they all marveled at the valor and overachievement of Jason in this glory and triumph until midnight, which then withdrew him. And when he was withdrawn into his chamber in his love reverie, as he had been accustomed before, he set all aside and forgot the painful and dangerous blows he had received that day in the battle against the Escanians, of which his body was right sore. And he concluded within himself that on the morrow he would declare his heart to the lady. But when the day came and when he came before her, he felt himself so sore surprised by love that he knew not what to say. And thus he delayed for long and many a day, despite his boldness. Of Armes, his sweet speech or strength could not help him in revealing himself to his lady. Therefore, on a night finding himself in his bed, he began to reproach himself softly, saying:\n\nWhat profits the continual lamentations I make for my lady? I am not afraid when I find myself in a troublous battle of a hundred thousand men, but when I suppose to speak to my lady, I tremble for fear and dread, and know not what to say. For before her, I am as awestruck as a poor and shamefast man who would rather die of hunger than of shame, I dare not beg for her favor. O what shameful proceeding is this from such shamefastness? I speak to myself alone, and I answer:\n\nOftentimes I am advised that tomorrow I shall do marvels and so I conclude right well, but when it comes to doing, I have no memory or remembrance of all my conclusions. Am I not then foolish before the most fair, the most sage, the most discrete and wise? the most virtuous of all others. I have no hardiness to express my desire and will, how well my heart receives that I am somewhat in her grace, but now comes upon me another judgment. She seems unwilling to accord to my requests, O right noble and unparalleled Mirror. She is without peer, as the rose among thorns. Alas, what shall I do without you? I have made a present to you of my heart and my will. If I understood that you were born in a constellation compelling you with the influence of love, and that love had no power to prove upon you its virtues, I would not waste my time thinking of you. But when it seems that such great abundance of the excess of natural beauty as yours is, it must needs be that it is intermingled with love, pity, and mercy. It is necessary that your humble friend be raised in the contemplation of your glorious value. Desiring your good grace, wishing your alliance, and requiring the gods and fortune that of you and me they make one house and one head where we might be. The noble Jason, with these words, filled a sleep for the prince. And after he awoke, so enamored was he with love's fire that it was impossible for him to rest, but to tour and wallow and travel in his bed. And there, as love thus assailed him again, he determined utterly that he would adventure himself to speak to his lady. What ensued from this. And so he did, for the same day he came unto her and said in this way: \"Madame, I have served you as well as it is possible for me, for two reasons: primarily because of my knightly duty; and that other not to disdain the riches that you have under the power of fortune. But only that singular thing that nature has made you lady of, and upon which fortune has bestowed her power, Madame, you have done me plentiful courtesies, and offered great gifts of money. Whose thanks I hold in little esteem, for the allurement of avarice has not kindled me with its fire. I do not ask for the great riches.\" treasures that are in the abysses of the sea, near those that are enclosed in the mountains. My desire remains in two singular things: the first is to conquer fame in arms, which ought to be the appetite of the vocation of all noble hearts. The other is to obey the commands and pleasures of love that bind and oblige me to be yours. For to take you on, to attend and abide your benevolence, to do things that please your eyes and heart.\n\nAlas, my dear lady, all good and honor come from you, and if you are all my conduct and fortune. And if the gods have allowed me to do things worthy of your favor. Do not put your heart in disdain, by which your noble realm is distressed. Receive me here as your true friend and land, the right humble and obedient heart, whose body seeks with all your pleasures to obey him who has made all his trials ready to live and die for you in your service. In which I take my stand. I submit myself before you. your war I know how I have borne it, have mercy on me, my dear lady. I humbly offer myself to you, as true love requires his lady with more desire and affection in all honor and courtesy. The prince Jason ceased then his request, beholding the fair Myrrha amorously. Yet this did not prevent her from making no sign of yielding, but Jason's love was as strong in his arms as in his heart. She answered him as follows, saying, \"Fair sir Jason, I know that you are the one who have discharged my realm of those who ate and destroyed the substance. And those who would, by force, have occupied and wasted it. And so I will not deny but that you are worthy of great merit. And your thanks and reward ought to be given to you. But as for requiring my love, it seems to me that you have entered too far. You know well that you are but a knight. What would the kings and high princes, from whom I have lately received refusal, say?\" If I gave myself to you. I advise you to seek out your party elsewhere. And then do wisely. I require you to be content there, for I know of no better remedy for your satisfaction.\n\nAlas, my dear lady answered Iason, \"Remember you that my heart is such that it can choose no other lady in love but you. This shall not be unto the time that fish fly in the air, and birds swim in the water. My friend said, \"Regarding that, it is no great prudence to take on a difficult thing.\" But you are measured in your youth as touching arms. But beware that you do not put yourself in such a perfect error that you cannot easily come out. I love you more than you think. I am ready for you.\n\nLady answered Iason then, \"How may I have sufficiency when I may not find grace before your noble visage? Of which right indigent and not satisfied I remain. You deign not to\" Condescend to my prayers. It is now your pleasure to have no compassion from a true knight who has been yours. And the defender and the hand that has obtained the peace for your realm, and the proper arm that has taken vengeance for your ancient wrongdoers and enemies, all despairing, I deeply pray to the goddesses that they will enlighten you with pity and mercy, as they know it is necessary for you. And to all our goddesses I command you.\n\nWith this conclusion, the priest Iason, all in a truce and half reproached, went alone to the ladies and damsels. And the fair Myrrha and one woman who were secret with her, departed from them. But the queen entered alone into her chamber, thinking much on Iason, who at that time came among the ladies as it is said, with a sorrowful heart and surrounded by disappointment, thanked them greatly for the great courtesy they had shown him. And in this moment, he took his leave, recommending himself to their good grace. Afterward. Then he went to his stable and commanded to saddle his horse. After that, he sent for his arms and donned them, and without any further speech, he rode out of the city, it being nearly night. He was so angry and displeased that he did not know where to go, and when the ladies saw that Jason departed from the city so alone and dispirited, they lamented him greatly. Thinking of the virtues in which he was endowed, they consoled him much. Many of them wept so much that great tears filled their eyes. Among them was one who knew something of the queen's secrets. Seeing Jason taking his horse all armed and departing from the city, she came to Myrrha weeping and said to her in these words:\n\nLady, what ails your knight, or some sudden chance has befallen him to depart from your city armed and alone at this hour? It seems that he has a heavy heart. Dueil and sorrow. Indeed, Belasansans answered the Queen, \"I don't know what ails him. But I believe truly that he is not all right. For in repayment of the good services he has rendered me in this war, he has asked and required my love. And since I have not granted his request, he has left me in anger & more. The damsel spoke to me more than once before this time that he was the only desire of your heart. I confess that to you, Queen, for my love is set marvelously on him and his great beauty and good deeds remain ever in my thoughts.\n\nThe lady answered the damsel then, \"Why have you answered him so coldly and refusingly?\" \"Indeed,\" said the lady, \"I don't know why. But when I understood that he required my love, I knew not how to answer. Also, my honor requires that at his first request, I should remain strange and not abandon myself.\" My self, for those who agree to their lovers at the first request are shameful. For most men have no truth or loyalty in love. Also, there are many who can only serve ladies and gentlewomen with lies and deceit. My mother told me and commanded me to keep this lesson: I think I have not done much harm. For what is obtained through great toil and long requests is much more valuable and better kept than what is obtained lightly. Certainly, that lady who is required by her love can do no better than hold her tongue and be much required.\n\nMadame answered the damsel: I agree much with what you say. But in all things, it is well that there are many men who pray and require ladies' love as much as they may, making vows and false oaths that cannot be counted. But certainly, Madame, this noble and valiant knight Iason is not among my adversaries, nor is there anything like him in this regard. After I understood from your words that he had left you all, he went away dishonored and ashamed, to such an extent that I believe he returned by the same way he came. At his departure, he took leave of the ladies. Therefore, I am unsure if you will ever see him again. The lady said then, \"He is certainly gone.\" By what place and which gate, I don't know, said the lady. But I believe he has returned to his country rather than any other place.\n\nWhen Queen Myrrh understood this, and she was reminded of the departure of her dear love and friend, she fell to the earth, struck and overwhelmed with bitter sorrow and grief. She began then to wring her hands and beat her feet, saying not too softly, \"Alas. Alas.\n\nFortune is cruel to me, Alas! What have I done to deserve requiring love from the most renowned knight in the world?\" I dwell in arms. Of the fairest that liveth. And that I have not humbled myself before him / I have refused my right great wealth and greatest honor and happiness. Indeed, I could not keep in my house the good fortune that the goddesses of their secret treasure of their grace had sent to me and brought and planted in my hands. By my little advice and understanding, I have chased out Olifer from Olifernes, who had rescued and brought it back from mortal encumbrance through the high valiance of his person and the travel of his body with the precious price of his blood. And then, what have I done? Have my heart what have you consented? My mouth what have you voided? My tongue what have you offered? And my understanding where were you / where was your force or your power / or your will / that desiring the love and thralldom of him who was abandoned to which hadst your mouth closed for shame? And have suffered the corporal and bodily mouth to deny that thing. That you approuedest to seche aboue all other thing O right poure shamefastnes / ye hou\u0304touse shamefastnes\u00b7 in what ploye or in what presse am I nowe by thy cause. Cer\u2223tes I am ashamed that I haue refused thalyan\u0304ce of my frende and of my domycille. But certes I shalle amende hit to my power / I shalle goo after hym so ferre til I shal fynde hym / And I shall haue no shame to putte me in his mercy\nWhan the yong damoisell a{per}ceyued the grete displaisi\nwhere in her\u00b7 maistresse was / she shitte the chambre dore to thende that no persone shulde come vpon them / and begonne there to wepe til night. and that a lady cam knocking at the dore & saide that the soupper was all redy / than the que\u2223ne dide do answere her by the damoyselle\u00b7 that she wlde not souppe / for so moche as she felte her not wel disposed / and also comanded that no {per}sone sholde come to her that night Whiche answere so made / the Quene & the damoyselle began to make newe bewailinges & teeris and after began to be\u2223waile Iason. and among alle other The Queen spoke these words to me. Yet, a more dangerous inconvenience may have befallen me. After this, she sends me her death. Have pity on me, sorrow for me. But what should I do? I do not know what to think, and by your faith, what should I do? Do you think it is good that I should go after him, or that I should send any faithful man of my knowledge after him? Certainly, I think that if I were to send a messenger after him, he would not come back. And if I went myself after him, that would be the greatest dishonor in the world for me. The damsel answered, \"You ought to know your case, and of the two ways to take the best. If you have the intention that Jason is your husband, it is no longer necessary to delay. For you must go or send to him with all diligence. And as for my opinion, if it had happened to me as it has to you, I would send no other messenger but myself. And know this truly, you may have no dishonor in going after him. Consider the good and agreeable services he has done for you and your kingdom, under the color to be rewarded and repaid. You may take occasion to come into words with him and give him some greater service yet to serve you. Fair daughter said the queen, I do not know what to think, what is best for me to do. For if I follow him and find him, what shall I say? My dear lady answered the damsel. As I have right now said, you shall present to him the reward for the great honor and good service that he has done for you in your need. This seems to me little substance for entering into speech of my principal cause, said the queen. Fair lady answered then the damsel and before the knight, love shall teach you to speak. If you will remember the lessons and epistles of love by the space of ten years, it will but little profit for your advancement. For there lacks nothing but inspiration of love mixed with hardiness and human understanding. Speaking with the month. Which is the instrument of discharging and discovering of hearts? Since it is said that the fair mirror queen of Oliferne considers this, I had much rather conceal a little blame than never again to recover entirely the whole desire and pleasure of my heart, and the consolation of my eyes. Then I shall say to you, my advice, that it is necessary and necessary for you now to go to my men and say that by morning time I shall go on pilgrimage, accompanied only by you, and that they take heed and see well to all things. And you and I, before the sun rises, shall in the most secret way possible undertake our quest for the most noble and valiant knight, the most fair and addressed one who is living \u2013 that is, my only friend, Iason. We shall do so much that he will be found. This advice seemed right good to the Damsel, who obeyed it with all diligence. The command of her mistress and after these things, around midnight, they prepared her things and were ready early in the morning before daybreak. Both took each a good palfroy in unfamiliar attire and rode forth. And such was their adventure that they came to bay at the logging where her friend Jason had lodged that night. Then she began to inquire of the host about the affair and the knight's demeanor and what cheer he had made the evening before and at his departure, which way he had taken. The host answered the lady that, regarding his demeanor and the knight's behavior, he had neither eaten nor drunk all evening. And as for the way he had taken, he indicated to the lady, who was then deeply pensive about Jason, that he had taken no refreshment of food or drink that evening.\n\nThe noble Queen Myrro and her damsel tarried not long at the baying place. They took their horses and rode as hastily as possible and rode for three days. After hearing news of Iason in every logis, they could not overtake or find him. On the fourth day, they came to a seaport where a ship was shown to them, in which were merchants from Athens. They were told that Iason was on board and was departing for Athens, and furthermore, if they wished, there was another merchant ship about to depart. But Fair Myrro was in such displeasure when she learned that Iason had departed that she made great sorrow. Nevertheless, she was soon advised what to do and concluded that, having traveled so much, she would prove fortunate. With this decision, she was filled with bitter sighs and went to the ship that was about to depart for Athens. She agreed with the merchant who had been brought there by the force of the tempest and wind, and they departed. When they saw that it was calm and the wind had ceased, they. They made their ores ready and rowed by the force of their arms, as at that time there were not as many sails as there are now. Despite this, they exploited the enemy in such a manner that they reached the high sea, where they rowed for a long time. In this time, the queen's mirror became sick unto death. And finally, when they had been certain of a sufficient amount of time, a marvelous storm and great wind cast them here and there / in such a way / that fortune brought them to the port of Troy, despite all the marauders, for they were all accustomed to the fact that it was dangerous to arrive there because of the king of that country, who was named Dyomedes.\n\nKing Dyomedes then was a tyrant inhuman. And had, for a long time, been accustomed to robbing all those who arrived in his kingdom, whether by sea or by land. He was at that time besieging his city named Byzance. This city was later called Constantinople, and incontinently, this ship arrived at the port of Byzance. Dyomedes acted hastily and brought with him thirty of his men. The tyrant, upon arriving at the port where two ships from Athens had arrived, immediately spotted the mariners and exclaimed, \"Vilains, merchants, and wretched ones, come up on high and emerge from my ships. You must log in my prisons. Otherwise, you shall receive as many strokes as you can endure.\"\n\nWhen the valiant knight Iason understood the great treachery of the tyrant and saw that all the mariners trembled in such a way that they dared not utter a word, he raised his head and replied, \"Gloton, wretched one, what demand do you make of us? Are we not as unfortunate as you seem to think we were just now?\"\n\nDyomedes, infuriated by this response, commanded his companions to avenge him immediately for the insult Iason had hurled at him in his presence. The companions, who were eager and more inclined to do evil than good, cried out for Iason's death and descended upon him until they reached his ship. When Preu Iason saw the tyrants' cruel behavior, he comforted himself and his disheartened mariners. He took up his shield and gripped his good sword, urging them to take their staves and armor. \"Defend yourselves bravely and with good courage,\" he said. But as he spoke, the gluttons approached Iason and attacked him fiercely with their swords. They surrounded him on all sides, intending to immobilize the noble knight.\n\nHowever, they could not reach him well due to a seven-foot gap of water between them. Some of them went to find nails of iron on both sides and fastened the bridge to Iason's ship. Once secured, three of the most valiant among them mounted the bridge and advanced towards him. But when they believed they had Iason at their mercy, Iason, an equally valiant and assured knight. As he was among them, he engaged himself with such conduct that he struck them down with three strokes of his good sword, causing all three to fall into the sea, where they drank so much that they never rose again, leaving their lives behind.\n\nWhen the marauders of the ship saw that their lord Jason defended himself so valiantly, they took courage. They saw their statues and armor. And they entered the battle again against their enemies to support and help the little Jason. They welcomed him gladly from behind, as those who fled from their strokes could not withstand his power. The noble Jason kept the passage of the bridge valiantly against the tyrants and fortified them well upon it. There was the tyrant Dyomedes, who intervened to gain control and commanded his accomplices. He roared like a lion, for his men could not match the valor of knight Jason alone. Notwithstanding, despite his great pride, he made no assault but by the bridge. What shall I say to you. Indeed, the battle lasted long between Jason and the Tracians. The Queen Myrrha was told that there was a mighty man in the ship of her company who made so many high valiances upon the tyrants of Tracia. There was never any seen like him in prowess.\n\nWhen Queen Myrrha understood these tidings, she thought it incontestable that it was Jason who fought so valiantly to defend the two ships. She gladly announced herself for wanting to have seen his great vessel, but she was so very weak that in no way could she lift up her head, and in the same way was her damsel. And the terrible battle lasted so long that the weaker party of the Tracians and of Jason found no more alive but eighteen of the thirty who had come there. And of these eighteen, none was left. Hardy, who dared present him to Iason or come with him, was prevented by King Diomedes. Seeing this, Diomedes, who was so enraged that he could no longer be contained, went up onto the platform and presented himself, causing Iason to salute him and welcome him with such a stroke of his sword upon the highest part of his helmet that he knocked him down reversely onto the bridge. And when he lifted up his arm with the sword, but the cowardly tyrants, weary and terrified, all fled in dismay when they saw their king Diomedes so suddenly struck down. Some of his companions dragged him by the legs down from the bridge, taking from him his horn that was about his neck. They blew and swore loudly to summon the Cithaeronians of the city, who, upon hearing the sound of the horn, assembled to come to the rescue of their lord. However, the tempest at sea ceased, and the mariners cast off. And they brought the bridge into the water, and when they were disembarked, they departed with their ships from the palisade with great diligence. They began joyously to row, thanking their gods and the high valiance of the escaped from the danger, so great was their despair and sorrow. He seemed more a man out of his wits than otherwise, for he had not found beforehand the knights who had such prowess and valiance as he had found, though, in Jason.\n\nThe two ships then departed from Troy and were at sea for four days. And on the fifth day, they arrived at Athens, where Jason went ashore, and so did the fair Myrto. Myrto, who was beginning to recover from her illness, espied where Jason took his lodging. She followed him, accompanied by her damsel, until she saw the lodging, which was the house of a notable burgher. Then she was in great thoughts and variations, whether she would lodge in the same house or not. Thus, in hesitating in this doubt, Approached the land, Syntheus returned again and finally came back to her. When she saw that Jason was not there, she went in and demanded of the burghers that for her money she might have a chamber in that house. Then the burghers, seeing that the lady was well-addressed with a gracious manner of speaking and otherwise, lodged her and her damsel to their pleasure. He also put the two palfrays in a stable beside Jason's, for he knew them to be as much his as they had been long in his service. And so they made great cheer with each other. The burghers had great marvel at this but thought nothing but well and gave them high and open-handed. And after came to serve Jason. He found that his chamber was full of merchants and mariners who had come with him on the sea. These presented him with wine and food and gave him great gifts of rich jewels and other strange things.\n\nIn Jason's chamber was a man of sixty years, honest in his person and always strong and able. This man, seeing this presentation,\n\n(Note: The text appears to be in Early Modern English, but it is mostly readable as is. No significant cleaning is necessary.) Iason came to the host and demanded to know who the young knight was to whom men showed such honor, but the burghers could not answer. In turn, the burghers and ancient man asked one of the mariners about this matter. The mariner replied that he was the best, the most virtuous, and the most valiant knight in the world. They gave him these presents because he had preserved them from the tyranny and danger of King Diomedes and his companions through his high prowess. The mariner of Iason added that they considered him to be a very noble and valiant knight. Among these deceptions, the merchants and mariners took their leave of Iason and offered themselves to his command. After they had departed, the burghers covered the table, which was covered with the gifts. Iason wanted the knight to sit first because of his age and ancestry, for in that time men held such respect for elders. ancient and revered men are treated with disrespect and scorn in this present time. Young men presume to sit above old and revered men, mocking and scorning those who have come to great age. They say that these men are weak in body, mind, and nature. There are also many children who do not allow their fathers to understand that they are fools. They wish to have governance over the poor old men, not out of pity but riches. It is great riches to a man when he can honorably amass and bring his days to the degree of old age, yet there are children who desire and wish their fathers and mothers dead and serve them with things contrary to their health and life, the greatest treasure that a man can have as worldly goods. How many of them are there in these days? I see almost none other. For the young people cannot hear the doctrine of the old men and believe that they are wise enough not to need to be shown any wisdom. They were ungrateful and full of ingratitude, to such an extent that if they knew of anything with which they could dishonor them, they would do it. They resembled the sons of Noah, the secret members of their father's generation. Alas, what cursed and blind youth was that which came again to our mother, the noble Jason, setting him down at the table by the ancient knight. And after that, the host and hostess, who often urged Jason to make good cheer, but Jason could neither eat nor drink. For truly he did nothing but think and speak not one word, unless he was asked or questioned. After supper, when the table was emptied, Jason and the ancient knight were led to one chamber, where there were two beds. When Jason was laid down, he began to sigh in such a way and with such inward sorrow of his heart that it seemed the soul should depart from the body. Therefore, the ancient knight, lying in the other bed, could not sleep, and thought well of himself that Jason was not well, and when he had waited a long time. Sir knight, I have great marvel at you. Why is it, said Iason, that you sigh and bewail so, though your color is fresh as a rose in May, and it does not seem by the sight of your eyes that you are sick? It is a great marvel to hear you sigh so, replied the ancient knight. If you judge my body's condition by the color of my face, you are greatly deceived. For I have a secret sickness and malady which will kill me before my face is stained or discolored. Sir, said the ancient knight, you hold a great vessel of despair. It is constrained, said Iason.\n\nSir, the ancient knight answered Iason. If you wish to live with whatever sickness or malady you have, and I make myself strong to do so. \"he and make you whole. I think, Sir Knight, that it is not in your learning and power to do that. Nor in all the subtlety of all mortal men. Then answered the ancient knight. Seek ye cure for the malady of love, for no man can remedy it but your lady. Sir Knight answered Iason then. Who has told you, I think, that you oppress me so sore that I must confess to you my case? And so I declare to you / that I am some kind of afflicted with the pestilence of love that I may not live nor endure nor eat nor drink nor rest night nor day. In good faith answered the ancient knight. You dare not be afraid of death since you have no other infirmity. For the malady that proceeds from love is so gracious / that it puts an end to pain. But it is a malady from which men recover. Sir said then Iason. If I do not die of bodily death, I shall die of spiritual death. For it is in no way possible that I shall ever in this world have pleasure or solace, and then I shall not be answered, ancient knight, you tell me.\" I tell you the truth, I am Jason, and I am so unfortunate in love and so wretched and have so little worth that I am ashamed and hesitant to live. I would rather be where I shall be for five hundred years.\n\nWhen the ancient knight understood that Jason felt pity for him, and he said to him for a little to comfort him. Indeed, noble knight, I know myself and understand this trifle which you wish to enter. And I perceive clearly that from your love you have not enjoyed your first desire, but I would like to know if any man has wronged you concerning your lady, or if this malady comes and proceeds from the great rigor of her, or from the valor and simplicity of me.\n\nNoble knight answered Jason: All my misfortune proceeds from the great rigor of my lady and by the valor and simplicity of me, for I have served that lady in a very dangerous war that her mortal enemies made against her not long since, in the most diligent way that I could, and I have required her grace for aid. that she would be my love's lady but she has not willed to see in me sufficient virtue or valor to grant her request. Therefore, I have therefore my life in great hate and see no other remedy but to fall into despair.\nHer father answered the knight, \"Have you not often heard it said, 'one lost and two recovered.' If it is so that a woman has rejected you, by your faith shall you therefore be such a fool as to fall into despair. Consider that there are others, and if you have none of one, I shall make you have a dose. There is no great dearth or scarcity of women. Indeed, if you remember well, you shall say that they are cruel.\"\n\"Sir knight, I am Iason,\" said the knight. \"When I have well marked and taken heed of your words, you speak according to your pleasure. These are things that may be better said than explained. 'Indeed, sir knight, I tell you the secret and the true history. I wish every man to be merry and in love. But each man should have at least two.\" A man draws his bow and no one pushes him so far that he cannot withdraw in time and season. Women speak maliciously to one another, and each addresses such thoughts and favors to one another. It is said that the most arrogant and proud creature is the devil, and next after him is a woman. Fools follow in third place, for pride comes from folly, and we are not far behind. Some women require one amorous man to whom they remain faithful. Others are full of words and give their ears to all the world. Others love to have an eye and tokens, and they make distant signs as well. Others wish to be more prayed for and required to enjoy them than the goddesses are for their fair paradises. In brief, gentle knight, they are well happy who do not have to deal with them. That is to understand, a man cannot be constant in his works or thoughts if he serves two masters. For one corrupts the other. Therefore, if a nobleman wishes to elevate himself in worship, he can do no better than to choose an honorable lady whom he may truly and perfectly love, fearing and desiring to do only what is honest in all things, and acting out of reverence. Ladies desire nothing but honor and high renown; it is their calling and natural condition. Thus, how can he have a desire for honor if he is not a true lover? For he who is double is too untrustworthy and false. And if any well or honor comes to him, it is against reason, righteousness, and good equity. And indeed, such persons are not worthy to live. Given that ladies are of such perfect excellence, even the least of them is worthy of the best knight in the world. For certain, I would rather receive and endure the distress of death than take two cords or strings on my bow. When the ancient knight had understood Iason's answer, he was greatly dismayed and said to him, \"I will never hold that way nor intend it, said Iason.\" The knight replied, \"For just as I suppose you would know that if you had to choose between these two things \u2013 that is, to receive death or else choose a new lady \u2013 you would sooner choose the lady than death.\" And for a good reason. There are plenty of lovers who swear and sustain that, to save their ladies' honor, they would attend and take death. But I suppose if they saw death come, they would not endure him any longer than the quail endures the sparrowhawk. For all these reasons above said, I advise you to leave these errors and opinions and comfort yourself as best you can in your illness. For by my advice, I do not believe that yours. Iason, being mortal, I have not heard that any man, driven mad by love's malady, lost his life. But if he could no longer make his mind of it or maintain it against the old knight, Iason could no longer reply with these words. And so, their parliament ended. Iason slept until it was near day, and then Iason awoke and began to make new sighs, so loud that the knight heard it again. When Iason knew he was awake, he greeted him and said, \"Sir knight, because of your great age, you have seen much in your time. I ask you by your faith, if you have knowledge in dreams. Why do you ask, knight?\" \"As much as I have not ceased this night to dream,\" Iason said. \"Fair sir, answer the good old knight.\" If you have dreamed of anything that requires explanation or interpretation, there is no one in Greece who can do it better. I was there then, and therefore, without any doubt, tell me plainly your dream, and I shall explain its substance to you. Sir Knight Iason said, \"I had a remarkable dream last night, which in the manner of a pastime, I shall relate to you, as much as you are versed in the science of its interpretation. This dream or vision was as follows: I thought I saw two swans in a meadow, one male and one female. The male approached the female and seemed as if he would accompany her, but the female paid no heed to him and withdrew. When the male saw this, he entered a river that was nearby and lay with me in this bed. It was not long after that I thought I saw the female cross the river in the same way and come to the chamber door, making pitiful cries according to her nature. The male could not hear this, for he was asleep.\" I felt great pity for the sorrowful expression on her face. The ancient knight, upon fully understanding the dream of Pythia, spoke to him in this manner: \"Sir knight, what would you say if the noble lady for whom you suffer so much sorrow is as much or more amorous of you as you are of her? And by this love, she has come into this house after you. I say, sir knight, I have no charge of that matter. For my lady is so noble and so endowed with high beauty that she sets nothing by any man in the world. Always fair, sir, said the ancient knight. Your dream signifies, by these two swans, of whom would make the battle or the surprise that desires your company. That you have willed to be husband to your lady. She, who would not yield to you,\n\nHas come into this probable house after you, and by chance, she is in much [sic] it. Grete Pain for your love, in this manner I present and dedicate this work after the nature of your dream. Iason spoke with these words, signing deeply and saying, \"What is this, and woe is me, for it is a great abuse for me to think and have a renewal of pain and sorrow. O what pain is to a true lover, unfortunate one, to be in continual martyrdom. Ah, my dear lady, why have you not the eyes so clear to behold in my heart and know in what misery I am. In what sorrow and in what anguish? Certes, madame, your eyes basilica have hurt me unto death. O what distress, O what reward for good service. I find myself in the hands of harsh death. But yet shall I pray to the goddesses that I may endure my great misfortunes.\" Then the sage and ancient knight Mopsius, hearing the noble prayer Iason thus sorrowfully complain himself, and in favor of nobility greatly comforted him. And for this reason, he said to him in this manner, \"For God's sake, sir knight.\" leue and goo oute of this fantasye. for to moche to muse in Infortune is nothing prouffitable / A man\u0304 with\u0304 grete trauayle and labour bringeth\u0304 his dayes to an ende hauig his life trauersid in many contrarye thinges / Ther is no man so ewrous and happy that hath\u0304 alle waye hys wille\nCertes the time muste be taken as hit cometh / is hit hard or softe. The herte of a man sholde not abasshe in no thing Me semeth we haue spoke ynowh of loue. I praye yow that from hens forth we may entre into an other purpose / And that ye wolde telle to me your name and the place of your burth. and the name of your hows and dwelling place Vand gyue confort to a desolatand disconforted ye be he most propice aboue alle other / I haue fou\u0304den so moche goodnes in yow / that if ye wole telle me your name with out ony faute / I shal telle yow myn also\u00b7 Fair sir ansuerde thau\u0304cient knight / your desire is to me agreable / in suche wise that I shal recompte to yow my lyf & all myn astate\u00b7 more than to ony man that I heue seen this / vi / I am Mopsius, son of Apollo, king of Siconia, in the land of Pamphile. I have had two sons, and when they reached manhood, I made them rulers of my lands. I have been in the world for 20 scores of years, during which time I have seen and learned much of good and strange works. I ask and request that you do not reveal my estate or conditions to anyone in any way. When you speak to me, name and call me only Mopsius, openly or secretly, for this reason: Mopsius answered, and the noble Iason, if it pleases you to be named and called as such. I promise you on my honor that whatever you have said will be kept secret in my heart as firmly as you have closed it in the hardest rock of the world, and to that end, I will tell you how I am named. You must know for certain that I am called by this name. I am born of Thessaly, son of the noble king Aeson of Mirmidon, who I suppose still lives. But he is very ancient. With these words, I asked him about the birth of his age and his adventures. I inquired of him many other things until we began to rise and make ready. But whatever Iason said or heard, he always kept his thoughts on his lady and sighed frequently out of measure.\n\nWhen the two noble knights were risen and clad in point, Iason went straight into the stable to his horse, whom he loved well. But as soon as he had been there a little and had seen the two palfroes of the lady and the damsel, it seemed to him that he had seen them before. Then Iason called the servant of the stable and asked him to whom those two horses belonged. Then the servant answered that they belonged to two damsels who were lodged there with me.\n\n\"True friend,\" said Iason, \"which damsels are those?\" The two horses belong to my lady beloved. When the good ancient knight understood this, he said to Iason, \"Remember your dream, I swear by my life that your lady is in this house, or else the damsels are here for her. The one who will tell you good news.\"\n\nWithout any other question or answer, Iason departed immediately from the stable and went to the hostess. When he had greeted her good morrow, he said to her, \"Fair hostess, do you know the two damsels who are lodged here? Sir knight answered the hostess, \"I know them none other than as it seems to me that they are gentlewomen and come from a good house. Is it possible that I may see them?\" The hostess replied, \"Iason, I require you that I may let you see them. And that you will go and say that there is a knight their servant here who has great desire to speak with them.\"\n\nThe good hostess, to please Iason, went to the two damsels. Damoselles and said to them: \"My fair mistresses, I come to you in the name and at the request of a gentle knight who says your servant. The one who requests that you grant him the pleasure of speaking with you. I advise you what pleases you, and I will answer him on your behalf. However, before the Queen Mirror had heard her hostess speak of the knight's request, the color of her face changed marvelously, and she thought her whole body was filled with fire. Nevertheless, she maintained her composure as best she could. And although she doubted about the arrival of the treasure that she was then in the threshold, she answered and said, 'Fair dame, who is that knight that has spoken to your servant?' 'He is the most gentle and the most well-made in body, and also the most courteous that any man may find or speak of,' damsel replied to the fair Mirror. Therefore, let him come.\" With these words, the good hostess brought Jason into the chamber. As soon as he entered, he beheld the noble queen, who was right shamefaced, and having a trembling heart and agitated, made a reverence and saluted her. Fair Myrrha welcomed and saluted him courteously in return. They entered into conversation, and then Jason spoke to the queen in this manner:\n\nCeres, my dear lady, I did not know that you had been in this inn, nor had I seen your two palefroals, which I found in the stable with my horse. And yet, when I had seen and known them, I had not supposed that you had been in this house. How well, when I understood that the two palefroals belonged to two damsels, I thought that there had been two of your damsels here. I have come for news of you. Indeed, Sir Knight, I do not doubt the contrary, and in the same way, I had not supposed or thought to find you here. I declare to you that I have departed. I have secretly gone on a pilgrimage, as I long promised to accompany only this damsel. I swore this in the strongest terms of my war, and I am astonished to find you here. I had assumed that you had been in Oliferne resting. Madame answered Iason, I have no hope that I shall ever see you in Oliferne again. Indeed, Iason, fair sir, you are hasty and swift in your actions. I have goodwill and great desire to reward and please you during my war in persecuting and delivering of my mortal enemies. And if you do not return to Oliferne, I may not or cannot do so. She had told you that other day in your palace, I have not shown myself to you in such a way as I could have. For reasons or other, I was only occupied in seeking your love and your good grace. I have paternal riches abundantly. Therefore, I say to you so much, if it is within your power not to refuse me. And know certainly that after this day you shall never see me. For as your true lover and humble servant, I shall go withdraw myself into some desolate and weeping place, and unto my death I will do nothing otherwise. Wherefore I supplicate with all my heart that pity may enter into your noble court in such a way that, on me your poor suppliant, you have pity and mercy. And else of me you shall never see good.\n\nWhen the noble lady had understood what he said, she answered the knight Iason in this manner: \"Sir knight, there is no heart of lady so hard but by the virtue of your requests it must be softened and moved. You have served me faithfully and well in all truth and loyalty, in all willingness and diligence. I confess and acknowledge it.\n\nYou require me as I understand, that I should be your wife and fellow, a greater thing you may not demand of me, nor does anything touch me more intimately. Nevertheless, when I perceive your great and good valor, to the end that you have no cause for reproach, \" I have cleaned the text as follows: \"I have fallen into despair, but I am content to accord myself to your prayers and requests. I foresaw that you would go to your country, and there you shall assemble your nearest parents and friends, whom you will bring into my city. In their presence, you shall wed and espouse me solemnly. The noble and valiant knight Jason thanked the fair Myrro for this answer and promised to carry out and accomplish all that she had desired: that is, he would go to Myrmidon to gather hands, and then return to Oliferno to marry and espouse her in their presence. However, when the damsel who came with the queen to keep her company heard such or similar promises from her mistress, who was so well come to the point of her desire, she was filled with consolation and joy, and forthwith she came between the two lovers and said to them that she called all the gods to witness and thanked them for this alliance. Indeed, then said the\" Fair Myro, I am grateful for what you have done. I would like it if we had leisure and a place to make good cheer together, but it seems that cannot be now. For in no way would I be known, but it is necessary for my honor and worship that Iason depart from here immediately, without delay. And we shall go secretly to the poor man for us to get some good mariner, who will bring us to our secret pilgrimage. Iason, the noble prince, hearing the fair Myro's order and conclusion of their sudden departure, began to make simple cheer. For he was greatly abashed and sorrowful in such a way to leave his lady, whom he saw endowed with such high virtues. Indeed, he had intended to tell the queen a part of his sorrow and lamentations he had made for her sake, but she would in no way hear him. Instead, she took her leave with a smile, and Iason embraced and kissed her once or twice. Finally, he departed from there, promising her. A short time he should return to her again. And as soon as he was departed and gone his way, the fair Myrro and the damsel rode to the gate where they took shipping and went to the sea. For our history records no adventure worth remembering, their mariner exploited in such a way with the help of the good wind that he had. In a short time, he delivered Queen Myrro and her damsel in Oliphantes. There they stayed after Jason for a long time and in great annoyance and displeasure, as will be said and declared later. But now I shall speak of the fair Myrro and her deeds for the present time. I will recount the conduct of Jason, who, as said before, departed from her presence and returned with all diligence to the Muspelles. But he did not declare to him that he had spoken to her in person.\n\nHowever, he made it understood that two of her damsels were with her. Iason promised him and swore that if he went to Oliferne accompanied by his kin and friends, they would do something for his lady so that she would espouse and marry him, and that she would crown him king of her country. And for this reason, Iason has taken part in the promise of these two damsels. I shall go to my country to gather my friends and kin as quickly and handsomely as possible. I shall not cease until I reach the height of my love.\n\nThus, as Iason recounted these tidings to the good and ancient knight Mopsius, the son of the king of that city named Theseus, came to them. He was informed by the merchants that Iason had spoken of this through his intermediaries. And from a distance, he recognized him. For he had seen him before at the wedding of Perython. And then he greeted him warmly and welcomed him heartily. Iason rejoiced and happily presented himself to Theseus. When they had each welcomed Theseus, Iason and Mopsius brought their father, Egeus, who was named such. And when this Egeus saw Iason, he showed him great honor and worship due to his high renown. He entertained him in various ways, and Iason desired nothing more than to return to his country and thank him for the worship and good cheer. And after taking leave of the king and Mopsius, the latter, knowing Iason to be a noble and right valiant knight, said to him that they would go with him and keep him company to his country. Noble Iason requested that they stay and not go with him, for he would not go the wrong way without clearly stating that they would keep their promise. Iason did not know what to say, but agreed that they should go to Myrmydon.\n\nIason, Theseus, and Mopsius then departed from each other. Athenes arrived at the city of Myrmidone, where they worked for both land and water without any notable incidents. They came to the citadel of Myrmidone, where Peleus was, and welcomed Iason warmly with his body but not with his heart, making great signs of joy for his return. Peleus brought Iason before his father, the old king, who was greatly comforted by the arrival of his dear son Iason. When noble Iason had paid his respects to his father, the king asked him about his news and where he had been, and what he had done. Iason humbly answered, \"Sir, I come directly from the service of the noble queen Medusa of the city of Iolcus. She is the wisest, fairest, and most discreet of all women in the world. When I arrived at her court, she was...\" mervealous tribulation caused by the right powerful king of Esklauonie, who waged war by fire and blood because she would not consent to marry him. But upon my arrival at that place and being put in charge of her men, I undertook to maintain the quarrel of the noble lady. In three battles where I was accompanied by her people, the gods gave us victory over the Esklauons in such a manner that the king himself and most of his men were slain and smitten in pieces. Among all others in the host of the said king of Esklauony was a marvelous and powerful man, a Giant named Corfus. He had put to death many a good knight of Oliferne, with whom I fought body against body, not by any strength that was in me, but by the desire to gain her worship and honor, and to do that thing which might bring me into her favor. I put her into a state of submission by the virtue of her great beauty. The right worship and honor belong to her, and since I have told you so much, I come to you in intention to marry. My kin and friends have assembled to accompany me in marrying such a noble lady, who is willing to be my wife. Considering that I should honorably wed the daughter of a king, these are the conditions for the promises and agreements.\n\nThe noble and ancient king Eson, hearing this, had even greater joy in his heart than before. He said, \"Indeed, my dear son, I am truly joyful for your well-being and welfare, and for your advancement. I believe that fortune has been kind to the noble lady to whom you have been a servant. But with great pain, I can believe that you alone have vanquished the Giant. And if it is so, I thank the gods.\" But let it pass. And if you have obtained the grace of such a fair and noble lady. I have no great marvel thereof, for love in such a case beholds no person, and the less to him that knows how I desire above all things in the world to see multiplication in your seed. I shall array you as a king's son is lawful and fitting, and I shall send you so well provided with men of war and noble companions that by reason you ought to have sufficient. Then the good Iason spoke to the king his father about this good answer. At that time they spoke no more of the matter, but intended to feast Mopsius and Theseus, whom they prayed to tarry and accompany Iason to the day of his wedding. And the two good knights promised that they would do so, and they were greatly feasted by the king and his nobles, and also by Peleus, who did it again in his heart, making a feigned cheer. Among many devices, Mopsius and Theseus repaid Iason for the adventure that he had in Troy against the tyrant king Dyomedes, and they likened Iason for his valor. Peleus enabled Heracles, the strongest and best-armed man under the clouds. And because of his high praises and recommendations, the fame of Jason grew and increased from day to day. It is not to be forgotten that Peleus' household grew so terribly that he could have no peace day or night. In the return of noble Jason, he was warned that in the island of Delphos, the god Apollo gave answers about things to come and entered the temple in a marvelous and pensive manner. And when he had made his prayers with great devotion and subsequently asked to know whether he would ever enjoy the kingdom of Themyscira, the devil in the idol heard him and answered him that the kingdom would be taken from him by the hand of a man he would meet having no shoes nor shoes on one foot. Hearing this hard answer, Peleus was marvelously abashed and departed from there. As Peleus returned to Midas, he was always plotting the death of the noble Jason. In a pensive and melancholic state, he imagined ways to resist his unfortunate and foolish destiny. A good old knight met him on the way. The knight observed him in his plain visage and they exchanged greetings. Recognizing his deep thoughtfulness and melancholy, the knight offered him various wonders of the world. Among all his suggestions, he mentioned an island in the eastern sea, where a rich and noble moton or sheep had fleece made of fine gold. This was not yet conquered, and many valiant knights had lost their lives trying. After their conversation ended, Peleus, deep in melancholy, pondered the knight's answer. Received from the god Apollo, and believing that if he encountered Jason barefoot on one foot, he could send him to the island where the knight had told him the rich moton or flees of gold were, so that he might be devoured and never return. What more can I say? Perverse and untrustworthy Peleus set out on his journey with such plots against Jason. He came so far that he found his new Jason in a meadow with the noble Centaurs Iason and Theseus. They were passing their time there with many noble youths of the court, engaging in various contests and games, demonstrating their strength through wrestling, running, throwing the bar or stone, and drawing the bow.\n\nWhen Jason saw his uncle Peleus approaching, he went to welcome him. Peleus was welcomed and lodged on his right foot, and paid his respects. Then Peleus, who had doubts about him, immediately perceived his foot. Peleus, returning, was deeply sorrowful and dolorous, and greatly desirous to destroy his new Jason. He frowned and bit his lip, deep in thought. After reflecting, he decided to order a grand feast. He would invite all the nobles of the kingdom and the surrounding areas, declaring that he would show his new Jason all the reports he had heard about the noble Moton or the sheep of gold. This would encourage him to attempt to conquer it. Having made this decision, he sent for the priest and someone else. part of the nobles of the realm and the countryfolk came gladly to this feast and assembly at the designated day. Indeed, this Peleus provided this dinner with all kinds of viands and noble dishes delicious and with sumptuous beverages and drinks composed with spices. But when all was ready, the highest barons were seated at the first tables. Among all other nobles, there was the noble Hercules. Then, every man sat according to his rank. And thus, after they began, on all sides, to make great cheer and speak of many things, and in particular, of the high valor of the prince and noble Hercules, and of the monsters and cruel beasts that he had destroyed and put to death by his valor and bravery. And thus the dinner passed in such or similar ways until Pelus came before Iason and said to him in the presence of many kings, barons, and knights in this manner:\n\nIason, my dear lord and new friend, you are the man of the world that I love best, next after the king. I, your brother, know that I have great joy in my heart to hear the praises and recommendations of the valiant knight Hercules, whom I see present here for the terrible beasts, monsters, and great and strong giants. He had delivered the world from them by his valor. But when I behold your great physical power and that next after Hercules you are one of the strongest members, best assured, and one of the most valiant knights who live. It greatly displeases me in my heart that fortune has not given a place where your power and valor may be shown, and that your fame and renown are not as great as I desire. I would have given almost all the goods that the gods have sent me in this world for you to come to your above in an enterprise and conquest that I know to be honorable and recommended for you and your lineage. Fair uncle, answered Jason, I thank you greatly for your kind words. I goodwill towards me. I know well that you have often encouraged me to my honor and worship. Therefore, if you know of any adventure or enterprise that can be pursued and brought to completion where I might employ my time, I require you to inform me. I promise you that I will do as much as possible to come to my above of honor and worship to me and to our house.\n\nFair Sir Iason answered the disloyal and untrue Peleus. I take great pleasure in your goodwill, which proceeds from a noble heart. Since I know that you are a knight of great enterprise, know that in the eastern parts there is an island enclosed by the sea. In which there is so noble and rich sheep or goat of such nature that instead of flesh or wool, he is endowed with a flesh all of fine gold. But he is kept with certain beasts so cruel and fierce that no man has been hardy or well-prepared enough for this present time. That dared approach the noble Moton or sheep of gold, if there be in you so much valor and prowess that you might conquer the rich flees or this sheep, I think your renown should greatly grow in honor and worship. Which is the thing above all other that every noble heart desires, and in truth I thought desired nothing so much, for honor is the principal treasure above all other and the sovereign recommendation that any gentle man may get and ought to be desired more than any worldly thing. To this I answer, by all our goddesses fair uncle, I am much beholden to you in many ways. For I know and am certain truly, that honor ought to be preferred and put before all worldly things. And to show that the great affection and desire to get worship is so much my heart's desire and that the covetous desire for glory and honor is not feignedly in me, I make here a solemn vow to the goddesses and promise here in the presence of all the nobles that are here. I will assume that the text is in Old English and translate it into modern English. Here is the cleaned text:\n\nAssembly that I shall never cease to labor, seeking the rich sheep or flesh of gold, until I have found it. And I shall do the same in the event that the same falls to me in the conquest. When Pelus had heard this, he was greatly joyful, and it seemed to him that the work was progressing well, to such an extent that he thought and supposed by this means to come to the fulfillment of his desire. Indeed, the noble and mighty Hercules and Theseus aided much in Jason's enterprise. And forthwith, they vowed in the same way that if Jason did not achieve his enterprise, they would put themselves in jeopardy to bring it to completion. During this dinner, they spoke at length and devised much about the manner of Jason's vow. Above all, Pelus was glad and joyful that he had granted the right noble enterprise to his son Iason. Although the enterprise was dangerous and mortal, yet he was well content to hear of it. Pelus granted him one so fair and... So subtle a work that none had seen such before. It was called Argo because of Argos. Argos was a very wise and virtuous man, and in particular, he was the most learned and expert mariner in all of Greece at that time. When this ship was built, he advised Peleus and Jason, who were both as glad and joyous as they could be. For all that was necessary for him, he found it ready, and the ship was prepared and ready to depart. Then Jason took leave of his father, the king, and of his uncle Peleus. And so did the noble Hercules, Theseus, and Mopsius, and other knights numbering a hundred from Greece. Who would accompany Jason on this voyage. And this license and congee taken, with all diligence they entered the ship, the whole company of knights. And when the good patron Argos had disembarked from the port where the ship had been built, which port was named Seserre, he made great efforts to bring this noble company upon the high sea. Argos sailed with them for many days. toward the east after the sight of the stars and the sun, and he conducted them in this direction for so long that vitails began to fail them and were compelled by force to go ashore at the first port they found, which is to say at the port of Frigya named Thymbra, which is near Troy, the kingdom of Laomedon. Who treated Iason and the knights of his company harshly, and this evil later befall him and his subjects. In this passage, it is related in one history that Argos, the good and cunning mariner, arranged and ordered all that failed for the noble ship in which the noble knight was under sail. The wind blew favorably for them around 10 o'clock in the morning. The fair sun shone clear and spread its rays upon the land. The weather was soft and well disposed. And at this time, the sail unfurled. Set upon a high seat. And sailed swiftly in his course on the sea, so much so that they were extremely alarmed and did not know what it might be. Some of them were so frightened that they fled to Troy and the others remained at the gate, awaiting their turn. Those who fled to Troy went to King Laomedon and said to him, weeping and drenched in tears from great fear and dread. We have seen from afar in the sea a great monster lifting itself marvelously and swimming more swiftly than a horse runs on the ground or on land. And it threatened the king Laomedon more fearfully than the monster that Hercules had slain with his great valor.\n\nIndeed, in this same country before that time, Hercules had slain a monster as great as a whale, as is clearly contained in the history of Hercules.\n\nWhen King Laomedon had heard these tidings recounted, he was utterly abashed. Then he made one of his nobles... knights were sent to find an swift horse and dispatched him to Tenedos to ask and inquire of the truth. What fearsome thing could have caused such terror among the people? The knight arrived at Tenedos' gate and found there the priest Iason and his Greek knights. Before entering the town, he spied Argos, anchoring his ship nearby. He did not enter the town since they were close to Troy, which was renowned for its great magnificence, surpassing anything in the remaining world. The knight first inquired of the inhabitants and dwellers of the countryside if they had seen any such monster on the sea. The men of the countryside answered the knight that they had seen no such monster on the sea. Those who had brought such tidings to Troy were greatly abused if they had supposed to have seen any monster. There was no other thing but a Greek ship sailing on the sea in the vicinity, by their account. The knight of Troy descended from his horse and approached the knights of Greece. They informed him that they were in great need of supplies to traverse into far countries and had no other business. Upon understanding this, the knight returned to his horse and rode back to King Laomedon. Laomedon, now aware of the descent of the Greek knights and understanding that they were there to provision their ships, imagined them to be spies sent by Hercules. He therefore sent the knight back to the Greeks and strictly commanded them to leave. Iason and his companions were ordered by King Laomedon to leave his land and seek vitals if they needed to. If they did not depart immediately and take another way, Laomedon threatened to come against them with his power in arms, so that they would never again have the desire to spy on his kingdom, city, or castle.\n\nWhen Iason and his fellowship heard the harsh and rude commands of the Trojan king, they were greatly displeased, and not without cause. For they had come not to spy on the kingdom or the cities, but to be friendly, considering how Laomedon had commanded them. Laomedon could not help but take Iason's words to heart and said to the knight in this manner:\n\nKnow, knight, since Laomedon, in his wicked heart and banishing him from all nobility, has refused vitals to Iason of Mirmidon for his money, there shall be no rest. Iason and his men arrived at the gates of this country in the name of Jason. In a short time, there came such a great number that his kingdom, cities, towns, and castles would be reduced to ruins and perplexity, so that not a stone would be found upon a stone fifty years later, nor would corn be sown or grown. Fair lords then answered the knight, saying that they had not received you otherwise in their country, and you know that courtesies are not unrewarded, nor rigor in the same way, unless remembered. And since I am a messenger, I will gladly make a report to King Laomedon about what I have found from you, and with this, I returned to Troy.\n\nThen, Iason demanded Argos and said to him that they must disembark and depart from there, but if they wanted to endure the cruelty and fury of King Laomedon and all his power. Good patron Argos and his mariners disembarked from the noble ship, and soon after, they went back to the sea. The wind began to rise, and the tempest grew horrible and impetuous. But the Trojan knight, who had come as a messenger to his lord and had paid his reverence, answered the king's question about the Gluttons of Greece who had landed on his land seeking refuge for his kingdom and cities. The knight replied, \"Sire, I have delivered your message. They are a great number of knights. And, by their appearance and demeanor, it is clear that they are descended from noble and good houses. I can assure you that when I had finished delivering your message, one of them, who seemed virtuous and discreet, answered me and said they had not come there for plunder but were not robbers or pirates of the sea. But the young knight, who was fair and courteous as a maiden, had finished his business. Another of them, who had a marvelous and cruel countenance, resembling Hercules in his visage and demeanor more than any other, spoke to me in great anger and pride, \" (or \"in a great anger and pride, this\") A knight, know that since Laomedon treated his mother as a servant in heart and banished from all nobility the man Jason of Myrmidon for his money, who in a short time will descend upon his lands, men in the name of Jason and in such great numbers that his kingdom, cities, towns, and castles will be reduced to such ruin and confusion that within fifty years no stone will be found upon another, nor any corn sown and grown on the ground. And immediately they have discredited and soon after they had set sail by the force of wind and rowing so far that I had lost sight of them.\n\nWhen King Laomedon learned of the report the knight had made to him, he was so angry that he seemed more frantic or out of his wits than the others. He said truly that if he had known beforehand what they had been up to and their intent, he would have had them all put to a miserable death.\n\nThe messenger departed, and Laomedon withdrew into his chambers, deeply troubled and pensive. The winds blew fiercely from all sides, thunder, rain, and great orages, and tempests, which roared so hugely and terribly that the air was troubled and the weather was so dark that the sun did not shine for four days during which the tempest did not cease. In this time their provisions failed so greatly that the knights of Greece went without food, and their ship was often in great peril. For in the midst of this, a marvelous turbulent wind arose in the sea that blew away their sails and broke all their masts. The ropes and cords were shattered into pieces. But fortune conducted them to a port named Lenos, where they harshly grounded and rent, and those within were in great danger and had been in worse case than they had been before, had they not set foot on land.\n\nThis port was called Lenos after the name of a mighty prosperous city. But immediately upon the Greeks having set foot on land, seeing the great danger that they were in, Ben stepped out of the ship, which was immediately filled with water. When they saw him safely out, a multitude of more than fifty thousand women from Lennos emerged, armed with pennons and recognizances. They came rushing forward not without reason, for they were alarmed to see so many armed heads that they did not know the number, and considering how they had been in great danger due to their good fortune, and that their ship was completely broken and filled with water on all sides. Nevertheless, he did not want to discourage or depress his companions further, so he showed great courage and said to one of the two damsels in response to her message:\n\nNoble damsel, I have well understood your summons. I pray you, of your grace, to tell me: into what country has fortune brought us at this time, and for what cause am I summoned by you? For returning to the sea, sir knight answered the damsel. The country you have arrived in is not large but fertile and commodious. It is named Lenos, after the name of this city here, which in turn is named after the same name. I will tell you why this summons is made to you. You should know that it is for your own good. This happened recently in the city of Lenos, where there was a king named Thoas. This king was at war with the Argians and conscripted all the young and old men to help him. He left the city without men, leaving the ladies, damsels, and others in a bad state. Seeing that they were without men, they assembled and, under the direction of the king's daughter, who was named Isiphyle, sent a message to the king and their husbands, urging them to return to their city. Upon this, King Thoas replied that he had besieged his city. enemies and if his city should be lost, he would not depart from his east to the end of his war. When the ladies and damsels of the city had heard this answer, they took it ill and sent again to the king and to their husbands that they should come and return home to their city. But that was in vain, for they would do nothing against their desire. And when the ladies saw this, they conspired against the king and their husbands, and put to death all the men, children who were in the city. After they had determined and judged that if their husbands or fathers, parents and friends came again from the war or other places, they should be killed the first night of their coming, as soon as they should be asleep, and that no man should be allowed to enter their city afterward. After this conclusion was taken, they crowned Isophile queen over them. And afterward, when the king was returned from the war with his people, the ladies and damsels of the city did this with their fathers. husbands and parents, and others, had concluded that of all those who returned from this war, none escaped this murder and pestilence but he; the king, whom Queen Isabella would in no wise murder; but this, notwithstanding, she delivered him into the hands of the ladies. They put him in a sack alone and sent him to the sea in exiling and banishing him from his kingdom.\n\nWhen this damsel, as messenger, had reported to the noble Iason this that is said, another messenger took the word from her and said, \"Lords and knights, my fellow, has said and told you now the reason and cause why you may not be received into this city. Therefore, tarry the ladies will assault you severely. And they will deliver to you a marvelous battle, Iason answered and said: \"By all my gods, fair lady, our ship is all but broken and full of water. And on the other side, we perish for hunger if we are not shortly succored.\" Two days have passed since we ate any morsel of food, and therefore, if it must be, and no remedy, we would rather have died by gladness. And we all pray them and require instantly, if there is in them any virtue or nobility, that they will now show it, having pity on us. For the fortune of the sea that has afflicted us for many days in such a way that we supposed we would have perished from our departure to our arrival has brought us here against the will of our mariners and of us.\n\nWith this request, the two damsel messengers returned into their city to their queen Isophyle and other ladies, to whom they reported word for word the answer that Jason had rendered and what he required. Then the queen, having heard the answer of the two messengers, asked and inquired what people these knights of Greece were and of what condition and appearance and number they were. Indeed, madam, answered one of the two damsels. I have never seen more handsome men or better spoken in my days, and I suppose there are. When the one hundred knights understood these tidings, they advised among themselves which four of them they might best send to Queen Isophile. They concluded on sending Iason, Hercules, Theseus, and a knight named Castor. These four came before the Queen and a great number of her damsels. They were not long come when the Queen:\n\n1. When the one hundred knights understood these tidings, they chose which four of them to send to Queen Isophile. They decided to send Iason, Hercules, Theseus, and a knight named Castor.\n2. The knights, upon hearing the news, selected Iason, Hercules, Theseus, and Castor to represent them before Queen Isophile.\n3. Upon receiving the message, the one hundred knights chose Iason, Hercules, Theseus, and Castor to approach Queen Isophile. and her damoiselles were terribly surprised by the love of these four knights. For there was neither queen nor damoiselle who did not desire, with all their heart, their company for the singular and especial beauty of each of them. Certainly Ysiphile, at that instant that her two noble eyes had beheld the great beauty of Iason, was become as amorous as possible of the fairest. The most gracious and the most courteous of the four then spoke and asked, in general, what they sought in her realm, when they came, and why they wished to go. And of what country they were. Then the noble Iason, considering the demands of the queen and the great danger in which they were, and the necessity of famine and hunger that threatened, answered humbly, saying:\n\nMadam, please know that we are the name of a hundred knights, all gentlemen of one company and of one country, who have departed in one ship. But we have had upon us... We have encountered numerous hardships due to tempests and storms that have kept us in great doubt, on the brink of perishing. Food supplies have failed us for two days passed. To make it short, we are in search of food to help us in our necessity. And since you may be curious about where we have come from and where we are headed, I will tell you that we come from Greece. Our intention is to sail so far until we find an island in the sea where there is a very rich merchant or shepherd bearing his fleece of fine gold. No knight yet has had the power or courage to conquer or approach it. Nor is it only for beholding and seeing. Many marvelous and terrible beasts guard it. Among these, I have understood that there is a right cruel dragon. I have avowed and promised for adventure to conquer it myself or die in the pursuit thereof, or I shall die on the spot, as many knights have done before, which is pitiful. Therefore, right high and noble lady, I humbly request that you have mercy and pity on me and my unfortunate companions, who are dying from distress due to hunger and famine. We require vital supplies in exchange for silver and money. Additionally, we request grace and leave to remedy and repair our ship, which is broken and torn from taking land on your lordship.\n\nWhen noble Iason made his plea to Queen Isiphile as mentioned, she withdrew with her damsels and consulted them on what to do with these noble men. They were all of the opinion that it would be a great sin and disgrace to let them die of hunger and famine there. In the end, they decided to receive him and his companions into their city, disregarding their previous orders and statutes. Queen Isiphile then returned to Iason and said that, for the honor of nobility, the ladies would receive him and his companions in the same manner. Noble Iason thanked Queen Isiphile for this grace. Right curtsily. He did send for his fellows that they should come into the city. The which, as soon as they knew that they should have victuals, were extremely joyful and seemed to them as if God had descended among them. Then they came before the ladies whom they saluted, but desired with all their heart their company for the singular and especial beauty of each of them. Certainly Ysiphile, at that instant, her two noble eyes had beheld the great beauty of Jason. She was become so enamored as was possible of the fairest. The most gracious and the most courteous of the four then spoke to them and demanded in general what they sought in her realm, when they came and why they wished to go, and of what country they were. Then the noble Jason, considering the demands of the queen and the great danger in which they were, and the necessity of famine and hunger that threatened them, answered humbly, saying:\n\nLady, please We are a company of one hundred knights, all gentlemen, who have departed from one country and sailed in one ship. However, we have encountered numerous misfortunes due to tempestuous winds and storms that have kept us at sea for a long time, with provisions running out two days ago. To make matters short, we are in search of provisions to help us. I inform you that we come from Greece, and our intention is to sail as far as we can until we find an island where there is a wealthy merchant or shepherd bearing a fleece of fine gold. No knight has yet had the power or courage to conquer or even approach it. Neither for that matter, just to behold and see, for there are many marvelous and terrible beasts guarding it. Among these, I have heard that there is a particularly cruel dragon, which I have sworn and promised to confront for adventure's sake. hit her I ever return again into my country or I shall die in the pursuit thereof; as many knights have done here before, for which is pitiful. Right high and noble lady, I humbly require you: have mercy and pity on me and my unfortunate fellows dying for distress of hunger and famine. And let us have victuals for our silver and money. Also, grace and leave to remedy and make our ship again, which is broken and rent in taking land upon your seigniory and lordship.\n\nWhen the noble Iason had made his remonstrance to Queen Isiphile as said. She withdrew herself apart with her damsels. And asked them what was best to do with these noble men. They were all of one opinion: it would be a great sin and shame to let them there die for famine and hunger. In the end, they concluded that they should be received into their city, notwithstanding their ordinances and statutes made by them before. Therefore, Queen Isiphile returned. Iason spoke to him, assuring him that the noble ladies would receive him and his companions with honor. The noble Iason thanked the queen graciously for this and sent for his companions, who were overjoyed and believed that God was among them. Upon arriving before the ladies, they paid them great reverence. The queen, upon seeing this noble company, delivered one hundred of her ladies to each knight from Greece as the best she could choose, retaining Iason for herself. The Greek knights entered the city with the ladies without incident. Each lady welcomed her knight with good food and drink according to her means, making them feel welcome in such a way. And fashioned it so that many knights found them so plainly in the grace of their ladies that they could, and I say no more at this time present.\n\nImmediately when Queen Ysiphile saw that she had Iason in her custody, she was so joyous that she might be. She had set all her intent on beholding the great beauty of the noble prince, and above all else she desired his acquaintance. In beholding and admiring him, she made to him many gracious signs and tokens of love for many days and often times. But the noble Iason, whose heart was set on other things, took no heed. Yet she could no longer endure this without she should die, so enamored was she with his love. And when Iason had stayed there for a certain space and number of days, he ordered his patron to prepare his ship, and ordered men to help him. Then Argos set hand to it. When Queen Dido was informed of this, she immediately ordered the ship to be sabotaged by night, through one of her maidens. She then spoke with Argos, the good patron, and assembled all the knights of Greece in their presence. In their presence, she told Jason that the ship could not depart from there within the next eight months. Many of the Greeks were pleasantly surprised by this news.\n\nHercules, who had great courage, learned of these tidings and said to Jason, \"Since they have decided not to let us leave this country, I will go and explore the land. I encourage you to stay in the city and keep your companions together.\" Jason agreed to this proposal. Then, the very valiant Hercules set out on his journey. It happened that he came to a kingdom ruled by a king named Furius. Iason, who had delivered the Argonauts from the Arpies and brought them to the River Styx as recorded in the history of the labors of Hercules, found Iason residing in the city, eager to construct and outfit his ship. On the other side, there was always Ysiphile, with her amorous glances and attentions. Most of the time, Mopsius was with Iason, and he often admired the great beauty of the noble queen Mirro. One day, while they were having dinner with Iason and Ysiphile, Mopsius noticed the gracious glances she frequently cast at Iason. He understood clearly that she had given herself to him. The meal passed without any word or sign from Mopsius. But after dinner, he called Iason and said, \"I would like to ask you something, sir.\" And then, when they were alone in the field, Mopsius said to Iason, \"Indeed, sir, I would like to ask you something.\" I. If it were your pleasure, fair sir. The knight replied, \"Iason late is not for any reason but to declare my courage and desire.\" Mopsius then demanded of him, \"If you are in love with Queen Ysiphile.\" Iason swore to Mopsius that he was not in love with her. \"Certes, sir,\" Mopsius said, \"I am quite certain that Ysiphile is extremely infatuated with you. Therefore, I advise you to find a way to speak to her alone. If you can manage it, it would be a pleasant pastime for you for a while, and we all would benefit.\" By all the gods answered Iason the knight, \"Before I would use any deceit against my lady, Fair Mirro, I had rather be condemned to bring an end to and accomplish as many perilous adventures as the worthy Hercules ever did, or ever I should return to Greece.\"\n\nII. The nobles of this time are not disposed to appreciate the terms of the renowned prince Iason as before declared, and therefore I advise the ladies not to give their consent. Affianced more than you know, they doubt not that by some way they are not abused. Thus, as the two gentle knights spoke of the fair Mirror and of Isophile, they came where Argos, the master patron, solicited the work and the making of the ship. They passed the time a little in speaking of diverse purposes. And after that, they returned to their lodgings. And the noble Queen Isophile was so enamored of the noble Preux Iason that she thought of nothing but pleasing him to her power. He never departed from thence but that she held him company, or else she was always at a window for him.\n\nWhen she perceived that Iason returned to his lodging at this time, she went against him and took him by the hand and led him into one of her chambers. There she showed him great part of her riches and treasures. And after she said to him in this manner: \"Right noble and valiant knight, all these riches are only at your commandment, and also my body with all. Whom I now give to you.\" \"gift and present, and furthermore I have nothing of value but that you shall have at your disposal and will, in order that I may deserve honorably your grace. Then, when the priest Jason had understood this, he answered the lady, saying, \"My dear lady, I thank you most humbly for your courtesy. And I declare to you that in no way have I deserved the high honor that you bestow upon me. Ha. ha, sir, said then the lady. It is well within your power for you to deserve all if it pleases you. In good faith, madam, answered Iason, if there is any service or pleasure that I may do unto you, command it and I shall comply freely and with good heart. How fair, sir, said she then. Will you fulfill my commandment? Certainly, madam, said he. I shall not fail in any point if it is within my power. And therefore, declare your good pleasure and desire to me. And after that, you shall perceive how I shall employ myself therein.\n\nThe Queen Isophile hearing the courtesies\" Iason answered, and was so joyous and glad that she could not be more so. She said to him, \"Fair sir, your courteous and humble words have put me in such danger. That in no way can I longer hide from you a requirement upon my head. You should have known this long ago, had been Dame Esperance. She who had nourished and taken me in to hide my faith and courage. Which at this moment I shall show to your noble person. And know for truth that I have perceived that you are of a most noble and ancient house. Above this, you exceed and pass all men in beauty and valor. If your semblance does not lie. And then, all these things I have put in my memory, I have had great desire for your love and favor. For which reasons it is necessary that I pray you, please you to be my husband, and I shall be your wife and espouse. Thus, you shall be king and lord of this my kingdom. My right dear lady answered then to noble Iason: you A player has given me such great generosity in feeding and drinking, and in the same way to my company and fellows, that I can never deserve it as well for such good deeds as for the love of the ladies to whom I will obey with all my might and power in all their commands.\n\nAnd you, noble princess, know that there is no service or pleasure that I am not willing to do for you, except for this one request. I may not suitably accord it to you, for I have recently promised a noble lady and a good match for her in marriage. Therefore, I ask that you will hold me excused. Ha, Iason, my dear friend, for one promise or less, what will you make? Men commonly say, \"Far is from the eye. Is far from the heart.\"\n\nWhen the noble Iason saw that the lady oppressed him in such a manner that with great pain he knew not how to answer, notwithstanding he said to her, \"Certes, my dear lady. I know that the heart of a noble man.\" I ought to desire nothing so much as honor without reproach. Truly, I am bound by promise. If I do not acquit myself of it, I am dishonored every day. I would rather be dead or condemned to perpetual exile than refuse your alliance for any disdain. In good faith, I should hold myself right esteemed and well fortunate if I had to wed one so fair a Lady, so noble and so rich as you are.\n\nThe noble knight answered then, \"You know well, how you and all your company would have been dead from hunger and distress if I had not recalled you to this city and fed you. And furthermore, I brought you to this city for two main reasons. The first is that you and all of you were in danger of death there, where you were. And the second, that you should inhabit this city so that it would not be deserted. For this city is inhabited by women without a king and has no other shepherd but me, who am their chief.\" Therefore, I am someone and pray you. I confess that you and the ladies of your city have supported us in our great necessity. In return, all we can do is repay you by rebuilding this city or otherwise. But as for myself, I cannot commit myself to that. If I were to act against my oath, you should know that my honor touches me closer to my heart than anything else. Under this gracious cover of courtesy, I have not done anything harmful to myself or my possessions, which would be reproachable for me. As soon as Isophile understood this answer from Iason and perceived that he was firm in his purpose to remain true to his lady, she spoke no more to him about this matter. Master took leave of him and departed. And Jason likewise withdrew him into his chamber. And Isophyle remained in her chamber deeply in love. On the other side, she was so angry that she could not convert Jason. He, being filled with anger and deeply pensive, for in his stomach there was a great battle between his heart and shame. But his courage advised him to go and lie with Isophyle. But shame said no and held him back. Therefore, the battle was great and lasted long. But in the end, they were vanquished all. For shame was put back in such a way that the fair Isophyle, when she was in bed, began to tremble because shame followed her. And so trembling, she embraced Jason and woke him up, saying in this manner: \"My true friend and love, Iason, your continence and the constancy of love have commanded me to come to you. It is a great shame and disgrace to me, but since you have not willed to be my husband and spouse, at least you shall be my love and friend. Take no disdain.\" When the noble knight Jason heard the fair Ysiphile speak and felt her naked body against his, he was greatly ashamed. Indeed, her flesh was very tender and sweet. She always approached him, and he to her, for he was a man, and when he awoke, he said to her, \"In truth, madame, I am truly sorry and angry that I cannot be your husband. You show well that above all others you have me in your grace. Alas, and if I were free and without promise on my faith, I would be your husband and obey you to my power. And with these words, they embraced each other and kissed. I know not more than that they maintained this life for four months or more in such a way that Ysiphile gave birth to a child. During these four months, the ladies of Thessalonica lay with the knights of Greece, and many of them conceived with their seed. In this way, the city was filled with young children. I shall make you long-procrastinating captain, repair and prepare his ship. Hercules returned to Lennos, and Jason also intended to depart on his journey. He assembled his companions one day and said to them, \"My good brothers and friends, you know well that we have been here and sojourned for a long time. Yet we have heard no more news or rumors of the motion of the gold or the golden fleece than we did before we departed from our country. I want you to know that I live here in great sorrow and terrible anguish. I cannot find solace or pleasure in anything I see. I am constantly urged by numerous causes and their entreaties, which hasten the end of my laborious voyage, bringing us the gods to our health in a short time. Make him ready to leave and depart. I have the intention to depart within the next four days without further delay.\"\n\nHercules, Theseus, Mopsius, and all the other knights had great expectations. I am sorry, I cannot output the entire text as it is, as there are some missing characters and words that need to be completed to make it fully readable. Here is the best I can do with the given text:\n\n\"I rejoice when they heard Jason's good disposition, and they answered him that they would be as ready as he. Then one and another began to provision for them and of all such things as were necessary. The queen and the other ladies knew Jason's department, wherefore they were much displeased and right desolate, and sore annoyed them to see the noble knights make their preparations to depart. One complained to another, saying, \"These knights of Greece abandon us and give us over; we shall have no joy nor solace.\" The queen among the others was most anxious about this departing, and came to Jason and said to him, \"Alas, alas, Lord Jason, have mercy and delay. Alas, I, Jason, alas, my comfort prolong, you and tarry your departure at my request, for I am she that so much loves you that I may no more. Alas, behold with pity my womb, the chamber and mansion of your blood. In good faith.\"\" A noble lady answered Iason then, \"If I could lawfully stay with you, I assure you I would with a good heart. But I have sworn and promised to adventure myself in the conquest of the noble Moton or the flees of gold. I do not know how long I shall live or how long it will be before I reach there. It is necessary and urgent for my singular honor that I devote all my time to this endeavor as long as I can and diligently work to fulfill my oath.\"\n\nWith this answer, Queen Isophile was filled with such sorrow that she began to weep and sigh deeply. She said softly, \"Alas, alas, how may my eyes see the departure of my true joy. Alas, I was born under an evil constellation, for I cannot find even a little good fortune in this world. All consolations withdraw from me; all honor flees from me; all hopes forsake me. And contrary to this, all sorrow presses upon me. Wealth is against me, and all evil comes before me in my life.\" presence. For certain, if there is only misery in the farthest place of the world, that misery deters from that place for coming to me. A what sorrow, for certain I am not good enough, nor of much value, that any man should do anything at my request. Madame answered Iason, it seems to me that for nothing you ought to make such marvelous sorrow, for you are in value much more than I can express. And as to the matter of me, if there is anything licit and honorable for me to do, ask for it and I shall employ myself in such a way that you shall have cause to be content. I seem to think that you ought to have me excused in this case. I have seen the vow in which I am bound, and if I stayed here I would not exploit but lose my time. My dear friend and love answered the lady, when shall I have better cause for complaining and lamenting than now? If at once I had lost all my realm, and if I saw all my riches and jewels and all that I could find and cherish perish in the abysses, and\n\n(Note: The text appears to be in Middle English. No significant OCR errors were detected, and no meaningless or unreadable content was found. The text has been left unchanged.) When I perceived that the lady consented to my departure under such conditions, I,\n\nWhen the noble knight understood that the lady consented to his departure under such conditions, he, Iason was rightly joyous and not without cause, considering the danger where he and all his companions were. Then he promised her and swore solemnly before the representation of the goddess Pallas, who was there, that he would return to her as soon as he reached the summit of his enterprise. And if the goddess granted him such good fortune that he might live and safely return, then Queen Isiphile, in some measure, was comforted and had great hope in the returning of Jason. For the matter at hand, the day came that noble Prince Iason should go to the sea. On that day, the noble Prince and his companions landed at Damoyelles, and they thanked them greatly for their hospitality. They presented Iason with the idol of the goddess Pallas and many other idols of the sea gods. They made him swear that no evil or trouble might befall him.\n\nWhen Iason beheld the great lady, he thanked her humbly. and the sand made to raise the sail and we departed from Lenos to sail. She had given birth to a very fair son by the space of nine months. To recount well the right fair and noble isle of Colchos, I shall for now speak of the feats of Jason and will briefly relate what king first ruled there and by what means and manner the rich ram or sheep with the golden fleece was discovered, as well as the two marvelous and terrible bulls and the great one.\n\nIt is a very difficult and doubtful thing to believe for many people who have not studied the ancient chronicles. For giving you knowledge of the noble Isle of Colchos, I shall for now delay and tarry to speak of the deeds of Jason. I will relate briefly what king first ruled there and by what means and manner the rich ram or sheep with the golden fleece was discovered, as well as the two marvelous and terrible bulls and the great one. I. King Iupiter of Athens\n\nThis Iupiter, once a king in Athens, had three sons: the first was named Arrhopalus, meaning Mars in Latin, whom the Athenians called their god of battle due to the numerous battles he fought against his neighbors, always emerging victorious. The second was named Apis, king of Argos, and Apollo, who ruled in Archadia. He introduced the Archadians to live honestly. He conquered many realms, had a great number of children, and when they had grown, he delivered his lands to them to govern. After that, he departed secretly from Archadia. For ten years, he wandered through most of the provinces of the world as a physician or healer. At the end of ten years, he arrived in Athens and founded:\n\nII. Foundation in Athens\n\n(End of Text) that his brother Mars was newly dead and had passed out of this world. A temple was made for him which endured until the time of the conclusion of St. Denis. He entered the temple with a heart replenished with tears and knelt down before the representation of his brother, the god Mars. He asked him to show him what was best for him to do and to endeavor with all his might to understand and accomplish his doctrine and commandments.\n\nNo sooner had Apollo finished his prayer than a great whirling or tourbillon of wind suddenly came and slapped him on the face, astonishing him, and he thought that the god Mars said to him:\n\nApollo, Apollon. Thy prayers are presented in heaven to the Goddess. Thou hast seen many marvels of the world, but that is nothing in comparison to one that thou shalt see. It is not fit to be spoken of then.\n\nTherefore, it pleases us that thou go into the pyre to make an offering. \"Ark towards the likeness and appearance of that Ark which Noah once built to save himself and his family from the deluge and flood. After you have done so, I will bring you to the best isle, the most rich and fertile of all the world. This isle is inhabited by the Phrygians. And you shall understand that by this isle is meant a resort of the sea to another little isle where is the noble and rich Moton or sheep with the fleece of gold. This was recently sent by the goddesses Juno to both Frixus and his sister Helle, who were enclosed by their stepmother to make them pass the sea. This noble and rich Moton is the most marvelous best thing that ever was in the world, and it must be conquered, but this will require great paraphernalia and it is well worth having a marvelous craft and mystery for it. You shall be in the habitable isle which I will conduct you to and\" Bring beware and keep this, as thou hast thy life, from entering the isle where all who descend in that isle are destroyed, except one, for a certain term, with these words: Apollo came again to himself, and thinking on the voices he had heard after making his oblations, he departed from the temple and also from Athens, obeying the will of the god Mars. He traveled thus by his journeys and came to the kingdom of Pirre in the city of Salathiel, which was once founded by the Jews. Then Apollo lodged himself in the house of a burgher named Loth, and required him much that he would bring him to the king of that country, which was called Philitenus. Loth acceded to the request of Apollo, and brought him before Philitenus. Then Apollo made reverence to him and said, without speaking to the king in this manner:\n\nRight excellent sire, I have come to you not only by my poor will. authority, for I am fulfilling the commandment of the god Mars, the god of war, who has chosen me to lead a certain number of your people to the best island in the world. And to accomplish this, he has commanded you to build an ark in such a way as I shall design, and after that, deliver to me three hundred of your men with their wives and children, who shall enter the ark with me. And when all this is done, the god Mars, by his power, will bring us to the aforementioned island first, and populate it. Then, above that, he will show men some marvelous works that are there, and to ensure that you do not think I am a deceiver or abuser, I obligate myself to die miserably if I am found in any fault proceeding from my part.\n\nWhen King Philistus had heard Apollo and that he had seen that he was of honorable maintenance. He drew him aside and entreated him that he should declare what he was and from what. The little man, but when the king summoned him, he began to feel a little ashamed, notwithstanding he affirmed to him that he was the king of Arcadia and son of Jupiter, first king of Athens, and god of Mars. After he declared how he had left his kingdom and wandered in the world, and how the god Mars appeared to him in the temple and spoke to him. The king judged him to be the wisest and most discreet man in the world. And after granting him all that he had demanded in the favor of the god Mars, they named him Zechius and Zethus, and promised that they would hold the island under the sovereignty of his kingdom where Apollo would bring them. And when the Pyrians had put in the ark their necessities for their sustenance and had taken leave of the king and his lords, Apollo shut the ark fast and then suddenly closed it and was lifted up. The terrible and great tempest, which caused the cords and cables holding the ark to the land to break, transported the ark into the depths of the sea. King Apollo and the Pyrians, seeing such an impetuous tempest and torment, assumed that the ark and those within it had perished. Therefore, they cried and demonstrated the greatest sorrow of the world, making great lamentations and murmuring against Apollo. However, it grew worse. The tempest continued in such a way that it seemed the entire world would soon perish.\n\nKing Philistines and his men, on the side of the port, assuming none of them would return from the Ark, wept bitterly. This tempest lasted for three days in its entirety. During this time, King Apollo comforted his men as best he could and promised them that without fault, they would be saved. delivered from this parish. And so it happened that they were. For on the fourth day after their departing from Pyre, the tempest ceased at the sun rising. And the noble Ark was cast in a marvelous regorge of the sea, being between two islands. Of which that one was great and that other smaller\n\nImmediately, King Apollo felt that the tempest of the sea had ceased a little and, after perceiving that the Ark was grounded, the wind left its strong blowing, and on the other side, the waves were at rest. He went up into the highest part of the Ark and opened a window to behold and see where they were. Then he perceived first the air well tempered and the sun shining fair and clear. After casting his sight downward, he saw the two noble isles. The larger one, which seemed fair and delicious to him, he knew plainly was the promised island. And the smaller one next to it was that island that\n\n(Note: The text appears to be in Old English or a variant thereof. However, based on the provided context, it seems to be describing a biblical story, likely from the Book of Genesis. Therefore, I will assume the text is in Early Modern English and make minimal corrections to maintain the original meaning and style.) The habitation was granted to him due to the great marvels that would ensue. Then he was so glad, joyous, and comforted that he began to sing high praises and blessings to the god Mars. Immediately after, he called upon the knights Zechius and Zeth, as well as his ost Loth, and told them they ought to render and yield thanks and praises to the God of Battle. Land and the other men and women heard these tidings, they rose from their seats, cleansed their faces, and wiped their tearful eyes. They looked up high and implored Apollo to open the doors and windows of the ark so they might see the promised land.\n\nApollo, hearing this request and considering the great distress in their hands along with their high joy, opened all the entrances of the ark and allowed the Pyreneans to emerge, revealing to them the firm land. Founded they this land, which they found so noble, so delightful, and so fertile in all good things. For the land was right fertile. The pastures and the herbs sweet-smelling, the trees laden with fruit. The woods and high forests full of wild beasts and venison. When Apollon had visited this noble land and had well surveyed and considered the circuit and the places of the same, he founded in a forest an altar in the name of God Mars and offered sacrifice to him. And in the same place, the Amazons founded a temple to the goddess Diana. In which Iason and Medea became acquainted, as will be said hereafter, and declared more fully in his place.\n\nAfter the founding of this altar, when the sacrificing Zetes and also Leches with the people that he had brought, and demanded them what they would do and what was their intention, then they answered with one voice:\n\n\"Indeed, our intention and will is to abide here and live and die. We desire none to depart from us.\" this shall be the sepulcher for us and all our eyes to the world's end / the honey that here dwells shall be our meat. And we shall labor and cultivate this noble land, had not I been only for distributing this so noble a land / know ye for certain that I had not abandoned myself to the tempests and perils of the sea / nor to the great orages and turbulences of the impetuous winds. It pleases me right well that this noble country be your habitation / but since your intention is such / it is above all things necessary greatly for you and for your well-being and recommendation / that you render and do your pain to establish a city and that you close it with walls, towers, and gates to the end that none may come rushing upon you pillage, rob, or trouble you in any other manner. And after it behooves you to communicate and gather by good policy in such a way that the hardy and powerful of body and wise men shall induce and teach the rude people and hard of understanding. The poor shall be held and bound to labor each one. A man, after hearing this, would subtly propose solutions for you, such as tours, harnesses, and other suitable items to keep you in times of doubt. They would also arrange solemn edifices and houses for the city in the most propitious and convenient places.\n\nWhen the Pyrians had understood that Apollon was their god, they all answered freely that they would accomplish to their power all that he desired, and that he should be their father, and they his children. Then they chose a convenient place to build their city and did not delay long before beginning to build and house by the sea side in such a way that within a short time they founded and built a very noble city, enclosed with walls, ditches, and gates. Apollon named this city Iliyon. The Pyrians built a very sumptuous palace in the midst of it. And on the other side, Zeus, Zethus, and Loth built many houses. Their generation multiplied greatly and meritoriously. Apollon thanked the god Mars for this. To him sacrifice. This don he assembled on a day all the people and said to the people of God Mars, when I consider the well-being and valor of your habitations, you are much held to the goddesses. Therefore, I pray you henceforth that you serve him with good heart. And after that, I pray you that you nourish peace and concord together and that you keep division and rancor. I pray you to banish from your hearts pride, hate, covetousness, gluttony, and all other vices. Consequently, I advise you that at this time you establish judges among you, the two virtuous knights Zechius and Zetheus, and that you obey them sovereignly. And if you do not, I declare to you for true, Troutshall will not endure near or standing together, nor one stone upon another. Apollon had not yet finished these words but that all they, stoning, opened their mouths and cried with a high voice, saying, \"Truly Apollon, thou art the god of wisdom; as long as we live, we shall submit ourselves to him and to the goddess.\" all our affairs, desiring thy holy sacrifices, manners, and honest doctrines to ensure that thou be our pastor or herdsman, and we shall be thy sheep.\n\nWhen Apollos had understood this, he answered them and said, \"Indeed, noble lords, it does not belong to me to receive the great honor that you all offer and present to me. You know that Zechariah and Zedekiah are of your nation, and I am here alone and a stranger. It is evident and not a toy for you not to take in patience my co-priest and Zedekiah. And therefore, I pray you not to lay such a great charge and burden on my back. It is not needed. And in order to speak the truth, Zechariah and Zedekiah are two wise knights well-prepared and propitious to exhort and advise you. And you, doing so, peace and love shall be in you. And there shall be no man that shall be some trouble or machine in no way among you and Zechariah and his.\" Fel Hawkins this parliament to gather with Loth and some considered that the people would in no way change their opinion. They concluded to make an answer such as follows. Which Loth pronounced, and Apollon in no way doubted this work, for as much as thou art among us of unknown generation. Thy wisdom and sagacity are more pleasing to the people. The naivete or birth of Zeus and Zetheus. Thou art the right mirror of our doctrine. The patron of our policy. The right one who polishes and enlightens us and our rude natures. Indeed, the two good knights Zeus and Zetheus thank thee for the great honor thou dost to them. And they, being joined with the people, will grant thee sovereign lordship over us and the City. Therefore, thou wilt no longer be ordered and concluded. Thou shalt be our king. And for supporting this, Zechius and Zethephus will be commissioned as thy lieutenants. They, by thy command, will have the charge and thought under thee. The common business and small matters. Of which they shall have the knowledge to determine. Incontinent, as Loth had finished his proposition, at the instigation of all the people, Apollo acceded to all things according to their will. And then, forthwith, two of the people, upon seeing and understanding this, found Apollo and beheld him who had put him in the sea. Indeed, he was greatly abashed. But in order to know all the tidings, he made to row towards him. He found the poor fellow, who knew King Apollo as his lord, weeping and saying pitifully, \"Ah, Lord Apollo, if it is possible for you to help and deliver me from this mortal danger.\" When Apollo saw the poor fellow in such desolation, his tears flowed abundantly and he felt great pity. He asked him what caused him to cry and weep, and from where the water came that boiled around him. When Apollon saw his companions, he was so sorrowful that he didn't know what to do, but answered the poor fellow and said with great emotion, \"How can that be fair, sir? I just saw Zechius and all his companions who were with him when they took land in Colchis, as they were descending from the ship. Alas, sir, the fellow answered then, \"It is well reasoned that I recount and tell you the truth and verity of this cruel adventure. Indeed, sir, it is true that as soon as Zechius and we entered the island, we perceived from afar in a beautiful meadow a living beast, feeding on fine gold. It was as great as a horse in shape and form, like a sheep or a goat. Then, we decided with one will that we would take him, and went forth.\" And so we were supposed to take it by force or otherwise. We marched the dward to our ill health, for on the very same day, a most beautiful and most rich temple sprang forth. In it appeared a most marvelous and fearsome dragon with three tongues, casting fire and flames. Also, two monstrous boils emerged from the earth, each with legs and feet made of copper. Their horns were great and sharp. Their eyes were larger and redder than boiling copper or metal. These three fearsome beasts disgorged fire from their throats and spewed venom upon us in such a way that Zechius and all the others died in such pain and anguish that none was recorded before. Of the thirty laws present, there is none who escaped except for myself, who was last and farthest behind. For when I perceived the danger to be so great, I put myself to flight. But I could not flee fast enough to escape the terrible dragon's casting upon me a gob of the most detestable infection ever. who causes me great pain and suffering, keeping me in such agony that I am compelled to end my life in this world. Therefore, I request that you do not go without naming him, wandering here and there at sea. And thus, by this means, they were all lost and spent. Of this adventure, all those who were at the gate looked on in fear, for never before had such a marvelous tempest been seen. They thought it did not bode well. One to another said that their gods were angry with them when such a tempest came upon them, to their great harm and disadvantage.\n\nAfter this evil adventure, King Appollo and those with him returned to the palaces, lowering their heads in sorrow, and showed Zechius' men the cause of their distress. During this sorrow, Zechius' wife, Mena, came there to learn news of her husband. It was said to her that he had been left dead. The isle of Colchos, where she demonstrated such marvelous sorrow that she fell to the earth in a spasm and a swoon. Afterward, she came to herself and rent her garments, wailing for the death of her child. Apollo, intending to console her, did all he could, but it availed nothing. And there was none who could comfort her. The women, the king, and the friends of the deceased mourned greatly during this sorrow. Apollo visited often and found that she continued to weep. Despite her great beauty, he came to have amorous feelings for the lady, so strong that he asked for her hand in marriage. She agreed, and they were betrothed. They engendered a daughter, who was born in good health. Among all other things, Zetheus grew envious of King Apollo, as his glory increased day by day. This envious feeling consumed him, and he seemed to desire that Apollo and Menelaus would have a son who would succeed to the kingdom after Apollo. Therefore, he devoted himself to winning over and pleasing a certain faction of the citizens. When he felt himself in their favor, he summoned them to his house on a certain day and spoke to them as follows:\n\nMy brethren and good friends, you know well that I am of your lineage, and that all my life I have lived among you. Likewise, my ancestors have always had entire alliance with yours. Considering this, my heart urges me to ask and require of you: if it should happen that Apollo departs from life to death, that you will recommend my son to you and allow him to succeed. After King Appollo, as you well know, there was one worthy of the throne. The friends of Zethus, hearing these words, all agreed with good heart to do all they could for him. Zethus promised them many great things in return if they would make Feris his son king. He promised them so much good that they conspired to kill King Appollo. After this conspiracy, these miserable and treacherous men withdrew into their houses. They came to their neighbors with promises of a great reward for joining this sedition, but some refused and would not assent. Some were even murdered. They drew King Appollo to themselves and told him of Zethus' machinations and the outrageous acts of his allies. They urged him to take heed and attend to their cause. To find such a remedy to keep his life well, honor, and the profit of the commonwealth\nThe king Apollon was marvelously troubled and had great sorrow in his heart when he was informed of these hard tidings. He conducted himself wisely, for with all diligence he sought information about these matters. And he found that they had slandered him to him through tyranny, evidently. And continually he had in his house about 100 men of evil life, who composed all the evil they could think of against those they found not of their faction. The great trouble and displeasure of King Apollon were doubled when he knew for truth that it was true that he was informed of this. Nevertheless, he endured the malice of Zethus and his accomplices for a certain time. But when he perceived their continual worsening and that from day to day they paid more harm than good, he sent to Zethus that he should do justice on his servants and those who were culpable for the deaths of those who had tyrannized. When Zethepus understood the king's message, he answered with a mouth full of deceit, declaring that he was wise enough to correct his servants. He would not do so at his will, and then the messenger reported this answer to King Appollo, who heard it. Appollo considered whether he would allow them to continue for a little while to see how his enemies would maintain themselves. During this time, he kept Zethepus and his followers well assured in his palace. However, it was not long before Zethepus and his people committed even greater outrages and cruelty than before. The people rose and mobilized in one day. Some went to Appollo, while others went to the traitors. The latter assembled in great pride and sent a message to Appollo, demanding that he leave the palace immediately or else they would reveal that he was their mortal enemy. enemyes. When Apollon had understood this, he accorded to their words and put himself immediately to arms. And so did all his party. As soon as they were all ready, they set out towards their enemy and ours, to punish him and his accomplices. the marketplace. The king sent one of his knights to Zethephius to inform him that he should come to Apollo to make amends for the misdeeds of which he and his accomplices were accused. Zethephius responded that he would go to his enemy, but only if it was done with a strong force of armed men. He added harshly that if Apollo was well advised, he and his allies would not be found wanting before Zethephius' strength, but rather should go so far that they would never be heard from again. As soon as the knight had understood this, he returned to his lord and reported what had transpired. Zethephius, without delay, marched forth accompanied by his accomplices, all armed, to the place where he believed he would find Apollo. They went so far that they encountered their adversaries, who were taken by surprise. them - those who had seen each other. They cried out to them towards the death. And ran upon each other, armed one with a basinet on the head, and the other with a body. One bearing a club, another a sword, ill-prepared and without other parley, they began a battle in the marketplace, felonious and mercilessly. In their casting terrible cries, one and other, it seemed as though thunder had come down from heaven. And with this, all the women and little children of the city came running and cried weeping so right anguishedly that it was great pity to see them make their lamentations and sorrow.\n\nThus, as you may understand, began the battle of the Citizens - one against the other - and in coming together, they struck each other cruelly, considering only to kill each other. But the king Apollon, full of pity and reluctance, sent them forth among their enemies.\n\nso far in giving peace strokes and terrible on the right side and on the left side by such virtue that the place was immediately dyed and wet. The malefactors' blood and they acted so knightly and charmingly, and in particular Apollon. There was no traitor but that he trembled before them. Every man began to make way for the noble king. Then Zethepus had such sorrow that he came and placed himself before the knight Fletheris and Loth, and he had with him ten of his best fighters. Their encounter was such that the noble knight Fletheris struck down Zethepus to the earth among the dead bodies with one stroke and took him. In this manner, they killed most of them. It was not long after that the traitors knew that their captain was severely hurt and taken. Therefore, they turned back and put them to flight in all directions along the river of the city and so spurred away.\n\nWhen the noble king Apollon saw that his men put the traitors to flight immediately, he ceased the battle and returned to his palaces with great glory. And each man cried, \"Health to the king.\" Appollo. Many people came before the king and humbly requested mercy and confessed his great fault. His wife knelt before the nobles and people, begging for her husband's life so humbly that the king had pity and spared Zetheus. But on the same day, he accused all those who had caused the great evil. Of these, King Appollo did justice. And from that day forth, the city was nourished in peace for many years, to the loving and praising of Appollo.\n\nZethus was dismissed from his office, but his temper was mollified, and he governed so well and discreetly that he won back the love and good grace of the king. In this way, by the intervention of Mena, King Appollo gave his daughter Phaoles in marriage to the son of Zethus, named Pheris. This Pheris was a wise young man, prudent, discreet, and much loved by the gods. good Justice considered two things with him: Pheris's wisdom and his intention to return to Greece. He made Pheris king in this realm, and the people confirmed him. It wasn't long after that Menelaus departed from life through death. Apollon was marvelously sorrowful over his wife's death. After long mourning, when he felt his end approaching, he called on Andromache and said, \"My dear daughter, I take leave of you. I must secretly depart from this country and alone return to Greece, where I was born. Before I depart, I leave the queen of this isle, whom I hold in great joy in my heart, with your wisdom, discretion, and virtues. I shall deliver to you the bill that Mars has written, containing all the ways I shall do to conquer the noble Moton or the sheep of gold in the island of Colchis, to destroy all the terrible beasts that guard it.\" ben in the same yle\u00b7 And I com\u0304ande that to no man ly\u2223uyng ne to no creature of the worlde thou shewe hit not But yf hit be in thende of thy life vnto a doughter that shall come of the. vnto whome thou shalt make her swere that semblably she shall not shewe hit to no persone sauf only to her doughter. And so from doughter to doughter Hyt pleseth the god Mars that this bille be kepte vpon payne of deth\u0304 vnto the tyme that oute shall come a knyghte in to this palays that shall be worthy to see it And shall conquere the noble moton or shepe of gold\nWyth\u0304 these wordes the kyng deliuerid the bill to his dere doughter / the whiche conteyned in substan\u0304ce the termes that folowe. Yf thou loue thy lyf & wilt auenture thy self for to conquere the moton\u0304 or shepe of golde. hit is of pure necessite that thou haue the habyts that appollo was clad with\u0304 all at the oure that this bill was deliuerid to him / After hit behoueth\u0304 that thou haue his armures and that thou were his gowne aboue them. And of the other clothes thou Make a sacrifice to the god Mars and place a bolt where you will keep the blood. After this, take the powder of the sacrifice and throw it in three parts. One part with the blood of the bolt, and this mixture shall have such power that if your body is anointed with it, the fire or the venom of the dragon and the two marvelous bolts that keep the motion may not harm you. Regarding the second part of this powder, you shall mix it with glue. With this glue, you shall anoint the mosels of these two marvelous bolts, to whom you may then approach securely, despite the fact that they cast fire against the measurable. But when their mosels are engulfed in glue, they may then cast no more fire or venom. Then go to the dragon, whom you must kill with your strength and courage. And when you have killed him, return to the two marvelous bolts and hide their eyes. Then yoke them and make them obedient to you. You shall turn four rods of land. Sow these with the teeth of the dead dragon. Afterward, make them grow by harrowing. Suddenly, from this earth, many giants armed shall arise against you. When it comes to fighting, cast upon them the third part of the powder, and they will fight each other and kill one another. Then, when you have finished this, you may take the noble moton or sheep of gold and conquer it. Flee from him. With the reserved body, make sacrifice to Mars, kneeling and humbling yourself before him. Say this prayer that follows:\n\nMars, my god, by the permission of the God of nature, you have the power to change the nature of beasts. And by your own virtue, you conduct all battles and bring them to your pleasure. I thank you with all my heart for what you have made me do. Pray that you receive my sacrifice graciously, and conduct me with honor to my country. When you have finished your prayer, you may return with glory to your country and be seated with the noble flies of gold. My dear daughter then said to Apollo, here is the writing that I have spoken of, and here are my habits required to obtain the conquest of the sheep of gold. My arms are in the temple of Maand and will remain until this noble conquest is completed. Therefore, keep them well and carefully, and I charge you by the commandment of the goddesses. I pray you for all the pleasure you can do me that no person be informed of my departure. Then Phanoles promised and swore to her father that she would do all that he had required and charged her with. And they parted, weeping tenderly. Syn went with Phanoles to King Pherix, for it was night and good King Apollon abode in his chamber until the morning. Then they were alone and entered a little boat which he had made for them, recommending him in the guard and keeping of the goddesses.\n\nAnd then a wind struck the ship that brought him upon the deep sea. You should understand that on the same day, King Pherix was well informed that his father in law had gone and departed. He began to demonstrate and make a marvelous sorrow. And so did all the people, but when they saw that they could not have him near or recover him, they commanded him to the guard of the god Mars. Then King Pherix began to have the governance of the kingdom, and conducted it in such a way that in a short time he gained the love of all the people and of the nobles of the kingdom.\n\nKing Pherix, after the departure of old King Apollon, had a daughter by his wife Phanoles named Ortis. This daughter grew up and was married to a [person]. A Greek nobleman named Oetes, who by the fortune of the sea was brought to this country during the old and ancient reign of King Pherix, came here. The ladies of Sychye then arrived in this region. It was widely believed that they would have taken the city of Iacoynte by assault, but the inhabitants of the city held them back so strongly that this multitude of women were forced to abandon their enterprise. They besieged the city and, during their siege, they built a temple to the goddess Deane, mentioned earlier. During the siege, Oetes, a strong, courageous, and skilled warrior, frequently engaged in combat with them to his honor. When the ladies had completed their temple and realized that the city was impregnable by assault and that the city's forces did not come out against them in battle, they lost their time. They raised their camp and ended the siege. The king, having returned to his seat, was joined by others who had gone to the isle of Colchos. However, those who had encountered such adventures did not return immediately. After the departure of this assembly of ladies, King Pherix gave his daughter to Oetes and ordered them to marry. He provided them with various necessities and gifts and sent them to his household. This was the most wealthy king of all the world at that time. He ordered the creation of an idol, all of fine gold, representing the god Mars. He also created another idol, of fine gold, representing the goddess Diana, which was in a wooded grove filled with all manner of wild beasts. Afterward, he founded a beautiful garden, in which he built a temple to Venus. He created a rich image of her, also of fine gold. Around the temple lived fifty men and as many women, who were so amorous that anyone who beheld them was quickly moved to lust. It is not surprising that among them... King Oethes had a daughter by his wife, named Medea, who grew to be beautiful and fair. He also had another daughter and a son. The daughter was named Caliope, and the son was named Abserthius. At the birth of Abserthius, Queen Ortis grew weak and called for her daughter Medea. She delivered to her all the things that Apollo had given to his daughter Phaoles concerning the fate of the golden fleece's conquest, as well as teaching her many enchantments. With this, she gave her a ring of gold containing a stone of such power that it would make the bearer invisible. After this, she passed from the world. Oetes, Medea, and Caliope mourned greatly. Here I will remain with their sorrow, and I will relate the end of King Apollo.\n\nWhen King Apollo was alone at sea, as it is said, he abandoned himself. And he arrived at the gate of Starille, a city of the kingdom of Pyre, and found that King Philitenus was there passing by. Then he went to him and, after the necessary courtesies were exchanged, recounted to him from the beginning all that had befallen him and his people: how they had discovered the island that the goddesses had promised him, and how they had built the city and made him king; how Zeus and his companions had died in the island of Colchis; how Sethophus had conspired against him; how he had made his son Perix king and had departed alone.\n\nKing Philitenus was greatly astonished by these things and made great cheer to Apollo in his power. But after his death, and his succession to the throne by his son Serath, Apollo came to him one day to take possession of the kingdom. Leuer (Leuer or Luver) was determined to return to his country. But Serath refused that he should depart, and demanded that he spend the remainder of his life with him. Leuer excused himself and took his leave once more. But Serath would not agree to this. When Leuer saw this and realized he could not longer live, he departed secretly that night. The news reached the king the following morning through one of his knights, who reported that he had met and escorted Leuer to a place called Incontynent.\n\nKing Serath was deeply troubled upon hearing these tidings, as he held Leuer in high regard. He immediately mounted his horse and set out with two good knights from his court to bring Leuer back. However, he could not overtake him until he reached the island of Colchos, where he found Leuer laboring in the extreme heat of death. The king's distress deepened upon seeing and finding Leuer. Appollo wept in this estate, preventing King Aeetes from conquering the golden fleece in Colchos. Recommending him to the Goddesses, Aeetes and his knights mourned deeply for Appollo's death. They planned to bring his body back to their country and give him a fair and rich burial. They lit great quantities of candles around his body for the night. However, when it was around midnight and all the lanterns burned around Appollo's body, everyone went out and suddenly extinguished the candles. Then, King Aeetes and his knights had to spend the remainder of the night without any light or clarity, which they greatly regretted. On the morning when the day appeared, they found not the body of King Appollo but an crystal clear pool, which seemed to be his person. Therefore, King Serath saw Miknelid prostrate himself on both knees before him and worship the earth. Then he heard a voice that said to him, \"Seek not Apollo, but among the gods. He has prayed for you and for all who will come to this sepulcher. Therefore, know that you will have good fortune. And all who come here with good devotion will receive answers for their questions, and here the voice fell silent. King Serath confessed openly that without a doubt, Apollo was a god. After these events, the Greeks were accustomed to come from far and wide to this temple to worship him and diligently inquire about their destinies. Among all others, Peleus went there as it is said. And thus ends the history of Apollo and his feats. Now I will return to speak of the feats and valor of the noble [person]. When Jason departed from Lenos, he dedicated his ship to the goddess Pallas and to the goddess of the sea. He sailed for many journeys from one coast to another, and in the end, Argos steered his course by the sun so that one day he arrived at the island he had long desired to find, which was Colchos, by a great storm and impetuous force. It was not long after Argos had brought his ship into this gulf or arm of the sea that the sun went down. Then, as Argos thought, he could best anchor and make his ship fast. However, he saw before him the city of Iacynthus, and on one side of the island of Colchos, there suddenly sprang forth whirlpools of fire so terrible that in fear of beholding them, he began to cry out. When Jason, Hercules, Theseus, and the other knights of Greece heard their master cry out, they sprang to action. vp and came to him. The master told them the reason for his crying and showed them the city and the island. He assured them they had reached the end of their voyage and this matter. They spoke of it for a long time, and their ship came to the port, the place where the ark of Apollo had come when they first arrived on the land. Then, the master of the ship cast his anchors into the sea. Iason rendered loving and praising to the goddesses, and Hercules did the same. They then sent Theseus to King Oetes to signify their coming and to inquire if this was the country they sought. Theseus went and carried out his message in such a way that King Oetes presented his palace to him and sent four of his knights to request that he take lodging in his palace. He was welcome to him. Once Iason understood the king's will, they promised him a good welcome. Iason entered the city, which was not fair but well-lit at that time due to the clarity and resplendence of torches, lanterns, and other fires that the king had made in the city to celebrate these Greeks. Iason, accompanied by Hercules and his companions, richly clad and attired in silk, passed through the street leading to the palaces. The street was populated on both sides by ladies, damsels, knights, burghers, merchants, maids, and young people, all observing their arrival and their orderly procession. When Iason arrived at the entrance of the palaces, he found the noble King Oetes, who was seated in a royal state to celebrate Iason and his companions. Oetes received Iason honorably as their chief, took him by the hand, and led him to his palaces. Iason gazed into a window as they continued on their journey and saw the beautiful Medea among the ladies. He paid no heed to the others, but she began to watch him affectionately due to his great beauty. For a while, Iason and his company passed by the window where Medea was, and they entered a hall where the tables were being set for supper. King Oetes then began to question Iason, saying:\n\nIason, fair sir, I know that you are courting Medea, as Theseus, your companion, has told me. But I do not know why you are going or what you seek. Therefore, I ask that you tell me a little about your state and enterprise, if it is possible for you to do so. I promise that if I can be favorable in any way. I will deliver aid and comfort to you in all that is possible, for I have known your father for some time. Sir, I answered then Iason, humbly thanking you for the great honor you bestow upon me. And since it is necessary that you know the reason why I have come to your country, I declare that I have undertaken to go to the island of Colchos, disregarding the parallels which are doubtful and not without cause. With this, I have made it clear that I will never return to Greece until I have conquered it, and I will bring the sheep with me. And if I cannot finish this enterprise, Hercules my companion will undertake it. Therefore, I request that you conceal this enterprise to your power. \"Certes, Iason said then, king, you have made a little vow.\" How so, Sir Iason replied the king. You ever return here again, for there are in that isle two great and marvelous bulls kept for the guarding of the moton or flees of gold. Of which you speak. Also kept for their guard was the most terrible and the most crimson dragon, which was spoken of or seen by none. These beasts continuously expelled fire and venom from their throats. Which shall kill you without remedy if you approach them, considering that you have demanded me to conceal this. And also every noble man is bound to be formed and concealed. I pray you, conceal as my proper son that you cease from this enterprise, for if you do otherwise, all the gold in the world may not save you. Therefore, think well what you have to do before you put yourself in such danger. I conceal from you as though you were my own son or my brother Germain. And herewith they left their words.\n\nThe supper was ready. With these words, the king sat down at the table between Jason and Hercules and sent for Medea. and Caliope. whiche were sette tofore him / this don\u0304 he com\u0304anded the other grekes to sytte at an other table where they were richely seruid. But whan hyt cam for to ete the noble mayde Medea entrowbled at that ty\u2223me her mayntene / and cast her regarde vpon Iason where she rested lenger then\u0304e hit apperteyned to her contenau\u0304ce. for Iason semed to her more fayr that he was at the first time\u00b7 & he was so playsant & agreable / that whan she herde recompte among other deuises & thinges that he was comen for to conquere the moton\u0304 or flees of golde / she iuged that this was the knight of grece whiche was destined for to conquere it & sayde in her self that she wolde helpe him to ob\u2223teyne the same / with\u0304 that he wolde take her to his wyf / such\u0304 or semblable were the thoughtes of the fair medea at souper She behelde ofte times Iason whan she sawe her time / & it anoyed her moche that she might not speke to him pryuely \u00b6what shal I saye more / for whan the king & the grekes had right wel take their refecco\u0304n the tables were taken up, and after the Greeks were led into various chambers, Iason was lodged near fair Medea, for there was only a little alley between her chamber and his. When Iason was withdrawn into his chamber and was alone with Mopsius, he began to devise with him and said, \"Mopsius, fair sir, said Mopsius. I see no way, nor do I know any other thing to do if you go to this perilous isle of Colchis, where there are so dreadful and terrible beasts, as it has been said to you. Nevertheless, answered Iason, it is now necessary for me to fulfill my obligation. \"Indeed, sir, said Mopsius, it is no longer necessary for you to go any further if it pleases you. You ought to be content without going any farther, for it is commonly said, 'it is better to leave folly than to maintain folly.' \"Ha, ha, Mopsius, said Iason, if I do not use my power to perform what I have promised and sworn, I shall use my whole life after. \"yet I had nearly finished, but you do not understand your case. For truly, it is certain that your uncle has sent you here cautiously to undertake and achieve this adventure, so that he might obey your kingdom. Therefore, you may return to great Britain without further enterprise. You shall have [something]. In truth, Mopsius answered him then. I cannot abandon my faith to all that you have said. And for this reason, you should know for certain that for fear of death or danger that may befall and come to me, I shall not depart, but I will provide for my wife. Therefore, if it happens that I die in this perilous isle, I require you to recommend me to the good grace of the fair Medea.\"\n\nWhen Mopsius had understood this, he began to weep. And Iason laid him down in his bed and changed his purpose. And began to cheer up his countenance, recommending above all other things the kindness of King Oetes and Medea. The beautiful Medea stood at Jason's chamber door, listening to his plans and those of Mopsius. Enamored, she could not withdraw. As long as their schemes persisted, she remained at the door, listening. When they returned to their purposes, she retreated to her chamber, where only an ancient lady, her maid or mistress, slept. Then, the noble maiden Medea went to her bed, filled with thoughts and imaginings. She could not sleep, for her mind was tormented by so many thoughts and imaginings on all sides, causing her to toss and turn. Overwhelmed by a marvelous embracing of love, she began to whisper to herself, \"Alas, my eyes, in what labor have you been, and I, who was once accustomed to be?\" For you have enveloped my heart with an ardent fire of amorous desire. I have what shall become of this, or what shall I do being in this pain and sorrow in his service? In his service I shall be subject, it is inevitable. And why, for as much as I am struck to the heart by the great beauty of Jason, the bravest of all the world. And to my judgment, the glory of Greece. O marvelous dart, wherewith I feel myself struck to the heart. Indeed, your eyes are the cause which displeases me. And for what reason? For as much as you are capable of this folly. How can it be? It is not. I do not believe it. It must be believed. It is great folly to desire things that cannot be obtained. I know truly that Jason is sore enamored of a lady in his court. Furthermore, his courage is garnished with a great and marvelous constancy. Then may it be said that I may not enter into an over great folly. I see why you haven't replied to this argument. You do nothing but think, for the noble and gentle Iason thinks no more of me than of her whom he has never seen. Ha, in what jeopardy do I stand? I may not require love from Iason, for that would bring great blame upon me and go against the honor of love. And then I must believe in all my folly. Moreover, I must doubt for two reasons. The first is, if I were to require this knight openly, I would be defamed to the end of the world. For Iason, without contradiction, goes into the isle of Colchos, where he will soon be devoured by the terrible beasts. Ha, what sorrow and damage that would be if such a prince were to perish in such a manner. He is the chosen of all nature, the choice of nobles, and the flower of worship. I have heard his reasons. He would rather die honorably in accomplishing his vow than return with rest to Greece. Aha, what noble and excellent courage! O how happy and extraordinary! Should I be nearly great joy if I could be called by him to his love, who might do for me as I think, and how? For teaching and learning him the industry and administering to him the manner for conquering the noble flees of gold. I have all things prepared to bring this conquest to an end. If I knew that he would take me as his wife, I would deliver them to him with the better will and greater joy from my heart. What shall I do? Alas, I don't know. And if I granted him this favor and afterwards set nothing by me for the love of his first lady in amours, to whom he recommended him by Mopsius as I right now heard, certainly I should die for sorrow. And shall I let him furnish his household, and then death shall follow. Alas, no. For if he died there, my death would be near at hand. For as much as I love him better than my life, and my heart judges that this is he for whom the goddesses have established this wonderful adventure in the isle of Colchos. Furthermore, it seems to me that if I do for him: Him it was a great thing for me to save his life, and by my means he shall come above his enterprise with honor. For the merit and reward of my benefaction, he shall be content and joyous to take me as his wife. Medea, the noble lady, with this conclusion, fell asleep and passed the night until the day came, and the king rose up earlier than usual to come to Jason.\n\nWorrying to let his enterprise go and break it, he found Hercules with him. They made an agreement with each other. After they began to devise the island of Colchos, the king recalled those who had been in Colchos and how they had been slain and sacrificed. And after this, he counseled Hercules and Jason not to go there in any way, but what remonstrance he showed them, Jason delayed in his purpose to take the adventure and put his body in jeopardy among the three terrible and fearsome beasts, and he concluded that he would depart thitherward within four days following. When the good king realized that there was no other remedy but that Jason was determined and resolved to accomplish his own venture in Colchos, he concealed this from him and advised him instead to pass his time by going to the temple of the goddess Diana, which the ladies of Thessaly had recently founded in a forest called Edeus. Jason thanked him much for his good advice and said that he would go there with a good heart. Then he sent for all the Greeks of his company and took with him the representation of the noble goddess Athena, which was in his ship. After this, he set forth his knights on the way, and he himself bearing the said representation followed them. Hercules and theseus went before the party, carrying trumpets, clarions, tabors, and other instruments that made such joyful noise and clamor that the people of the city marveled. Some even followed them. Among all other women, including Medea and her maids, numbering three thousand, hurried them to the temple before the Greeks. When Jason arrived at this temple, Medea came and met him, instigated and encouraged by love. Many Greeks looked on as Medea made her prayers for Jason. Always absorbed in his devotions, Jason entered the temple and placed the representation of the goddess Pallas by and near the goddess's priestess. After he had done this, he knelt down before the altar and prayed and offered sacrifices for a long time, which greatly troubled and annoyed Medea, who was not present only for prayer but was determined to save Jason's life by preventing him from the fire and the venomous creatures that the three marvelous beasts had cast and rendered. At last, Jason rose from his prayers and went to the ladies. To them, he made a speech. Reference and primarily to Medea, whom the ladies and damoiselles beheld with great interest after she took him by the hand and led him, showing him all the places of the temple. Among other things, she showed him the representation of the god Mars, intending to speak to him about certain things she desired to know the truth. But Hercules and these and other Greek ladies and damoiselles followed so closely that she could not conceal her intention. She kept him there for a long time, and when she saw that she could not have her way there, she said to Hercules that she would bring them into the temple of Venus.\n\nThen the priestess Iason and Hercules thanked the noble lady for her courtesies and departed from the temple of Diana to go to the temple of Venus. But in going, Medea began to sigh deeply as one who had a burning and passionate desire in her heart. Unable to hide it any longer, she entered the temple and began. Certes, right noble knight, I compliment your great beauty. In response, Lady Anais answered Iason, saying, \"None can hinder or tear you from your enterprise except that you dare to undertake the quest for the fleece or sheep of gold, which is impossible for any man living. And know for certain that if you go there, you shall not return. Since you come from such noble extraction of royal lineage, and every man loves his kin, by this true and natural reason I complain to you above all others. I think it marvelous that you would so willingly risk your life. I have not heard of a greater folly. Naturally, every creature flees death and desires to live. It has been well declared and advised to you of the perils in this adventure, and yet you will not believe the warning. Certes, Iason, it is...\" When Iason understood this, he answered the noble lady in this manner: \"Madame, I have right well understood your words and reasons, which are good and wholesome. But you do not consider that every noble body ought sooner to choose death than to acknowledge bringing this enterprise to an end. How wondrous and doubtful that is. Shall I then go against my word? There is no way or means but that I must necessarily fulfill this adventure. Or else, I shall be pointed at with the finger as a reproach and cowardice. And as a right recreant knight, By all my gods, I had rather endure this adventure than have it predestined for me to do anything in any way that I might be reprehended or reproached.\n\nImmediately as Medea understood his feigned dolor and sorrow, she feigned to be dolent and sorrowful herself. And indeed, she failed to provide herself to take it upon herself to bring it to an end.\" Neithersaid then Medea, \"If Jason believes my words, he should go no further. I will say to him such reasons as seem fitting, so that he may believe me. And then Medea drew Jason aside. When she saw that they were so far from the others that they could not understand what she said, she said to him, \"In truth, right noble knight, it is fitting that a woman's pity be excused by your gentleness. I have pity for you and your great beauty. And nature has inclined me towards you. Trusting that if I do anything for you, you will know it. The hour I appear to your eyes is not only the secret of my heart but also that by which you will obtain and bring to completion your marvelous enterprise, leading to your great honor and recommendation. And since I declare to you by great love things that are high and great, if you wish to know more of them, it is necessary that you swear to me to keep it secret above all.\" Madame answered then, Iason / I am a poor and true knight sent to these monsters / certainly it has pleased you to do me more honor than ever it shall lie in my power to deserve / nevertheless when your pitiful heart will incline unto my poverty / I swear to you by the names of all the gods that men worship / that if you declare to me anything that as long as I shall live it shall not depart from my mouth / By my law, sir knight answered Medea, I have great confidence in your nobility; wherefore I am resolved to discover to you the secret of the gods / and after that, which lies on my heart / which if it be not long on you / it shall return to your great honor and profit / Madame answered Iason / it shall not hold on me / and if you know anything propitious to my worship I submit to your right noble grace.\n\nA noble knight said then, Medea / I may no longer feign / my eyes have beheld your great beauty / you are all the desire of my heart where there \"worketh love so profoundly that I have great pity on you. And in such a way that if you will promise me to be my true husband and bring me into your country after your vow and enterprise brought to an end, I will promise you and also show how you shall conquer the motions or fears of gold without danger to your body, and in such a way that you shall return whole and safe to your glory and honor. This which no mortal man may come to but by a secret manner, coming from the goddesses. The which was not long since delivered to me by my mother. I pray you that you will have regard to my abandoned offering and also to your health.\n\nWhen Medea had understood this, he began to frown in himself and sighing with a heavy heart answered, \"Lady, you constrain me to be more beholden to you than to any creature living. I cannot conceive from whence this desire comes, since I feel myself thus fallen into your grace. I would it pleased the goddesses that I were worthy and deserving of it.\"\" \"made a vow to a lady in the world / \"Fair sir said Medea, \"it seems to me that your heart has gained the favor of some lady. Have you ensured and wedded her? \"Madam answered Iason, \"I certify you no. But I have set my love upon her so perfectly that in no way can I forget her, and I have promised that I shall be hers all my life. \"Then Medea said, \"What are you and the others doing here? It is necessary that you leave and forget her. And if I am the cause of saving your life, as far as I am concerned, I will enjoy you alone without any other. \"My dear lady answered Iason, \"the poor abandoned body is yours. I will honor and serve you in all that is possible in me. \"In truth, Iason answered, \"my right dear lady, you do me great honor undeserved. \"Fair sir Iason answered the lady, \"love is the cause of this.\"\" I commanded me to do it. The reason caused me to renounce in such great shame that I require you to be my lord. But it seems pitiful that in favor of the desire to save your life, you ought to excuse me. Madam answered Iason, \"I shall not be so unworthy as to come justly to the good grace of one so noble a lady as you are. I would willingly that it should be so. But what will become, and what shall I say, she to whom I have given myself, if you forsake her not.\" On all sides then spoke Medea. I cannot help you to do your conquest or save your life, and therefore choose you, for I am struck to the heart with your love since I must say all this. If I should be the cause of saving your life, and another should enjoy your person, it would behoove me to die for sorrow. Therefore consider what you have to do and be advised. With these words, Iason and Medea entered the garden of pleasure, in which was set the temple of Venus, adorned and surrounded with flowers. delicious works that seemed a veritable paradise terrestrial\nThen Hercules and the other ladies and damsels approached Iason and Medea, and it was necessary for them to leave and cease their parley,\nand to behold the pleasure and the delights of that place of flowers and all the facons of vines and trees conducted by compass.\n\nWhen the Greek knights had seen and conceived the beauty of this place, they had great marvel and were much amazed, and after they entered the temple, they made their orisons and then beheld the composition and ordinances of the images that represented the amorous people all about the goddess Venus. And when they had long seen and beheld all,\n\nMedea took leave of Iason and said that she would abide a little while there. And then Iason departed from the temple and returned with the Greeks to the palace. And the fair Medea remained in the temple much pensif and in great pain, in so much that after the departure of the Greeks she knelt down humbly before the representation of Venus. Right sovereign goddess of lovers, who holds all the faiths of nature in thy dominion and signorie, I yield myself to thy good mercy. Have mercy on me and tell me where I may come to have good counsel. I have required the noble knight Jason of love, or at least I have revealed and shown him what I have offered to say to him and declare to you. But at least, if I clearly perceive that I have abandoned myself to him and if he dares not to listen to me, but if I may do something that he accords to my will, this shall be the greatest joy that may come to any woman of a noble house. Right high goddess, give me counsel, teach me, put your help to this work, your ancillary or handmaiden. It is now time or new.\n\nAfter this prayer remained the fair Medea as all raised. And was so long there till the lady spoke and said that she tarried and made her prayers too long and that it was time to return to the palaces. Then, inspired by love, as her visage showed it plainly, and... Returned home, and when she arrived at the palace, she found that the king was waiting for her to go to dinner. But she made it clear to the king that she was not disposed to do so. The king then seated her at the table with Jason, the noble Hercules, and theseus and Caliope, his second daughter. Medea went to her chamber, and many ladies and maidens followed her. She made them all leave and kept only the lady in charge of her. This lady was greatly embarrassed by Medea's behavior. As soon as all the women had left, Medea went to her and said, \"My dear daughter, I have great wonderment from whence this illness has come to you.\" The lady answered, \"Fair mother, there is no need for you to wonder. For there is no creature, however noble, that does not have to receive illnesses and sicknesses when they come. Your reason is good, say the gods and fortune.\" lady: \"But when the maladies come, it is necessary to seek remedy as soon as possible. Tell me your necessity, where the sickness holds and grieves you. I will advise the medicine or physician who will answer me. It is said to be Medea. Therefore said the lady, \"Because my infirmity is secret, and for that reason I dare not reveal it.\" \"I suppose it is love,\" she then said. \"You are troubled by it, and I am in doubt that the beauty and noble virtues of Jason are the cause. For I see you all in other manners than you were accustomed to be. And if it is so, tell it to me boldly. For you are the creature above all others in the world that I love best. I have, up to this time, governed and nourished you with the best wisdom I could. And for so much as it seems to me, you should hide nothing from me. And if you are smiling with the dart of love, reveal it to me. That will be great joy to your heart.\" A person in love bears his pain and grief lightly, when they find one to whom they may open their heart and speak clearly. My far mother said then, \"Medea, I see well that it is necessary that you know all my affair. Indeed, truly, I am in love with Jason. And so much that I would jeopardize my life for him. And in doing this:\n\nWhen she had understood this that I said, she began to weep tenderly, saying, \"Ah, my dear daughter what have you done? I am dishonored by you. Ah, what outrage! They will mock you, and if it is known, you will never be honored or called as you have been before. Know, fair mother, answered Medea then, \"I have not done anything so evil as you think. And if I have required the noble knight Jason of love, it will be reputed to me as virtue and not shame or dishonor. For pity has constrained me so to do, for as much as it is in me to save his life and to make him return with glory and victory in his enterprise.\" that then I have seen a knight so fair and well addressed, his like will not be seen for a thousand years. I have felt pity for him, and love has inspired me to consider many things. I have made him a promise which I will keep and maintain if he will ensure me that I shall be his wife. For within these pages, by writing, I reveal the manner in which the gods will that the motion or shepherd of gold shall be conquered. Therefore, I request and pray that you help me and contrive a way for me to win his love, and that you would do so for the love of me. He must have no suspicion of any other lady in the world, save only of me. For it is necessary that it be so, or else he be dead and perished in the isle of Colchos, where he has vowed to go and finish the perilous adventure of the motion or fleece of gold. And finally, in bewailing and weeping his death, I The lady saw Medea in this critical state and, holding her back, witnessed her remarkable and great courage. Yet she feared harm if the maid completed her desire. Recalling that she could bring Jason to conquer the Golden Fleece or flee, she weighed all these factors and, having made up her mind, began to console Medea. She promised her that, without other means, she would enjoy Jason's love. It wasn't long before she went to Jason's bed and performed certain enchantments and sorceries. Expert in all forms of enchantments and sorceries, she returned to Medea and assured her not to doubt anything further. From the moment Jason was laid and coupled in his bed, he would never love another woman but her. And so it came to pass. As Iason lay in his bed, all his courage faded as he thought of Medea's great beauty. Mopsius, with a hand that often spoke so much of her, was dismayed when in this night he made no mention of his lady. Verily, Iason, I perceive well that your passion for the world's most beautiful woman is not she, the triumph of all beauty? Is there any man in the world who could or might desire his recreation more? Mopsius replied, \"I fully agree with what you say about Medea. But concerning the fair Mirro, whom you have recommended to my heart, I cannot believe that you have forgotten her.\" My fair friend Iason said then, \"Mirro is clear as gold, but Medea glows and shines like the precious stone. And if I could find myself in her grace, I would love her supremely.\" Mopsius added, \"I hold you for the most loyal.\" The most constant knight whom I gave to serve you, I now perceive you are as changeable as others. Do you not remember Ysiphile, whom you would not love then? You said, \"If myrrh had not been, you would have espoused her.\" I am displeased with you more than any man. Mopsius answered Iason, \"If you will do me any pleasure, speak to me no more of Myrrh or Ysiphile.\" But of fair Medea speak long and largely, for she is the one I will keep in my mind, and he who speaks to me of other things shall be my enemy.\n\nWhen Mopsius had understood Iason's will, he spoke no more but slept. And Iason remained pensively by the fair Medea. Medea, who had heard as she had done the night before, went into her chamber immediately as the conversation between the two knights was done, and came to her mother, all comforted and consoled. She said to her and recounted all that she had heard. And since she lay in her bed, imagining how she might speak with Iason, she concluded in herself that she would: Iason would go on pilgrimage to the temple of the goddess Diana, declaring that he would not abandon her for any reason but would pursue her. The day began to show, and fair Medea appeared and made a noise to indicate that she was well. She intended to thank the goddess Diana in her temple for the restoration of her health. Afterward, she dressed and adorned herself as beautifully as she could. In the process, she put on her cloak and desired the way as soon as possible. Certainly, he followed Medea under the pretext of going to the temple by good devotion. Fair cover, human beings of this day live in many places and go to temples, churches, or holy places to pray to God in devotion for forgiveness and put away their sins. Yet they do not come together to commit their sins but rather go more to mass to behold and look at each other and make their tours and signs. Then for only devotion. O high-condemned hypocrisy. Men commit sins where they ought to be in devotion and do virtuous works. They beguile lightly now, the world to its charging and damning. But truly, God in no way can be abused.\n\nFor then, to return to our matter, Jason came to the temple where Medea was. Firstly, he worshipped the goddesses. And set himself down on his knee before the altar of the goddesses Pallas and Diana. But for this time, he neither made prayer nor supplication. Instead, he thought what manners he might best hold against Medea and what purposes he might make to her his entrance. And when he had long pondered, he arose and took his way to Medea, who came against him. But then, when she saw that he drew near and that they had entered and that Jason had made the reverence to the other ladies, Medea entered subtly with him. And in devising one and other, she drew him a little apart from the altar of Diana, whom they began to behold. And then, Jason making a gesture, began to speak to Medea. Iason spoke to Medea in this manner about the goddess Diana and the rich wood that adorned it. \"Madame,\" he said, \"I yield myself to your mercy. I am ready to comply with all your commands. And if I said anything yesterday that displeased you, I pray you to pardon me. And if you can help and aid me to bring my vow and enterprise to a good end and support me in this great work, I swear and promise and befriend you. I shall be yours all my life and will bring you with me to Greece without making any mistake.\"\n\nMedea answered, \"Yesterday I declared my case to you privately, and I told you that I had great pity for you. I know that the gods have had pity on you and will not allow you to finish your days in Colchis. They have inspired you to submit to my will. Otherwise, it would not have been possible for you to be here and not be dead and lost. Therefore, let us go forth and make haste, for we must.\" may not long hold parliament after your order and I shall accord myself to be your wife, in all such manner as I promised you yesterday. And yet I promise you that from your own will and enterprise, you shall come above, to your honor and profit. You to morrow or the evening be dark and obscure. Then it is expedient that you lie alone this night in your chamber, to enable me to speak to you more easily and introduce you more secretly into such things as shall be necessary for you to hold. & speak no more to me of this matter at this present time, that none perceive our enterprise or our love.\n\nWith these words, the noble lady began to take her leave of the noble Iason and Iason granted it highly to King Oetes. With these words, Medea took leave of Iason and the other knights of Greece who tarried a little there, and after she departed from them, Iason was complained and bewailed by all the people, saying, One spoke to another that it was right great shame for a knight so gentle and well addressed to destroy himself in all points in the mortal adventure of Colchos. They spoke much thing one to another. And in particular, the noble King Oetes, who came to Jason as he departed from the temple of the goddesses Dean, greatly dissuaded him then from the enterprise of Colchos. He warned him that he would lose his life if he entered, and that the one who had sent him there did so to make him die cautiously.\n\nJason, hearing the counsel that King Oetes gave him for his own good, considering how a knight lives in great reproach when he goes against his oath and promise, and reflecting upon the conclusion and promise he had made with Medea, remained firm and steadfast in his first purpose. He said to King Oetes that for death or any other peril that might come to him, he would not abandon it but would bring it to an end. In truth, he had made up his mind to do so. The morning passed without delay, and Hercules and Theseus, along with King Oetes and the knights of Greece, were deeply grieved. Hercules and Theseus remained, and so did that day pass with discussions about this marvelous deed. Every man retired to his place. The valiant knight Jason took leave of everyone and gave Mopsius the order to remain behind. He was to spend the night in prayer and devotion, and no one was to be with him at that time. This surprised the gods greatly, as he had not been accustomed to such behavior, given the high and commendable virtues with which he was endowed.\n\nHow the Promises Between Jason and Medea Were Fulfilled\nAnd how Medea delivered to him all the necessary skills and crafts for conquering the noble dragon or the fleece of gold\n\nAt that moment when the stars aligned \"Clarities and clarity. And when the night began, Jason withdrew him into his chamber. Medea couldn't sleep. She saw that he was alone, as she had instructed, and opened the door of the stairway leading down from the chamber. She called out to Jason, who was deeply lost in thought. When Jason saw the door open and Medea calling him, he went to her joyfully and said to her. Afterward, he approached her to kiss and embrace her. But Medea told him to stop. Taking him by the hand, she led him into a room. When the servant was gone, Medea began to speak and said, \"My lord and friend, you know well the promise after that was made. Then, Jason and Medea swore and created a solemn agreement to marry each other. They made their vows, and Medea was very joyful, as was her mistress. Then, Medea opened a chest where she had prepared a shirt.\" Letter. She ordered it to be read to her friend Jason, and after she said to him in this manner: \"Jason, my dear friend, return home and with you, your worship, from the Isle of Colchos. No man has ever returned from there before. It is necessary that you first accomplish all the things contained in this writing before anything else. This is what the god Mars sent to King Apollo. Therefore, first and foremost, go to the temple of the goddess Diana at this hour, and then address yourself to the priest. Give him fifty besantes for your offering and ask him for a bull. Use this bull to sacrifice to Mars with this shirt that King Apollo wore when this writing was delivered to him. Put the bull's blood and some of the ashes of your sacrifice in your box, and with this blood and ashes anoint yourself all over. This will preserve you from fire and the venom of the most dangerous beasts.\" After these instructions: You shall divide the ashes into two parts. Keep one part clean and pure. Meddle the other with glew in a bowl. This glew will serve to tame the two horrible bulls. Take the arms of King Appollo, which are on that one side of the altar of the god Mars. Adorn yourself with them. Then, when you have completed all these things, return here again to me. I will supply you with the remainder that will be necessary to bring your conquest to an end.\n\nCeres spoke. Preu Iason was more amazed than ever when he understood the high mysteries that were required of him to surpass his conquest. And when he had heard the signs of Medea, he thanked her often. Then he took the bill, the shirt, the box with glew, and whatever else was necessary for him. And, leaving secretly from there, he went into the forest where the temple of the goddess Demeter was. And he did so much that he came to Iason found the priest asleep in the temple, so he woke him up. The priest then asked Iason what he was and what he wanted. Iason replied, \"I am a knight who has come here to sacrifice to the god Mars. I ask that you give me a bull with fire immediately, and I will give you fifty besants as an offering.\"\n\nWhen the priest understood that Iason was promising such a good offering, he rose quickly, and all the priests and curates did the same on that day when they felt and understood that a good offering was coming to them. They put their hands to the cause.\n\nThen, when this master priest had risen, he came before Iason and paid him great respect. Afterward, he said to him that he should be diligently served with all that he demanded, as he would. For he prepared and made ready the fire and bull, which he brought into the temple. Then, noble Iason made his prayer to Mars and Apollo. He took the bull afterward and made the sacrifice. his sacrifice and placed the shirt thereon. When all was turned to ashes, he distributed it into three parts. One part with the blood of the bull, which he retained and anointed his body with, all by the priest. The second part he mixed with the glew that was in the box. And the third part he put in a little silk sack, which he reserved and kept clean. These things done and accomplished, Iason knelt down and made his prayers the second time. And when he had made all his devotions, he delivered to the priest fifty besantes that he had promised him. And with that, he presented and gave him a rich mantle of cloth of gold which he brought with him. And he made the priest to dub him with the arms of God Apollo, which was there. Promising him to bring them again. And when Phad armed Iason at all points, Iason recommended him unto God Mars and Apollo and to the goddesses Diana, Palas, and Venus. And then took leave of the priest and died, returning secretly into his. Iason entered Medea's chamber where she slept. When Iason saw Medea and found her masters asleep, he was deeply struck with love and heated intensely, causing the blood in his body to boil. His heart longed for her so much that he approached her and kissed her mouth. However, with the kiss, she woke up. Greatly pleased to see him armed with the king's Appollo's weapons, Medea received Iason's homage. Afterward, Iason spoke to her in these words: \"Lady, I have done all that you have taught me almost as well as I could. I have been anointed with the bull's blood from whom I have made a sacrifice to the gods. Look, the glue has mixed with a part of the ashes. Command me now, what should I do, and I will do it for you, for it is near day.\"\n\nMedea's friend answered, \"Welcome, Medea! With the gods' aid, you will soon achieve the greatest glory that exists. \" A knight living at the gate. And know, in the recommendation of you and great praising, it shall be spoken of unto the end of the world.\nWith these words, she took a vestment which was rich and gave it to him, saying, \"My fair love, you shall be provided with all that is becoming for you, so that you have this vestment upon your arms. Keep well your bill and be diligent and accomplish all that clothes him above his harness with the proper vestments at the hour when he receives the bill.\"\nWith that, the day appeared fair and clear. Iason conducted each other to his chamber door, and there began their amorous conversation. Mopsius and Hercules came and knocked at Iason's chamber door, and with them, the good knight Theseus and many others, all of Greek descent. Iason greeted them and gave them a good morning. But when they espied that he was already armed and ready, they were much surprised and wanted to ask him who had armed and clothed him. But the king Oets and other of his knights came also to him and addressed Iason. And the king, seeing Iason about to speak, said, \"I declare to you also, else you are a murderer of yourself. For he is a murderer who knows his death in a place and voluntarily answers then. I confess that you advise me wisely, but not in hope for my life. I have given great thought to achieving my enterprise without further delay. Mopsius spoke and said, \"Ceres, Iason, in my first dream, I saw a spearhawk. In this vision, the spearhawk, praying, put himself among many other terrible and strange birds, which in a little while had all overcome and put to death. I compare these same terrible and strange birds to the two bulls and the serpent on the Isle of Colchis, which cast fire and smoke every night. And concerning the spearhawk, I understand that you mean the vision of the prayer, that is to say, \" You're adventure on this day, by the aid of the Goddess, you shall be made victorious over the horrible monsters and possessor of righteous glorious Renown. When Iason had understood this that was said:\n\nHe answered Mopsius, saying, \"Certes, fair ones, I shall do your will. And if it pleases you, your vision shall be held for certain a prophecy. And with that, he addressed his words to Hercules and said, \"My loyal brother and well-beloved friend, make good cheer and pray for me. I have no manner of doubt that I shall sup with you, and that I shall free you from your vow similar to mine.\" With these words, many began to weep. Then the noble prince Iason took his leave of one another. And since he requested it of the king, he assembled them. And when they were come into the hall, he brought Iason, who made to them the reverence, and primarily to Medea and Caliope. And when he had done this, he recommended him to their prayers. This man led him to the road to the river by the sea, where his master Maroner was, waiting in a little boat he had prepared the day before. Into this boat he entered and, recommending himself to all the world, he departed from the port to descend into the island of Colchos.\n\nThis scene was fair and clear, free from all clouds. The sun cast its clear rays and beams upon the earth. The ladies and damsels went upon the high stages of the palaces. The burghers and merchants, along with the common people of the city, ran some to the crude and battlements of the walls, and others to the riverbank to behold the adventure of the noble knight of Greece, Jason, who joyfully went with Argos, his master Maroner, who brought him to a right good entrance into the marvelous island.\n\nAddressing him and setting foot on the ground, Maroner took his javelin and ashes and entered the island with great desire. And he had not gone far when he saw the rich motion or sheep of gold which was so resplendent that it rejoiced the entire isle. After he saw the two bulls lying out of their holes. So great. So dreadful. So rightfully fierce and hideous, that just looking upon them was enough to lose wits and understanding. And when he had well beheld them, he knelt down on the earth against the east where he saw a temple all of gold, fifty-four feet in eight squares, founded on eight small pillars, thirty feet high. In the midst of which was an altar upon which was an image representing the god Mars.\n\nThen Iason worshiped the god Mars there. And in contemplation, until he saw the cruel and terrible dragon spring out of the temple. For he was as great as a horse, and thirty feet long. Incontinently, as soon as he was out of the temple, he began to raise his neck, set up his ears, stretch himself, opened his throat, and cast out flames. Iason, burning flame and smoke issued from his marvelous vomiting. Then I saw Jason with the three beasts he had to deal with. He took and beheld his bill to know what he had to do. He found that first he must add the two bulls. Therefore he arose from his contemplation and prepared the box with glew. Afterward he marched promptly and with great courage toward the two bulls, which gazed at him fiercely and fiercely with their sparkling and burning eyes, like Greek fire. And they began to spew fire and flame from their throats against the knight so measurably that the entire region of the air and the country seemed to burn with wild and Greek fire. But notwithstanding, they could never trouble or harm the noble prince Iason. Instead, he approached the fire and venom they cast and did so much that he anointed the muzzles of both with the mixed and meddled glew and cast it into their throats. After feeling the spear, these two marvelous bulls closed their throats and muscles in such a way that they could not open again or breathe more fire. Delighted by this experiment, the noble knight was relieved that he had been spared a good and true salvation, for had he lost his life in this encounter or she not been there.\n\nAfter this consideration, the knight immediately beheld the continuation of his bill, and found that he was required to fight against the marvelous dragon, terrible without comparison. He drew out his good sword from the sheath and went to the temple where the dragon was holding him. As soon as the monster had perceived Jason, it enraged itself and opened its throat terribly wide.\n\nFrom it sprang out three tongues casting fire and venom in such a way that the good knight had his entire body covered. With the fire passing by Jason unharmed, as if it were the cleansing of the sun. And he came and gave the monster such a great stroke with his sword between the two eyes that he made its head jerk violently against its crest, and when the dragon felt this blow, it released itself and opened its throat again, disgorging upon Jason a thick cloud of venom so that he saw nothing around him but this. Nevertheless, he raised his sword and discharged it upon the dragon where he thought its head was, striking it so well that he cut off its three tongues at the base as close as possible. Whereupon the serpent felt so painfully that it turned sharply to one side, and with its tail it struck the valiant knight on the back, causing him to fall down on the sand.\n\nWhen Jason felt himself struck down to the earth, he was so astonished that he did not know what was happening to him. And with this, he had great. shame He released him and stood up at once. But at his release, the fume of the dragon had vanished, and seeing around him, he perceived the three tongues of the serpent which he had struck down and beheld the dragon foaming at the mouth on an herb. Then he ran upon him again and struck him in the middle of the tail. In the process, he exerted most of his strength and also plunged his sharp sword into him in such a manner that he cut off a piece, seven feet long. Then the dragon, feeling the great pain, raised his head and fiercely recovered Jason with all his tormentors and might. In such a way that Jason was beaten down to the ground. And the dragon passed over him. But then Jason took his sword and thrust it into the dragon's paunch up to the cross and struck him to the heart. And the dragon, feeling that he was struck to death, began to run with Jason's sword in his body, intending to hide himself in his lair. But his life departed from him. body as he should have entered the temple, / And there he overthrew all, stretched and foul, filled with blood and humors, which seemed to be a source or spring running out of his body for a great hour.\nImmediately, Jason was released, and he appeared, drawing out his sword from his body and putting it back in its sheath or scabbard. Then, he seized the bulls by the horns and yoked them to a plow that was there. And when he had done this, he returned to the dragon and extracted twelve teeth from its head. After that, he sowed the teeth in the earth that he had plowed, and that deed he did cause the bulls to do. And then, the bulls fell down to the earth and lost the spirit of life, and from the land that Jason had sown with the dragon's teeth,\ngrowth sprang up. Instant, there were twelve giants maintaining a terrible presence, all armed in the manner of that time. As soon as they emerged from the earth, they drew their swords and charged towards Jason without delay, intending to strike him. But Jason took the pure ashes of his sacrifice and cast them into the air. Suddenly, the twelve giants assaulted each other with such ferocity that they each slew the other in a little while. Jason was greatly rejoicing and rendering thanks and praises to the gods.\n\nOnce the twelve giants had slain each other, as I have recounted to you, Jason drew out his sword, which was still covered in blood. He came upon the Rich Moton or shepherd in the right noble meadow. He seized him by the horns and brought Mars. There he slew him with great pain. Then he flew away and took the fleece, which was all of fine gold, and laid it aside. The body he dismembered by limbs and bore it up on an altar which stood outside. temple and put there largely straw and dry wood / And when he had done this, he took fire from a lamp burning before the representation of god Mars / And then knelt down on the earth before the idol, saying the prayer before Woden. After which he thanked the god Mars and recommended him much to his grace / After this, he put fire into the sacrifice which immediately was consumed and turned into cinders or ashes / This done, he prayed and afterward took the three tongs of the marvelous dragon. Two of the feet of the bulls which were of bronze, and two of their horns which were of iron. He enveloped and wrapped it all in the fleece of gold. Which he charged and laid on his shoulders. And afterward, he returned to the riverbank of the sea where his master Maron, the good shipman named Argos, had been waiting for him, greatly doubtful.\n\nArgos, the good shipman, was greatly dismayed by this. Iason remained there so long that when he returned, he thought to stay no longer, for he had seen the great and thick smoke lift up into the air. And also he had seen many evil appearances, voices, and right strange noises. For these reasons, he supposed that his mother, Iason, had been devoured by the terrible beasts. And he began to weep and lament tenderly. But as soon as he saw the valiant knight Iason with the flees of gold on his neck, his tears and weeping ceased. For sorrow and doubt departed from his heart, and all joy cheered him up so much that smiling, he knelt down before him and said, \"Sir knight, mirror of all valor and of all enterprise, you are truly returned. Ha, ha, what consolation and joy will be in Merand with my lord your father? Men have murmured about Peleus, your uncle. And every man said that he had sent you here to be quite rid of you, thinking that you would never return.\" But to that I can only reply... Iason said, \"He desires above all else your glory and honor, Argos, my fair lord. Fortune has helped and healed me so much that I have been restored in body and limbs from the most terrible, dangerous, and mortal peril that will ever befall the earth. I give loving thanks and praises to Mars, prince among gods, for this. But now we must return to our companions. It is long past time to eat.\"\n\nWith these words, the good sailor began to row with courage. And the Greeks, who were standing on the shore, began a great commotion. Some said that Iason had returned to the ship, and that they had seen the resplendent hour of the noble fleet of gold. Others said that Iason was long dead and would never be seen again. But as each man was maintaining his argument, the boat was seen approaching rapidly from the shore, and was about a mile away. Iason lifted up his fleece and held it high so those at the river and on the city walls could see it. Many rejoiced and thanked the gods with good hearts when they had seen the noble and rich fleece. From afar, Iason made a show of it, and some ran to gather green herbs and cast them along the way where he was to pass, telling every man that they were certain of his return and that all honor was due to him for such a noble and glorious conquest. Medea, among all others, was extremely joyful when she saw the light and shining fleece of gold. She commanded her ladies and damsels to put on a pleasant face in order to make a festive celebration. Honor of this right excellent victory. The Maroner Argos rowed in such a way that he brought Jason to the portal and safely where he was feasted by King Oetes of the worthy Hercules and Theseus, and generally of all the Greeks. Hercules took the rich fleece when Jason descended upon the land and bore it before the valiant knight Jason, who went first into the temple of the goddesses Demeter. And there he thanked much highly the god Mars and the goddesses Pallas and Demeter. After he had been disarmed, he yielded again the arms of the god Apollo, and then made his oblation of one of the feet of the bull and one of their horns with one of the tongues of the dragon. And when he had done all this solemnly, he returned to the palace where he was right honorably received by Medea above all others and her Ladies and Damoiselles who beheld Jason marvelously. And in particular, the noble and rich fleece of gold which Hercules bore.\n\nCertes there is no man so. Iason and Medea's eyes took great pleasure as they beheld each other for the first time. The whole world seemed filled with joy and gladness. When Iason entered the hall, Hercules placed the noble fleece of gold on a richly adorned cupbearer. The knights, ladies, and damsels then began the dances, and the feast was grand until the hour of supper when the tables were covered, and the king and Iason were seated. Medea, Hercules, Theseus, and Mopsius joined them at this table. Iason and Medea were seated opposite each other, but they dared not speak a word, despite their desire to do so. They exchanged meaningful glances instead, while Iason recalled the great trials he had endured. This marvelous event unfolded without any orders or ceremonies. The king Ottes and Hercules and other barons knights and noble men were greatly abashed and marveled at this supper, as they saw how nobly Preu Iason had escaped from such great and perilous adventures. Hercules and Theseus, who had slain many monsters in the past, confessed that all their feats paled in comparison to the one Iason had undertaken and brought to a successful conclusion. What shall we make long account of this supper,\n\nThe hour came that King Ottes and Iason withdrew to their chambers. Iason was then conveyed to his chamber accompanied by many noble men. There, the noble and rich flees of gold were brought in, but they could not entertain or play as they had been accustomed; instead, they were sent to their chambers, and Mopsius, along with the others, said that he would remain awake all night in prayers and offerings to the gods for the great aid they had given him. Iason told Medea, \"My dear lady, I have had great desire to see you in secret and in our privacy. I come to thank you for the great honor bestowed upon me because of you, and for delivering me from danger. I thank you humbly for all these blessings. I present to you the body I have preserved from death. I am ready to obey all your commands and pleasures. If your desire has been great and as you say, mine has been greater. I have done the best that was possible in me. I have great joy and pleasure.\" Iason answered the fair Medea. Gladness of the knowledge that you have.\nAll my courage is nothing save to please you. You are right welcome and with great worship returned for you and for me. And I have ordered for you a bath to wash you from the blood wherewith you have been anointed. Therefore disrobe and enter into this bath, and then we shall devise at our leisure of all your works.\n\nWhen the noble Jason had understood this, he did off his clothes, glad of this adventure, and then entered into the bath. And the fair Medea, in her corselet, had no sleeves turned up. In this point she came and bathed and rubbed and washed her friend Iason. And when the gentle bachelor perceived so noble a corpse and body of Medea, her fair and round faces, the whiteness of her flesh. And that he felt her hands marvelously soft, it seemed to him that his heart and body melted. He was so much surprised by an ardent desire of love. Then he began to warm the lady by the body, and then beheld her. \"Greet beauty, and thus he kissed her many times. And then, when he had been well eased and washed, Medea made him lie in her bed, beholding his members well formed and made, and his color fair and quick. And could not turn her sight from him. They were thus holding and gazing at each other without saying any word. But at last, the noble prince Iason spoke and said, \"My dear lady, you know well how I have promised to be your husband, and likewise you have promised to be my wife. Then, may I say I am yours and you are mine. And of us two, there is but one thing. Then, I entreat you so affectionately as I can or may, and for all the pleasure that you may do to me, that you will come and lie by me here in your bed.\" Iason answered Medea, \"For God's sake, save my honor. Madame answered Iason, \"There is no man in the world who will keep it more than I will. I am your husband. And if you come and lie in your bed by me, you do nothing but honor.\" My dear friend said Medea, \"There is no-\" When I have pleasure, I will gladly grant you this night for the fulfillment of your request. And I pray that by morning, it will be the desire of my father the king that he would give me to you in marriage. Then do as you ought. And if he is content, we shall make our wedding and spousals here honorably. And if he is not, I shall stay here tonight and know for certain that I will do all that you will command me to do, as reason dictates. For I am bound to this by virtue of the promises made between us. When Medea understood my goodwill, she said in her heart that she had wisely answered, and that she was content to grant my request. The night passed in such terms as is said. How well Iason lay there until it was day. And on the morning, when he rose and saw the time, he made his request to the noble king Oetes that he would give his daughter Medea to him. Iason found King Oetes to be sad and much preoccupied. He advised him to relinquish control over the richest treasure in the world, which grieved Iason greatly. Had I known this earlier, Iason would not have come at all, and now you ask for my daughter Medea, who is most precious and dearest to me. Grant you this, and never speak of it again, or face the consequences. With such words, King Oetes departed on one side. Noble Preus, Hercules, and Mopsius then approached Iason, who recounted his encounter with King Oetes and his demand for Medea. However, once they had understood the situation, they decided to leave on the morrow. Iason went and took leave of the king and thanked him for the great honor he had bestowed upon him. Afterward, they visited their ship, passing the day with little pleasure. The king Oetes showed them no welcome. However, when night came, Iason went to the fair Medea and told her of his request to King Oetes regarding their marriage. He informed her of the king's response and how he had departed from him. The fair Medea was greatly saddened and troubled, considering her situation and affairs. But, after giving it careful thought, she made good cheer towards Iason as one abandoning herself to his pleasure.\n\nThis night, the fair Medea took all the most rich jewels and portable bags that King Oetes, her father, had. She put them in a sardell and When it was approaching day, she made Jason rise. He was immediately ready. Then, when she was ready, she took with her all the riches and also her younger brother Absarthus, who was fifteen months old. She took him secretly from the nurse in a chamber and made her maid cut his throat privately for a later declaration. After this, Fair Medea and her maid dressed and disguised them in men's clothing. They were brought aboard the ship by the noble pilot Argos. And as soon as Jason had delivered them into Argos' care, he returned to his chamber until it was day, awaiting his companions Hercules, Theseus, Mopsius, and many other knights who came with him at the sounding of a horn. And with that, he took his fleece and said to them that he would depart from them with all diligence for certain reasons. And without further saying at this time, he took his way to the place where the other knights of Greece should follow. He went so far that Argos and his men entered their ship so well that all his men entered with him. The mariners disembarked and began to row by force of oars, as the wind did not help them because it was calm. In this point, they put themselves on the way towards the rising sun. And at that hour, when they were not withdrawn past a mile from the port, it happened by chance that Argos, the master mariner, began to look towards the port. He saw that it was full of people. After this, he saw and perceived that four little ships, in the shape of baling ships or galleys, had departed to gather from the port from where they came. Argos was greatly astonished by this. He did not know what to think. He was so perplexed. For he had clearly seen that when the noble prince Jason and his company entered his ship, the king, his barons, and the ladies had not accompanied him. He had great wonder but said nothing. Who that The four little galley men were questioned about why they had left the poor. The history responds that their intention was to follow the knights of Greece. King Oetes was among them, accompanied by four hundred men, all burghers of the town he had armed. For as it was reported, his daughter Medea had gone with Jason.\n\nKing Oetes, as reported, had been sorrowful and distressed for the day preceding, unable to sleep or rest. After much thought and consideration, he decided to accompany Iason at his departure to Greece, in order to receive praise from him for the hospitality he had provided. To bring this plan to fruition, he rose and, willing to enter from chamber to chamber, he came to Iason's. He entered the chamber of his son's nurse. Absithius, whom he did not find with his nurse who slept, was the cause of his great embarrassment and awakened the nurse. After asking, he demanded, \"Where is my dear son Absithius?\" The nurse began to look about, but in vain, for she could not find him. Frightened, she sprang out of bed and searched for him diligently. King Oetes entered Medea's chamber and found neither his daughter Medea nor anyone else to speak to.\n\nWhen King Oetes did not find his daughter Medea, he became so angry that his blood boiled, and without speaking a word, he went up to the chamber where Jason was lying. But he found neither Jason nor Medea nor anyone else to whom he could speak. Disappointed, he left suddenly and went to the gate, where he found many of his citizens who showed him the Greek ship, which was farther from the gate than a quarter of a mile. Then the king, weeping tenderly,... demanded them if they had seen his dough\u2223ter medea. And they ansuerde nay. A ha fayr sirs sayd then\u0304e the king. the traitres of grece haue withdrawen her with\u0304 wordes traiterously in somoche as they haue deceyued her & brought her into their ship / and yet that more is ha\u2223ue so euill cou\u0304ceyled her that she hath\u0304 born\u0304 with her my so\u2223ne absirthius. O euil doughter. O the euil fortuned child Certes medea thy grete disloyaulte constraineth\u0304 me that with force of peple I wil goo incontinent fecche the for to wete who hath\u0304 meuyd the thus to do. & with\u0304 this I shal take vengean\u0304ce of the desloyal knight Iason which\u0304 to his power rendreth\u0304 to me euil for good\nWHan the king had sayd thus he retorned into his palais cryeng that euy man sholde arme him / And then\u0304e all the peple pourueyed them of staues & armures\u25aa & syn demanded wherof proceded the cause of this alarom\u0304e / the whiche anon\u0304 was all com\u0304une / Then\u0304e they put them on the way for to go vnto the king. whiche cam and yssued out of his palais armed and in point for tenting into battail. Then he went to the gate and chose out four honored of the best to put into the said four galleys. And finally, when he had done all this, he made haste to have his galleys rowed after the knights of Greece. In such a way that the master mariner perceived that the galleys came swiftly after them to fetch back the fair Medea. He called Iason, who was playing and jesting with Medea, and showed him the four galleys, armed within which was King Oetes and his men, approaching quickly. For the galleys were light, and Iason, seeing his entourage approaching, called Hercules, who knew nothing of this and demanded his counsel. Then Hercules answered him that he knew no other remedy but that every man should arm himself and be ready to face the battle if it were needed. And he swore to the gods that if King Oetes made any enterprise upon them, he would. Hercules and Jason armed their companions. Medea and her mistress rushed to the ship's plank to watch the king and his men. Iason and Hercules, both armed, appeared on deck. Medea trembled in fear as she saw her father approaching. King Oetes intensely examined Iason's ship, bringing them closer together before they had left the gulf or the sea. Fair Medea, seeing it was time, turned to her mistress and pleaded, \"My good mother, where is my little brother? Give him to me.\" The evil old woman opened her lap and revealed the body of the child she had killed. Medea took the head and lifted it high, causing great horror for Hercules, Jason, and others. Nevertheless, when Jason perceived this, he wanted to know from whence came this dead creature. He said to Medea, \"My dear love, what is in your mind, and what will you do with this pitiful and pitiful child?\" Medea answered the noble Jason, \"Experience teaches you, my dear, the thoughts of my heart. Medea answered the fair Jason. What is this child that I see here, thus dismembered and mutilated? Indeed, he is in a wretched hour born, who thus miserably ends his days. My dear love answered then the fair Medea. This is Absarthius, my young brother. Do you know that he is not wicked, but fearful? For this day, he will be the cause of the salvation of his father's and his own life in a good hour born.\" \"Specially because of your natural father. Medea then said to Jason, I see no other way or means but that you will be dishonored when you have brought about such a pitiful case as this. As for me, I have considered what my dying is, and furthermore, I have thought and had regard to my father's great and marvelous courage. And all the things you thought and considered, I could not withdraw myself, for he has a custom that every time he goes down, he will find his son and me also. I have imagined that as soon as he finds that neither me nor his son is there, without a doubt he will come after me with arms, just as you see he does. And when I have considered all these things and the great danger that might befall us, for me it would be the battle to the death between you and him, in which without remedy he would be slain or taken by his own will, seen that to death he would abandon himself to recover\" me and him I showed greater respect and honor. I have taken his own son, who is my brother, and have commanded him to be put in the state you see him in now, cast adrift on the sea here and there. I have given orders to prevent my father's ship from following. When he sees his son Absarthius thus dismembered floating on the water, gathering and collecting the pieces as you will soon see,\nWith these precautions, King Oetes approached the Greek ship in such a way that there was no more distance than a stone's throw. Then Medea and the old woman filled their hands with the limbs of the noble child Absarthius, showing them to King Oetes and his men. As soon as she saw the king, she cried out these words and said, \"King, do not come near, pretending to recover your son or your daughter. As for your daughter, you are wasting your time. For she is married to Jason.\" You shall render to the thy son slain and dismembered, the pieces whereof we cast into the sea, so that thou mayest have thy life saved. For if he had caused thee to have occupation to recover his own members to bury them as befits the son of a king, know thou that thou shalt have the battle against the knights of Greece, who are of such high valiance. There is no animal monster, nor tyrant, but that they bring to destruction whom it seemed fit to believe. And truly thou shalt receive thy death. And it is better for thee that thou return unto thy city than to approach nearer to receive thy death. And well thou oughtest to have great joy to see thy happy son dead and dismembered. By which thy life is respected. For thou art not very natural father if thou takest not his members out of the sea. And if thou do so, thy life shall be saved. all they of thy company\nWith these words, the old woman and Medea cast the members of the young child Absarthius into the sea. And the king Oetes and his people, hearing and seeing the great inhumanity and cruelty, began to cry right piously and dolorously. They were so sore vexed and troubled by this marvelous adventure that they did not know what to do. Some began to weep tenderly, others struck themselves on the breasts, and some began to arm themselves to go to battle and cried out to death the knights of Greece, shooting arrows and other weapons at them with great courage to avenge them. But when the king saw that in no way he might recover the death of his dear son, he ceased the escapade and said to his citizens: \"Fair sirs, I pray you to trouble yourselves no more to recover Medea. She has murdered her own brother Absarthius, who was to be your natural lord in time to come. Fair sirs, I have loved her with all my heart all her life, who is with her.\" desloyal Will brought me one so dolorous reward or recompense. \"A Medea said the king aloft, I shall never seek nor desire to meet with the one who has committed such a cruel and unnatural deed against his own blood / And therefore, fair lords, let her and all those with her go where the gods will allow them. But know for certain that if I now had her at my disposal, I would make her die a cruel death. How fortunate that would be for me to have a new sorrow from that.\n\nWhen the nobles and burghers of the city understood their king, all they began to seek out the members of Absarthius in avenging the greatest sorrow in the world. And thus they disposed them to complain to the king and no longer trouble their enemies. And when they had fished out the members of the child, they returned to the city by a right sorrowful and discontented space of time, and for as much as Medea was also with Iason. Medea was then well joyous and more. Assuredly, before she perceived that her father and his men remained to fish for the limbs of her son, Jason saw this and was unsure what to think. Argos, the good mariner, rowed away from the port and the Isle of Colchos as far as he could, losing sight of King Oetes and his men in a little while. He had entered the high sea where the wind blew, and they immediately hoisted their sail, making good progress. Argos was greatly joyful, and then he promised that every man could lay down their harness freely. Jason, at this time, was deeply pensive due to the cruelty and inhumanity he had witnessed that day, and he spoke not a word. When Medea understood that Argos had dismissed the entire company from all dangers for a time, Jason was thoughtful. Ben was greatly comforted, but she beheld her hands, which were still stained with the blood of her brother Absarthius. She went and washed them and made them clean. Afterward, she came and sat down by Jason. Seeing that he was deep in thought, she said to him in a gracious and courteous manner, \"My dear love, where are your thoughts, Jason? Jason did not answer a word. When she saw this, she said to him again, \"My dear love, Jason, where are your thoughts? Then Jason answered her, \"Lady, since you ask where I think, I tell you in truth that if it were not for the great love I have for you and the promise I have made to marry you and bring you to Greece, I would not do it. Therefore, keep this in mind and do nothing rash between you and me from now on.\" Medea excused herself as wisely and graciously as she could and said, \"All that I have done was of true goodwill, insofar as I believed I was not harming you.\" During this voyage, Mopsius came to Jason at a certain time and reminded him of his promise to return to Thessalonica, where he had promised to go to see Queen Jason's wife, Amphitryon. In response, Jason admitted that he had spoken the truth and still hoped to make amends in Thessalonica. However, when Medea learned that Jason had promised and intended to go there to see the queen, she and her attendants planned their enchantments in a secret place. When Argos attempted to sail by a sea route that directly led to Thessalonica, his ship broke into more than a thousand pieces. By a subtle wind, the ship was turned incontinent and brought all in opposition to the noble knight and his company. Therefore, all who were in the ship were right sorrowful. They reserved Medea and her old maidservant, who were at their ease.\n\nThe Queen Dido was upon a high rock on the seashore, not far from Leptis, as it is said. And she was accustomed daily to keep watch there and lament sore, desiring to see Jason, upon whom was all her thought and desire. She loved him so much that she wept for him from morning to evening on this rock and often said these words that follow. \"Ha, Neptune, god of the sea and winds, where is my dear love, Iason? Bring him again to me. Return him to me that day and night weep and sigh after him, dead or alive, I will have him. And I pray you that you will grant me this grace and ever rather this day than morning.\"\n\nThus, on one day among all others, she looked into the sea. the sea lay to the east. I saw a ship approaching, and I was delighted to see it, for I recognized it by its great size and full sail where Jason was aboard. She was overjoyed and began to make the best of the world. But as she was thus carried away in great joy, it seemed to her that Jason was coming slowly towards her. However, the old hag and the faun and their enchantments, as described, were aboard the ship. Suddenly, she turned sharply to the other side, leaving poor Medea despondent and dismayed. Instead of making merry, she was forced to weep great tears, and instead of singing, she was compelled to complain. What more can I say? As suddenly as the ship changed course, so suddenly did Medea's demeanor change. She stayed there and spent that night, making fires and lighting many torches to try and win Jason and Argonauts back to her. Believing that without fault, Jason would return to her. Come to her. And she stayed in this place for six weeks, weeping and continually lamenting for Iason whom she loved more than herself. When the six weeks were past and fair Isophile perceived that she would have no news of her love Iason, for the sorceries of Medea and her mistress had prevented the ship of Iason from approaching the island of Lemnos. The deeply distressed Ysiphile, seeing this, departed from the rock. Where she had been long abiding, and in a marvelous state of mind, she returned to Lemnos. And then, when she had entered her chamber, she had her son brought to her whom she kissed many times for the sake of Iason. Afterward, she began to think and ponder in various ways, and when she had long pondered with great melancholy, she said, looking at her child and crossing her arms with a sigh from the depths of her heart: Alas, my dear son, Alas that. thou cannot speak to ask me news of thy father. Which is the most fair knight, the most virtuous and the most valiant in arms that the goddesses endowed. If thou couldst speak and ask me about him, I might well answer, but how? Alas, I know never- before, for at any adventure he dares not to come, and at any adventure when he intends to come, as that other day. It seemed to me when I knew his ship, which the wind and tempest compelled to return and to sail all in the opposite direction, showing me his back and traversing the waves and floats of the sea so impetuously that I think better that he is perished than not. For in forty days that I have remained on the rock, I could never see him again. Whereof I am right displeased in my heart.\n\nMy dear son, then, where is now nature which should teach thee to weep, and me more than thee, after the loss of one so desired prince. Ought I more to desire to live? What may it avail me to live, if I should live? My life should be from. I have so loved Jason that I am compelled to weep after him, though all creatures desire only to enjoy worldly pleasures and when those pleasures fail. What should I desire? Is this a life? No, indeed. And what then? It is a life that lives dying and a death that lives in languishing. O marvelous and right terrible desire. I shall truly die in this journey. It is concluded. For whatever may come of it, I shall leap into the high sea, to find if the noble prince Iason is buried there. I may be with him in sepulture. And if he is not dead, may the sea that brought him here bring me to him, living or dead. But first, I shall compile an epistle which shall be sewn to my vestments. If I live, I still have hope that the gods will present me to Jason. Through this letter, he will know of my excellent love and courage for him. Many ladies and damsels were with Isiphile when she lamented her dear love for Jason. And when she was about to leap and spring into the sea, desperate as she was, they all began to show great sorrow, marveling at the cause. Some were as sorrowful as Julius because they could not speak a word, others were drowned in tears, trying to comfort her and distract her from this damning will, but it was all in vain. For they had relieved her pain, as much as Isiphile had written her letter, wrapped in a sealed cloth, and attached it to her golden robe, which she wore. After doing so, she took her crown and placed it firmly on her head. Then she took her scepter. When she had done all this, she came to her son and kissed him many times, recommending him to the ladies and damoiselles. Lastly, when she had taken leave of all the women, she departed from Lennoys the city, weeping tenderly, and took with her one of her damoiselles, by whom were later known all her lamenting. She lamented her manner of behavior that she had held before she cast herself into the sea.\n\nWhen she was nearly at the sea, she approached a high rock to which the sea touched beneath, far down. She began to behold a lowly and see the sea, and after she stretched herself on the earth in beholding the heavens and the sea, and said, \"True god, Lord of the sea, of winds, of turbulences and fortunes, of rains and tempests, you brought into this country and into this place the perfect knight, in beauty, in valiant virtues, Jason. And after you sent him into Colchos, and consequently have shown me far from his ship. Since you have given him to me, or at least led him into an...\" Other country. And when it is so that I may have no other thing of him, I require that you make my sepulcher by him if he has passed from this world, and if he is alive, that you conduct me into his presence; for it must necessarily be. And other things I demand not of you.\n\nWhen Queen Ysiphile had said these words, she returned to the city and said in this manner, high and clear voice:\n\nFarewell, my dear child, farewell, Lennos, the noble city, farewell, ladies and damsels.\n\nAnd when she returned to the sea, crying, \"Iason, Iason,\" she sprang from some place or the top of the rock into the high sea. And there she drowned herself in sorrow. Whose death was great pity, but her fate was such that on that same day the sea bore her body to the ship of the noble hero Iason, who was still in the sea anchored there to rest for the night. At this hour, when the poor Ysiphile was cast against the ship. Hercules and Iason went up on high. Argos and his crew beheld the desolate body, richly arrayed, with cloth of gold shining through the water's disgorgements. Anon, they called Argos their master and he showed it to him. Argos then summoned some of his men and had them fish and draw the creature out of the sea, bringing it into the ship. When the noble lady was drawn on high, all in the ship went up to see her body. Medea did not fail to come with them to behold this pity. Indeed, the deceased lady had a swollen and pale face, unknown to any in the ship, but at Medea's coming and presence, she voided blood through her mouth, like a little running water departing from a fountain or spring.\n\nWhen Argos the good mariner saw this marvel, he stopped down to put a cloak on her to keep the blood from soiling her robe. And as he placed the cloth around her neck, he perceived the ceremonial cloth that kept the water from the pistol she had prepared. Therefore, to know what it was, he tore it off and gave it to Jason. Then, the knight received the cloth and opened it, finding the letter within. He read it and understood its content, and his blood began to change \u2013 he turned red as a rose and then pale and dead as ashes. And since he began to weep and demonstrate a great and sharp sorrow, the fair Medea, Hercules, Theseus, and the other knights of Greece were greatly alarmed, as were Argos and the sailors when they saw Jason weeping and grieving so deeply. It was then demanded from whence this sorrow came and what tidings he had received and found in the letter, but it was in vain. For he could not speak or answer; his heart was closed and strained with anguish and sorrow. Despite this, when he had read it and seen the content. Iason, the chosen one of Greece in prowess, beauty, and virtues, where art thou, and when will you fulfill your promise to Medea, who has always kept her gaze on the sea after you, desiring nothing more than to uphold the promise you made to her when you went to Colchos? Do you not know that every man of noble name or rank is held and bound to pay and fulfill his promises, on pain of reproach? You have promised me, the day of your promise has passed, you are acquitted, O wretched shame and great reproach, if you have not had a lawful excuse since the day of your promise expired. I have not entered a house to take pleasure or to dry myself. I have not lain on a bed to rest. I have not sat at a table to eat. Nor have I been in the court to judge the causes of my women. But I have waited by a rock for twenty days, where I was when you... I have entered into my kingdom. And there I have held myself day and night / in the rain, / in the wind, / in the cold of the moon and in the heat of the sun, / in fasting, / in prayers and supplications, / in sufferings, / in thoughts, / in imaginings, / in desires, / in hope, and finally in despair and in death's anguish. For when I have perceived that you did not come again to me within forty days after the day of your promise, all hope abandoned, I have compiled and written this epistle with my hand and yours, and in such a way and manner as she who could no longer endure your coming and return. I have cast myself into the sea, praying to the goddesses that they bring me quickly to that place where you are, quick or dead, by great default of your promise. And regarding this epistle, the priest Jason wept so pitifully that he could no longer continue. And as for the regard of Hercules, Theseus, and Mopsus, they did not fail to be moved. Iason complained to Medea about the unfortunate lady who had died because of him, as she had stated in her letter. Iason then complained and bemoaned her for a long time. He excused himself before all present for not keeping the promises he had made to return to her by the city of Lenhos. He explained that it was not his fault, but the God of Wind was to blame. Hercules bore witness to this, as he had intended to go to Lenhos to see the noble lady, but the turbulence of the wind had prevented them from doing so. However, when Medea perceived Iason's weeping and excuses, she demanded of him what profit he gained from his lamentations and such excuses. \"Certainly, Iason,\" she said, \"it seems to me that you have the courage of a woman more than that of a man. It is not necessary for you to weep or so bewail a lady who was so despairing. But for your honor and for the sake of\" Goodness that she has shown you, in compassion of noblesse, you shall do her honor to bring her into your country and there richly and honorably put in sepulture, as is fitting in such a case.\n\nBy the words and remonstrances of the fair Medea, the duel and sorrow of her love for Jason ceased a little and a little. And Medea, with her maidservants, when they saw her time had come, took the body of Queen Isiphile and laid it aside with the attendants in rial.\n\nWhat shall I relate at length on the morrow? Iason commanded to disembark from there, and was sailing certain journeys on the sea, but in the meantime, without mentioning any notable event, Argos the good master sailed so far by gulf and by boats that at the twentieth month after their parting from Corinth, he arrived at the port from which he had departed. For whose coming, the dwellers and inhabitants of that Greek country were as joyous as they might be. And on the other side, Jason and all his. ship incontinent as they had espied and knew that it was the port they were departed from began to sing aloud in praising and thanking the goddesses that they had come home and had escaped so many dangers and perils to their worship and profit with great triumph of victory\n\nAt that time when Argos arrived in this port, the stars appeared large in the heavens. The night was fair and the sea calm. Therefore, the knights of Greece remained in the ship all night without going ashore. And on the morrow early, Jason sent Theseus to signify his coming to Peleus. Theseus went and found Peleus in a city named Elis. There he was merry and passed the time with his wife, whose name was Cypriant, supposing never to have heard tidings of Jason. And when Peleus saw and knew Theseus, he went against him and made great reverence and worship, and then demanded from him all tidings. Then Theseus began to tell a part of Jason's tidings. In particular, he recounted to him the adventure that He had done deeds in Colchos, and brought with him the richest and noblest fleece of gold. He had arrived at the gates of Sesostris, accompanied by the fairest and most noble jewel ever seen. Afterward, he told him that he had conquered in his journey the greatest excellence, who in all qualities, after reason, could be held the best accomplished lady in the world. The noble knight Pelus, hearing these tidings, was so moved at heart that all the blood surged through his body, pretending as he had been marvelously joyous. He sent to King Eson to show him these good tidings. And when assembled, the nobles, burghers, merchants, ladies, and damsels of the city, he brought them in fair order to meet Iason.\n\nWhen the coming of Iason was known in the city and the countryside, each man began to make great cheer. Upon coming out of the ship, Iason and Hercules were the first to emerge. After them came Mopsius and another knight from Greece. They bore before Jason the riches of gold in signs of triumph and victory, the three tongues of the marvelous dragon, the legs and horns of the two dreadful bulls. They led by the arm the noble lady Medea, richly arrayed and fair as the day, and following them were other knights and noblemen of Greece.\n\nAs soon as Peleus and the gentlemen of his route saw the noble and great beauty of Medea, they were all amazed. They made the first respects to them, and with great honor and glory, they brought Jason to Elis, the city where they were quartered, and on the morrow they departed thence and went to Pintaquo, where King Eson was quartered at that time. For as much as that place was situated in a good air, and all around had great dedication to Chaos and was marvelously fertile in venus.\n\nPintaquo was a fair strong castle standing upon a great river and broad one that ran swiftly around the place. And With this was surrounded by fair and pleasant forests of good land, ancient and fair meadows abundant. Indeed, the good king was greatly rejoiced and not without cause when he beheld and saw his noble son Jason and the fair Medea, his lady. The rich flees of gold. The three tongues of the marvelous dragon, and the horns and legs of the two marvelous bulls, to content each man. After he had made the reverence to the king his father and to the other nobles, he declared openly in the hall that he had not yet reached the pinnacle of this conquest. Nor had I been the cause. The aid and address of Medea, who was present, and therefore I say, I have renounced the love of my lady Mirro. And have promised this lady that she shall be my wife and companion, and thus I will espouse and wed her on the third day. Therefore, I pray all noble men and other ladies and damsels, that each person do to her honor as it is fitting to do to a noble lady.\n\nWhen Peleus had... Iason understood that fair Medea had caused him to succeed in his enterprise without danger of death, and without her aid, he would have perished. Changing color and becoming lifeless, he advised nothing of this to Medea but continued to keep Iason in love. He promised to prepare all that was necessary for the feast and even sent for his parents and friends to attend. Among these things, Iason sent Theseus and Mopsius to the gates of Desire, instructing them to solemnize and revere the body of the noble Queen Isophile. The two knights carried out this charge with good heart.\n\nMeanwhile, Cyprian had kept Medea in guard until the day Iason had set for her espousal. Castor, Pollux, and Nestor, along with many rich dukes, arrived at Pythacus' place. Iason espoused the fair Medea. After the law that time used in Greece, with much great honor and reverence, he did to her as much great honor as a lady could receive. The feast was noble and fair. It was full and plentifully served with all things. But of the dishes and courses at every meal, I will make no mention at this time. However, I will say that Peleus and Cyprian and their daughters made right great pomps. Peleus ordered this feast sumptuously and costly of rich meats and beverages.\n\nThe day passed and the feast in dances, carols, and revelries. The evening came and after the night that Jason and Medea lay together. This feast always ended for fifteen days straight. And during this feast, the noble and rich flees of gold were ordinarily hung up in the hall in sight of all the world. And there came every man who wanted to behold it with great admiration. And there came people from far and near in such multitude that it seemed a very great crowd. Iason, due to his high valor and glorious conquest, was famously known in many lands. Fifteen days after the solemnization of his marriage, as the noble princes, barons, and men prepared to return to their countries, Iason and Hercules gathered them and recounted how King Laomedon had denied them fresh water and provisions for their payment. This had put them in danger and on the brink of death. Hearing their great distress, Hercules vowed swift vengeance and promised to assemble sixty thousand men to attack Troy or at least forty thousand. Argos, skilled in such endeavors, took charge and pledged that all these ships would be ready within three years to aid them. Once they had taken a... Conclusion on all these matters, and having granted Medea the honor and reverence of the world, they all departed, and each man returned to his country. Leaving Iason and Medea behind in their seclusion.\n\nPeleus went to Elis and bore a deep grudge and resentment in his heart. He saw Iason triumphing and did not know how to make him die. Iason, who intended to do nothing but please himself, allowed him to continue ruling his kingdom. And after nine months, a son was born to him, named Iason after his grandfather, Hypspipyle's father.\n\nWhen Medea's father, Hecateus, came to Pylos with a small retinue, he arrived as a lover, cherishing Medea as a father loves his child. Upon learning of the great honor Iason had shown her, he was content with him and returned to his country, much rejoicing. After the old mistress of Medea had passed away and died, it wasn't long before she imparted a great deal of knowledge to Medea, including an art to make old people appear young again, at the age of forty-eight. However, the natural course of life and death could not be defied.\n\nFollowing the death of Medea's old mistress, her son Iason asked Medea what she intended to do. She replied that she had lost valuable companionship and privacy with her mistress' passing. Iason, the noble prince, responded by reminding her that death was certain for everyone and that the gods would take her soul. After many days, Medea realized that among all the sciences she had learned, she had one for making old people appear young, particularly men. Seeing that King Aegeus was growing old, she considered this an opportunity. A great lord and a high renown renewed his age. Therefore, she called on a day her lord Jason and said to him that by her sciences she could do something that his father Aeson would return with new youth in such a way that he would seem no older than 32 years old. When Jason understood this, he was marvelously abashed and not without cause. But although it seemed to him a thing impossible, he answered and said to her, \"Fair lady, I truly know that you are right wise and well experienced in many things. Now, your science might put me in my sepulcher without a moment's delay. You know well that every man desires to live.\"\n\nThe lord answered the lady, \"For nothing will I abuse or deceive you. But I declare to you the truth. As for lengthening the life of your father, the king, by limitation of time, I will not interfere. For my science cannot provide that. But as for that concern, \" I will make myself strong, at the age of 42, to carry out my plan if it pleases you, and Madame answered Iason, \"I am more than content with that, and I pray you earnestly with all my heart. But we must go to the king, my father, and declare the whole truth to him to hear his opinion.\" With these words, Iason brought the fair Medea to King Aeetes, her father. He declared to him the goodwill Medea had towards him, saying that if he would consent to it and help himself, she would make him young again and bring him from his old age to the age of 42. However, regarding the extension of life in any other way than what God and nature have decreed, she would not touch that.\n\nWhen the noble and ancient King Aeetes had understood, he said, \"Being set upon a throne, and resting his head on his white and relaxed arm, he said to Medea, 'My fair daughter, it seems that Iason, my son, has come to his honor and\" Profit and above all, of his enterprise, and that without your counsel, means, and aid, he would have been dead and destroyed by the dreadful and horrible beasts that kept the noble and rich fleece or sheep of gold in the isle of Colchos. And since you have kept and saved his life in his young age flourishing in virtues and valor, will you also save mine in my last days? For truly, according to the course of nature, I am at the brink of my pit or sepulcher. And thus living a long time in the umbrage or shadow of death, I would rather be and dwell in the world than part from it, for there is nothing that I desire so much as for you to restore me to the prosperity of old age, and therefore, my lady,\n\nShe beheld that the good king Aeson was passing ancient and old. For this cause she considered that she might gain a great loss and a high renown if she renewed his age, and therefore she called on a day her lord Jason and said to him that by her sciences she could do something that his father could not. Eson should recover new youth in such a way that he seemed no older than 34 years old, when Jason understood this, and he was marvelously abashed and not without cause. But although it seemed an impossible thing to him, he answered and said to her, \"Fair lady, I truly know that you are right wise and well experienced in dealing with all other ladies and damsels. But this seems a great and lofty thing to do as you say to me. And I would be pleased if your knowledge could reach so high a matter, for it would be a great benefit to me. I would wish that my father might live so long that he could put me in my sepulcher without abbreviating or shortening my time. You know well that every man desires to live. I swear by all my gods, sir, I will not deceive or abuse you. I declare this to you truthfully. As for extending the life of your designated one by limiting time, I will not do it.\" Iason said, \"My science may not provide a solution for reducing his youth, but I will make it my mission to do so if it pleases you and him. Madame replied, \"I am more than willing, and I pray you to do so with all my heart. But we must go to the king, my father, and declare the entire situation to him to hear his opinion.\" With these words, Iason brought the fair Medea before King Aeetes, her father. Iason declared to him Medea's goodwill towards him, stating that if he consented and aided him, she would make him young again and bring him from his old age to the age of 34. However, regarding the extension of life beyond what God and nature have decreed, she would not interfere.\n\nKing Aeetes, upon understanding this, was seated on a throne, resting his head on his white-armed arm. \"He said to Medea: My dear daughter, I have learned that my son Jason has come to honor and profit from his enterprise, and has surpassed the fearsome and horrible beasts that guarded the noble and rich fleece of gold in the island of Colchis, without your help, guidance, and aid. He would have been dead and destroyed by these beasts if you had not kept and saved his life during his youth, flourishing in virtues and valor. And now, in my old age, living a long time in the shadow of death, I would rather remain in the world than leave it. There is nothing I desire as much as for you to restore me to the prosperity of youth. Therefore, my fair daughter, if it is within your power or knowledge to do this as you have suggested and then promised, I would be greatly indebted to you.\" plese you to take the crowne of my royame. I shal gyue hit vnto you. without eu after. My dere fader ansuerde medea it is well knowen that ye ar an hye pryn\u2223ce garnisshed with goode reno\u0304me. of noble conusacion dig\u2223ne to bere the crowne. wherfore as Reson is your dygnyte shal abide with you all your lyff / and in fauour of youre seignoureuse gentilnesse. ye yet er .ix. dayes ben past I shal renewe you as sayd is vnto the aage of \u00b7xxxij. yere. and I shal not laboure on non\u0304 other mater vnto the tyme that I am come to the aboue of myn enterprise / whiche is no li\u2223til thing\nWythout making of ony delaye the fayr medea toke le\u2223ue of her lord Iason for .viij. dayes hole / & then\u0304e she de{per}ted fro the palais / and wente the most secretly that she coude all all one vnto a grete wode / And whan the nyght was comen\u00b7 & that the mone shone brigh\u0304t & clere / she kne\u2223lid doun thries on her knees / studyeng at eche tyme her science / syn lift vp her visage vnto the heuen & made this oroison that foloweth / Mone reposing In the midst of the stars that shine and confirm the charms and grant you, the goddesses of mountains, valleys, woods, deserts, fontaines, seas, herbs, and trees. In the beginning, be ye merciful and aid me in my work for the salute and health of King Eson. When she had said this, she made certain signs around her, and afterward she was lifted up into the air and born into all the regions of the world. There she gathered and took many herbs of diverse facons and conditions, & many precious stones. And she labored thus for the space of eight days. On the ninth day, she was rested in the same wood and in the very place from whence she was lifted up into the air. And there she found herself before the goddess Hebe and the goddess Hera.\n\nIt was on the point of daybreak when Medea found herself before the temple. And then she remained there, rapt in contemplation of the rising sun. And then she entered the temple. He made a sacrifice to the goddesses Hebe and Hecate. Hebe was called the goddess of youth, and Hecate of charm. After doing this, she made a pit in the earth and sacrificed a black sheep to the goddesses of Hades in it. She kept and mixed the blood with the herbs. After being adorned with all that was necessary, she returned to the old, ancient king Eson. She made a fair bain for him, in which she put these herbs, milk, and honey. When she had prepared and made everything ready with a sweet smell, he was there and she rubbed and frosted him with the herbs. He fell into a sleep by her art. And when he was asleep, she made a little wound and left him in this state for seven hours. After this, she woke him up and made him come out of the bain naked and clean of all his members as he was. had been in the age of two and thirty years old, when the prince Jason and the king his father saw this craft and marveled greatly at it. For this was a work that had never been seen or happened before, and so much was the wit, the skill, and the virtues of the fair Medea admired that they deemed her inspired by the gods. Then the noble king Eson, finding himself in this state, sent for the best tailors and makers of garments. He had new clothing made for his body in the fashion of the young men at that time. After this, he went and engaged in hunting and the pursuit of other pleasures. And to summarize, he conducted himself as a new man. It was not known to the nobility and others that this was the case. Therefore, Eson, who was strongly inclined to sing and do all joyful things, gladly saw the fair damsels. And to make it brief, he held himself in their company. Self as a young prince, I had no regard but to make good cheer and pass the time joyously. Peleus, his wife Cyprian, and his daughters came to the king during this noble reprieve. Medea lay with Jason and conceived a right fair son from him, whom she gave birth to in good time. And immediately after the birth of this second son, Cyprian came to Medea and demanded that she make young Peleus again, who was beginning to grow old and ancient. Fair Medea was very joyful when she saw this request, and she thought in her heart that she would avenge herself on the disloyal Peleus, who intended to have Jason killed. She agreed to this request and set a day to do it. And when the day came, Medea commanded Cyprian to prepare a very noble banquet. After she had sent for the old Fesuppos to become young again like he had been before, and when all was ready, Peleus dismissed him from his clothes. Medea entered the chamber and made Jason sleep there. While he was asleep, she took swords in the hands of her two daughters and inflicted more than fifty mortal wounds on the body of Peleus, their father. She urged them to do so, and when Peleus was about to be crowned and was on the verge of dying without any mercy, she had deserved this inhuman death at their hands. And with that, Medea departed from the chamber. In a miserable way, Peleus ended his life and his days.\n\nWhen Cyprus and his two daughters learned of these events, they cried sorrowfully. They pulled the marvelous body of Peleus from the bay and placed it on a table. But Cyprus was so overcome with grief that she could not speak. And it was not without reason. For as soon as she had placed Peleus on the table, she fell down in a swoon. And then the daughter had placed the body of Pelus on the table, surrounded by wounds. King Eson and his son, not afraid of this cry, approached. They were particularly alarmed when they first saw Pelus' body on the table. Secondly, they were shocked when they saw and understood that the two young damsels, daughters of Pelus, had struck their hearts with the swords whereby they had been slain. Thirdly, they were moved to pity when they saw Cypriane lying on the pavement, her heart failing, her face pale and drawing her hand in great sorrow.\n\nKing Eson and his son Jason approached the lady and lifted her onto a bed that was there. Jason began to doubt Medea because she had often asked him to kill Pelus, as they had brought the lady onto the bed. King Eson and his son Jason began to comfort her as best they could. wise that they might know, and weeping tenderly, they demanded to know who had committed this dolorous murder. Then the lady answered with great pain that Medea was to blame and recounted to them all the manner in which she had caused Pelias' people to die at the hands of his two daughters. And seeing the shameful feet caused by them, they were despised and rejected, and she begged Hecuba to give birth to this child, born of such great merits and worthy of glory, but whose children's demerits were so horrible and foul that they stained all your virtues. My dear lord, said Medea. Do you not know how Pelias sent you to Colchis at his urging, for he supposed that you would not have returned? And you would have been dead without remedy, nor would you have escaped the danger by my counsel, as is well known. Considering these things and seeing that he had no cause to expose you to such danger for your sake, I have often urged you to take vengeance upon the unfaithful Pelias. You would not understand; Peleus wanted to be reduced to young age, as the king your father is, by my introduction and style, but his two daughters had caused his death, which you ought to be rightly joyous about. Certainly, Dame answered Jason, \"You say that pleases you, but you have done so now and also other times, and therefore, you have committed and done many immense, inhuman, and hideous acts. I renounce you in all points and your company. And I command you to the goddesses.\n\nAfter these words, Jason departed from the chamber, deeply discomforted, and without taking leave of the king his father nor of any other person, he departed alone on his horse from the castle of Pintaquo.\n\nWhen Medea understood that Jason, to whom she had done so much in her opinion of honor and other things, had renounced her company, and that she perceived that he had taken his horse and was alone departed from the castle, she took her youngest son in her arms. And she, with two damsels in her company, followed after Jason, intending to appease him with fair words. But Preux Jason, in great trouble and anger, rode on ahead of him for a long time, and entered a forest. He kept his gaze fixed on the ground, deep in thought about the wickedness of Medea and her inhumanities and murders. He went so far into the woods that Medea did not know where he had gone. She, her child, and the two damsels lay under a tree, mourning sorrowfully.\n\nThat night, King Eson had his brother Pelus and his two daughters buried honorably, and made a mournful display for their deaths. But when it came evening, and Medea and Jason, his son, did not come to him as was their custom, Eson's sorrow grew greater, filled with great anguish and great displeasure. He could not cease all night, consumed by thoughts and melancholy. When the morning came. Iason sent out his men into the wood to find Iason and Medea, but they could not find them or hear any news of them. Iason continued on his journey, pensive as ever. His adventure was shrouded in mystery, as he rode by day and rested and let his horse graze in the fields and meadows by night. He arrived in the city of Corinth, where the king was named Creon. Creusa, a fair lady, was his daughter. Iason went to Creon and revealed his identity. But Creon, upon learning who he was, showed him great honor because of the renown and high valor Iason had gained in many realms and countries.\n\nIason dwelt and stayed in Corinth for a certain period of time. Creusa, a beautiful lady, often beheld Iason and desired to be with him. But Iason was so overwhelmed by sorrow and melancholy that he could not pay heed to it. Furthermore, King Creon, charmed by Medea, loved none but her. When Creon, the king, discovered Iason's maintenance, and he took no joy in it over time, he approached him one day and urged him to reveal the cause of his distress and grief. Iason explained himself continually, but Creon pressured him more and more with fair words. Iason confessed to him the events between himself and Medea and also told him how he had left his country, intending to withdraw from Medea and forget her.\n\nKing Creon, a wise prince, knowing the reason for Iason's behavior, promised to be his loyal friend. He advised Iason to marry a new wife as soon as possible, stating that the new love and acquaintance of a new wife would help him forget the thoughts and pleasures of the first. Once Iason understood that the king Concelled him wisely and told him the secret of the case. He thanked him much and said that he would marry him if he could find a wife suitable to his estate. And with that, he took his leave of the king. It wasn't long before he returned to the king's palaces to see the ladies. Among all the others, he began to behold the fair Creusa. Approaching her, he intended to declare his love, but when it came to the moment, the memory of Medea's scent came before him, taking away all his intentions in every way. When Jason saw this, he arose and entered a garden where he found himself so melancholic and troubled in his heart that he didn't know what to do. Then, the king happened to enter this garden to reclaim a sparrowhawk. But he found Jason sitting under the tree. Then the king approached him to reason with him. Jason arose immediately when he saw him. Iason spoke, and then the king asked him how it was and how he felt. Sir Iason answered then, \"I seem to be always in one state, and I remember well how you advised me not to think about Medea. I want to marry a new lady, so I ask and pray with all my heart that you will give your daughter Causa to me as wife and companion. This would bring me the greatest honor and pleasure possible. If it is not this way, I am the most unfortunate knight left in the world.\"\n\nThe noble king, having understood Iason's request, answered joyously, \"Iason, you do great honor to me and to all our house by asking for your friend and wife, my daughter. I give you my daughter, and she is well suited for you. I grant your request and give her to you.\" With these words, the king sent for the Queen, his daughter, and for the barons and knights of his court, the Ladies and Damoiselles, as well from his palace as from his city, and they were to espouse each other within a certain time that was to be specified. And after these things, by the order of the king and queen, they made a great and notable feast. The king and queen were so joyous of this noble alliance of Pheidias' Jason and of the fair Creusa that it was impossible for them to be otherwise. There were dances and carols begun, instruments of all kinds set to work, songs and fair poems sung in the best way, wine and food were plentifully arranged for all who would partake. And this great and notable feast lasted until night, when the king, the queen, Jason, Creusa, the barons, knights, ladies, and damoiselles departed from this garden with great joy. For each man urged him to make great cheer for the noble alliance of Pheidias' Jason and the fair Creusa. But who was not joyous? The young lady was greatly comforted and, with good reason, she pondered the high virtues in the person of the valiant prince Jason. The renown of this wedding of Jason and the fair Creusa spread throughout the kingdom of Corinth. The king decided to hold a solemn feast and sent his messengers to many and diverse countries to summon the princes of those lands, his friends. And when she arrived at the banquet and markets of Corinth, she was well received. As she beheld the lady and the two damsels, Medea asked them why they went there. One of the laborers answered Medea, \"We are going to the city of Corinth. If it pleases you to go there, our company will gladly accompany you.\" Medea replied, \"Do you intend to go to the city I speak of? And that is indeed our intention. \"pleseth\\_ vs your company. With that, the noble ladies and the laborers continued on their way. One of them glanced at the little child that one of the damsels carried in her arms, and when he had taken a brief look at the child, he exclaimed aloud in this manner: \"Ceres, I wish it pleased all our goddesses that Lady Creusa, who will come tomorrow, might have such a fair son by her lord. Fair friend replied then Medea, \"What is this Creusa you speak of? Why do you know her so well?\n\nCreasus, the most valiant in battle, had conquered her, and all went together to see what each of us had to bring for the wedding. The custom at that time was such, and the merchants and burghers of the Cities presented him with various goods as part of the dowry.\n\nNone of them understood this but Medea, that the laborer had conquered the land not without cause. He had watched him for a long time before he noticed him. But her face was heavy, and she was sorrowful.\" Then she held Wedd Creusa. Her heart began to melt in such a way that many and great numbers of sighs departed from her, and many tears flowed and fell down from her eyes upon her breast. And thus doing, she thought and thought again what was to be done for the best. Then she returned to the two damsels and sent one of them, well disguised, to Jason, to ask him to come and speak to a lady who was there.\n\nThen the noble Priam Iason, thinking nothing of the damsel's request and went with her. She brought him to Medea, who was withdrawn a little apart, holding herself concealed there in that place. He was marvelously surprised when Medea appeared to him. After Medea had greeted him in the name of all their gods, she said, \"Lo, Iason, what and how have you been, abandoned by the king, my lord, and turned away from me after I have toiled and labored so greatly to bring your father, the king, from his ancient age to the youth of thirty-four years?\" I suppose you remember, Sir Jason, the promises you made to me. Please don't forget, and don't consider any other lady but me. If it's necessary for you to choose another, I'd rather die than live longer. Let my death be granted to you.\n\nLady Iason replied, \"As for the wedding now begun, if it pleases the gods, it shall be fulfilled and completed according to the ordained order, without any promise standing in the way. When Medea heard this answer, she fell to the earth, swooning or in a trance, saying, 'Alas, my only and sweetest, then shall you be pariahed.' Lady Iason answered, \"Save your honor. I have fulfilled all the promises I made to you. I have brought you into my country and solemnly espoused you. Since I have been true to marriage with my uncle Pelus, which you well know.\" Complained to you about a great fault. Despite this, I did not intend for you to be so. But know that I preferred to live in honor and learn the terms and works of nobility, rather than stay longer in your company. I tell you these things because if I had stayed by you, and you had not done good justice, it could be said that I was culpable for the deaths of two fair and noble maidens, daughters of Peleus. And for this reason, as well as other cruelties you inflicted, I shall maintain that I have spoken. And so I may and ought to do, in keeping my honor and the terms and commands of the law.\n\nWhen the fair Medea had understood all the will and conclusion of the noble Jason, if she had been previously sorrowful and excessively angry, she was then even more so. For she began to weep with these words and to sigh deeply from her heart so tenderly that it seemed that tears flowed from her two eyes. Ruysseauls, or two springs of a fountain. This notwithstanding, after many sighs from the heart so deeply she replied to these of Jason and said, \"Ha, a sir knight, I know well now that it is destined that I must be the most unfortunate lady in the world, if I had consented or encouraged the death of the faithless Peleus. It has been for the great love and true service that I have had for you, that he, by his false counsel, sent you to Colchos to make the conquest upon the fleece of gold. Knowing that it was an impossible thing ever to return without being consumed and dead if it had not been my provision, and when I have done all these things with good intention and for your grace. You will now leave and repay me in all points. Wherefore, I may well say that under the firmament there is no more unfortunate creature in all tribulation than I am. Ha, my dear love and friend, Iason, shall I have no other reward or compensation for all my\" Certes, the lady, answered Iason, \"You have received much more than you deserve for such favor. Such reward. The conversion of the favor by you cannot excuse you. Do the best you can or may, and your children also. Withdraw you and your children into some country, and so you will act wisely and also your profit. My dear lord said then, \"Medea, since it is your pleasure that it be so.\" It must be that it pleases me. And so may it always be that your pleasures are fulfilled. Yet at least, for my sake, do to me some great grace that, of your courtesy, I may remain here within until tomorrow to see the solemnity of the:\n\nWhen Iason pretended to all well and good and also to be quit of her request, and was delivered to her a right fair chamber within the house. So it happened when she was there alone, she began to study in many of her sciences: When it came about midnight, she was transported into the air, and she brought with her an abundance of secret works. In her chamber, she composed four great and horrible dragons, which she tied together by their tails, and then passed the night so tormented by jealousy of love that it seemed her heart and entire body were consumed by fire and flame.\n\nOn the following morning, when Jason had espoused the fair Creusa and was seated at dinner with the king, the king father, and the knights, ladies, and damsels, she was brought before the table. When the king and Ferd saw her sitting there, holding a young child between her hands, and when she addressed Jason in this manner:\n\n\"Iason, I am your wife. You leave me for another.\" When you have not noticed me. I have saved your life, and yet you do great wrong and excessive blame to me. This arises from all disloyalty and wickedness, of which you are chief and most headstrong. And such you will be and remain. But I will keep you from it if my skill does not fail. Indeed, I promise you that your new wife Creusa and the king her father, and all who are here within, will lose their lives. Reserve yourself. And consequently, your own son whom I hold in my arms will be the first to begin the feast.\n\nWhen the desolate lady had said these words, she held her young child, who was very tender, by the two legs and rent him in two pieces with the force of her arms. And in that moment, she cast him into the pot before Iason and Creusa. With that, the four terrible dragons on whom she sat opened their throats in disgorging fire and venom, so much and so horribly that all who were there died miserably and in great torment. Then, when the cruel Iason beheld the young child inhumanely slain and saw his lady Creusa, the king, queen, barons, knights, ladies, damsels, squires, and others die miserably and in sorrow before his eyes due to Medea's sorceries and enchantments, he became so enraged and angry that he could no longer remain composed. He rose from the table in a confused state and exclaimed to Medea, \"Evil enchantress, filled with all evil, it is a great harm that the earth bears and sustains you. With your own hands, you have murdered your own son and mine. And since by your false and unreasonable enchantments you have caused so many noble princes, valiant knights, ladies, and gentle esquires assembled here to do me honor and keep me company, to die miserably and in pain, I say, wicked enchantress!\" \"whiche didst thou never trespass nor grieve me? Hast thou not the courage of a human being but of a beast or serpent, devouring all creatures or else of a cruel tyrant without pity? Thou art truly perverse and felonious in courage; what havest thou done by thy great outrage or cruelty? What should I now do or where shall I go after this evil has befallen me? If thou were a man like thee, a perverse woman and mirror or chief of all evil, without delay I should take vengeance for this trespass and grief. But since thou art a woman, it shall never happen that my hand employs him upon thy body. A nobleman who strikes a woman for any anger or trespass, he dishonors himself and his cause.\"\n\nWhen the lady had understood the complaint of her lord Iason, she answered him thus: \"Certes, my dearest love, know the truth, that I would rather see the whole world die than know that thou shouldst have habitation.\" With only other woman than thee with me, you know how I have employed myself to preserve you from death, where many a knight has lost his life before. Also, you know what honor you have gained perpetually by my deeds. And all this I do gladly to the one who should be my husband and espouse all your life. Now I perceive that you will leave and abandon me for one who is less than I am in estate. Her malefices and her cruelties were extremely inhuman. In riding from one place to another, he was in such great perplexity and sorrow that he could no more but if he had died. For this reason, his mind was so troubled that he did not know what to do. In this manner, sad and pensive, drawing from one country to another, he was told on a day that King Tollus of Elsebee, his parent and of his kin, would wed for him the name of Anestor. And for some reason, it was concluded that he would go to the wedding. Which should be solemn and noble, without a great number of ladies, did not welcome him. Ashad spoke to him honorably. He reproached him, saying, \"Evil knight, withdraw from me at once. Have you forgotten that long ago in Athens you promised me that you would be my husband, and yet you have done nothing towards that, but have espoused another lady as it has been reported and certified to me. O dishonorable and unfaithful false liar, where are your faith and truth? Approach me in no way, depart from my presence, and never be found in my way.\"\n\nDespite the Queen having given him this reproachable answer, he said to her, \"I cannot think how my courage is thus corrupted and crushed. For since I took leave of you the last time and when I parted, I remember well that you always had me in continual remembrance, always asking me to be yours, always desiring me in your bed, and yet you would have me against my will, which was such that I would have made of it...\" Medea, my lady, I have been your paramour. For this reason, she gave me the introduction and the way to conquer the noble and rich Moton. Of whom I have brought the noble flees across the sea, and I have brought Medea here to Myrmidon, no longer thinking of you or that.\n\nIndeed, since it was on my finger, I have felt myself estranged and alienated from all my sorrows, and it seems to me that I love no other lady but you. Therefore, I humbly ask you, if in any way I have transgressed or disrespected you, that you will forgive me. And may it please you long since, may our relationship now bring about good effects.\n\nCeres, may no misfortune make me conceive hate against you. And I answered Iason, and I shall tell nothing, nor will any other person know of you and me. And may she, the strong enchantress who has held you in her power and in the dangers of her arts for so long, from now on we shall enjoy the loves of each other. Then, the proof. Iason conducted himself in this manner as Queen Mirror had ordered, bringing her great joy. During these weddings, Iason and Mirror often spoke to each other of their amorous inclinations, engaging in many fair and lengthy declarations. Once the weddings had ended, they took leave of one another and returned to their respective homes. It is worth noting that Iason disguised himself as a servant named Sambor.\n\nWhen the god Jupiter had given his consent, he sent messengers secretly to Sandus. With little noise and fanfare, he married Mirror. Once the priest had departed and they were alone, they began in earnest the pleasurable activities of their amorous life. They enjoyed this life joyously throughout the long winter. Therefore, it is to be believed that on the day that Jupiter served in his office, Iason did the same. The night he entered, he was far from Medea's arts and enchantments. Then Iaso promised him to her that he would do so. And when Iason and the queen had ceased speaking of this matter, the damsel who had declared the feet to her brother Brutus was waiting and spying, and understood all that the lady and Iason had planned and concluded. Then she advised her brother and told him all that she had understood: the day on which they had trespassed against him, and that he would kill him, with much lamenting from his lady. He had not long been riding in the wood when Brutus and his twelve men, without warning or sign, attacked him with great staves and mortally wounded him if he had not been well armed at his departure as his custom was; he would have been dead. Among all other things, Brutus gave him a marvelous blow on the head, making him bow on the left side.\n\nWhen Iason felt himself so attacked and assailed by these men, traitors and they attacked him from all sides, he was utterly dismayed; nevertheless, he set himself at defense. Then he drew out his good sword with which he fiercely fought his enemies. But the place where Brutorus had betrayed him cruelly was hollow and narrow, in such a way that Iason could not but with great effort help himself. For the disloyal traitors six on that other side mounted on high territories that hung over the hollow way, and cast great stones upon him. In such a way that they killed and murdered his horse under him. And in fear they disturbed his helmet and inflicted a marvelous wound on his head. All astonished, but Brutorus and his companions assaulted him again and threw stones, javelins, and swords at him, with which they bruised and wounded him in many places, for the horrors and strokes came from above. Nevertheless, Iason, as a valiant knight, marched out over the passage and did so much that he entered a fair land. Then Brutorus and his people came so far that they came to fight hand in hand against him. Among all others, Brutorus approached his evil fate. For Iason struck him on the top of his helmet with such force that he split the helmet and the head, causing Brutorus to fall dead at his feet. Thus, as you may understand, the treacherous Brutorus was miserably slain. And then, when his companions saw that he was put to utterance, they all cried out against Iason and assaulted him anew, renewing for him the pain and great torment they had inflicted on him in the hollow way, as is said. And so began the struggle, fierce and terrible. How well Iason had more courage than them! He defended himself with great vigor, plunging his sharp sword into their blood seventeen times, killing seven of them with Brutorus. And after fighting long with the remainder, it seemed that in the confusion he injured himself. Remembrance to the death / as he who had not escaped, but was hurt in so many places that by the effusion of blood that flowed from his head, his heart failed him and fell among the dead men. The four last who were left were but little better than dead. But what marvel, when the two murderers had borne him to the ground, they thought he had been dead. And they sat down nearby to rest, and after soft and fair words, they drew them into the city as if with much great pain they could not sustain themselves. But to go to their houses, they had to pass before the palace. The queen then espied them from afar. And she perceived them at once that they were all bespattered with blood, which greatly alarmed her. She had them called and asked them from where they came. Alas, my dear lady, said one of them, We come from a bad journey / for Sambor and eight of our next kin and friends are lying dead in the wood with Brutorus / who brought us there to lie in a. Wait for me, Sambor / he who has spoken thus to us / has caused us distress, but Sambor has saved us all from death. He has reserved for us four who are so pitifully hurt. If the gods do not grant us their grace, we are in great danger. In saying these words, two of these four knights died suddenly. The noble queen was so shocked that her heart failed and fell down in a swoon. She was carried into her chamber by her damsels. And the two malicious knights were carried away from her heart. She cried out, passing by, and said, \"Iason, Alas, my love Iason and my lord. But sorrow has brought such a great misfortune or misshape upon me that you have thus been slain in the wood. The terrible cruelty of Ninus and the horrible beasts of Colchis had no power to harm your person. Nor the sudden perils of the sea nor also the great hardiness of the Esclavons. Ah, the right evil Brutorus, you have slain him and he has slain you. Alas, what great loss must I suffer this day.\" I am born in an unhappy hour, when I had nourished the murderer who traitorously put to death the noble knight Iason, my lord and husband. He was a noble and worthy man of all noblemen. And he in whom all virtues dwelt, may the gods have mercy on your soul. And if you are not yet dead, may they grant you a long life so that I might yet speak with you once more. And then I desire no longer to live in this world after the\n\nWhen the ladies and damsels present heard and understood from the queen's lamentations that he who was named Sambor was Iason, who was so recommended in valor and virtues that it marveled greatly because he served as a yeoman. And at last comforted the fairest lady as wisely as they could. Then she declared openly that Sambor was the noble knight Iason and no other, and furthermore she declared for what cause Iason had changed his name and presented himself as a common man, commanding that his body be quarrelled on the galley and the company that had charge to go prepare for departure. But when they arrived, they found that Iason was not yet dead, but he sat up and bequeathed to one of the traitors. Thus, this noble company, seeing that he was still alive, made great cheer towards him and called him by his name. They said that Queen Myrrha and they all were so greatly displeased with his inconvenience that they could no longer be. And without long delay, they laid the noble and valiant knight Iason upon a shield which they found there lying and bore him to the city. Queen Myrrha came against him, for she had been informed by her men that he was not yet dead. Her heart failed her when she came near her lord, and saw that he was so bruised and battered with stones and statues. Iason remained silent until she had recovered herself. Then Iason could not speak, and she, because of the great distress in her heart, could not speak either. But it was not long before Iason was brought into the chamber of his spouse and companion. The best surgeons of the city came at once to visit and examine his wounds. They found him in such condition that they undertook to heal and make sound all his injuries and wounds in a short time. The queen was greatly comforted by this. They did not fail in their promise, for they worked on him in such a way that within six months they delivered him from all his injuries and wounds. During the six months that the noble prince Iason kept his chamber, as much as he could speak and have understanding, he began to lament the loss of his time, since he could not be present at the destruction of Laomedon and the Trojans. Therefore, he had great distress in his heart. For he had not been accustomed to keeping / the chambers adorned with herbs and flowers / nor the halls hung with rich tapestries / nor the places magnificent and sumptuous as they appeared to be / but he could not change it. For the noble queen comforted him always / and greatly urged him not to take melancholy for anything / and that he should attend only to his garishing and healing / and as for the war of Troy, he could in no way be there.\n\nAs you may understand from this, the prince Jason was distracted to accompany Hercules and the Greek chivalry that were to lay siege before the powerful city of Troy. Therefore, King Aeson and Hercules were right sorrowful and stayed an additional 15 days longer than the set term to go to the sea / when the 15 days were past and no tidings of the coming of Jason were perceived / they departed from the gate where they had tarried / and sailed so far that they arrived Before Troy was taken with such a great number of people that despite Laomedon's resistance of the city and countryside, they besieged it. They remained there for a long time and made marvelous assaults until they took it and destroyed it, as is well documented in the history of the Twelve Labors of Hercules. When they had completed this enterprise, each one departed from there and returned to his country.\n\nIn the twelfth year, King Eson of Mirmidon returned from the conquest of Troy, troubled for his son Iason, who had not been present at this great honor. Medea, who had not yet returned to Mirmidon after she had caused the death of the treacherous Pelus, had come back to King Eson. She was delayed and disfigured. Dressed in tattered clothes, she knelt before King Eson and spoke to him in this manner: \"Sir,\" I, Medea, the most wretched and unfortunate lady who ever lived or will live; you know and cannot deny that I am the true wife of your son Jason, whom I bore not long after his return triumphantly from the mortal paradise where his uncle Peleus had sent him against his will. Yet, without delay and in fear, he has abandoned me since the day I consented to the death of the disloyal Peleus, whom I killed for his betrayal. He had sent Jason traitorously under the pretext of the conquest of the rich Colchis with the fleece of gold, which was impossible for any human creature to obtain without my help. And he supposed that he would never return but would have met his death. He would excuse himself under the color of this death, which I always did for his love and to protect him.\n\nSyre said, \"Lady, you know that the day Peleus died, your son departed from here much hastefully. And I followed, and it was ours.\" I found an adventure involving a man in Corinth, who had wooed the king's daughter. I spoke with him, and among many protests, I demanded that he be true to his promises he made in acquiring her hand. But he would not listen. Realizing I could get nothing more from him, I killed the bride, along with her father and all those at the dinner table, by some enchantments. I spared Jason, whom I had no intention of touching. Afterward, I left and went on the adventure of the gods, not thinking I would return to you. However, fortune has been so kind to me that she has shown me that he has married the bride, whom I have left behind and have come to you seeking refuge. In favor of ladies, it may please you to have pity on me, a lady so desolate, and recognizing the merit I might have deserved in reducing your ancient age, when you, your son Iason, will do me right without rigor.\n\nWhen King Eson of Myrmidon had understood the supplication and request of Medea, and saw her in such pitiful state of attire that she seemed an entirely different woman - for she was so discolored and poorly dressed. Indeed, he had great pity for her.\n\nThen, he began to comfort her, considering the good services she had rendered to his son, from whom all his wealth and renown had come. Likewise, the great pleasure she had given him. Also, how she had abandoned her father and country on the promise of his son. Among other words of comfort, he said and promised her that he would punish Iason for that great offense, and he had taken him in disdain for some reason or another, as he had failed in his duties. The destruction of Troy: When the chivalry of Greece had gained great honor, Cerces loved Medea. And when he had done this, he commanded his son Incontinent to come to his court. But Jason excused himself to the messenger in the most courteous way possible, explaining that he could not come at that time because of the wounds he had received in the wood, as is said. And in fact, he answered that he could go nearer yet on horseback.\n\nKing Eson, as Jason's father had understood this response from his son Jason, he took it badly and swore that he would go to him, but this would be in arms. Then he sent messages to all parties for his friends and allies. He said to him and showed how he would punish his son Jason for the unchastity of his body, and this was for a good reason, because of his lust he had failed in the conquest of Troy. And under this pretext, he assembled to the number of ten thousand Greeks whom he brought before Oliferne the city, and many of them came by sea and by land. The adventurous story continues, he came upon the champagne, where the king of Scythia and his host had laid siege to their detriment, as previously mentioned. Medea was always present in the king's army, favoring him deeply and serving him loyally.\n\nWhen King Eson found himself before Oliphant, he set up his tents and pavilions. He sent word to his son Jason that he should come to him to receive punishment for his disobedience. Jason was greatly dismayed upon learning this, as he understood that his father had besieged the city with armed forces. At that moment, he was still recovering from his wounds and bruises. Seeing this, it seemed to him that his father was angry with him and had come fully armed with great fury. However, he did not believe he deserved this treatment. Considering all these circumstances, I have considered the matters my father has sent me to discuss with you. I have told him that I have understood and will respond accordingly. On the other side, I see that he has come here with an army. I do not know what his intention is or what he will will. Therefore, I am not prepared to place myself in his hands, for I am always bound by right and duty to serve and obey his commands. I will not behave otherwise, even out of anger. The messenger, hearing Iason's discreet answer, reported back to the king, my father. Iason then answered the messenger, saying that if the king had come there in such a manner and for such a reason, he would have treated him harshly. And that Medea should never deceive him again during her life. When the messenger had understood Iason's will and answer, he took his leave. The king and Medea returned to him, and he told them of his exploits with his son Jason. The king and Medea were pleased and willing, and he was not a man to be moved and torn from his courage. Then King Aegeus swore that he would not depart from there for cold or heat, for frost or snow, for rain or tempest, until he had subdued the city of Olferne. With this, Medea left the king and returned to her tent. And she began to scheme. In an instant, she gave birth to a child within Olferne and had it set in the very hall where Jason and the Queen were at a window speaking about their works, and in particular about the enterprise that King Aegeus had undertaken against them, which filled them with great marvel. Iason and Myrro were not intending to fortify the city's walls and murals with stones and shots for defense, but Iason and Myrro were astonished for a great reason. Suddenly, Medea appeared before them. Medea then spoke out and declared, \"Alas, Iason, have you not quelled your life, which is so reproachable before the gods and the world? Curse be upon us and the day I saved and vouched for you. For my reward, I must endure so much and in so many ways, and you do not know to whom you are so greatly bound and held.\" Iason answered, \"Your charms and enchantments will never cease, I cannot think how you have the audacity to come before my eyes, seeing that in my presence you have\" Murdered one of my own sons. And how did you answer, Medea? I, a lady born in such an unfortunate house and so unfortunate, dare not be found unfaithful before my spouse and husband, the one who holds his life from any other but me. A Jason said then, the lady. The great goodness I have done for you before this time is little remembered and known by you. Which I did all from a good heart. And if I have killed your child, you are solely to blame.\n\nI cannot think how the heart of any lady so desolate as I am can endure for so long.\n\nCerse's answer was then to Jason: I hold nothing that I have done to you displeasing or annoying in any way. You have caused and brought about many great and evil deeds. For which I may lawfully repudiate and have promised before that I arrived in your country. And during the time that I have been with you and you with me, you put me under your enchantments to such a point that I had entirely forgotten her and thought of none other but you, whether you were false until the goddesses have reminded. this is my lady and I am her lord and husband. I have now espoused her, and as long as my soul shall dwell in this body, I shall be hers. I shall not withdraw from her nor take another for anything that may befall me. Therefore, do not tarry here any longer, for if you did, it would be all wasted time in pursuing this inquiry.\n\nMedea, having come to this conclusion, was suddenly born from thence. And on the same night, she was delivered and rent asunder at Pintaquo in the chamber where her son Jason was being nursed. And there, finding the noble child asleep and all naked at the hour, she took him.\n\nWith the taking, he awoke. And seeing his mother, he began to laugh sorely. Then Medea wept and said, \"Ah, Iason, my dear son, your figure and semblance, and your father's likeness.\" And you are beautiful. Thou art much fairer if thou couldst reach the age of a man. Indeed, thou shouldst learn and follow the manners of thy father, the most doubtful one, in thy old age. And without further speaking or other lamenting, she drew out a sharp knife in the presence of the two nurses who did not know what to say. She struck him with the knife to the heart. And after that, she departed from there so that men might not see her. She put herself in a wild, desperate state of weeping and making a great sorrow. Her appearance was such that afterward she was in Athens and went not to the king Eson, father of Jason, but went to the king Eseus who was still strong and powerful. She revealed to him what she was and of all her fortunes. In such a way that the king Eseus took her in marriage and engendered a son from her, who was called Medeus. But fortune, who always argues for her maiden, made her accused that she would have poisoned Theseus, the noble knight and son of her husband Egeus. Furthermore, it was said that she... Her troubles began in Athens, where she was compelled to leave the Kingdom of Corinth. Poverty and misfortune drove her, as she did not know where to retreat. She lived solitarily and in great bitterness near a large wood in Thessaly. Her repentance for her sins and her wretched life was so great that death seemed her only respite. I will pause here to discuss the noble Queen Myrrha of Oliphant and the conclusion of this book.\n\nNow, returning to the matter at hand, the following day, after Medea had departed from the east of King Aeason and from the presence of Myrrha and Jason, as detailed in the previous chapter. King Aeason went to visit Medea in the tent he had prepared for her. For he loved her as his own daughter, but he found her not. Neither man nor woman could certify him where she had gone. He had great marvel and did seek her in many places, but he could not obtain news of her for three months. Then a messenger came to him, announcing the death of Jason, son of Medea, and describing in detail how Medea had killed him with a knife in his heart. No one knew where she had gone since the incident occurred.\n\nUpon receiving this news, King Eson was so angry that, moved by his anger, he rent his vestments and wept greatly with pity. He said then, \"My son Jason should leave it be. He should be punished as the cause of all these troubles.\" Immediately, he sent word to Olferne's men to issue a call to battle against him. In response, Jason answered: King Eson would not fight against his father or people. He requested that they be left in peace. When King Eson understood this response, he ordered an attack on the city. But his men were stopped decisively by those within, who defended themselves valiantly. The king made many attempts to assault the city, but to little avail. The city was well fortified with a large number of young and valiant men capable of handling weapons since the war with the powerful king of Escalonian.\n\nKing Eson maintained a long siege before the strong and wealthy city of Olferne without engaging in any battles from either side during this time. Iason and the fair Myrro frequently visited a beautiful and strong tower standing on the city walls of Olferne. They went there to pass the time in watching. The champagne, the tens and pavillons of King Eson and the nobles of his realm frequently went, and they were known immediately. When the king was informed, he sent among all others one day one of his knights named Patroclus, who could shoot with a hand bow so readily and nearly the mark that none was like him. He said to him that he should prepare him with his bow and arrows, and that he should hide early before the day in a bush not far from the wall and tower, promising him great rewards if he might with one arrow slay the Queen Myrro. When he saw her looking out of the window of this tower,\n\nThis bush was even opposite the tower where the noble Priam and Hecuba, Paris and Myrra are said to be. The knight named Patroclus, whom is mentioned in this history later, was he who afterwards was the cause and means of the death of the Right worthy knight Hector of Troy. And then, when Patroclus was hidden in the bush, he held himself there with his bow bent secretly. long that fortune, who often toys with worldly things at her pleasure and will, brought Jason and Myrro into the great tour where they had rendezvoused at the window. But they had not long been there when Patroclus, the just archer, lost an arrow upon the noble lady Queen Myrro. So righteously did he strike and pierce her in the throat. In such a way that she fell down dead on the spot, right before Jason's eyes. And after this deed, he departed from the bush, feeling great joy. Contrarily, Jason was deeply sorrowful and angry when he saw his lady lying dead. He believed he could have saved her, but the soul had already departed from the body. Then great tears in large numbers began to fall from his eyes in marvelous abundance. He was so disconsolate and angry that it is not possible for any creature to write or recount what followed. He gave them leave to weep so anguishedly in cries, in lamentations, that no other sorrow was like it. What is to be done concerning this matter? How may I name the tears or write the lamentations of poor Iason, by special request, and of the knights, ladies, and damoiselles of the city? In a full sea of tears and in a mine of sighs and in a source or a spring of inestimable sorrow, the poor unfortunate lady yielded her spirit by the hole of the arrow of the knight Partroclus. He was there cursed and banned as one who was hated above all others. Iason could not speak for a great while or think. But at length he composed himself a little and commanded that the Lady be taken to her chamber in the palace. The ladies and damoiselles took her in renewing of weeping and of lamentations and bore her to her chamber to prepare for her sepulcher. This evil adventure was known by all the city at once. The whole world deemed a marvelous sorrow. Men, women, and children. Finally, she was... Iason, having been buried with her, was given a proper funeral for the queen Myrro. In the same night, after all the necessary ceremonies had been performed, Jason departed from the city, alone and unable to take leave of man or woman. His heart was heavy and angry over the queen's death and the danger his father the king posed to him.\n\nThe following morning, King Eson discovered that Patroclus had killed Queen Myrro with an arrow, as he had been instructed. He ordered the city to be alerted, and when the people of Oliferne perceived their enemies approaching the city walls, they sent word to Jason, whom they believed to still be in his chamber, to warn him of the news. However, they could not find him there. Despairing, they went in search of him, looking in the temple and many other places. When they realized that no one knew where he was, they went to the gatekeepers and demanded information. When the nobles of Oliferne learned that at the hour of midnight, Jason had been seen leaving through that gate, and they knew nothing more, they were greatly troubled. For they had no lord or lady, and therefore they had to submit themselves to King Eson. They chose two of the most noble knights of the city and sent them to King Eson. He made ready his things with great haste to take possession of the city in many places. When they arrived before him and saluted him, they told him first that the queen and her lady were dead and had been put in a sepulcher. Secondly, they informed him that Jason had gone out of the city and did not know to what place. Lastly, they told him that the city was without a lord. When the noble king Eson of Myrmidon understood that his son Iason had departed from them, he was deeply sorrowful. But regarding the demands of the inhabitants and dwellers of the city of Olferne, he had shown mercy. For he had acceded to their terms then, and ceased the assault. Afterward, he entered the city of Olferne and was received into it as their king. They gave him the crown upon his head, and all paid him homage and fealty. In this way, King Eson became king of Olferne and Myrmidon.\n\nAfter these things were done and accomplished, he sent many knights after his son Iason to search for and find him. But they lost their way. Iason returned to his lord without reporting news of him. For Iason traveled from country to country by many journeys, where he had numerous marvelous adventures. These adventures were too long to recount. Among them were those who, when he had wandered and toiled in the world for a long time, were in great desire to come and see the king, his father, and ask for mercy. Since he had disobeyed his commandment and disregarded him, for which he was deeply repentant.\n\nAfter this, the noble and valiant prince Iason set him on the way so far that he came to Thessaly. But moreover, fortune made him enter the wood where Medea had long been residing. And he was forced one night to lodge himself in the little hut where Medea dwelt. Thus, he found her one day on his way at sunset.\n\nAs soon as Iason and Medea saw each other, they both recognized each other immediately. With that idea, Medea began strongly to weep and knelt down on both her knees in great humility before Jason, pleading for mercy. Then the knight had pity on her and released her, taking her hands. He asked her if she had anything to eat or drink, saying that he was hungry and had not eaten or drunk anything that day. Medea made him sit on the earth to rest a little. She then went and fetched him acorns, roots, and other small fruits that she had gathered in the wood. She told him to make good cheer with what he found. And since a certain time that she had been there, she had eaten no other food.\n\nWhen Jason, who was a very virtuous prince, had understood the lady and knew her great distress, he began to remember the countless good deeds she had done for him before, and how she had abandoned her father and her country for his sake. He also recalled that she was of a noble house. Daughter of a king, he took her by the hand and said that he pardoned her for all things she had transgressed or overlooked against him. And then he declared that his pleasure was that she should be his wife again, as she had been before. Medea, understanding her lord's good will, was more joyous in her heart than if he had given her the best and most noble kingdom in the world. And she swore to him and acknowledged that she would never meddle with sorcery, enchantments, or any other malefices without his knowledge. In such a way, she conducted herself before Jason, and they reconciled.\n\nEarly in the morning, Medea abandoned her little hut. She and Jason set out on their journey. So far removed by their journeys that they arrived at the court of King Eson of Myrmidon, who had recently come to power in his kingdom. Then King Eson, knowing of their reconciliation, was content. With Iason, I pardon him all old rancor and malice. It was not long after this that King Eson relinquished the kingdom of Myrmidon into the hands of his son, for the great love he had for the fair Medea, as he well showed. Immediately upon knowing she had arrived in his palaces, he received her most warmly and ruled their kingdom together for a long time. During this time, they lived in great love and harmony and had many fair children who ruled after them, of whom I have found no history, so I shall finish this history with this prayer to my aforementioned respected young lord and all who read the contents of this present work: may it please you.\n\nAnd how is it that my [Andros] made so many conquests with great magnificence, to such an extent that he was honored and worshipped as a god? Temples were built and dedicated in his name, which, after his death, were destroyed by the command of King Alexander of Macedon. Perhaps he envied his glory. He says that Theseus and Jason were his sons, born to Ismene as he went to Colchis, according to Stacius, who were born at once. Since it was not the custom in Lenos to feed and raise men's children, they were sent to another country to be nursed. And when these sons grew up, they went with King Adrastus to the battle of Thebes. As they went through the wood of Nemea, they heard King Adrastus recounting his wife's birth and the circumstances of her mother. By this recounting, they recognized that she was their mother. In King Lycurgus' court, they found her. He also had another son by the noble Jason, but I have found more about this in my author's book than he recounts. Therefore, I end this story of Jason here. Men blame Jason because he left and repudiated Medea, but in this present book, you may see the clear reasons why he did so. I pray my said lord Prince, may almighty God save and protect you. [ENCREREMBER, one of the most worthy, and after this present life, everlasting life in heaven, who grants him and us this blessing, bought with his blood.]", "creation_year": 1477, "creation_year_earliest": 1477, "creation_year_latest": 1477, "source_dataset": "EEBO", "source_dataset_detailed": "EEBO_Phase1"},
+{"content": "portrait of William Caxton with printer's mark\nWhere every human creature, by the suffrance of our lord God, is born and ordained to be subject and thrall to the storms of fortune, and in diverse and many ways man is perplexed with worldly adversities. Of these, Antoine de Wideville, Earl of Ryuyeres, Lord Scales and others have had their share and in various and different manners have been relieved by the infinite grace and goodness of our said lord, through the mediation of Mercy, who has clearly shown and made known to me the necessity of abandoning all ingratitude. And she has compelled me, by reason and conscience, as far as my wretchedness would allow, to give singular loving and thanks, and has exhorted me to dispose my recovered life to his service, to follow his laws and commandments, and in satisfaction and recompense for my iniquities and faults beforehand, to seek and execute works that might be most acceptable to him, and as far as my frailty would permit me. I rested there in that will and purpose during that season, I understood the Jubilee and pardon to be at the holy Apostle St. James in Spain, which was the year of grace 1462. Then I determined to make that voyage and shipped from Southampton in the month of July the same year. And so I sailed from there until I came to the Spanish sea, lacking sight of all lands. The wind being good and the weather fair. Then, for recreation and passing of time, I had delight and asked to read some good history. Among other things, there was that season in my company a worshipful gentleman called Louis de Bretonelles, who greatly delighted himself in all virtuous and honest things. He said to me, \"He has there a book that you would like very much, and brought it to me. This book I had never seen before. And as I understand it, it was translated from Latin into French by a worshipful man called Messire Jean de Th\u00e9onville.\" The provost of Paris. When I had attended and looked upon it as I had time and space, I gave it a very affectionate response. And in particular, because of the healthy and sweet sayings of the psalms, which is a glorious fair mirror for all good Christian people to behold and understand. It offers great comfort to every well-disposed soul. It speaks universally to the example, doctrine, and laws of virtue and science for all kings, princes, and people of every estate. It praises virtues and blames vices and ignorance. And although I could not, at that time nor during my pilgrimage, leisurely peruse it at my pleasure, what with the dispositions required of a taker of a jubilee and pardon, and also because of the great acquaintance I found there with worthy people, with whom it was fitting that I should keep good and honest company, yet nevertheless it remained in the desirous favor of my mind, intending utterly to take greater acquaintance with it at some other convenient time. Many things in that opening after such a season as it pleased the kings grace commanded me to give my attendance upon my lord the Prince. And I was in his service / when I had leisure I looked upon the said book. And at last I concluded in myself to translate it into English tongue / which in my judgment was not before. Thinking also necessary to my said lord for his understanding thereof. And least I could not at all times be so well occupied or should fall into idleness / when I might / now and then I fell in hand with all, and drew both the sentences and the words as near as I could. Nevertheless I have seen and heard of other of the same books which differ and are of other importance. And therefore I feared that such as should list to read the translation & have true intelligence of any of those books / either in Latin or in French / should find errors in my work / which I would not affirm / but allege the fault to my own unskillfulness / with the diversities of the texts. Books humbly desiring the reform thereof with my excuse, and the more so after my rudeness not being expert, I followed my copy and the ground I had to speak upon, as follows.\n\nSedechias was the first philosopher by whom, through the will and pleasure of our Lord God, Wisdom was understood and laws received. Which Sedechias said that every creature of good belief ought to have in him sixteen virtues. \u00b6The first virtue is to fear and know God and his angels. \u00b6The second virtue is to have discretion to discern the good from the bad and to use virtue and shun vices. \u00b6The third virtue is to obey the kings or princes that God has ordained to reign over him and that have lordship and power over the people. \u00b6The fourth virtue is to worship his father and mother. \u00b6The fifth virtue is to do justly and truly to every creature according to his possibility. \u00b6The sixth virtue is to distribute his alms to the poor people. \u00b6The seventh virtue is to keep and defend. The eighth virtue is to bind and determine oneself to serve the Lord God.\nThe ninth virtue is to eschew fornication.\nThe tenth virtue is to have patience.\nThe eleventh virtue is to be steadfast and true.\nThe twelfth virtue is to be peaceful and temperate, and shamfast in sin.\nThe thirteenth virtue is to love justice.\nThe fourteenth virtue is to be liberal and not covetous.\nThe fifteenth virtue is to offer sacrifices to our Lord God Almighty for the benefits and graces He shows daily.\nThe sixteenth virtue is to worship God Almighty and to put Him wholly in His protection and defense for resistance to the misfortunes that daily fall in this world.\nSedechias said that, just as it belongs to the leper to be subject and obedient to the royal majesty of their king or prince, so it behooves their king or prince to attend diligently to the welfare and governance of his people, and rather to will their well-being than his own. A king or prince amasses wealth in the same way that a soul is connected to the body. Sedechias stated that a king or prince who covertly gathers money or treasure through deceitful means should be aware that such wealth cannot be acquired without risk to his kingdom or country. Sedechias also warned that if a king or prince is negligent and fails to investigate the plans and actions of his enemies, his subjects will soon turn against him. Sedechias praised the fortunate people who have a good and virtuous king or prince, wise and knowledgeable in sciences. Conversely, the people are unfortunate when such qualities are lacking in their ruler. Sedechias added that if a king or prince neglects to perform even the smallest duties entrusted to him, he will forfeit his position. A greater wound and consequently he may lose all rights as a little sickness or hurt without it being soon and well remedied may cause the destruction of the entire body. And Sedechias said if a king or prince believes the fair words and flattering of his enemies, having no respect for their works, it is wonderful that the said king or prince thereby harms himself suddenly. And Sedechias said: It appears to a king or a prince to instruct his son in virtue and knowledge and how he should govern his land after him, how he should be righteous to his people, how he should love and entertain his knights, not suffering them to engage in excessive hunting or other idlenesses, but instructing them to have good eloquence and to eschew all vanities. And Sedechias said: It appears to a king or a prince, if he wants any near servant, first to know his guidance and conditions and how he governs himself in his house and among his fellows. And if he understands him well, and if he is of good condition. governor having patience in adversity should retain and take him hardly. And else beware of him. Sedechias said, \"If you have a very true friend who loves your well-being, take him more in your love and favor than any of your kinsmen, desiring your death for the successions of your goods.\"\n\nSedechias commonly said, every resemblance delights others.\n\nSedechias said, \"He who will not be chastised by fair and sweet words should be corrected by sharp and harsh correction.\"\n\nSedechias said, \"The greatest riches is satisfaction of the heart.\"\n\nHe said, \"He is not rich / to whom riches do not last / nor when they may be easily taken away. / But the best riches is that thing / which endures perpetually.\"\n\nSedechias said, \"The obedience done by love is more firm than that / which is done by might or fear.\"\n\nSedechias said, \"Experience is a good chastisement.\"\n\nHe said, \"Looking upon the end of the work, if it is good, it gives hope to the benefactor.\"\n\nHe said, \"Goodness\" Renown and fame are profitable in this world; the deeds thereof bring rewards in the other world. And he said, it is better for a man to hold his peace than to speak much to any ignorant man. And he said, it is better to be alone than to be accompanied by evil people. And he said, when a king or prince is evil-tempered and vicious, it is better for those who have no knowledge of him than for those who are greatest masters in his house. And he said, it is better for a woman to be barren than to bear an ill-disposed or wicked child. And he said, the company of a poor wise man is better than that of a rich ignorant man who thinks himself wise by subtlety. And he said, he who offends God, his creator, fails all the more to others. And he said, do not believe in him who says he loves and knows truth and does the contrary. And he said, ignorant men will not abstain from their sensualities but love their lives for their pleasure; whatever defense may be made to them, right as children enforce themselves to eat sweets. And they should be charged the contrary, but it is different for wise men, for they love their lives only to do good deeds and leave idleness and the delights of this world. And they said, \"How can the works of those who intend the perfection of the good things eternal be compared to those who only transfer their delights?\" And they said that the wise men bear their griefs and sorrows as if they were sweet to them, knowing that their trouble is taken patiently, the end of which will be to their merit. And they said that it is profitable and good to do well to those who have deserved it, and that it is evil to do well to those who have not, for all that is given to them is lost, just as the rain falls upon the ground. And he said, \"I am happy that I spend my days doing commendable things, and take in this world only what is necessary for me and cannot forbear, applying myself to do good deeds and leave the bad.\" And a man ought not. And it is judged by his actions, not by his words, for commonly words are empty but actions reveal the harm or profit of every thing. When alms are distributed to poor people, it benefits them like a good medicine given to the sick. But alms given to the non-needy are given without cause. He is happy who withdraws his ear and eye from all vile things. And he said, the most commendable dispositions in a man's life are those set in the service of God and good works. The second is that spent on necessary things which cannot be forborne, such as food, drink, clothing, and remedies against sickness. And the worst is that spent on sin and evil works.\nHermes was born in Egypt. He is as great to say there as Mercury, and in Hebrew, he is Enoch. He is the son of Jared, the son of Malaleel, the son of Cainan, the son of Enoch, the son of Seth, the son of Adam. And before that, The great flood, called Noah's flood, was followed by another small flood that drowned the land of Egypt, before which Hermes departed. He was then 142 years old and was accompanied by 72 people of various tongues. They always urged and exhorted the people to obey our lord and established the laws suitable and appropriate to their opinions in 48 towns, which he filled with knowledge. Hermes was the first to discover the science of schools and established it among the people. The kings in those days gave him great audience and obedience in all their lands, and he compelled the inhabitants of the Isles of the Sea to keep God's law, to tell the truth, to despise the world, to practice justice, and to seek salvation in the other world. He commanded prayers and fasting every week, to destroy the enemies of the law, to give alms to the poor, and to God. that is to say, to the feeble and impotent. He commanded that pork flesh and camels should be eaten. And such similar means, and he commanded them explicitly. That they should keep them from fornication. He established many feasts at certain seasons. And he also ordered various persons to offer sacrifices at the rising of the sun, and some others at the first new moon, and at the conjunction of the planets. & also when the planets entered their houses. and when they ascended, and when they descended. The sacrifices were of many kinds. And the same Hermes said. That it was no sufficient recompense to thank God only for the grace he had bestowed upon us. And he said, O man, if you fear God, you should never fall into the paths that lead man to harm. And he said, make not your clamors to God as ignorances full of corrupt willfulness. And be not disobedient to our Lord God. Nor transgressors of his law. And let none of you do to your fellow, otherwise than you would be done to. But be concordant. and love to use girders, fastenings, and prayers in pure and clean willes. Constrain you to do good deeds humbly and without pride in such a manner that from your works may grow good fruits, and keep you out of the company of fornicators and of those who do evil works. Keep you from being partial and let truth be always in your mouth. Swear not but you and no. Enforce you not to make others swear who you know will lie, lest you become partners in their perjury. Put your trust in God who knows all secrets and He shall judge you in equity at the great day of judgment when He shall reward the good for their goodness and punish the evil for their wickedness. And said, \"You are certain that the Redeemer, our Lord, is the greatest wisdom and the greatest delight that one ought to have. From whom all goodness comes, and by whom all the gates of wisdom and understanding are opened. God, who has loved His servants, has given them discretion.\" established prophets and prophets, and ministers, filled with the holy ghost, whom he has manifestly shown the secrets of the law and the truth of wisdom, in order that they should avoid all errors and apply themselves to good deeds. And he said, use wisdom and follow the laws, be merciful, and garnish yourselves with good doctrines. Consider well upon your works without, and in particular, when you shall punish wrongdoers, and if you use any manner of thing likely to sin, do not be ashamed to withdraw from it and take penance for the same, and give other example. For if it is not punished in this world, it shall be at the great day of judgment, and such shall be tormented with great pains without any pity taken upon them. And he said, correct yourselves by yourselves and follow the ways of the wise, learning from them good virtues, and let all your desire be to win good reputation and fame. Employ not your time and your mind in falsehood nor in malice. Look ye set not baits to the annoyance of any body. Nor that ye seek their hurts by crafts or subtleties. For such works will not be hidden. But at last they will appear. And said, \"Constrain you to amend the love of God and of your faith unto wisdom.\" And if you do so all your life, it shall be to you great profitable winning, and of that noble virtue shall come unto you greater benefits than if you should assume great gold and silver or other treasures not durable. For it shall be to you a great richesse in the other world that never shall have end. And said, \"Be all one within and without in that you shall speak. & beware that your words be not contrary to the thoughts of your heart.\" And said, \"Be humble and obey your king and your princes. And worship the great ministers under them. Love God & truth & you give true counsel to the intent that you may the more holy with your good penance be in the way of salvation.\" And said, \"Yield loving unto your Lord aswell in your tribulation as in prosperity.\" Prosper in your poverty as well as in your riches.\nAnd said you shall bear nothing other than your works, and therefore beware that you do not judge unjustly and desire rather to have poverty in doing good deeds than riches in sin, for riches may be lost quickly and good deeds will ever endure.\nAnd said beware of too much laughing and mocking any person, although you perceive in him any foul or evil demeanor. Yet rebuke them not dishonestly. But think that God has made you all of one material and formed you equally. Wherefore you ought to thank His goodness that has shown you such grace and has kept you from harm in the past and present. And pray Him for His mercy that He will continue to keep you.\nAnd said if it happens that the enemies of your faith will dispute with you by diverse and sharp words, answer them in sweetness and in humility, praying God to be of your counsel. And that He will address all His creatures to the good faith for their perpetual salvation. \"said be silent in council and be well aware of what you speak before your enemies lest you resemble one who seeks a rod to be beaten with. And said you may not be just without the fear of our lord God, by whom you attain help of the holy ghost that shall open you the gates of paradise, where your souls shall enter with those who have deserved everlasting life. And said, eschew the company of those who do not love you of evil people, drunkards, and the ignorant. And when you think any good thought, execute it, lest you be let or withdrawn from it by any sinister or evil temptation. And said, have no envy though you see prosperity come to an evil man, for his end shall not be good. And said, make your children evil thoughts which God reputes vile. And as you ought to abstain from meats, so ought you to abstain from sin. For it avails not to spare meats and do evil deeds.\"\n\n\"In your young age, visit our lord's houses and let all your orisons.\" Be in sweetness and humility without pomp or pride. And when you are most merry in your houses with your people, remember the Lord's poor in dignity and depart to them your alms. Say, \"Give comfort to prisoners. To those who are in sorrow and trouble, heal the sick. Clothe the naked. Give food to the hungry. Give drink to the thirsty. Harbor pilgrims. Make satisfaction to your creditors. And patiently suffer the injuries done to you.\" Say, \"Do not discomfort those in affliction, but help them with sweet and pleasant words. If it is such that has hurt you, give it to them benignly, satisfying yourself with the pain they suffer.\" Say, \"Enforce yourself to win friends. And before you put great trust in them, prove them first, lest it be to your hurt. And afterward repent you.\" Say, \"He who God exalted in this world ought to take no pride nor vain glory in it, nor consider himself greater than his fellows.\" For God has made rich and poor from one creation, through which all are equal. And he warned, \"Beware that in your anger or indignation, no foul words escape from your mouth. It is dishonorable and generates hate. It is not fitting for him who seeks knowledge to do so by means or for money, but only for delight. And he said that a king is good and noble who causes good laws to be kept and maintained in his realm and lays down the bad ones. And he said that largesse and liberality are known. When a man is in need and poverty, and patience. And he who has the power to judge and avenge, he who loves wisdom men loves justice and does good deeds, and enforces himself to win sciences and good conditions, and therefore he shall find that which pleases him in this world or in the other. And he says, \"He is unhappy both here and there who has wit and will not learn science or doctrine. And he who will not teach that which he knows.\" Understood in science and good conditions, he shall be a partner to the Ignorance of forward people. And he who denies to teach science to one who is capable, he ought to be deprived of his benefit in this world. But there is no one who saves ignorant folk, which are commonly envious, forward, and ill-willed, and said: Liberality and largesse are better in science than in riches, for the renown of a wise man abides, and riches do not. And a man ought not to offend nor hate him who has trespassed against him. But ought to do good against harm for the works of the wise men are proven in three things: to make his enemy his friend, to make the rude unlearned, and to reform the evil-disposed into goodness. And he said: He may be called good when others fare better for his goodness. And he said that he who loves the well-being of his neighbor as his own, and said: Great science profits little to a covetous man, but little science profits much to. him who withdraws his courage from covetise and said that life may be compared to the flying of an arrow, and death is like the lighting of it, and said it is more merciful and better to have pity on the fool than on the worldly wise man, and said he who holds himself not satisfied with what God has sent him does not deserve to have more, and said a reporter or a constructor of tales commonly lies to him to whom he tells them or is false to those whom he has said it of, and said scorn and derision put away and waste land, and said the envious man is friendly to him who is present and his enemy in his absence, and shows him his friend by word and enemy by deed, and said an envious man serves for nothing but to disparage all others, and said he is quite sure that he feels himself without guilt, and is in no fear that will not know his own guilt, and said beware obey not unto covetise for when you would it will not obey unto you. He who gives good counsel to others begins to profit himself, and was asked by the hermits what most hinders and troubles man. He answered, \"Ire and envy.\" After they asked why, the wise man stood closer to the rich man's gates than the rich man to the wise man's gates. He answered, \"The wise man knows the profit of the rich, and the rich knows not the profit of the wise man. And he said, 'He who has wit and discretion and does not know it himself resembles the tree that bears no fruit.' He is wise who knows ignorance, and he who knows it not is ignorant. And he said, \"There are two kinds of men: one seeks and cannot find, the other finds and cannot profit. Sapience is like a thing hidden in water. Which can only be found by those who will search and extract it from the bottom. And he said, 'Without chastity, a man is not.' \" A man cannot be very wise and lack wit in science. Discipline is the ornament of wit, which every man ought to enrich himself with. It is not honest to chastise a man before all people; rather, a part. When a man often excuses himself for his known guilt, it causes his error to be more remembered. The ignorant person is but little, though he may be old, and the wise is much, though he may be young. The world nowadays despises those whom it once worshiped, and the earth wastes and consumes those whom it once nourished and fed. The fool is known by his words, and the wise man by his works. Few envy a dead man, but many lie upon them. Be merry and glad, and it suffices to anger the new man. Hermes was asked why he did not marry, and he answered, \"He who cannot swim alone in the sea, how should he?\" \"And there is another in his neck swimming, and said keep away from the company of a juggler who resembles something that seems good from afar, and it is not right at all. And he said, he who will do evil at your instigation against another, right so will he do against you. And he said, he who praises the vices that are not in the one, and you rejoice in it, he may well allege the vices that he sees in the other. And he said, anger troubles reason and hinders all good works and advances all evil. And he who labors in that which cannot profit, let him therefore abandon that which might have profited. And he said, the harm and trouble caused by evil people hinders the desire and well-being of the good. And he said, a wise and true man is he who will easily forgive the error of his friend. And he said, it is better to chastise yourself than to let others do it. And he said, the goodness that comes from an ignorant man is like that which grows on a dong hill. And he said, an evil fellow is like a tree kindled by a worthless flame.\" And said the noblest thing that God made in this world is a man, and the richest thing to him is reason, by which he keeps justice and eschews sin. The fool will know in himself no vile thing, and he thinks lightly of a thing being other than it is. And the suspicious man makes many doubts of that which he knows.\n\nAnd said, a right commendable thing in heaven and on earth is a true tongue.\n\nAnd said, a king or a prince ought not to give lordships or authorities, but to good and merciful people. And therefore they should love them as the father does his children.\n\nAnd said it should suffice a man and he ought to hold himself content when his adversary required of him pardon. It was asked him what was a liberal thing. He said to give silver to unknown men for the love of known men, and to give to those who have noticed him for the love of those who have helped him.\n\nAnd said, the life in this world is so short that \"None should conceive hate or wish harm to others. Establish and ease your anger with your patience, your ignorance with your wisdom, your forgiveness. It is a good sign when a child is shamefaced, for it shows he should have wit. It is well done that you do good while you are prosperous, for your power will lack in adversity. He who remains in a province where there is no lord to avenge injuries, no just judge, no wise leech, no habitable market, and no refreshing water, it belongs to every man with all his power to seek knowledge and fortify himself, having a good eye upon his enemies, and beware lest he be exalted in pride by lordship or other riches, his will, words, and deeds always equal. And said there may be none who escape to be.\" At the great day of Jugement and his help shall be there three things: Discretion, chastity, and good works. All things may be left: Save good deeds. All things may be changed: Save nature. All things may be redressed and reformed: Save evil deeds. All things may be avoided: Save death and the sentence of our Lord.\n\nHe said, \"It is no marvel if he is good who is not covetous. But it is a great marvel if a covetous man were good.\n\nHe said, \"The error of a wise man may be compared to a crashed ship, which in drowning itself drowns many others.\n\nHe said, \"Trust is in the nature of a bondship. Mistrust is a liberty.\n\nHermes, correcting King Hamon, gave him this precept and charge:\n\nFirst, before all things, love, fear, and obey our Lord God.\n\nAll men who have dominion and lordship over the people ought always to have three things in mind:\n\nFirst, to remember the people subject to him.\nSecondly, all things. It is important that they be in his service, yet he must keep them in frankness and freedom, not in thralldom. Thirdly, his lordship and power in this world may not endure for long. The king of Hamon spoke, \"It behooves thee, O king, to keep thy soul rightly in will and word, and thou oughtest not to be slow to destroy the miscreants, but to constrain them to obey our lord God, and desire not to have riches without it being rightfully gained. For truly, the people will always obey those who do rightfully and well, and there may be no well-being in a Realm without the people. And if they draw them, the prince is left lord alone, and therefore remember well thy deeds and afterwards think on thy soul and put in that garrison all that thou shalt have need of in the other world. And if it happens that thou must go to war in thy own person, beware well that thine enemies do not overcome thee.\" Surprise your enemy not through slowness in soldiering. When you go to battle, first solicit and exhort your people courageously, and ensure that all your weapons of war are ready. Have each man set in his place and appointed how he shall fight. Be careful not to be surprised by your enemies due to lack of watch and good espionage. Therefore, multiply your scouts and spies so that you may always know the movements of your enemies, and ensure they do not deceive you. When you command your people to do anything, ensure they have carried it out secretly, which will make them fearful of disobedience. And when you command letters to be written by your clerk, do not sign or seal them until you have reviewed them, for many have been deceived by this. Be wary of becoming familiar with those you do not know. Utter not the secrets of your heart but to those you trust. You shall govern wisely, so that your knights and people may take pleasure in your rule and be glad to be in your company. Delight them by showing them rightful and good governance. Sleep no more than is necessary for the sustenance of your body and the rest of your heart. Enter into nothing and let your works be only in righteousness and truth, without dissimulation or sloth. Sustain and love those who are great multipliers, that is, the commoners who labor the earth by tilling and sowing seeds upon it. Through these, the realms and the people are sustained, knighthood is multiplied, and houses are filled with riches. Therefore, such things should be greatly kept and cherished. Openly worship those who are good. Every man should worship them according to his discretion, condition, and science, so that the people may be benevolent to all those who seek knowledge and courage. Study the more to learn and understand, so that the kingdom or province may be the better for their knowledge. Be kind to manufacturers and those who endanger or trouble your kingdom or lordship. Strike the heads of robbers of the highway publicly, so that others may take example by them. Let the hand of a thief be struck off. Hang a sodomite and punish those taken in adultery according to their estate. Punish liars and those who speak falsehoods. Deliver prisoners once a month and release those who ought to be released from your alms. Yet not too hastily, but give them time for repentance, and keep them until you know whether they are guilty or not. Be wary. Use not your own counsel only, but be advised by men of age and discretion and such. A expert in many things, and when you find one who is just and right, be advised by him. Else report to the most holy opinion of all your counselors. And he said, \"He is noble who uses goodness. And it is a great goodness to use instruction and chastity. And to give liberally, or when it is asked. And he said, \"When a king or a prince cannot nor will restrain his evil vices and covetousness, how should he reprove his servants? And when he cannot correct his own servants, how should he correct and guide all his people? And especially those who are far from him? Therefore, a king or a prince first needs to be lord over himself, and afterward over others in order. A good king or prince should not be too full of suspicion, for it will make men draw away from him. And also he ought not to have any of that disposition in his house. And in particular, backbiters, conspirators, or reporters of tales. For when there is division or trouble in a king's or a prince's household, these types of people cause the most harm.\" A wise king or prince should not have poor counselors or servants who will not stay with him. He who cannot control his anger has no power over his wit. A king or prince ought not to make comparisons or dispute with one greater and mightier than himself. When a king or prince has conquered and overcome his enemies, he ought to maintain them in justice, good customs, and liberality, and so make enemies into friends. If a king or prince amasses an outrageous treasure and does not spend it appropriately, he will lose both it and his kingdom. The people are to the king as the wind to a great fire. The stronger the wind, the stronger the fire. A king or prince should know those who have truly served him and establish them around him, according to truth, wisdom, and ability, and ought to be generous to them according to their merits. If he gives to unworthy people who have not deserved it, by will. It puts courage in the hearts of good servants to serve him well any longer. And so he will be surrounded by wicked people, and when he wants, he cannot be delivered from them.\n\nIt is convenient for a king or a prince to learn and know, but not everything, for there are many things that a king or a prince ought not to know or understand.\n\nZalquinus said, \"Men receive great benefits daily from God our Creator, although they may be sinners. Then they should thank him for his graces and ask him for pardon for their trespasses.\"\n\nMany things seem right good that are really bad, and after great blame, they are found to be good and desired.\n\nIt is better to have great necessity than to borrow from one in whom you have no trust.\n\nIf you labor to teach a fool, the more folly will increase.\n\nI marvel at those who abstain from meat, denying themselves nourishment, and make none. abstinence of sin and speak softly. This discipline maintains you and your works, and he who wishes to well keep the faith ought to leave his friend his good and be gracious to those who do good and no denier of justice to his enemy, and to eschew all things that touch idolatry.\n\nOmid was an ancient poet in Greece and of the greatest estate there. He was after Moses, living 55 years, and made many good things. And all the poets of Greece followed his discipline. The which Omid, by fortune, was taken and imprisoned, and put up for sale as a prisonor or a bondman. And then one asked him, \"Whence are you?\" He answered, \"Why do you ask me counsel about what you will do with your silver?\" They asked him, \"Why are you good?\" He said, \"To be delivered.\" And so he remained long in prison. And at the last they let him go. He was A man fair formed and of large stature. He is discreet and can restrain his tongue. He said, \"He who works by counsel gives rest to himself and toils for others. He is friendly with good people, and you will be one of them. Accompany him with bad people, and you will be among them. He is good and liberal, applying himself to good works and clean. He puts them into execution or ever there comes any occasion of impediment. The heart shines in virtue and is sure when it is set in wisdom. Fraud and deceit are in the fruit of evil, though it may appear otherwise. The mouth often shows what the heart thinks. The look sometimes shows the disposition of the heart before the words are spoken. It is great security for a man to pursue his causes by time. It is marvelous that a man can resemble God, and he compels himself to be like the beasts.\" And said beware thou do not take the accused. For if thou do, thou wilt be the accuser of thyself. And said, pay the price to win good conditions and virtues; for thereby vices and harms will be avoided. And said there was once a wise man saved from a broken and lost ship onto an island in the sea. And being there alone, he drew a figure of geometry on the sand. Therewith he was found by certain shipmen. They brought him to the king of that land, telling him of his chance and adventure. Therefore, the king sent through all his provinces and charged them to enforce themselves to learn and have such knowledge as would befit them after their ship was lost - that is, science and good works.\n\nAnd Amun bore with him two vessels. The one was before and the other behind. In that before were the errors and vices of other folk. In that behind were his own. And said to his son, Beware that thou be not covetous; for if thou art covetous, thou shalt be poor. And said: thou be patient, thou shalt be praised / If thou be proud, thou shalt be blamed\nAnd it was said, A man is better than all other possessions of the earth\nAnd it was said, Wisdom is as effective as working by science\nAnd it was said, Knowledge is better than ignorance\nAnd it was said, This world is a house of merchandise, some gain therein by their good deeds, and some lose by their evil governance\nAnd it was said, By great diligence some men attain to their purpose\nAnd it was said, he that has great might and governance in this world ought to have no great rejoicing, and he that has none is despised\nAnd it was said, there is no wicked thing than lying, & there is no goodness in another\nSalon was of Athens and wrote many books of predictions / And established the laws there. Which was a City in those days filled with wise men, he had many verses teaching folk to eschew their own wills\nAnd it was said, When thou wilt do any thing, follow not thine own will but seek counsel, and thereby shalt thou know the truth. It was asked him, \"What is the most difficult thing in a man?\" He answered, \"To know oneself. To keep one's frankness or freedom. To speak in places where one ought not to be. To be angry with that which one cannot amend and to covet that which one cannot have. And he said, 'The things of this world are established by laws, and the laws are sustained by two things: by the sword and by the banner.' And he said to his disciples, \"Be not mockers, for that engenders hatred. And the virtuous praises of a man are not those that he gives himself but those that are given to him for his good works. And it was asked him, 'Who is generous?' He said, 'He who uses generosity. Not coveting other men's goods. And an evil tongue is sharper than a sword. A rich man asked him what his possessions were. He answered, 'My treasure is such that no one may have it without my will, and it may not be taken from me for any reason. You may not depart with any of yours without my permission.'\" thou wilt. The love of your friend shall remain firm towards you. Be courteous to him and spare him in his anger or error. And he said, \"You ought not to give a man greater praise in his presence than he is worthy, for he knows the truth.\" He was asked how a man should win friends. He answered by worshipping and saying good things about them in their absence.\n\nAnd he said, \"The soul has neither great joy nor great sorrow. It rejoices not but when it sees good things and none evil. And it has no sorrow. But when it sees evil things and none good, and when it looks upon all the world, it sees good and evil so intermingled that it should not simply rejoice in itself nor trouble itself angrily.\"\n\nA king who does right and justice shall reign and govern well his people. And he that does injustice and violence seeks another to reign for him.\n\nA knight or prince first ought to order and dress himself, or else he shall be like him that Wolde he dress his shadow before himself, and it was asked of him when countries and towns were well governed, he answered and said when their princes ruled them according to their laws. Sabion was a great defender of his neighbors and had certain friends, whom a king would kill. When Sabion understood this, he joined them in resistance against the said king, who assembled such great numbers of knights and was commanded to be put in engine and tortured, unless he would accuse those who were planning to make war against the king. Sabion answered that for no price, he would not tell that thing, which would harm his friends and fellowmen. In truth, being in the engine, he cut out his tongue with his own teeth, so that he might not accuse his companions and friends. And the said Sabion lived 48 years, and after him followed his teachings to his disciples. And he said, \"If you lose anything, say you have restored that which was not yours.\" And he said to one of his disciples, Multiply your friends, and that will assuage your care and displeasure with her husband. And she said, \"Delight in riches is a dangerous vice. And there came one of his servants to him once and told him that his son was dead. He answered that he knew well it was mortal and not immortal. One asked why he said so, considering that he held the opinion that a rational soul might not die. He answered, when a rational soul is converted to the nature of a beast without the use of reason, though it be substance incorruptible, yet is it reputed for dead, for it loses the intellectual life. He found a young powerless man sitting on the seashore weeping adversities of this world. To whom he said, \"Despair not. For if you were with great riches in the midst of the endangered sea with your body and goods, you would heartily wish to be here only with your life saved. Also, and if you were in great danger with your body and goods in the midst of the enemy, you would heartily wish to be here only with your life saved.\" prisoner and the keepers would sell you and take from you all that you ever had. If you only had the deliverance of your body, you would be glad. The young man answered that he had told him the truth. Sabion replied, \"Now think, then, that you have been in all these dangers and have escaped them. And now you are at your free liberty. Therefore hold the content with the state that you now stand in.\" And so the young man departed, greatly rejoiced.\n\nYpocras was a disciple to Esculapius the second, who descended from royal blood. He was the first finder of the art of medicine. Which he showed and taught to his children, and commanded it should not be learned by anyone but only from father to son. And so the said science rested in them, and he commanded that they should dwell in the middle habitation of Greece in three Isles. And Ypocras rested in the Isle of Cos.\n\nIn the two other Isles, the study was lost in his days. The opinion of the first Esculapius was that Physike should be used only by experience, for it was never found otherwise. And so it was used from the year 1400 until a physician named Methus came, whose opinion was that experience without reason was a dangerous thing. They used these two opposing methods for two hundred years, until another physician named Bradados appeared, who disparaged experience, saying that many errors arose from it and that a man ought to use reason only. However, he had three disciples who held three different opinions. One used experience only, another used reason only, and the third used the three subtle crafts and enchantments. These three ways were used for seven hundred years until Plato came, who diligently studied the teachings of his predecessors in his science and showed that experience alone was dangerous and reason alone could not be sufficient. He took the books of subtle craft and enchantment as well as those of reason and burned them all. were of reason and experience to guide him. He retained and kept them, commanding that they should be used, and after his death he left the craft to one of his disciples. The first was to arrange pharmacy for the body, the second to box and let blood, the third to heal wounds, the fourth to heal sick eyes, and the fifth to knit and heal broken bones. After this came Esculapius the second, who taught diligently the diverse opinions, and in particular those of Plato, which he used and took for most true and reasonable. He left after him three disciples: Ypocras and two others who died, leaving the science and craft only in him. Than rested Ypocras alone, perfect in virtues in his days, using reason. Seeing the craft of medicine in a way of preservation because all his fellows were dead, and that he was left alone on the Isle of Cos, he thought that he would be most profitable if the craft were shown. He taught not only to his children and kindred but generally to alle that were apt to lerne it And dampned in that science dyuers thinges and added to certayn compylacions in breue wordes. And commaun\u00a6ded his .ij. sones that were maystres of sciences that they shulde shewe It generally. for he sayd It was more coue\u00a6nable / It shulde be taught to straungers able and apt to the lore / than to his owne kynnesmen not disposed to ler\u2223ne\u00b7 And as he ordeigned was don and Is vsid to this daye / and in his lyff he shewed hit to dyuers straungers and made hem expert therin / taking promisse of them to te\u00a6che it further / It happed that a kyng of perse called de\u00a6four sent vnto the kyng of thysle of Thau called pylate prayng him to sende him ypocras / and he wolde yeue him / C\u00a6kyntawes of golde / and than was the lande of grece deuided in many kyngdome / of the whiche somme gaf truage to the kyng of perse / And so dyd that of Thau / The whiche ba\u00a6de ypocras go to the sayd kyng of perse / for to hele certayn pestilences that were than in his Royaume / Seying If he went not It might be dangerous for the Isle as the said pilate was not able to resist the said king of Persia. Ypocras answered that he would never help the enemies of Greece. The inhabitants of the towns where he dueled said they would rather die than let Ypocras depart from them. Ypocras was 451 years after Nebuchadnezzar. He had numerous books of physics of which 30 survived, and of these 12 were most studied. Other books were also possessed of Galen's making. Ypocras was of little stature, great headed, hunchbacked, much studying, and of little language. He looked down to the earth, holding in his hand a flask of money for stopping bleeding or a green branch beneficial to the eyes. He lived for eighty-four years, of which he spent seventeen in study. Here follow diverse of his sayings: Power in fear is better than riches in fear. And he said that life is The pain is thought to be long-lasting, and judgment is dangerous. He said that health should not be slothful in good exercises and not fill one's body with what weakens and harms it. He said it is better to amend what harms than to increase what helps. He said the heart is tormented by two passions: that is, with sorrow and the thought of sorrow comes dreams and fantasies, and from thought comes waking and restlessness. Sorrow is a passion of things past, and thought is fear of things to come. He said that the soul is lost who sets his heart upon worldly things, that is, in covetousness. He said he who wants to save his soul must mortify it and give it pain in this world. He said, \"May there be love between two wise men. But not between two fools, however equal their folly. For wisdom proceeds by order and can agree in one sentence. But folly and disorderly conduct can never agree in love.\" He said, \"Amen.\" And said, \"You should not swear, but it is either so or not. That should be sufficient for you, and so you shall not have any grumbling. The less grumbling you have, the more you flee from malice and wickedness, and seek goodness and virtues.\n\n\"He who wants to be free should not covet that which he may not have, for if he does, he is bound to it. Therefore, if you will have what you desire, desire it so that you may have it.\n\n\"It was asked of him a question about evil and vile things. To which he answered nothing. They asked him why he spoke not. He said that silence was the answer to such questions.\n\n\"This world is not perpetual to any creature; therefore, let no one differ or delay in doing good things as long as he may. And especially that, that he should win good reputation by it.\n\n\"He who does not know truth is rather unlikely to do it, than he who is informed and taught to do so.\n\n\"Science is...\" Like a root of a tree, and operation is like its branches. Science is like a thing engendering. And operation is like a thing engendered.\n\nHe said, \"Take a little science at a time. So that thou mayest keep it and learn more. For if thou wilt all:\n\nPythagoras said that it is a right blessed and noble thing to serve God. And to sanctify his saints, to disdain the world, to use justice, and of all virtues, the most principal is to abstain from sin. It is good to use fasting and studies, and to make him beloved, and it is good to have science to understand the truth of things. He also ordained predictions and to polish and adorn speech.\n\nAnd he said the soul is perpetual and capable of receiving merits and pains. He moderated his food and drink so that he was never at any time fatter nor leaner than others. He was a subtle man and loved as much to do good to his friends as to himself. Saying the goods of friends ought: He made forty-score volumes of books. Born in the country of Samye, he said, \"An harm not lasting is better than a wealth not enduring.\" This was written both in his seal and in his girdle. He said, \"As the beginning of our creation comes from God, so it is fitting that at our end our soul returns to him.\" He said, \"If you want to know God, do not force yourself to know the worldly people.\" He said, \"A wise man does not esteem the worship of God in words but in deeds.\" He said, \"Wisdom is to love God, and he who loves God loves in turn. He who does the works that God loves is drawn to him. He who is drawn to God is near to him.\" He said, \"God is not worshipped by sacrifices or other offerings made to him. But only by the will and acceptable intentions.\" He said, \"He who clings much is a sign that he has little knowledge.\" At all times, whatever you do, remember that God is with you and knows your thoughts and sees your actions. And therefore, because you ought to be ashamed to do amiss, and God only knows the wise man who fears him. And marvel not that the people do not know this, and God has not in this world a more commendable place than in a clean and pure soul. And a man ought to speak of honest and good things, and else listen to those who will speak of them. And he said, shun and eschew all vile things, as much from yourself as from others. And he said, purchase the goods of this world in rightful, laudable, and worshipful manner, and dispende them in like way. And he said, keep your patience when you hear calumny, and do good deeds so that no man may speak harm of you, and intend to the security of your body. Be temperate in your eating, drinking, lying with women, and all your other labors. And he said, expend not to excessively nor be too sparing, so that you\n\n(Note: The text appears to be in Middle English, and there are some minor errors in the transcription. I have corrected the errors while maintaining the original meaning as much as possible.) \"Be not bound to your treasure/have temperance and measure in all things, which is profitable. And he said, \"Be wakeful and herb-y in your counsel/for your needs/for if you neglect it or sleep it, it might cause you to be a partner in your own death. And he said, \"Meddle not in any thing that ought not to be done. And he said, \"He who is not content cannot attain to truth. And he said, \"The judge who does not judge rightfully deserves great blame. And he said, \"A man ought not to force himself in this world to make purchases or buildings to serve others after his death to get such things as may profit him after his death. And he said, \"It is better for a man to lie upon the hard ground believing devoutly in God than to lie in a bed of gold, puttying and fawning. And he said, \"Let your merchandise be spiritual and not corporeal. And thence, frugality and joy will be good and enduring. And he said, \"He who has pity on his own soul fears us.\" And said when thou wilt set upon any man, think thou wouldst defend thyself if thou were set upon, and dispose thy soul to receive all good and commendable things. Set a side the vanities of this world. For they let and said, thou oughtest not to sleep any night till thou hast remembered and considered thy deeds of the day past. And if thou hast done well, be glad and joyous therefore, and thank God for it. And if thou hast erred and done amiss, repent thereof and ask for forgiveness and pardon of God. And in doing so, thou mayest obtain\n\nAnd said when thou shalt begin any work, pray God for a good conclusion.\n\nAnd said, if thou hast haunted any fellow, and his company is not commendable unto thee, spare it, and yet deal so that he be not after thine enemy. Prove every man by his deeds, not by his words. For thou shalt find many of evil works and good words.\n\nAnd said, A man may not restrain him from doing amiss. But when he hath transgressed, let Him beware to fall further in that error. And said, wine is an enemy to the soul in taking it outrageously, and is like setting fire to fire. And said, a servant ought to be obedient to his lord, but not so absolutely that he loses his liberty and franchise. And said, it is more becoming for a man to suffer death than to put his soul in perpetual despair. And said, let not good deeds go undone, though they are not pleasing to the world. And said, deliver always to your power that your soul may stand in good and noble state whatever falls of your body. And said, an aclean and pure soul has no delight in worldly things. And said, go not the paths that you may gain hatred thereby. And said, you ought to win friends, for they may maintain your estate, and do not do things that you covet but that you ought to do, and take heed. He refrains him from covetousness that lets not spend his good for his friends. And said, put all covetousness from you and then. You shall perceive truth and he is not very patient, who suffers only as much as he can. But he is currently patient, one who suffers beyond his power. Pythagoras spoke: Just as a physician is not reputed or taken to be good or skilled if he heals others but cannot heal himself, so he is no good governor who commands others to shun vices and yet cannot or will not leave them for himself. He said, \"The world changes now with you and now against you. If it is with you, think to do well, and if it is against you, take it patiently.\" He said, \"Many harms come to beasts because they are ruled, and to men through their own speech.\" He said, \"It is hard to grieve him who can abstain from the four things: haste, wilfulness, pride, and sloth. Haste causes willfulness, which leads to sin. Pride causes hatred. And sloth causes disdain.\" He saw a man nobly and richly arrayed, who spoke vile and foul words. To whom you speak, or let your speech be in accordance with your appearance. The king of Cecil requested that you stay with him. To whom you said, \"Your works and your behavior are contrary to your profit, and your office is not well executed, for you destroy the foundation of your faith. Therefore, I will not stay with you.\" The physician is uncertain, for among his patients, he may fall ill himself. And he said, \"If you want your children or your servants not to make mistakes, you desire an unnatural thing. The soul that is in the company of good people is in delight and joy, and when it is among evil, it is in sorrow and heaviness.\" The wise man considers the well-being of his soul as earnestly as others attend to the well-being of their bodies. And he said, \"Take friendship of those whom you see follow truth, and think or do the same. A physician cannot heal his patient without telling him the truth of his disease. Right so, a man cannot be well.\" counseled him without telling him the pleasantness of his cause and said, \"Many enmities grow from a lack of trust, causing harm often. When Pythagoras sat in his chair, he used to show his doctrines by saying, 'Measure your paths and go the right way. In this way, you will go surely. Temper yourself from covetousness, and your good state will endure. Use justice, and you will be loved and feared. Do not keep your body in great delight, for if you do, you will not be able to sustain the adversities that may come upon you. He saw an old man who was ashamed to learn. To him he said, \"Science is better in old age than in youth. If you wish to despise him whom you hate, do not show that you are his enemy. A good king or prince ought to think carefully about the state and governing of his land and ought to oversee it as often as a good gardener does his garden. It is becoming of a king to give an example to his hands and for them to follow him.\" A king should not be proud or act only according to his will, nor ride arrogantly or in dark nights, but gladly show himself openly among his people. And when a king or prince is about to retire, he should ensure that there is good watch. If they fail, he should punish them well. He should beware of accepting food from a jealous woman or any suspicious person.\n\nA well-disposed man remembers his virtues, but an ill-disposed one remembers only his sins. It happened that his wife had died in a distant country. Someone asked him if there was any difference to die in their own land or far from there. He answered, \"Wherever one dies, the way to the other world is all the same.\"\n\nHe said to a young man who refused to learn in his youth, \"If you will not take the pain to learn, you shall have the pain of being rude and uncivilized.\"\n\nGod's land said he, and added, \"Good prayer is one of the most important things.\" The best things a man can present to God are to ask Him that his works please Him. Diogenes, also known as Dion, was the wisest man of his time. He despised the world greatly and lived in a barrel, turning it to his advantage as it pleased him, from the sun and wind. He rested wherever he felt hungry, day or night, in the street or otherwise, without any shame. He was content with two woolen gowns a year, and so he lived and governed himself until his death. Some asked him why he was called doglike, and he replied, \"Because I bark at fools and fawn on the wise.\" Alexander the Great came to him, whom he took little notice of. Alexander asked him why he set so little value on him, seeing that he was such a mighty king and had no need. Diogenes answered, \"I have nothing to do nor set value on one who is a servant to my slave. Why did Alexander ask, Diogenes? Because I am a lord and master to myself.\" all courage and hold her under my feet as my thrall; for courage is your mistress, and you are bound to her. And so are you bound to my thrall. Said Alexander. If you will ask me anything of this world, I will give it. Answered Diogenes, Why should I ask for anything, since I am richer than you? For the little that I have contents me better than all the great quantity that you have satisfies me. I pray, stay out of my light, and take not from me that which you cannot give me. Well said Alexander. Who will bear the burden when you are dead? He answered, he that will not endure the stench of my care above the earth. And the said Diogenes said, he is not perfectly good who only abstains from evil deeds. He saw a long man of good and virtuous disposition, who was ill-visaged. To whom he said, \"The goodness and virtues that are in the eye are in your face.\" And some asked him when it was time to eat. He said, when he had appetite and mete, and if he. Had noondes, when he could get it, and said, \"It is good for a man to keep himself from the guile of his enemy. And the envy of his friend, (2) and said, as a man appears greater in a mist than in clear weather, so does his vice appear greater in his anger than in his patience. (3) And said to Alexander, 'Do not think yourself more worthy for your beauty, treasure, and rich array, but only for your liberality and goodness. (4) And said, 'When you despise a vice in another man, look that you do not use it yourself. (5) And said, 'When you see a dog leave his master and follow, drive them away. For just as he will leave you to go to another, so will he leave you. He saw a man praying to God for wisdom. To whom he said, \"Your petition avails not without first paying yourself to learn it. (6) And said, 'Of all the virtues of humanity, the greater quantity of them is the better savior of words. (7) And said, 'It is not honest to give praise to a man for a thing he has not earned. He saw a painter who had become a physician. To whom He said, \"You know that men could see at the eye the faults that you did in your craft, but now they cannot be perceived because they are hidden underneath the earth. And he saw right away a person, who was a fool. And then he said, \"There is a fair house. And right there an evil host dwells. He saw also a fool sitting in a window. And he said, \"There sits a stone upon a stone. One asked him, 'What is love?' He said, 'It is askewness that grows from idleness and lack of virtuous exercise.' One asked him, 'What is riches?' He said, 'Abstaining from covetousness.'\n\nThe said Diogenes was in Athens sick. And his friends came to visit him. Seeing doubt, you do not, for your sicknesses come but from God's will. He answered, \"Therefore I am the more afraid.\n\nHe saw an old man who was dying his hair. To whom he said, \"You may well hide your white hair. But not your age.\n\nAnd said, \"It is more becoming. You go to the doctor. Similarly, I say it, of the doctor of the soul.\" If you wish to correct a man, do so gently and patiently, as a surgeon does to a patient. If you wish to correct yourself, dispose yourself as a patient does to a doctor. It was asked of him, how a man could keep himself from anger. He answered, a man ought always to remember that he cannot be served at all times, but sometimes will be an enemy, and he will not always be obeyed, but at some times must obey. And he will not always be allowed to have his way, but at some times must suffer. Keeping this in mind should appease his anger.\n\nBefore Alexander sat at his dinner, who praised him extravagantly, and many listened attentively to his praises. The aforementioned Diogenes began to eat faster than before. Someone asked him why he did not listen to the flattering words of the guest. He answered, \"I do something more profitable than to listen to empty praises, for they never make him any better.\" He further said, \"If you speak with a flatterer.\" A stranger speaks not much to you until you have first compared his knowledge with yours. If you find yours better, speak boldly. Otherwise, keep quiet and learn from him. Diverse delightful persons blamed him for his manner of living, and he said, \"It lies well within my power if I wish to live according to your judgment, but it is not in your power to live according to my manner. And it was told him that certain persons had spoken evil of him in his absence. He answered, \"It shall not harm me, though an enemy strikes at me and touches me not. And he said, \"It is a base condition to answer dishonestly, and a noble condition to answer patiently. And he said, \"There is no greater treasure than Discretion and wit. Nor greater power than Ignorance. Nor better friendship than good conditions. Nor better guide than Good fortune. And he said, \"Sickness is the prison of the body. And sorrow is the prison of the soul. There was a man of great birth who reproached him. To whom he replied, My blood and lineage are enhanced by me, and thine is hurt and loved by the same.\n\nThe said Diogenes was of little speech. One asked him why he spoke so little. He answered, \"There is great virtue in Ammon's ears.\"\n\nThere was a man who said to him, \"You do great injustice to yourself.\" He replied, \"I can do no greater disservice to myself than I already have, for I have brought blame upon myself that I have not deserved.\"\n\nOne asked him, \"How should you trouble your enemies?\" He answered, \"Force yourself to be virtuous and good. And if you wish for your goodness to appear great to strangers, reputation yourself little.\"\n\nHe also said, \"If you give power to your wife alone to tread upon your foot in the morning, she would tread upon your head.\"\n\nAnd he said, \"Company of women is a harm that cannot be avoided.\"\n\nHe also said, \"He who does good for the goodness' sake only, ought not to fear before whom he does, nor for the praise or blame of them.\"\n\nOne asked him when he should know his friend. He said in necessity, every man is friendly towards one another. There was another man who spoke wickedly to him, yet he took no anger. He was asked why he was so patient. He answered, \"If I have spoken the truth, I ought not to be angry, and less so if I have lied.\" He saw a man clatter so much that no one could make him hold his peace. To him he said, \"Friend, you have two ears and but one tongue. Therefore, you ought to listen twice as much as you speak.\" He saw a fair young man who made great diligence to learn. To him he said, \"You are passing well in making your deeds assemble your beauty.\"\n\nIn Greek, Socrates is called the \"keeper of Justice.\" He was married against the custom of that country, which was that good and virtuous people should be wedded to the noble, to improve their lineage. However, he wedded the worst woman in all the land and had three children by her. He loved and worshipped wisdom so much that it was a:\n\nHe loved and worshipped wisdom so much that it was almost an obsession. Greet honor to all successors, for he would not allow his science to be written. He said that science was pure and clean, therefore it was fitting only to be held in mind and courage, and not in the hides of dead animals or any such corrupt things. And for this reason, he made no books or gave any doctrine to his disciples, but only by words of discipline. He held this opinion of Tunio, his master. When Socrates, being of an older age, asked his master, \"Why do you not allow me to write down the doctrines you teach me?\" Tunio answered, \"Do you covet more the wild beasts, hides to be worshiped with wisdom, than the race of man? I set before you a case: In the wild field, and ask the counsel on a question. Would it be good for you to say, 'Let me go home and see my books first'? It would be more honest to have a recourse to your memory and thereupon briefly to determine. Socrates replied, 'Well then, retain it.'\" In your mind, learn that Socrates believed no one should worship false idols, advocating that all honor and worship should be directed to the creator of all things. For this belief, he was condemned to death by twenty-three Athenian judges. They ordered him to drink certain poisons, but the king of the country was sorry and granted him a reprieve. The king had a custom of not passing judgment, especially on a man's death, until a ship carrying offerings for the idols returned to Athens, which had not yet arrived. Upon the ship's approaching home, one of Socrates' companions named Crito informed him that the ship would arrive at the port the next day. Therefore, Socrates said, \"It would be good if we gave the 400 pieces of silver in the temple treasury to Crito.\" The speaker requests that gold be given to his keepers so he can go to Rome with little fear of Athens. They have more than 400 pieces of gold which they are willing to give to his keepers to save his life, if it pleases them. Socrates responds that the city where he must suffer death is the natural place of his birth, where he does not deserve to die except for criticizing them for doing unjust deeds and worshipping false idols. He argues that if men of his nation persecute him for speaking the truth, strangers will do the same wherever he goes, as he will never spare the truth or use flattery. On the third day, his disciples found him in prison by the command of the twelve judges. They asked him many difficult questions concerning the soul. He answered them as readily and gladly as ever he had done, considering the great constance he showed in the face of death. One of his disciples named Demon said, \"Master, I know well that it is a hard thing for you to show and teach us in this case, that you now stand in and lack knowledge is an humbling thing for us. For in this world, you have no equal in good doctrine.\" Socrates answered, \"Spare not to inquire of me, for it is a great pleasure to me. They asked him questions concerning the soul, which he answered, and after they asked him about the state of the world and the composition of the Elements, which he also answered right profoundly. And he said to them, \"I believe the hour of my death approaches. I will purify myself and make myself clean in this world. And I tell you that I shall have no pain after my death. Therefore, I pray you, spare me for a while.\" He entered a house and bathed himself and said, Orison calls for his wife and children, gives them fair doctrines, and bids them prepare their souls for him. A man comes from the judges with poison to offer him. He says, \"O Socrates, do not think I am the one who makes you die. I am sent from the judges to kill you. Here is the potion you must drink. Drink it peacefully, for you cannot escape it.\" Socrates replies, \"I drink it with a good heart, and I well know you are not guilty of this.\" And he drinks it. When his friends see this, they weep and lament. He reprimands them, saying, \"I have sent the women away so that they should not act as you do.\" He goes aside and says, \"O God, have mercy on me.\" His eyes shrink, his feet grow cold, and he lies down. One of his disciples takes a potsherd and pricks him in the feet, asking, \"Do you feel anything?\" He replies, \"No.\" Socrates then pricked him in the thighs and asked him if he felt it. He replied, \"no.\" Immediately, the cold struck his sides. Socrates said, \"When the cold reaches my heart, I must needs die.\" Inclites, \"dear master of wisdom and knowledge, teach us yet, as long as your speech lasts.\" I can only show you dying in the same way I have done before in my life,\" said Inclites. \"Sir, command me what you will,\" he answered. Lifting up his eyes to the sky, he said, \"I present my soul to the maker of all the world and so died.\n\nSocrates had 12,000 disciples, and among his disciples were:\n\nClergymen, knights, and commoners. He ordained that they should be guided by three orders:\n\nFirst, in clergy;\nSecond, in knighthood;\nThird, among the people.\n\nHe placed the clergy above the knighthood, the knighthood above the people, and commanded that the clergy should pray for the knighthood and the people. The knighthood should defend the clergy and the people. The people should labor for them all. The clergy and the knighthood. Socrates was of ruddy complexion, of suitable stature, with a hoary head, and well-faced, demure in speech, a great scholar and observer of the earth. When he spoke, he waggled his little finger. He lived to the age of eighty-two, and was inscribed with \"patience and good belief in God make a man victorious.\" He was also inscribed with \"having respect and consideration for the needs of every thing causes the salvation of the soul and of the body.\" He established laws which were sent into the East, West, South, and North, and all was governed by them.\n\nHe said, \"The first thing that you should fix your will on is to keep divine justice and to apply your will to the same, and not to commit sacrifices nor any unjust things nor to swear false oaths. And he said, 'Just as a man is healed of his sickness by virtue of a medicine, so is an evil man healed of his malice by virtue of the law.' He said to his disciples, \"I am a tiller of the soil, and virtues are the seeds.\" \"If the seeds are not clean or the water insufficient, whatever is sown profits little. One should marvel at him who forgets the perpetual goodness of the other world, for the goods of this world, which is not enduring. And he said, the well-disposed soul loves to do good and the evil-disposed soul loves to do harm. And he said, the good soul receives truth gladly and the evil soul receives it gladly by that which is reversed. And he said, a person who doubts in doubtful matters and is steadfast in those that are open and evident to the eye, it is a sign that he is of good understanding. And he said, the sorrowful works of those who have been evil. And he said, the man who follows covetousness loses himself endlessly and at the last is all dishonored. Whoever hates.\" It is enough, and at the end, one is rightly well worshipped. And he said that the good soul saves itself, and others are saved by it. And he said the soul knows all things, and he who knows his soul knows every thing. And he who does not know his soul knows nothing. And he said he who is quick to judge himself is more quick to judge another, and he who is generous to himself is close-fisted. And he said little teaching suffices the good soul, and much teaching may not help the evil soul. And he said there are two kinds of men who never leave anger: the first is he who cannot forget his troubles; the second is the envious man who dwells with newly enriched people. The third is he who dwells in a place where another has prospered and can find no way to live with a wise man; and he said he who pays himself to teach doctrine to a man of evil courage resembles him who masters a strong horse, which, if he does not give it a strong bit and curb, will not be controlled. \"And he said, \"Nurturing him and engaging in much friendship does not create great love between them, and abstaining from them he said. He who does good is better than the good, and he who does evil is worse than the evil. And he said, knowledge is acquired by the diligence of men, but discretion comes from God. And he said, wisdom is the healer of the law, and money is the sickness. And when the healer cannot heal himself, how should he heal another? And he said, \"This world may be likened to a thistle-filled field in a manner, where a man is pricked who enters it, and if he sees them, he will beware of it. He who loves the world has only labor, and he who hates it has rest. And he said, a simple man is certain to depart from this world and seeks to make his image in it. And he said, this world is like a light burning fire, where a little is good to kindle its light to show the way, but he who takes too much of it may easily burn himself with it.\"\" He who sets his mind on this world loses his soul, and he who thinks on his soul hates this world. And he who loves this world will not fail to fall into one or both of these: that is, to displease our Lord God or to be envied by greater men than he. And Aman said that he who seeks to have enemies seeks his own destruction. He who has many enemies and haters is in danger of evil fortune. And Aman said this world is but a passage into the other world. Therefore, he who pursues things necessary for that passage is the surer for all perils. Trouble not yourself greatly with worldly acquisitions, but resemble the birds of the sky, which in the morning seek only their reflection for that day and resemble the wild beasts that come out of the mountains to seek their food and at night retire home again. And Aman said the error is known in the end to be evil, and that which is good is the more. Plato asked Socrates for advice before embarking on a voyage. Socrates warned him about the dangers of the unknown and advised him not to travel by night, avoid unknown herbs, and stay on the main road. He also warned against chastising the irrational and not to lie with a woman without necessity. Socrates accompanied Plato and they encountered thieves on a highway. The rich man expressed fear that they would recognize him, but Socrates believed it would be better if they did. Socrates advised a man to spend his days in one of two ways: in pursuit of joy or in pursuit of virtue. \"And he said this world is delight of an hour, and sorrow of many days, and the other world is great rest and long joy. Whoever teaches the one word of wisdom does more good than if he gives of his gold. Swear not lightly, for no manner of lucre let it be thy cause, for some will think thou hast forsaken thyself. Take heed how thou givest thy gifts, for the simple folk give to the undeserving and refuse to the needy. If thou wilt win friends, speak well of him. A king ought to put from him all evil-disposed persons, for the harm that they do in his company is reputed his deed. He that errs and knows it, and after repents, has deserved pardon. He that meddles to correct every man causes most to hate him. To a man that had reproved his lineage, 'If I be the one, '\" A man's lineage is not better than yours, as you claim. He who seeks the pleasures of this world is like one seeking Zarath's wine, thinking it water, and growing weary in his pursuit, only to find nothing when he reaches it. Zarath's wine is a mirage in the desert, which at one time reflects the sun and appears to be water but is nonexistent in reality.\n\nA man can never find true rest and joy in this world, for he cannot continually indulge in pleasure and possess his winnings. He often experiences trouble and sorrow, not only due to the loss of his friends but also for other reasons. The love of this world blinds men's ears from wisdom and keeps them from seeing truth. It also causes men to be envied and prevents them from doing good deeds.\n\nHe who loves and clings to truth has more and greater servants than a king. No one is free who binds himself to another. Do not affirm anything until you know. \"The truth does nothing but is capable of beginning nothing, unless there is a good conclusion. There was a rich man who said to him, \"O fool, you will have more sorrow from your poverty than from mine.\" He replied, \"It is a great marvel to see a wise man angry. And he said, \"Death is a thing that cannot be escaped, and commits great iniquity and does little justice. Good death is not to be despised, but to be magnified and praised. It makes transformation from the world of uncleanness and shame to the world of worship, from the world of woe not durable to the world perpetual, from the world of folly and vanities to the world of sapience reason and truth, and from the world of toil and pain to the world of consolation and rest. He said, \"It is marvelous for him who doubts to die and does things contrary to his salvation. He said, \"Death is life to him who knows how to have joy after it. He who lives well will die well. He said, \"Better is worshipful death than shameful life.\"\" Death is the reward of covetous people for the lighter they live, the more multiply their desires. And death is more desirable for them than life, for the death of evil people is the welfare and deliverance of the good, because they will do no more sin nor harm to the people. And he said, life is indirectly among the dead. And he said, one ought not to weep for him who is slain without cause, but for him who has slain him, for he who slays unjustly damns himself. And he said, he who fears anything ought to his power to avoid it. And he who doubts having pains for his sins after his death, ought to act in such a way as to avoid that fear. And he said, when you want to do anything, consider the reason for it, and if the end is good, hasten the conclusion, and otherwise resist your will. And he said, it is better for a man to live hard than to borrow from him who considers his little loans and gifts to be great and without cause, and thinks a man to be in danger. And he said, take in no. The greatest shame for an old man is to be ignored. He found a young man who had foolishly spent and wasted his substance, reduced to such poverty that he was forced to eat olives. If the olives had been as good to him at the beginning as they now were, you would still have had plenty of your goods. There is no difference between a great storyteller and a liar. The noblest thing children can learn is science, for it enables them to avoid doing evil works. The greatest joy a man can have is to gain a true friend. He heard a man say that one was surer in keeping his tongue than in speaking much, for in much speaking one can easily err. To this he replied that one should not underrate those who speak well. And said the: The profit of silence is less than the profit of speech, and the harm of speech is greater than the harm of silence. One can identify a wise man by listening and holding his tongue, and a fool by his excessive clamor. He who does not hold his peace until compelled is not to blame, but he who holds his peace until forced to speak is to be pitied. It is foolish to dispute matters that cannot be understood. Much learning makes much vanity. If a man's wisdom does not master his frailty, he will soon be overcome and brought to nothing. He is the best friend who does good, and the mightiest friend who shields us from harm. He wrote to a king, consoling him in this manner: God made this world a house of delight and reward, and the troubles in this world bring remuneration. And he said no man should consider himself wise. He gave this world as an example to those who remain. The loss of some teaches others. He who trusts in this world is received, and he who is suspicious is in great sorrow. One of his disciples gave him a gift, and he was troubled by it all. It was asked why he did not rejoice in it. He said the reception of this gift had gained him worship and put him in danger. He said, \"Be to your father and to your mother as you will your children be to them.\" He also said, \"Do not be angry or wrathful, for that is the act of a fool.\" He said, \"One ought to have shame to speak that which one has shame to do.\" He said, \"Refrain from vices in your youth, and it will be the fairest adornment for you.\" He said, \"Govern those who are subject to you to the best of your power, so that no one may speak ill of you, even if it is lying. For all men do not know the truth, yet they have ears.\" Plato urged him to answer in three parts. The first is the kind of men one ought to have the most pity for. The reasons are threefold. One is a man in the hands of an adversary, for he has only sorrow. Another is a wise man in the governance of a fool, which brings him great unhappiness. A third is a liberal man in the subjection of a rogue, for he suffers great tribulation. The second kind of works do not prove those who have good counsel and do not act upon it, and have riches but will not dispense it for their need. The third is the good retribution that one receives from our Lord God, which comes to one by being entirely obedient to him and abstaining from sin. When Plato was answered thus, he became his disciple for life. And Socrates said, \"Disdain bodily death and it shall be the life of your soul. Follow Justice and you shall be saved.\" awiesema rejoices and delights him when he finds truth. And he said awiesema should speak as the physician does with his patient. He who takes pleasure in this world must necessarily fall into one of these two causes: that is, to lack that he covets or to lose that he has enjoyed with great pain. And he said to one of his disciples, \"Suffice it to you to eat that which will take away your hunger. Drink that which will quench your thirst. Remember well your soul. Follow good works. Learn wisdom from the most wise men of your days. And he said, \"He who loves this world is like him who enters the sea. They will say he is fortunate if he escapes the pearls of the same men. And if he perishes, they will say he is willfully deceived. And he said, man has power over his words until they are spoken. And he said, if a man is much heard to speak, one may know him. If he is discreet or not, and if he keeps his peas or speaks little, one will think him wise. And he said when a man speaks, he should consider carefully. He said to one of his disciples, \"Speak curtly or hold your peas.\" He said, \"He who keeps his peas or speaks little learns from the speech of others, and they learn from his words.\" One asked him what was a good purchase. He answered, \"That which grows in the making of it.\" He said, \"Do not ask counsel from one whose heart is set on the world, for his advice will be only for his own pleasure. Good counsel reveals the end of the work.\" There was a woman who called him old and said his face was right foul. To her he answered, \"You are so dark and so troubled a mirror that my beauty cannot be perceived in you.\" He said, \"The discreet man keeps his secrets,\" and he is not wise who reveals them. \"A man ought to keep secret that which he is desired to.\" \"Keep that which you secretly keep that is not desired to be kept, and he said if you cannot keep your own secrets, much less meddle with your wit. He who is in good condition is in good and secure life, and is beloved by good people. Contrarily, he who is in evil conditions is the opposite. And he said to one of his disciples, do not trust this world, for it never pays back what it promises. Accustom yourself to be content with little, for you will find it to be the best. And that which comes to you, regard it not as little, for it may increase and multiply. But seek to win friends in true love, showing them no sign of hate. And one asked him what the difference was between truth and a lie, he said as much as there is between the ear and the eye. He who desires to have more than sufficiency derives no profit from it. And he said to one of his disciples, do not trust in time, for it fails those who trust in it.\" \"said you not be deceived by your beauty and youth, nor by the health of your body, for the end of your health is death, and you cannot escape the diseases of this world. There was never joy without sorrow, nor light without darkness, nor rest without labor, nor assembly without departing. And he said, just as the fortune of this world makes rejoicing upon your enemy, so may it make your enemy rejoice in turn. He who stabilizes and sets himself in a secure place is the more vulnerable for the perils of this world. He who is filled with the love of this world disposes himself to three things: first, poverty, for he will never attain to the riches he desires; second, suffering; third, busyness, without expedience. And he said, never reveal your counsel to one who is angry when you pray him to keep it secret. One asked him.\" what he had won by his science, he said, I am like a man sitting on the sea side and beholding the simple folk wrapped in the waves of the sea. And he said, great freedom grows through service; for the more one serves, the freer he becomes. And he said, he who will win friends let him first see if he can restrain them from covetousness, and if he can, then live with them and else soon depart. And he said, if thou art not covetous, thou mayst rest in every place. And the said Socrates had many sayings against women, which is not translated. It was asked of him to what science it was best to set his child to learn. He answered, to learn that, which is both profitable in this world and the other. One asked him when he began to be wise and virtuous. He answered, when I first refrained myself, will. And when a man is so diligent to learn and loves science so well that he takes no heed of praising or disdaining for the sake of the learning, then is he wise. It was told him that there was no credence given. To all his words, he answered. If my words have been good and reasonable, I give no great force to whether anyone has believed them or not. He is good in the highest degree of goodness, which compels him to be good himself. He is in the second degree that compels him to make others good, and he who disregards these two is to be despised. And he said to his disciples, do not desire the good that is not durable. But rather seek that which is perpetually good. And he said, do not inquire into others' affairs lest they inquire into yours. And he said, put wisdom and discretion before all your works, and you shall be the better rewarded when you come to their execution. And he said, do not do good deeds all because they are unknown. There was one disciple who was displeased with his face. To him he said, it was not in my power to make my face, and therefore I ought not to be blamed if it is foul. That which I have power over, I have made fair, and that which you had power over, you have made... And said be true to him who accompanies you and bears truth to thee. And thou shalt be the more assured to avoid danger.\nAnd do to others as you would have them do to you. And do to no one but as you would be done to.\nAnd a man ought to be corrected by experience and taught by the changes of this world.\nAnd he is liberal who has greater delight in having good reputation than money.\nAnd patience is a strong castle. And hastiness engenders repentance.\nAnd honor is the fruit of truth. And for your truth, your friends shall worship you. And your goodness shall not be spared.\nDo that which is profitable.\nAnd it is sufficient for a man to know and understand that which he sees daily, for thereby he may learn new sciences.\nHe ought to be worshipped who wills well to every man.\nAnd he who harms others puts himself in great peril.\nBut the just man rests in safety.\nAnd he who keeps himself well. is a great conqueror and will not repent. He who holds his peace saves his danger. And he said, let your seats be good works, and you shall gather flours of joy and gladness. And he said, you shall have rest in the company of a wise man, and labor in the company of a fool. And he said, it is worshipful to be satisfied with little, and shameful to be satisfied with much. And he said, inquire when you have done any fault, and if you have erred, correct yourself and repent, and after repentance, do not fall into it again. And he said, he who praises him that does well is a partner in his good deeds. And he said, do not accompany him who does not know himself. And he is in great rest that keeps him from anger. And he is well disposed who can temper his delight and his speech. And he said, take no shame to hear truth from whomsoever you hear it, for truth is so noble that it honors those who pronounce it. And said that which keeps a man from shame is better than the riches purchased thereby. And many men may perceive faults in themselves that find faults in all others. I said to a man who fled from battle, you do evil to flee from shameful life. I said he who errs, or knows the truth, ought to have forgiveness sooner. And I said much wine and wisdom do not accord, for they are contrary. I said, sufficiency is a castle that keeps wise men from evil works. I said, if he cannot avoid anger, yet keep it secret. I said that which fools lose can never be recovered, but a wise man can lose nothing. There was a fool who said all things are strengthened and sustained by Justice, and all things are harmed and weakened by Injustice. I said all that you do may not be concealed, it will be known at some time. I said good reputation is better than riches. richesse will be lost and renown will last\nWisdom is a richesse that will never fail nor diminish. And he spoke of drunkenness for the wit that comes with wine, as the horse that casts his master. And he said take heed of the guidance of him whom you ask advice from, if he governs himself evil by likelihood, for he will guide you likewise, because he ought to love himself better than you. And he said beware you do not break the laws that are for the common profit. And he said poverty is better than evil gained riches. And he said a kingdom without a king is like a realm without a head. And he said a king ought to take none to his service but such as he has proven good and true before. And he said he who takes all men in equal condition may not make them all his friends. And he said commit all your causes to God without exception. And he said do not reckon your sins little nor magnify your good deeds, for you will have need of them if they were more. And to his disciples he said beware. This world and think it is a thorny bush that you must tread upon. Those who are worldly wise keep from anger in the presence of their king by great reason. They ought to be just as careful to agree among themselves before God, who is over all. And he who is long or angry is harder to appease than he who is lightly wrath. The green wood is hotter when it is well kindled. Certain people were brought before him who had done diverse injuries to him. He answered, \"If you have any other matter to win from me than this, do it openly. I saw him in poor clothing. This is not Socrates, thus poorly arrayed, who gives you the laws of Athens. To whom he answered, \"The true law is not made by good arrangement but by virtue, reason, and science. And he said to his disciples, \"Dispraise death and seemingly fear it. And he said, \"A wise man ought to know what is his soul. Plato is by interpretation.\" As much as it has been recorded or fulfilled, he was of Greek descent, born on his father's side from the noble Esculapius lineage, and on his mother's side from the Zalon family, which decreed various laws. He lived with Socrates for five years. After Socrates' death, he went to Egypt where he found certain disciples of Pythagoras and learned much from them. He then returned to Athens and established two schools, living a virtuous life and doing good works, helping and nourishing the needy. The Athenians wanted to make him their lord, but he refused utterly, knowing their corrupt and wicked conditions. He was similar to Socrates in good judgment, patience, and a great love for the poor and strangers. He had many disciples, among whom two became prominent after his death. Plato lived for 81 years. Zenocrates and Aristotle held the school, and Plato taught his wisdom through allegory, intending it not to be understood by the unwise. He referred to Timeus and Socrates, wrote two books, preached, and taught the people to give graces and thanks. He made all men equal, no man, however mighty, able to resist death, and thanked God for the wisdom He had given to man. He imagined nothing in Him but what was necessary, good, and becoming. He warned against covetousness of worldly goods, for God had ordained that we should have sufficiency in this world. Such sufficiency is called wisdom, which you ought to have with the fear of God, the key to goodness. By which you may enter and attain to the true riches of this world, leaving behind all things that cause hatred and evil. And you know that some things you love and praise are evil and vile. You would have them in more hatred than love. And he said, \"Direct and amend yourself, and after labor to correct others. If you do not, you shall be damned. And I tell you, the thing that has made me most glad is that I have not sought by gold nor silver. For if I had gathered great treasure, I would have had many heavy thoughts, where I now have joy and gladness. Which increases daily in me in learning wisdom. And I want to let you know that gold and silver are not good to be overly set by. There is some country that little value your or our bones, is bought for a great sum of gold. And in other places, men take glass beads and other such things for as much gold. And therefore, if it were perfectly good in itself, he should be equally chosen and loved over all, like wisdom is chosen and loved in every country. And he said, \"Inquire and seek to have virtues, and you shall be saved. Praise no foul things and.\" Blame not things that are praiseworthy, nor grieve you for losing things that will easily be replaced. Follow the examples of your good predecessors, arrayed in justice and clothed in chastity, and you shall be happy, and your works lauded. Custom is a great thing. The wicked works damage and destroy the good, and the bitterness of the aloe tree destroys the sweetness of the honey. A wise man ought not to dwell on his losses. He who does not help his friends while he can, they will leave him when he most needs them. Sapience is good, for it cannot be lost like other possessions and worldly goods. It was asked him how a man might be known by what sign. He answered, when he does not rejoice at men's praise. It was asked of him, how men might best be avenged of their enemies. He answered, by being virtuous and doing good and noble deeds. He said to his disciples, \"Enforce yourselves to get sciences, by which you shall direct yourselves.\" And do your part to keep the law in such a way that your maker may be content with you. And he saw a young man who had sold the livelihood that came to him by succession. And he squandered it in great diversities and other misdeeds. To whom he said, \"The earth feeds other men, but you feed the earth. And it was asked of him, why treasure and science cannot agree to guide. And he answered and said, 'One thing I say, he who is not somewhat diligent and true to labor in good works, the good departs from him, as the arrow from the stone that it has light upon. And he who teaches good to others and does not do it himself, is like him who lights a candle for another and goes himself into darkness. And a king ought not to be greatly praised who reigns only over his subjects, but he should have lordship over his enemies. And he said, he who gathers and assembles much silver ought not to'.\" A man should be called rich, but he who disperses it wisely and nobly. Some asked him how one might avoid need, and he answered, if men are rich, let them live temperately and soberly. And if they are poor, let them labor diligently. Then some asked him, \"How much good is enough for a man?\" And he answered, \"To have as much as he does not need to flatter nor borrow from others.\" And he said to his disciples, \"When you grow weary of studying, amuse yourselves in reading good stories.\" And he said, \"The wise man ought not to covet the riches of his friend, lest he be hated and despised therefore.\" And he said, \"A little good is a great thing in ruling, to remember and see to the good government of his people the space of a day, rather than to dance and sport for a whole year. Works done by wisdom cause knowledge and enable one to discern things, and works done by ignorance are an unknown thing. Truth is stable and sets things in their right way, and works done by deceit are not. is for disrupting good customs and putting them out of their proper places. He said you shall never be patient while you are covetous. It was asked how he had learned so much wisdom. He answered because I have put more oil in my lamp to study by than wine in my cup. It was asked who is most capable of governing a town. He answered he who can govern himself. It was also asked who is most worthy to be called wise. He answered he who takes most heed of good counsel and casts most doubts. He said that the vessels of gold are proven and known by their sound if they are broken or hole. So are men proven and known by their speech if they are wise or fools. It was asked which are the most ignorant men in their deeds. He said those who act most according to their own consent and obey themselves, and for lack of good advice dispose themselves hardly to do wicked deeds. They asked him who does most. And he said he who makes him act contrary to what he ought is the one who deceives him. And he said the ignorant person underestimates the fairness or filth they see externally. The wise person understands this. And he finds wisdom seeking her by the right way. But many err because they seek her unfairly and blame her without cause. He who is ignorant of good wisdom does not know himself, and he who does not know himself is the most ignorant of all. And he said wrath leads to shame in lesser matters. And he said, \"The king resembles a great river growing from little and small running waters. Therefore, if he is sweet, the little should be sweet. And if he is salt, the little should be salt. Be wary in battle that you do not trust only in your strength, despising your natural wit, for victory comes without might / but also words without good effect are like\" A great water that drowns people and brings no profit. A suspicious man is in evil conditions and lives in sorrow. Do not willingly use worldly delights until you see if wisdom and reason grant it. And if these two agree, you may well and lightly know the fairness and the filth between them. And he said, The Reames are sometimes lost through negligence and sometimes through excessive idleness, and also through too great trust in fate. And he said, The end of Indignation is to be ashamed of itself. It was asked him how a wise man could be troubled. He answered, When he is compelled to tell the truth of an unknown thing to himself. And he said, When you see a man of good disposition and full of perfection, you ought to do as he does, for covetousness is weak and sick in him. And in him. \"And say, do not disparage anything, for it may increase. And say, do not blame or rebuke a man when he is angry, for then you cannot direct him. And say, be not glad of another's misfortune, for you do not know how the world may turn against you. And say, keep your wits stable at your right hand and your left, and you shall be free. And say, there are three things that harm me to see: a rich man falling into poverty, a worthy man disparaged, and a wise man mocked and scorned by the ignorant. And say, do not be in fellowship with wicked men, for no good that they promise is to be trusted. And say, when a kingdom is in prosperity, covetise is bound to the king. And when it is in adversity, the king is bound to covetise. And say, covet not that your things be done hastily, but desire only that they be well done. And say, a man ought to be more content and more bound to his prince, for he speaks fairer words of him than others could.\" And said the gifts that are given to the good people seek retribution, and the gifts that are given to the wicked people cause them only to ask for more. And said wickedness follows after wicked men and disparages all goodness, like a fly that settles upon corrupt things and leaves the sweet flowers. And said, \"Hasten not to praise anything before its time, that you may know if it is worthy of praise or not.\" And said a wise man ought not to exalt himself before the unwise but be meek and thank God that it has pleased Him to exalt him in this world. Put pain upon him to bring him out of his ignorance in the way of righteousness and courtesy, for if he should rebuke him shamefully, it would be cruelty, and to instruct him easily is courtesy. And said, \"Two disputers disputing and arguing for the knowledge of a thing have no cause to be angry with each other, for their question falls to one conclusion, but if one thinks himself injured, \" And said, \"as much as I want to bring my fellow to his own intent and subdue his opposition, I will. When you wish to borrow or ask anything of any man, if it is refused, you ought to be more ashamed of your asking than he of his refusal. And he who cannot or will not govern himself is not able to govern others. A wise man ought to ask courteously and meekly, like the leech who draws more blood gently and without noise than the surgeon who pricks faster and makes more noise. A man of weak courage disturbs lightly that which he loves. And said, force yourself to know God and fear Him, and pay the price for knowing yourself and teaching others, rather than being absorbed in your other daily occupations. And said, desire nothing from God but what is profitable, but primarily desire the good end. Unhappy is he who continues in...\" His malice thinks not on his end, and said, \"Reckon not thy getting in things that are from the net, tarry not to do for them that have done for thee, until they ask the recompense. And said, he is not very wise that gladdens or rejoices himself in worldly prosperities, and is troubled in adversities. And said, the filth of worldly wit is known in much speech. And said, first think and afterward speak and then execute, for things change lightly. And said, anger not suddenly, for if thou accustom it, it will turn to thy harms. And said, if thou art willing to give any thing to any needy body, tarry not till thou mourn. For thou knowest not what may befall to thee. And said, be not wise only in seeing, but in deeds, for the speech wastes in the world, and the sapience of deeds is profitable in the everlasting world. And said, our Lord accepts him as noble that does good works though he be poor in little words.\" And he is said to condemn the prayers and sacrifices of evil people. He said, \"If you toil to do good, you will therefore suffer no pain. But if you have delight in sin, your delight will vanish and be nothing, and your sin will remain forever. Remember the day you will be judged, and you will hear nothing, and your clinging tongue will fail, the thought will fail you, your eyes will be dark, and your humanity will be consumed into the earth, and your wickedness will be so corrupt that you will have no power to feel the stench of your body nor know how worms will consume your rotten flesh. Also remember the place where you will go \u2013 the lords and servants will be all alike in that place, and neither friend nor foe can hurt or help you. Therefore, learn good sciences and discipline, for you will not know when your departure from this world will be, yet you are certain that among all God's gifts, wisdom is the greatest. is the most excellent. She yields goodness to the good people and pardons the wicked their wickednesses. Think and have in thy mind continually that thou hast to do / and trust not in any things of this mortal world. Be wary that thou do no foul deeds, for no delight or winning. And beware that for the variable pleasures of this wicked world thou lose not the joyful and everlasting bliss. And said love wisdom understand and hearken to the wise men / and be obedient to thy fortunate ones. Be well disposed to all people / and dispraise no man for his meekness. And said that thou reputest no vice in thyself, blame not another though he doth it. And thou ought not to desire to be praised of virtues that are not in thee, nor do such things that thou wouldst blame or dispraise another if he did it. Thou must do such things as are good and commendable though they be forbidden. And said a fool is to cut off the vines. Take away the evil branches thereof and leave within ourselves the covetises and other wickednesses. And he who keeps himself from the multitude of meats for the health of his body, we ought by a great reason to abstain from vices for the salvation of our souls. And he who adds to his gentleness nobleness with good manners and conditions is worthy to be praised. And he who takes and suffices himself with the gentleness that comes to him by his kindred without purchasing any other virtues, ought not to be called good nor held noble. And said, if thou feelest thyself more true to the king than others, and that thy ways are like theirs or less, yet thou ought not to complain thereof, for thy arising and theirs are lasting. And said, if any have envy at thee and by envy speaks evil of thee, set not by it, and thou shalt have peace with him, for he seeks not but to make noise with thee. And said men ought to keep well their holidays, that is, their health and strength. To understand primarily from evil doing, and he said, the more that thou art exalted in a high state, the more thou ought to be meek and courteous to the people, to the end that their love may abide with thee, if anything should befall otherwise than well. He also said, one may keep the love of his friends if he corrects them gently of their faults. He also said, a wise man ought to choose good men to be his servants, like as men choose good ground to labor it. Aristotle, by interpretation in Greek, is fulfilled or complete in goodness. He was the son of Nicomachus, who was well versed in physics and a good physician, and was born in the town of Stagirus. He was of the kindred both by his father's side and by his mother's side, of Esculapius, of whom he had before made mention, for he was in his time the most excellent and best of all the Greeks. When the aforementioned Aristotle was eight years old, his father sent him to the city of Athens. Pythagoras, called the seat of wisdom, studied grammar, rhetoric, and other poetic books there for nine years, profiting greatly. In those days, men placed great value on these sciences, believing them to be the key to all other knowledge. However, there were also other wise men at the same time as Pythagoras and Pythagoras, and various other reputed individuals, who held these sciences in low regard and mocked those who learned them. They argued that such sciences as grammar and rhetoric were not conducive to wisdom, and that grammar was merely telling fables and making lies, while rhetoric was for speaking fair and in terms.\n\nAristotle, who heard of this with great astonishment, was deeply troubled by such opinions. He strengthened himself as much as he could to withstand all manner of grammarians, poets, and rhetoricians, and declared openly that wisdom could not excuse itself from these sciences due to reason. Knowledge is an instrument of the mind. As it openly appears, anyone who possesses it is to be considered the most noble and wise among men, for this prerogative, which God has granted to humans, is most noble and worthy. Among men, he should be held in the highest esteem, as he is the one who best and most conveniently receives knowledge in his heart and tells things in their proper place and time. And since wisdom is most noble of all things, it ought to be declared by the best reason and most acceptable manner, using the most pleasurable and concise words possible, without error or ambiguity. And so the listeners remain in doubt of the sentence. After this, Aristotle called the sciences mentioned above \"theological sciences.\" He learned them from Plato in a place called Epidaemus Ethics, and at that time he was 17 years old. When Plato went to Sicily for the second time, he left Aristotle in his place in the same town of Epidaemus. After Plato's death, King Philip of Macedonia summoned Aristotle, who went to Macedonia and resided with him continually teaching the sciences. After King Philip's death, his son Alexander the Great reigned, and when Alexander departed from Macedonia to go to the land and region of Dais, Aristotle returned to Athens and stayed there for ten years, studying until he became the head of the academy. However, due to envy from the citizens, Aristotle was accused, and they told him that he did not worship their idols like others at that time. Aristotle was warned of this and hastily left Athens, fearing that they would treat him as they had Socrates if he had stayed longer. He went to the town of Stagira, where he was born, and established a place there where he held and kept the schools, providing many good instructions to the people, and occupied himself with good deeds. And you gave great alms to poor people. And married many poor children who were father and mother less. He taught benevolently all who wanted to study, regardless of their status or nation. And rebuilt and built anew the city of Syros, and there ordained laws. And gave instructions to kings and princes, whom they took and kept reverently. After his death, at the age of 71 years, they of Syros took his sons and reverently placed them in a shrine where they held their council for his great wit / and also for the great and fervent love that they had for him. And whenever they had business requiring a declaration, the men of the council would go and stand as near the said shrine where the bones were as they could to have knowledge of the truth of their matter. And thus they did to worship him more. And their opinions and very trust were for only being near the said shrine, their minds should be sharp. Better and their understanding more pure and subtle. In Aristotle's time, he had many king's sons as his disciples, and he wrote in his days 28 books in logic, 8 in nature, the book of Ethics, the book of Politics, the book of Metaphysics, and the books of the Witnesses of geometry. Plato reproached him because he wrote his sciences in books. To whom he said in excuse, \"It is a thing known and notified to you that all those who love science ought to do nothing that should cause its loss. And therefore, it is good to compose and make books, and when our memory fails, it will be recovered through books. For he who hates science will not profit from it, even if he sees the books and keeps them; but he will depart worse and less wise than he was before. I have made and arranged my books in such a form that the science will be learned from them, and when memory fails, it will be recovered through them.\" wise men shall lightly and easily understand them, but ignorant men shall have little advantage from them. And the said Arisothe rejoiced in his hand an instrument of the science of the stars. And he said to King Alexander, he who has in this world a good and laudable name and the grace of God ought to ask for or desire nothing else. And he spoke thus to him: direct yourself first, for if you are not just, how can you govern your people? And if you are in error, you cannot govern them well. For a poor man cannot make another rich; he who is disrespected cannot respect another; he who is right weak may not help another; and so no man can direct another goodly or well unless he directs himself first. And he said, it is a great chastisement for the people to have a right wise lord. And it is a great corruption for them to have a corrupt and misruled king. And he said, keep yourself from covetousness, for it is not laudable to have riches in this world. And worldly wealth. Shame on those who believe this world is only a transitory place for going to the other world. And he said, \"If you wish to be rich, be content with what you have. He who lacks sufficiency can never be rich, no matter what goods he possesses. And he said, \"If it were true that doing evil would bring some good, and doing good some harm, yet avoid the evil. You will be deceived in the end, and you will be rewarded for it in the end. And he said, \"Whatever you praise in yourself, do not blame it on another. Do nothing to others but what you would want done to yourself. Suppress your own will, and do not hate others. Do not envy or harbor anger against one who has offended you. No man can always escape error. Do not covet, for covetousness clouds the mind and takes away the knowledge of truth. Do not engage in uncontrollable works. Take companionship with wise men and learn from them.\" no man believes him of anything that he says / nevertheless, one should be more wary of a thief than of an alien. And he said, \"The good hearts of people agree together, like rennet water with water from the sea. And the hearts of evil people cannot easily agree, all the while they are together / as the unreasonable beasts that play and leap together and suddenly fall to fighting. And he said, \"Grant that your offices and authorities be given to those who love and follow truth and righteousness, and cause them to have rigorous penalties for harm-doers and love falsehood and deceit. And he said, \"If you have doubt in anything, consult wise men, and if they disparage you, be not overly angry. Therefore, and if a man has some vice but also many virtues, you ought not therefore to exclude him from counsel. And he said, \"Many will both let and trouble those who cannot help themselves. And he said, \"Justice is a measure which God has ordained upon the earth, by which the weak are defended from the mighty. And the wise man knows what ignorance is, for he has been ignorant himself, but the ignorant was never wise and therefore he does not know what wisdom is. And he said to Alexander, \"There are many small businesses in your kingdom, and many great and general ones. If you give power to anyone over the great and leave the small to yourself, you will have good understanding and perception, and great damage will follow if it does not happen sooner. Generosity is to give to needy people or to him who has deserved it, so that the gift is within the ability of the giver. The wise man is the defense of the soul and mirror of reason. Therefore, he is truly blessed who travels to have her, for she is the nourishment and root of all noble deeds and praiseworthy things. By her we may win the good end and keep ourselves from everlasting pain.\" And he said, \"O Alexander, if you use your power and lordship otherwise than you ought.\" thou shalt be envied / Envy shall come from envying persons / From envying persons shall come Injustice & enmity / Of Injustice and enmity shall come battle. And by battle the law shall perish. The people shall be hurt. And thy possessions lost. But if thou use thy lordship as thou oughtest to do / Truth shall increase in thy kingdom. Of truth shall come Justice / Of Justice, love / Of love, great gifts, & submission by which / The law, the people, and thy good shall be maintained & increased. And he said that he who makes his kingdom serve the law shall reign / And he who takes and puts out the law from the kingdom shall not reign. And he said, A king ought to be of good and strong courage / To remember well the end of his works / And to be courteous & free / And to restrain his wrath where it is fitting / And to show it where it needs to be / To keep him from covetousness / To be true to govern him as near as he may after his good predecessors / To give to his men as they have deserved. To defend & keep the law & the faith / And ever to do. Weal after him, and if the strength of his body fails him, let him keep the might of his courage by which he shall be the more assured in all his needs. And the king who governs him and his realm well by his wisdom is worthy of great praise and laud. And to Alexander, seek to win the riches that are not transitory. The life that is not movable, the kingdom that cannot be taken away from you, and the pleasant but not so much that you stood in danger thereby, do justice and punishment to them who have deserved it without delay. Travel to fortify the law, for in that is the love and fear of God. And when you are compelled to take vengeance on your enemy, put it not over until another day, for the fortune and conditions of this world change often, and the power of your kingdom. And he said:\n\nIt is better that you correct yourself and amend after the example of your predecessors, than your successors should amend themselves after yours. Worship the good men and thereby you shall have the love of the people, and set not all your will in this world, in which you may not long abide. And he said, worship wisdom and fortitude by good masters, disciples, and scholars. Pay them for their expenses and keep them in your household. After that, you shall find great profit and worship will come to you therefore. And he said, he is of good and strong courage, of good discretion, and laudable faith. He bears patiently all his adversities, for a man cannot be known in his prosperity. And he said, you ought to think that the weakest of all your enemies is stronger than yourself. And he said, you ought to cherish your knights and your yeomen, and have them in as great love in time of peace as in time of war. For if you set little by them in time of peace, they shall forsake you when you shall have more need of them. And he said, the greatest profit that you can do in your kingdom is:\n\n(Note: The text appears to be incomplete at the end.) A man is wicked who pays heed only to the vices and faults of others, disregarding his own. A man of low degree is worthy of respect and the people should be treated as good predecessors have done. One should love and cherish the good and true people more than wealth or other worldly goods, and delight in what is rightfully one's own. No man should be ashamed to do justice. If the king is unjust, he is not a king but a violent and rapacious tyrant. The wicked obey out of fear, and the good out of goodness. Men ought to do well by the good people and chastise the wicked through rigor. Wrath should neither be too sharp nor too sweet. He wrote a letter to Alexander, extolling the three things that kings are worthy of: instruction of good laws, conquest of lands. And he wrote to Alixadre that he should not be too eager to correct all men's faults rigidly, for it is not entirely in man's power to prevent him from doing evil. It is therefore a good time to forgive errors, and if it is necessary to punish, men ought to show that they do it by compulsion to amend and punish the errors, not in manner or by way of violence. He showed a man who had had his hand cut off for theft that he said, \"As much as this man has taken from others who were not his, that was his.\" And he said, \"You cannot cause your people to love you as much as to cherish them and show them right wisdom. And if you do the contrary, though you have the lordship of their bodies, you do not have the lordship of their hearts or of their courage. You will find this when you call upon their service at your need.\" A man desires to do injury and makes his people hate him. He is right happy that he can chastise himself, taking example from others. Fortify your souls with good desires and depart from covetises which destroy the feeble corages. There is nothing that makes a man land and he answers, and said to his disciples, \"Look that you have four eyes, two for seeing the world, for the death of the evil people is the least quantity in all things. A man may not be so well known as in great authority. In all these things, the least quantity is the lighter to bear, for he who has the most of it can bear it. It was asked of him what was the most commendable thing for a discreet man to have. He answered that, if he were taken out of a drowned ship in the sea, that should abide with him. Men ought to love to learn the best of the sciences as the bees love the sweetest of the flowers. He had a noble and worshipful heritage of which he let others have the governance. A person would not go there himself / And it was asked him the reason / And he answered that he who goes most often to see his inheritances has more pleasures / And said to one who was slow and would not learn, since you will not take the pains to learn, you shall have the pains to be lewd and uncouth. And said keep yourself from the fellowship of him who does not know himself. / Those who are daily inclined and utterly disposed to vices may not increase in good or profit in knowledge. And said if you would abandon yourself entirely to your body, you will be the worse both in health and in all other things, and at last your soul will be damned. / He who is entirely inclined to commit fornication may not be praised or come to a good end. / A man of letters is like gold in the fire. One of his disciples reported an evil thing about one of his fellows to him. To whom he said, I will not believe your evil words against him. A man's tongue reveals his wit or folly. Experience corrects a man and helps him live well. Wisdom makes riches attractive and poverty pleasing. It was asked of him what was fair speaking, and he answered to speak little, laudably, and give reasonable answers. He wrote this to Alexander: \"You are a noble and mighty king, more mighty than you were, and you will increase if you rule and govern your people well and justly. In doing so, the people will obey you. But if you are an extortioner and take all their good from them, then you will be lord of the powerless people, and then you will be like him who has ruled over beasts rather than men. There is nothing more commendable to kings than to covet their people's goods unduly. He who has little truth desires to have more.\" reason makes a man more sovereign than anything that bexs him, what thing a man ought to learn first, he who seeks wisdom asked this of him, concerning the government of the soul. Since it is everlasting and more noble than anything we have, they asked him how the soul can acquire wisdom, and he answered, \"A soul that lacks wisdom can see nothing, just as the eyes without light cannot see themselves or others.\" And he said, \"All things have properties, and the property of discretion is to choose the good from the evil.\" And he said, \"Lordships won by study are dangerous and painful, but they ought to be continued and prospered. Those who are lightly won and kept in joy and pleasure come to little profit in the end, and we commonly see the towns where the inhabitants take great delight in them.\" \"Labor be well maintained and increased with great riches, and the towns full of pleasures and delights ruining and destroying. And he hastiness in speech makes men err. And marveled I how you, men, without cause accept it and are pleased with all. And he, of whom men speak evil without cause, is angry with all. And look that you not be as the butler who casts the flour and keeps the bran. And men ought not to take the governance of the people into the hands of a child, nor of him who cannot know the needs of the poor people, nor of him who works without deliberation, nor of him who is vexable. And said there is no difference between a child of age and a child of manners, as of condition, whatever age he may be, for the conditions of men are shown and revealed by deeds, not by age. And said it is necessary for a man to be good that he be able of himself to know truth and do it in deed or in earnest, for he who of himself cannot.\" I cannot understand it nor will I learn it. It cannot be good. Goodness is divided into three parts: the first is in the body, the second in the soul, and the third in the operations. The goodness of the soul is the noblest, for its virtue is found and known in good deeds. A man finds wisdom and good condition through long learning of true science. There are many people who know the good works and do not do them, and therefore the bodies are without health and the souls without blessings. One may know the inward dispositions of a man by his outward actions. Well-doing is a laudable thing, but it is somewhat hard to do. One may easily do evil as an archer may miss the mark, but hitting the target is agreeable mastery. In various ways we may be evil, but we cannot be good in any way except one. And a lack of wit causes many harms and makes many men fall due to ignorance, not knowing what action to take or leave. And old folk love to be together and therefore children do not care for the old, for the old have their pleasures like young people in various ways. And great companionship of men's felicity is to be well-friended rather than a man without fellowship cannot have whole felicity. And every man has need of friends, whether he stands in good or bad condition; if he stands in evil condition, they are to help him, and if he stands in good condition, he is to make merry and cherish them so that they may help him resist inconveniences that might fall upon him. And no one takes delight in justice, but the just man; none has favor for the merciful but the wise and no one loves friendship but the true friend. And the wicked sustain their perils by their bodily strength, and the good men suffer their perils patiently by the virtue of their souls, whose patience comes not. by might of arm or hand or any other member, but only by the grace of the soul, and thereby to resist against covetise and other griefs of this world, trusting therefore afterwards to come to bliss, and he wrote to King Alexadre in this form: thou oughtest to obey well the commandments of God, for he hath given thee thy desires and all that thou hast asked of him. And he said: wisdom is life and ignorance is death, and therefore he who is wise is alive, for he understands what he does, and he who is ignorant is dead, for he understands not what he does. And he said: the antiquity of the time makes the works old, and bids nothing but renown which remains in the hearts of the successors; it is necessary to conquer good renown and thereby shall endure nobility. And he said: lethargy is the sickness of the soul which cannot be healed but by the means of reason, whysoever it lies never. And he said: Amochus the wise is he who pronounces not things into the time that he is present, that will understand them. And the. The best speaker is he who does not speak until he is well prepared with what he shall say. And the best workman is he who begins not his work until he has well considered and pondered it in his heart. No one should have as much thought as the wise man, for it is necessary for him to be prepared and certain of his works. Such men are more inclined to covetousness than to reason, for covetousness has accompanied them from childhood. Reason does not come to them until they reach mature age. And children hate their masters when they teach them, for they only think of the labor and pain of their learning.\n\nAlexander was asked questions about the governance of lords and people by someone called Alexandrial, who gave him good answers. But Aristotle scolded him with a rod. And it was asked why he had scolded him without cause. He answered, \"This child is like and capable of being a great lord and a mighty king.\" And I have only beaten him to keep him humble, for he will soon be proud. And I said, \"If you can direct another, direct him as you do yourself.\" A young man asked him why he was so poor. To whom he answered, \"My poverty has not offended me nor does it harm me, but yours has done and will do harm.\"\n\nAnd he said, \"The realms are maintained by the laws ordained by the king and princes. And the kings and princes are sustained and upheld by knighthood. And knights are maintained by money, and money comes from the people, and the people are governed by justice, without which no realm can prosper.\"\n\nAlexander the Great was soon born to Philip, king of Macedon, who reigned for seven years. And Alexander began to reign in the eighteenth year of his age. He spoke to his people in this way: \"Fair lords, I will in no way be contrary to your wills or your deeds, but I show you that I hate frauds and malices. And as I have loved you during my father's time.\" I will do so in the coming time, and I both counsel and pray you to fear God and choose him as your sovereign, and be most obedient to him who will best provide for the good state of his people, and be most generous and merciful to the poor, the one who will best uphold justice and the rights of the weak against the mighty, and who will best dispose for the public welfare, and who will not be slow to keep and defend you and destroy all evil and harm by his good deeds, and who will bravely put forth himself to destroy your enemies. Such a one ought to be chosen as king, and none other. And when his people had heard and understood these reasons, they were greatly amazed and answered him thus:\n\n\"We have heard and understood your great reasons, and have reasoned and received your good counsel, and therefore we will\" and beseech you, who reign and have lordship over us during your life, we hope that there is none who has so well deserved to be our king. And thus they begged him to be their king and their lord, and crowned him and gave him their blessings. They prayed to God that He would bless and maintain him. To whom he said, \"I have heard the prayer that you have made for me, beseeching God that He will steadfastly keep the love of me in your hearts and in your minds. And that by no manner of temptation will He allow me to do anything against your profits or my displeasure.\" Shortly after, he sent letters to all the princes and good towns of his kingdom. And when he had sent his letters, King Perce and Mede of Perce sent to Alexander for tribute, as they had from his father. He sent them word that the hen that laid that egg is dead. And after this, Alexander made great conquests. And when he had conquered Judea, he went to confront Callid Bragman. When they learned of his coming, they sent many wise men to him. \"When they sold him and said to Sir Alexander, you have no cause to war upon us or be ill-willingly disposed, for we are both poor and meek, and have nothing but only wisdom. If you want it, pray to God that He gives it to us, for by battle you shall not have it. And when Alexander heard them say so, he made all his host tarry and went within the said country with a few of his knights ten quarters further for the truth. And when he entered within it, he found many poor people, women and children, gathering herbs in the fields. He asked them many questions to which they answered wisely. Then they said to him, Sir, we ask for nothing other than that you will give us everlasting life. Then Alexander answered and said, How can I make other men's lives everlasting, when I cannot lengthen my own or ours?\" me is in no man's power who lives, as they told him. Since you have good knowledge of this. Why then do you destroy all the world and gather all worldly treasures, not knowing when you must leave them? Then Alexander said to them, \"I do not do these things that you say of myself, but God has sent me through the whole world to teach and magnify His law and to destroy those who do not believe in Him. And sometimes Alexander, disguised, visited his lords and inquired about their deeds. And upon a time he came into a town of his own. And saw two men of the same town before a judge, one of whom said to the judge, \"Sir Judge, I have bought a house from this man, and long after I found a treasure within it, which is not mine. I have offered to deliver it to him, and he has refused it. Therefore, Sir, I beseech you that he be compelled to take it, for I have no right to it.\" Then the judge... Iuge complained that his adversary claimed the same treasure and then Iuge said, \"Sir Iuge, that treasure was never mine. He has fortified it in a place where it was previously hidden. Therefore, I have no right to take it. And then they both asked the judge to take it for himself. He answered and said, 'Since you both claim that you have no right to it, where the heritage has long been and still is, how could I have any right to it who am but a stranger in this case and have never heard of it before? You would excuse me from this and give me charge of the treasure, which is unjust.'\n\nThen he asked the one who had found the treasure if he had any children. The answer was that he had a son. He asked the other in the same way, and he replied that he had a daughter. Then the judge said, \"I judge and decree that a marriage should be made between them and that they should have the treasure by this means.\"\n\nWhen Alexander heard this judgment, he was greatly displeased. Alexander spoke to the judge, saying, \"I truly believe there is no more righteous and truthful judge than you in all the world. The judge who did not know him asked if any judge would have acted otherwise. Alexander replied, \"You certainly said, Alexander, in many lands. Then the judge, marveling at this, asked if it rained and the sun shone in those lands, as if to wonder why God would send any light or rain or good things to those who do not rightfully administer justice. Alexander was even more amazed than before and said that there were few such people on earth as they were in that land. As Alexander left that land, he passed through a city where all the houses were of equal height. Before the door of every house was a large pit or grave. In this city, there was no judge, which marveled Alexander, and he asked the inhabitants why such things were there.\" Answered him and said, \"First, for the excessive height of houses. Love and Justice cannot long remain in a town among the people. And they say that the pits or graves were their own houses to which they should soon go and dwell until the day of judgment. Regarding the lack of a judge, they said that they made good judgment among themselves, therefore they needed no judge. Then Alexander departed from them, pleasantly satisfied. And before his death, he wrote a letter to his mother, desiring her not to mourn for him. Soon after Alexander died and was put in a golden coffin and buried in Al-Saudre. He was born there with great reverence by kings, princes, and other great lords who kept and fulfilled his testament as he had ordained. Then one of the greatest lords among them rose up and said, 'Those who never wept for other kings should now weep for this one. And though it never marveled at adversity, it should now marvel at the death of this king. He desired the other lords to do the same.\" That they should say something to comfort the people greatly dismayed and troubled by the death of King Alexander, or by the death of the worthiest king who ever was. One of them said, King Alexander was accustomed to keep gold and silver, and now gold and silver keep him. He said this because of the chest in which his body lay, which was of gold.\n\nAnother said, Alexander is departed from sins and filths, and now his soul is with the pure souls.\n\nAnother said, Alexander was accustomed to chastise all men, and now he is chastised.\n\nAnd another said, the kings were accustomed to fear him, and now the poorest man in the world fears him not.\n\nAnd another said, yesterday, the earth could not contain Alexander, and now the length of his body suffices him.\n\nAnd another said, Alexander might have heard everything yesterday, and no body dared speak against his will, and now every man may speak and he hears not.\n\nAnd another said, the mere state of King Alexander was great and more excellent. The occasion of his death was grief-stricken and pitiful. Another said that those who had not seen him the previous day grieved for him deeply, but now they no longer felt that way. Another stated that it was Alexander whom even his enemies dared not approach, and now his friends despised him and refused to see him. When Alexander began to reign, he was only eighteen years old. He reigned for seventeen years, of which he spent nine in battle and conquest. For eight years, he rested and visited the lands he had conquered. He had victories over twenty-four languages. And the number of his knights, who were commonly of his retinue and at his wages, was 314,000, without counting necessary men for his wars. He died at the age of thirty-five. He was of swarthy complexion, his face pockmarked. One eye was gray, the other black. His teeth were small and sharp, resembling a lion's. He was of great strength and much loved. Alexander ruled from his childhood to his life's end. He commanded the people to worship God and keep themselves from sin. He said, \"The world is not sustained but commonly by science, and the realms are not directed but by the same. All things are governed by reason.\"\n\nIt happened that Alexander passed through a town where seven kings had ruled before. He asked if any of their relatives were alive. The people of the town replied, \"Yes, a son of one of the said kings is alive.\" Alexander wanted to see him, and the people told Alexander that he was always in the churchyard. Alexander went to see him and asked why he remained in the churchyard and why he did not assume such a state as his father and ancestors had. The young man answered Alexander, \"O righteous king, I have a task to do. Once I have completed it, I will do your commandment.\" To whom did Alexander ask what task it was that he had to do? do I seek the bones of my father and ancestors, kings, to separate them from the others, but I find them all so similar that I cannot tell one from another. Then Alexander said to him, you ought to show respect in this world. And if you had good and strong courage, you could have all your father's goods and those of your predecessors, and all their honors. The young child answered and said, \"I have a good heart.\" Alexander asked him where, and he said, \"Because I have found life without death, youth without age, riches without poverty, joy without trouble, and health without sickness, certainly, of all these things, none is mine.\" Then the child said, \"If you want them, ask him who has them, and he may give them to you and none other.\" Then Alexander said that he had never seen a man of such great discretion. Alexander used every day to be in a certain place to hear the complaints of every body. And it happened on one day only. that there came none to comply with him, and therefore he would not have that day recorded in the annals of his reign. When he was ready to fight against King Dare, it was told to him that the same Dare had more than Occ.M. good fighting men with him. And the patriarchs and prelates who were present at that time came and said to him, \"God has given you dominion over many realms, regions, and countries, with the intention that you should have many children begotten of your body, for the succession of the same after your death. Therefore, it would be good if you had many wives.\" To this he answered, \"It would bring great shame to me if I, who have overcome all the mightiest men of the world, were to be defeated by women.\" A poor man wisely speaking came to him, who was poorly dressed. To him Alexander said, \"I marvel that your clothing is not richer.\" \"For there is a great difference between us,\" the poor man said. \"I can learn to speak and reason with myself, and you can reasonably clothe me.\" Alexander then had him clothed in one of his best gowns. A thief also passed before Alexander, who was going to be hanged, and he said, \"O worthy king, save my life, for I repent of my sins.\" Alexander commanded that he should be hanged while he still had good repentance. At one time, Axid asked him for ten pieces of gold. Alexander said, \"You are not worthy to have so much.\" Axid replied, \"Sir, if I am not worthy to have so much, yet are you able to give it to me?\" Alexander asked Aristotle what a good and manly king ought to do continually, and he answered, \"He ought to think every night about the good governance of his people, and put it into practice the following day.\" It was asked of him what was most delightful in conquering lands and cities. The most delight is to give generously and repay those who have done good service to me. I asked Aristotle for advice on this matter, and he replied, \"Hire a manager for your household who can effectively rule and govern many servants. Appoint him as your procureer and receiver of money, who has great wealth and spends it discreetly and wisely. A patriarch asked him what he would do with so many men under his control. He answered, 'Those who are great lords may well forget their duty as lords to their servants.' Two men came before him with differing opinions. He told them, 'The sentence that pleases one will displease the other. Therefore, seek the truth, and it will please both of you.' It was asked of him why he worshipped his master more than his father. He answered, 'I have eternal life from my master, but I have life from my father only for a while.' And at a certain time, when daughters were taken, it was told him that they were fair. Therefore he would not allow them to do anything dishonorable. He said that great dishonor would come to him if he, who had produced so many notable and manly men in battles, were outdone by women in his prisons. It happened that one gave a long sermon before him, which displeased Alexander greatly. He said, \"The prediction is not to be praised that endures beyond the power of the interpreters. But that is good which endures after the capability of those who hear it.\" It was asked of him how men might acquire the love of others, and he answered by doing them good or at least doing them no harm. He said, \"Men sometimes gain more through their enemies than through their friends.\" It was asked of him how he could be so powerful, considering his young age. He said, \"Because I have traveled and it is a great loss to a man to lose his friends and more.\" And he said to his friends that those acquired by good deeds are better than those acquired by force. On one occasion, as Alexander was engaging in private sports, certain men at a window were afraid it was Alexander and Alexander told them not to be afraid, saying they had harmed none but him. And as Aristotle taught, Alexander asked one of his sons, \"What will you give me when you become a king?\" The first son replied, \"I will make you my great governor.\" In the same way, he asked another, who replied, \"I will give you half my kingdom.\" And he asked Alexander, who answered, \"Master, do not ask me that today, for when I see it I will think I never thought of it, unless I reign as you.\" Then Aristotle said to him, \"Certainly I know well that you will be a great and mighty king. For your face and nature show it so.\" \"Alexander told one of his long-time lieutenants who had never reprimanded him for any vice, \"I am not pleased with your service. Why did you say that, sir?\" asked the lieutenant. \"Because,\" replied Alexander, \"I am just as human as you, and I have made many mistakes since you joined my service. You have never seen any faults in me, so you are not the kind of man I should have as my lieutenant, for you are not wise, and if you have seen and known my faults and not corrected me, you are not loyal to me.\"\n\nReason prevents the acquisition of knowledge, but sloth hinders it.\n\nSome asked the wise man Nicomachus, what was the reason that men obeyed Alexander so lightly. He replied, \"Because he was virtuous, he kept justice well, and he had excellent governance.\"\n\nThere were two men who asked each of them to have the daughter of a rich man as their wife. One was rich, and the other was poor. The father gave the daughter to...\" Daughter to the poor man, why do you do this? Alexander asked him. He replied because the rich are ignorant and may become poor. The poor are wise and able to become rich.\n\nAlexander asked a wise philosopher how the realms were well governed and maintained. He answered through the obedience of the people and the justice of the king.\n\nAnd as Alexander fought in battle, many women came against him. Then he withdrew hastily and told his men, \"If we should have victory in this battle where these women are, it would not be honorable for us. And if they had victory, then it would be shameful for us. Therefore, we shall not fight against them while the women are present.\"\n\nHe also said, \"It is a dangerous thing for a man to tarry so long at sea that storms and tempests come upon him, which may well destroy him even during fair weather. In the same way, it is disgraceful for a man to remain in the houses of princes and kings.\" Grete words have no effect. It is fair to him who puts his works before his words, and said the greatest and most laudable freedom that is for a man is to keep him from covetousness. When his father commanded him that he should gladly hear the commandments of his master, he said he would not only hear them but would fulfill them with a glad heart to his power. It is worse to lack discretion than riches.\n\nTholome was a wise man and well understood, and in particular in the following sciences: geometry, music, arithmetic, and astrology. He made many good books among which one is called Almagest, which is about astrology. He was born in Alexandria, the greatest city that is in the land of Egypt. There he made his considerations in the time of King Adrian. He made his dictations at Rhodes. He was not king, although many people call him king. He lived 76 years. He said, \"I am.\" wyse that disposith his tonge to speke of god / and he that knoweth him not is the moost foole of all \u00b6And sayd / he that is enclyned to his wille is nighe to the Ire of god / & the nerer that a man approucheth the deth / the more he ought to laboure and traueyll to dowele \u00b6And sayd Sapi\u00a6ence abydeth no lenger in the hert of afoole. than afleyng thing that may not tarye in no place \u00b6And sayd good wytte and good discrecion ben felawes \u00b6And sayd / A man of good sapience can not dye / ne a man of good vnderstandyng can neuir be pouer \u00b6And sayde Sapien\u2223ce is atre that wexeth grene in the hert and fructifieth in the tonge \u00b6And sayde Beware that thou dispute not with him that hath no knowlege / ne yeue not thy {con}seyl but to him that askith it / ne telle not thy secret but to him that can kepe it \u00b6And sayd he that wol lyue wele ought not to kepe in his hert all his aduersiteeall other \u00b6And said if thou mayst not eschewe so\u0304tyme to be wroth atte lest lette not thy wrath last long \u00b6And said the hertis of good peple And he [the caste] should not be blamed for that which turns him to good or evil. He said, \"It is better for a king to direct his people than to have great bondage of knights. He said, \"Security puts a way sorrow and fear checks gladness. He said, \"The words of God avail not to them that have put all their heart to the world. He said, \"It is great folly for a man to think too much on things that pass his understanding. He said, \"Men are of two natures; some will never be content however much they find, and some others seek and find nothing. He said, \"Men cause to talk and get money. And money is the cause of men's talking. He said, \"He who excels in knowledge may be likened to a feeble shepherd who has a great heap of sheep in his keeping. He said, \"He who has put all his intent to his fleshly delights is more boisterous than a fool. He said, \"The higher that a man is exalted in his lordship, the more grievous it will be to him.\" \"And he said, \"Thoughts that are the same are the key to certainty. The refusals of a miser are better than the largesse of a prodigal waster. You can do nothing more acceptable to God than doing well to one who has offended against Him. If you want to be wise, do not keep company with fools, but always keep company with those who are wiser than yourself. The soul cannot be deceived into the time that the body takes its end. Folly is the greatest enemy that any body may have. Good will is the foundation of all good works, and good works are the messenger in the other world. He who keeps the good opinion and leaves the evil desires great rest to his heart. Sensuality is the prison of the body and the salvation of the soul.\n\n\"A king in his kingdom can be damaged and hurt, and especially by five things. The first is by excessive drought, lasting for three years. The second is by spending more than his livelihood.\" The third is to use too much wine and hunting. The fourth is to be of evil manners and wicked conditions, and also to be cruel and vengeful. The fifth is to have many enemies. And he said the most notable manners and conditions and the most profitable is to be liberal and true to his word. He who is liberal may not live amiss. The true speaker may not be shamed of his speaking. The meek and lowly man cannot be hated. The sober man cannot be sick. And he who well and diligently understands his business may never repent. In him that has suffered many damages and hurts for the royal majesty and ordinance, or in him that has made any alliance or promises with his enemies, and he ought to be well aware that he gives no power to such as those above mentioned. He said it is an impossible thing that the man may keep himself from falling into some fault if exalted with a king in great magnificence without desert. When a wise price. The king knows that any of his men have wronged him. He ought to inquire the truth of the deed and the quantity of the trespass. And also, if he was willing to do so. And upon every of the same points, remedy it hastily. And he said, \"A king's servants should show in themselves their good virtues, their faith, and the nobility of their kin, to the end that the king may better know them and do to each of them as he shall have deserved. And he said, \"If a king loves and cherishes the unfaithful and wicked men as those who are good and true, he ought not to be called king, for he is not likely to reign long. And he said, \"If the king's counselors, his physician, and his confessor conspire with one another, the king's body and soul will continually be harmed. Seek bodily and spiritual remedies, and be like to come to a foul end. And he that speaks not truth to his lord, and he that counsels with his friend and tells him not the truth of his, \" A councilor destroys himself, and Assaron said, \"A king should not commit to another the necessities that are required of him to do. And Assaron said, \"The most secret counsel of a king is his conscience, and his good deeds are his best treasure. And of all men, the treasury is the best. And he says, \"A king should commit his affairs to him who has proven himself in faith, in wisdom, and in good governance. And if he cannot find such a one, let him take him who has been accustomed to wise men. And he says, \"A wise king, good understanding, amends and advises much his counselors. And he says, \"When a king of good discretion has to do two right things hastily, he should begin with the noblest and most profitable one. And if they are both of one estate, begin with that which can be recovered most in the time coming. And he says, \"If a king is merciful, his deeds will go well. His wisdom will advise him in the coming time.\" If a man is true, his people will rejoice, and he says that kings should gain good reputation and other dignitaries through good measure, for outrageousness is not enduring. And he says that it belongs to a conquering king to establish and keep good justice in his realms and lordships given. And although it is a grievous thing to conquer them, it is a more grievous and more burdensome task. He who is most complete in wisdom is he who knows himself. And he who departs not from the service of God for any occasion that comes to him, and who continually thanks Him for the goods He has sent him. Assaron says that an evil law and the love of a scoundrel last no longer than the shadow of a cloud. Assaron says that a wise man enforces himself to flee and withdraws from harm, while the fool experiences great pain to find it. Assaron says that when a wise counselor or officer to a king sees that the king willingly does or says anything damaging and harmful to him or to his realm, he must depart from him. A king should address and remind his people and subjects of good examples from chronicles and histories of his noble and wise predecessors, concerning that purpose. Lemuel was born in Ethiopia and learned his science in the land of Astarte in the time of King David the prophet. And he was bought by a Jew for thirty marks as a slave or bondman. And his master played gladly at dice and there ran before his master's gate a river. And on a time as his master and another man played at dice, they laid and set an owl to play, that he who stood on the threshold should do the will of the winner, or he should drink all the water that ran and passed before his gate. So it happened that his master lost, and the other commanded him. That he should do fully his commandment. And the loser answered that he was ready to be at his judgment. Then he said to him, thou shalt give me all the good that thou hast of any. The servant, or you shall drink all the water of this river. And he who had lost demanded only a respite of one day for himself. The other granted it to him, and thus he remained in his house, deeply pensive and filled with thought, considering how he might escape from this peril. And as he was in this thought, he summoned his bondmaid and servant, and scolded his master. The latter gave him no answer, for he thought he was being praised by him. And then the servant said to him, \"Master, who has angered or grieved you? I shall quickly remedy it if I may.\" And then his master recounted to him all the fate, as previously recounted to him, that he should in no way be disheartened, for he would give him good counsel. The servant asked, \"If you will drink, master, does the river contain this water now at this present time, or else all that will run and come continually?\" I wrote well he shall say that you shall drink all that it contains now, and when he has said so, make the rival stand without running any more, and that you are ready to drink it that it holds now, and thus you shall win your cause.\n\nWhen the master heard the counsel of his bondman, he was greatly comforted. And in the same way, on the morrow, he said to him who had won the dispute, and in this way he escaped from the parley, and from then on he hired Lemmon and made him free who was bond and thrall before. And he did and gave him much good and was reputed for a right wise man.\n\nOne of his fellow men of past time met him once and asked him, \"Are you not he who was wont to keep sheep with me?\" He answered, \"Yes.\" The other replied, \"I shall tell the said Lemmon, speaking the truth, to be true, and not tending to unprofitable things.\"\n\nIt was said that a voice appeared to him, which said, \"Will you be a great lord.\" upon the earth and he answered, \"If God wills it, I will obey him. But if he gives me the choice and my pleasure, I will be a servant. One asked him why he would not be a king. He answered, \"If I rule rightfully, I may not escape the hatred of many men. And if I dissemble, I shall withdraw from the way of paradise. I had rather have sufficiency in this world with poverty and the bliss of that other world than to lose and be highly exalted in this world.\n\n\"And David was in a place where many people spoke, among whom Legmon was still. And he demanded him why he did not speak, as others do. He answered because there is no good word but of God, nor good silence but to think on God.\n\n\"And this Jew, who was master of Legmon, gave him much good, which he distributed in alms and lent it to poor, needy people without interest. And therefore God multiplied all his goods greatly.\n\n\"And it is said he left all his riches and made himself a recluse in a temple solitarily until his death, and there he preached.\" Many fair things and wisdoms to your son, and said, \"Son, take abstinence and restrain your will. If you praise the world and the diverse adventures that daily come in doing of business in things defended by God, you desire but death. Therefore, enforce the test of the evil and follow the good. The good mortifies and destroys the evil. And say, 'Son, speak ever of God, and God shall ever put good words in your mouth. Son, set your own works before your eyes, and other men behind the part. Son, when you see any sinner, reprove him not of his faults, but think on your own, which of you shall you account for. Son, employ not your courage in the love of this world, which is a thing that passes and deceives all those who cling to it. And hold content with little, and covet not the goods of others. Son, set temperance in your living, and be replenished with wisdom, and converse with wise men, and so may you get wisdom. Son, be simple, doing well, thinking.\" \"Moche and a few words, but if they are true and not from a great lawgiver. And not disdainful or mocking of others. Be stylish and not full of language, for I have often repented more for speaking than for being still. Be warned that the cock not be awakened earlier than you. Fear God and keep from vain glory. Be warned that you not be deceived into believing what you do not have, even if men bear it on their hands through flattery. He who loves God most fears him most. Learn goodness and teach it to others. Doctors and teachers with their teachings are likened to springing wells, from which the people are continually served. Yet they remain ever full. And know this, if a fool speaks, he will be more for his uncouth speech. If he is still and speaks not, he will be thought evil. If he does anything, it is evil and wastes his time. If he sets himself to study, he will lose his dispense and not profit.\" A person who is rich will be proud and presumptuous, while one who is poor will fall into despair. If a person has any good clothing, they will be proud of it. If they own anything, they will use it uncurtailedly, and if anyone asks to borrow from them, they will deny it. If they give anything, they will reproach the giver. If a man gives to them, they will show no thanks. When they are merry or joyous, it is out of measure. And when they are angry, they are likewise secretive and will discover any secret told to them. If they have power or might, they will secretly seek occasion to do evil and will treat their subjects with violence. If men fellowship with them, they will make them angry. If men follow them, they flee from the people, and anyone who corrects them, they will not do for, but will hate their corrector. Their fellows will also hate them. If he speaks, he will be heard. And if other men speak, he will not listen. If men pray him to pardon another, he will not do it. He loves deceit more than truth. A man may not put him in his power. For eternity, he will have what is his own, and he considers anything evil as good by him. If he studies or speaks with wise men, he will not make himself or pay heed to them. If he is with a more foolish person than himself, he will defame and mock him. He will do the worst he can and command them to do well. If he is rich, he says you are an usurer. If you are poor, he sets nothing by you. If you do well, he says you do it by hypocrisy. If you do evil, he will defame you. If you give to him, he calls you a waster. If you give him nothing, he holds you for a miser and a niggard. If you are debonair, he says you are the best. Whoever draws him away from his company, he says he does it for pride. But the wise man is all of contrary conditions; he has continence, justice, mercy, and meekness. He can well speak and be stylish in place and time. He knows and does well. He has his servants in his service. He is liberal to demanders. He is wise in speaking and well understanding the words of others. If he learns, he will ask good questions. If men do him good, he will thank them. He keeps secret the counsel given to him and trusts well in others. If he gives, he does so gladly without reproach, to none other than he would be done to. If he is rich, he shall not be proud of it. If he is poor or rich, he shall not forget God. He profits always in knowledge. He gives credence to him who teaches him. He does not grumble against a greater than himself nor despise a lesser. He asks for nothing except what is rightfully his. He is agreeable in his answers and says nothing except what he knows. He hides not his science. The more he accompanies men, the more he loves them to truth. Whether it will or not, he corrects himself, giving example to others. He is lightly turned to do well. If he bears witness, it shall be true. If he is a judge, he shall judge and do all things truly, if men do him harm, he shall do good therefore, he covets not the goods of others. He considers himself as a stranger in this world and thinks not but on his departing. He does well and commands others to do the same, he defends evil and keeps himself from doing it. And that lies in his heart, the tongue pronounces it, and his deeds are in accordance with his words.\n\nUnderstand wisdom and exercise it without thinking about other things, for when you have obtained it, you shall be ever in joy, and know that it is not obtained but by debonairity and by good keeping of your tongue.\n\nFor the tongue is the door of the treasury of wisdom, where every man may well enter if it is not shut. Therefore, men should keep well the key, that is to say, the tongue more readily than their gold or silver.\n\nDo not lose your own things, for keeping of strange things, For your proper things are your goods, which your soul shall bear with it. Riches that shall remain after thy death shall pass to other men. Some honor and wisdom will come to them who desire it and show it not to those who despise it. Some he who has mercy on others will have mercy on himself. Be content with what you have without coveting the goods of others or what you know you cannot have. Receive patiently the words of correction and preaching, though they be harsh and grievous. He is very unhappy who hears and understands not, but he is more unhappy who hears and understands and derives no profit from it. Accompany yourself with those whom God loves. Yield kingship to our Lord God of the goods that He has made you receive in humility and give them to those who are needy. If you have done any good that seems good to you, give no praise or glory to yourself for it, for you do not know if God is pleased with all or not. In every work there is commonly something contrary. Thursday's work is proudly thought, seek not the delights of this world but only those that bring you nearer to God. Trust in God and love those who obey him, hate those who disobey. There is nothing more acceptable to God than a good understanding, which is in ten conditions: not praising oneself, doing well, being content with necessary things for life, giving of one's goods for God's sake, willing worship to oneself, keeping oneself from doing shameful things in getting knowledge and understanding all the days of one's life, keeping oneself from anger. In giving one's love to all those who desire it, and in regarding oneself as worst and others as better. For men are of two kinds: some are good, and some are bad. Therefore, a man should humble and meek himself towards both, to the good in praying that God make him similar and like to them, to the evil as much as it is not known whether his goodness is within him and he wills it. Not shew it by vain glory, and in doing reputed for sage and wise. Some worship God and pray that He will keep and teach her. For there is no other remedy. Some show to others such as the learned/foolish not with sneers. That thou be not one of them. And have thou no affiance in the house where the people live this day and die tomorrow. Some inhabit thyself with the wise men continually, for God enlightens their hearts by words of wisdom in such a way as the goods under the earth are moistened by rain and dew. And some men say that Lemuel is buried in a town called Carthage between the mesquitte and the march. And there are buried 70 prophets who died after Lemuel, which the children of Israel kept so long in hostage that they died for hunger. And when Lemuel was near his death, his son asked him why he wept, for fear of death or for sorrow that he had to leave the world. He answered, \"I weep for none of those two things but I weep because I.\" \"have away to go. From where I have never seen anyone return, and I bear little victuals with me. I am charged with many great charges, and I do not know whether I shall be accused and discharged when I reach my destination. And he said to his son, Son, you ought to fear God, and not only to be worshipped by men. Son, when you come to a place where God will be spoken of, stay there. For if you are a fool, you may be deceived. And if you are wise, you will increase your wisdom, and if God sends them any good, you will have your share. But if you haunt places where God is not spoken of, the opposite will happen to you. So be afraid of God's vengeance as much as you can, and fear Him and consider His great power and might. And he spoke in the same way as in giving generously to a man makes his enemy his friend, so by pride a man makes his friend his enemy. And he said, A true man rests in his truth, and the\" The reward of a liar is that he not be believed of that which he rehearses. And receive nothing from him who will not believe, nor demand that which you well know shall not be granted to him. Nor promise anything unless you may and will hold and keep it.\n\nAnd said thou oughtest to avoid all things the company of a liar. And if thou mayest not eschew his company, at least beware that thou believe nothing that he says.\n\nAnd said, \"Soon set thee not in the highest place, for it is better that thou be taken up from the lowest place to sit in the highest, than to be taken from the highest and set all beside.\"\n\nAnd said, \"Soon yet once I command thee that thou fear God above all things. For that is a rightful and profitable thing for thee. And do so that all thy thoughts be always in him and thy words seemingly, for the speaking and thinking in God surmounts all other words and thoughts as he himself surmounts all other creatures. And therefore men ought to reverence him. Notwithstanding anything other.\" \"A thing that they have been compelled to say: \"She who is good shall be safe, and all who are with her. And if she is evil, she shall perish, and all who are therein. And he said: \"A man may easily find his living and his necessities in this world, which is of little consequence to us creatures. But a man should provide himself with necessary things. For when he departs, he should bear them with him.\n\n\"And he said: \"How can a man make another change his will, who cannot control his own?\n\n\"And he said: \"Goodwill is one of the goods that God serves. And it is agreeable to him to hear lowly things. A courteous answer ought to be more highly prized.\n\n\"And he said: \"If it is necessary for you to send a message or land one if you cannot find anyone to go yourself,\n\n\"And he said: \"Do not believe him who lies to you about another man, for he will lie in the same way to another man.\n\n\"And he said: \"It is more light to change manifestations from one place to another, than for him who has no understanding to understand it.\n\n\"And he said: \"Do not do that of which you would be ashamed to see.\"\" Two patients are in this world, one is he who sees and endures patiently, hating himself, and the other is to restrain his will. There are three estates of men, and a friend is not known but in necessity. Of all other manners and conditions, the worst is a man who is suspicious of his friend and discovers secrets, trusts and is affectionate with every man, speaks much of unprofitable things, and is in danger of evil people for the sake of temporal goods. And he said, \"The thought is the mirror of the man, in which he may behold his beauty and his filth.\" An ancient philosopher says, \"When men grow old, their virtues are despised, and the rich are more feared than the poor. And he said, \"The noble death is better than a base dominion. And he said, \"The greatest and most happy state of a man is to have a good friend.\" Now, accompany yourself with good people, and you shall be one of them. One of the greatest vices and subtleties of the world is for a man to desire another's wife. To do virtue to an impotent person and said, \"If you have committed any trespass or sin, repent at once without delaying.\" He replied, \"You ought to thank him who is in such a condition, so that he does it willingly and in good intent. He may not know or appear to know many things that he cannot perceive or know himself. If you want enduring love with another, put yourself in pain to serve him in good manners. If a king is just and rightful, he will signify sovereignty and be lord over the hearts of his people. If he is otherwise, though named as king, yet they will have their hearts turned to another.\nSergeant says that the works of this world are addressed by two things: one is the science of which the soul is addressed. The other is sense, of which both the soul and the body are addressed. Men are prone to do much harm and evil when they doubt and fear our Lord. Nobility of lineage is much commendable to receive knowledge. The intention of a man should be to refrain his courage from filth and foul things, for a good life makes a good reputation and leads to a good end. He is excellent who is honorable in all his pursuits, and whose wit surpasses his anger. He said it is sufficient for you to be so wise that you can do well and keep from doing evil.\n\nThere is nothing so evil for a man as to be evil-inclined, and especially when he is issued from noble and good lineage. And he said that science is a most honorable and profitable thing. For by the goods of this world and of that other, a wise man will have nothing from his prince but what he has obtained by speaking truth and by his good works.\n\nHe is a good lord who takes upon himself pain to keep his subjects in such a way that he keeps his own body, and who is not so rigorous and oppressive that they wish to leave his lordship. And he is not to them so debonair that they despise his. And he said, \"The most courteous giver is he who gives without being asked. In any place where you are with your enemy, be it in jest or otherwise, make every effort to make amends, though you may be stronger and mightier. It is a great pain to the body of a man to endure what is impossible for him. Likewise, it is a grievous thing for a wise man to teach a fool. A suspicious man can never have a good life. He is truly ignorant and unkind who cannot acknowledge the goodness done to him. But he is even more unkind who denies it to others. He who demands only reason can overcome and vanquish his enemy.\"\n\nTheesille said, \"You ought to love better the rough words that are profitable and true than the sweet words that are deceitful and flattering. Some men put poison in sweet drinks and the medicines that heal people are bitter.\" And said, \"It is a foul thing to be so curious for the feeding of the body that it hurts both it and the soul. A sailor does not take the sea without seeing that he has a favorable wind. A man should not dispose himself to any work unless it is profitable for the body. And rather that which is most profitable for your soul. And he who can well advise others ought to advise himself well and remember the salvation of his soul, for it is a great vice to man to worship and help another and disregard and harm himself. And he who has a foul and unclean body should not be clothed with gold or silk cloth. Rightly, it is a foul thing to have great beauty of body and face and be full of evil works. We ought, by reason, to keep our bodies clean. We are more specifically bound to keep our bodies and souls honest and well that gives us knowledge of our Lord God.\" Wisdom of the soul and not to harm or overpower it with meals or drinks. It was asked of him how a man might keep himself from anger, and he answered, remembering that it is impossible for him to always be obeyed, but that he must sometimes obey, and that he shall not always command but shall be commanded. And also that God sees all things. If he considers this, he should not long be angry, and he saw a greatly obese man to whom he said, \"You pay the price to break the walls of your prison.\" And when you correct another, show it not like one who seeks to avenge himself against his enemy but do as the physician who courteously speaks to his patient. And when you correct yourself, show yourself as the hurt man does to his doctor.\n\nSaint Gregory said, Recommend to God the beginning and the end of all your works. He said, study and travel to know all things. And retain and hold with those that are most profitable. And he said, poverty is evil, but evil riches much worse. And said, be thou patient and have reason in thy wrath. Light thyself with wisdom in place of Cadell, and do not presume to be better than thou art. Think thou art mortal. Repute the fool for a stranger and thou shalt worship strangers. And said when thy ship shall be laden with great tranquility than thou oughtest to be drowned. And said men ought to receive meekly all that God sends them. And said the hatred of good men is better than the love of evil people. And said frequent the companies of wise men and not of the rich. And said dispraise not a little of good and amend.\n\nGalen was one of the eight excellent physicians, rightly excelling in medicine, of whom the first was Hippocrates, the second Galen, the third Myrion, the fourth Promenides, the fifth Plato, the sixth Esculapius the second, the seventh Ipocras, the eighth Galen, who had none like him. He He was born after the Incarnation of our lord, 1500 years ago. He composed and wrote well four volumes of books. Among these, the Ruby six, studied in things related to the art of medicine. His father was very diligent to put him in school and spent much on him. He sent him to the country of Asia, to the city of Pergamum, Athens, Rome, and Alexandria, to find the best masters. There, he learned medicine from a woman named Cleopatra, who taught him many good herbs useful for all kinds of ailments. He dwelt long in Egypt: to know all these herbs. After his death, he was near the city of Alexandria, on the shores of the green sea, in the Egyptian marches. In his youth, he greatly desired to know the demonstrative science. He was so eager to learn it that when he left the school with other children, his mind was always on what his master had taught him. fellowes mocked him and asked why he wouldn't play and sport with them. To whom he replied, \"I take great pleasure in recording my lessons, as you do in your games.\" The fellowes were greatly astonished by this, and they said that his father was happy to have such a child and put him in school, for he so loved wisdom. His father was a great laborer, his grandmother's father was a sovereign master carpenter, and his grandmother's mother was a harper and owner of lands, which is the science of geometry. Galen was at Rome in the reign of Emperor Octavian, who reigned after Adrian. There, he made a book on anatomy and many other treatises. Some say that a great part of his books were burned, among them some of Aristotle's books written in his hand, and of Danae and Andromache. He also made a book on triacles for remedies. He taught the king of Greece to level hills, fill valleys, and make plain ways in their countries, and he edified cities and enclosed them with big walls. And they made rivers run through the towns and other places where needed, and did all other things that were to the common profit. In those days, they took more delight and pleasure in the good rule and governance of their lordships than in the ease and pleasure of their own bodies. Their hearts were set on having good universities and schools of great scholars. And especially in physics. They also ordered certain people in every country and region to gather herbs and bring them to the masters of physics for approval by experience. And the same herbs, once approved, were sent to the kings' closets and sealed with their seals. This was to prevent them from being changed, and the kings then ordered them for sick people. Galen said, \"Wisdom cannot profit a fool, nor wisdom to one who does not use it.\" And he said, \"Heedlessness comes from the things past and things to come.\" Galen was forty-six years and seven when he said that. Many great lords are ignorant when they are more inclined to have fine horses and rich gowns, and other jewels, than to win good favor by good conditions. And he said, The physicians were accustomed to have lordship and to govern sick people and to make them do such things as were most expedient and profitable for their health. And no sick person dared disobey his physician, but was compelled to obey him, therefore they were sooner recovered and whole. And now physicians are subjects to the sick and are compelled to handle them easily and softly. And to give them sweet drinks though it avails them little, and therefore there is more sickness and longer unhhealth. And he said, Sometimes those who were most sober in their minds and least drank wine were best beloved and most praised, and now the most gluttons and those who rather set themselves at the great lords' tables, which sets a bad example for others. And he said, Thou mayest instruct all men, except only those who are without. shame \u00b6And sayd / aman that knoweth wele him self / hath power ynowe to correcte him self \u00b6And sayde Aman may loue him self so moche-that he is deceyued therby for we se many that wene and seme to be goode / and ar contrarye \u00b6And sayd / he is iuste that may bothe do right or wronge and yet kepe Iustice / And he is wyse and dyscrete that knoweth that / that suffisith to be knowen / and that doth vertuousely to euery creature And sayde like as a seke man desireth / not to departe from his phisicien / till he hath recouerid his helth whiche he cow\u2223de not do by him self / In like wyse aman ought to desire the companye of a confessour for the helth of his saule / And he sawe aman that was gretly made of and cherisshed with kinges for the strenght of his body of whom he sayde / {per}ashall cause him to repente hit at last\nIT was asked of one called protege / wherfore it was that one of his neyghbours made dye his he\u2223re in blak / he ansuerd. by cause noo man shulde as\u00a6ke to lerne sapience of him / and plures sayde / The fool is the more good he has, the more he is. It was asked of Aristotle when it was good to lie with a woman, he answered, \"At all times, when a man will hurt and weaken his body.\" It was asked of Dymas, how he knew and perceived his wit best. He answered, \"In that, I think, I understand and know little.\" The wise man who replies is better than the fool who agrees to every purpose. There was a wise man called Azee, who was a prisoner. His master asked him, \"Of what kind of craft are you?\" He was also asked by another prisoner, who wanted to buy him, \"To whom are you good?\" He answered, \"I am nothing worth but you or someone else to buy me.\" Another man asked him if he despised himself, and he answered, \"He who despises himself despises all others and exalts himself.\" There was one who prayed God to keep him from the danger of his friends. asked him why he didn't pray for God to keep him from his enemies rather than from his friends, and he answered, \"As much as I can keep myself from my enemies, in whom I have no trust, I cannot keep myself from my friends, whom I trust. It was asked of a wise man which were the most noble worldly things, to whom he replied, to love wisdom and to hate folly, not to be ashamed to learn. It was asked of Archimedes, which sciences children should learn. He answered those that cause them to hate ignorance in their age. It was asked of another why he wouldn't have any silver, and he answered because it comes to men by fortune, and is kept by niggardliness and covetousness and is often dishonest. Another said the love of a fool will be more annoying to you than his hatred. And there was a man who said to another, I shall put my pain and diligence to destroy you. He answered and said, I shall enforce myself to destroy your malice, and appease your anger. And there came before a king three men. The one was a Greek. The other a Jew. And the third was a Saracen, of whom the said king desired that one of them would utter some good and notable sentence. Then the Greek said, \"I can correct and amend my thoughts, but not my words.\" Then the Jew said, \"I marvel at those who speak things prejudicial when silence would be more proper.\" And the Saracen said, \"I am master over my words. They are my servant, but when they are spoken, I am their servant.\" It was asked one of them, \"Who might be called a king?\" And he answered, \"He who is not subject to his own.\" Assaron said to an evil payer who desired to borrow money from him, \"I will lend you none. For I know well that he could not please you more in refusing the loan than in asking for payment again.\" And Teofrates said, \"He is in good condition who reports and says good things about others and keeps their faults hidden.\" It was asked [END] If a man desires to avoid harm from others, and he is rich, he should live moderately. If he is poor, he should work diligently. Nicomachus said, \"There is no better doctor than self-occupation. And it is better, as Thymatus said, not to meddle or undertake the governance of a fool. For he cannot pay or conceive what good you do to him, no more than a horse or other beasts understand when they are charged with gold or grain. It was asked of Athlyn, why men are punished for their misdeeds and not for their thoughts. He replied, \"These three things are reserved for God: excessive drinking, excessive delight in music, and the doing of women. For these three things drive away all his other good thoughts, and a man's mind is filled with thoughts of things lost and evil deeds, which cannot be amended by forgetting them.\" And he said, \"Truth is...\" And it is good to say [it]. Especially when it benefits everyone. If you cannot attain the wisdom of ancient men, at least study and learn from their books, and you may gain some profit from them. Quintilian said, \"I have found it a worthy endeavor to blame others so much and think well of myself.\" Dionysius of Halicarnassus said, \"Patience is an impregnable castle, and worship is the fruit of truth. Repentance is the fruit of haste.\" It was asked of Dionysius, \"Why are the rich more proud than women?\" And he replied, \"The wise men know and fear our lord and understand what offense pride is to him. But the rich man pays no heed to this. And some asked him, 'Which is better to have, wisdom or riches?' And he said, 'There is no good riches unless it is also profitable in the other world as in this. But wisdom is good for both worlds.'\" It was told to Aristotle that a man had spoken well of him. And he said, \"I will reward him.\" They asked him, \"In what manner?\" And he replied, [END] I will speak of him in the same way. And Candido said, \"A good man of understanding can well avoid great quantities of the misfortunes of this world. Just as the good sailor knows by experience that the weather is likely to be stormy at sea.\" Sarman said, \"I have lost all that I had, and therefore I fear nothing.\" And he said, \"In all your enterprises, have more trust in your knowledge than in your strength.\" Gregory said, \"The painters may well make pictures that resemble things, but only God and nature can produce the real thing. And Arms, calling to him his brothers, said to them, 'If you will repent and take me, but only if one of you.' Tales Milton said, \"I have great mercy for those who daily put themselves in peril by land and by water for worldly goods, not knowing who will succeed or inherit their goods after their death. They might learn wisdom with less danger and pain, by which they would be more honored and praised.\" \"Said Pythagoras, \"Science has no enemies but ignorant men.\" He also said, \"The clattering of folly is displeasing to wise men, like the stench of a carrion is to them that smell it, for the fool knows no more the fault of his speech than the carrion does of its stench.\" It was asked of another, \"How can one keep a man from much drinking?\" He answered, \"By considering the great inconveniences that befall drunken men.\" Eugene said, \"Many persons having reason and understanding ask for candles and light to eat their food, but few are there who kindle and sharpen their wits in getting knowledge for the profit of their souls.\" Escon said, \"Death is displeasing to all except to the wise, for wisdom is the thing that most deters the fear of death.\" Adrien said, \"If I should not love wisdom but because she disparages death, yet should I love her.\" Hermes said, \"The great\" Prosper in wisdom I have found is that I have composed and knitted all my thoughts in one. Quiramis said, \"A man may not be without thoughts; he ought to remember perpetual things and say something good. Everybody should not think the same, for then each man would command and none obey. Demetes said when you come into a strange country, listen diligently to the language and reason of your people. If you find yourself as wise or wiser than they, instruct them. Else instruct in doctrine rather than engage in other idle and vain occupations. A philosopher who was a disciple of Pythagoras said, \"He ought not to be called manly who strikes him who cannot defend himself.\" Solon said, \"In all things, the mean is best. To live wisely is a great treasure. To live wastefully causes poverty. Yet it is impossible to please all men with this.\" He said, \"Be not angry with him who speaks the truth. Have patience.\" Good shall come to the therefore and said the wicked lords, resembling drunken men in their raw fairness and good virtues, and loving all vicissitudes, he is ashamed of his deeds. And said a king of good wit and discretion ought to be well content and pleased, when men offer him their service. He ought in peace and prosperity to worship and cherish his knights and men of war, and to pay them well their wages. All this, be it he thinks to have no enemies, for he cannot be sure how soon he shall have need of his servants. And Melious said, He is not rich. To whom the riches were lost but little. Nor free when they may be easily taken. But the laudable Riches are those that endure perpetually. And Brutus said, The covetous man has no rest. And the niggard may never be rich. And Philip king of Macedon said to those who counseled him to burn the City of Athens when he had won it. We should then seem ungrateful where we have overcome our enemies. And Archidamus said, The tongue. And it is convenient that tongue and heart agree, and Pitagoras said, \"He who does not believe in the resurrection of man is like a helpless beast that falls for weakness.\" He advised, \"Aman should do his work through deliberation and great provision, not suddenly.\" He also said, \"If you wish to exceed your enemy, call him neither fool nor talebearer, nor obey his vices. For his blame is a great praise to him. He who would be praised for his works should have a true friend to report them. Keep your friend above all things, and consider what you will lose if you lack a true friend. If your house falls, you will not lose it entirely, but only the stones and timber. But if you lose your friend, you may gain many things.\" Enemies. And said when a man is in great ire and wrath, he may be likened to a house on fire, in which for the quantity of smoke and noise of the fierce blaze, no man can see or hear within; and may also be likened to a ship in an outrageous tempest on the sea, which will not be well conditioned nor steadied for the furiousness of the tempest. And so when a man's blood and courage are stirred with wrath and ire, no persuasions nor holy counsel can avail nor steady him to his profit, and is so obdurate that a little spark makes a great fire. Yet wrath is often pacified by silence, as the fierce flames are quenched when the brands are taken away. Also, a drunk man cannot perceive his drunkenness until he is sober, and after he sees another drunk, he knows thereby in what case he was. The angry man returns by his peace and sees another angry, may well perceive his own defects. And said, \"We commonly see women angrier than men, the sick men.\" And the old man lighter than the young. Therefore, it is to be thought that wrath comes from feebleness of courage. A master rebuked his clerk, saying \"hold thy peace, bondman's son.\" And he answered, \"I am not the less worthy for my kin, but thou art the worse for thy conditions.\" And he said, \"A wise man ought to say that which is convenient and sometimes to hear that which is not to be said.\" And he said, \"There is nothing that grieves some one's friend as much as to show him that you have him suspected.\" And he said, \"Company and deal so with the people that they wish for your presence. When you are absent, and that which\" - it was asked of him why he wept and he ought rather to be joyful - \"I weep for my son who goes now towards his death.\" And it was asked of him what kind of people are least beloved, and he answered \"those who can neither help nor hurt, nor do good nor harm. For evil people hate the good, and the good hate the evil.\" And he said, \"Custom is harder to break than.\" And said there are two kinds of abstinence: one is with good will, and the other is by force. Which is not good. And another said, speak only profitable things or eat no morsels. Nor complain of the absence of your friends. Do not expect that which you cannot have. Amend yourself. Ask nothing from the covetous man. Teach him what you can. Give what you have. Have patience in adversities. Have this written in your seal or signet. Both good people and bad will end. And he said, \"Short memory and haste in speech often makes man fail and err in judgment. And one rebuked a wise man. To whom the wise man replied, 'You do not rebuke me for all my vices.' And it was asked of him why he desired no son. He answered, 'I would rather be without one. For when I behold the great love that a man has for his child and the great pains and troubles he has to bring him up, and at last must lose him, that sorrow would be more to me than the joy.\" It was advised one. that was going in a far voyage, that he should not hold his journey, lest he die the reign. And he answered, \"Death is all one to me, be it in other countries or at home.\" It was asked of another, what thing is not to be done, though it be just and true. And he answered, \"A man ought not to praise himself for any of his good deeds. And he said, \"It is sometimes good to spare the truth to give hope to one's enemies and to save friends from death, for truth does not always need to be spoken. It was asked of him what was most delectable, and he answered, \"One is not sure to keep one degree and is most difficult to find. A man who desires to come to any great wealth ought not to leave it, even if he does not attain it at the first. but ought to continue his enterprise, for it comes at some time that comes not at C. And said the wise man is not deceived by flattering words or sweet words, like the snake, which is taken and eaten by the chicken in beholding the fair feathers. And he said, \"If you hate a man, you ought not therefore hate all his servants. And he said, \"Though a man has bought a book, it compels him not to study and read in it. And he said, \"Men ought to serve God in the following ways: to yield him grace for the benefits he has bestowed; to bear patiently his adversities; to speak truly; to pay all that one promises; to judge righteously; to be temperate; to do good deeds according to one's ability or when required; to worship friends; to forgive the faults of enemies; to desire or do nothing to any man except as one would be done to. One was blamed because he had given his silver to an evil person in necessity. And he said, \"I have not given him my silver for his wickedness, but because he was in necessity. And he said, \"Exercise of various labors is health and delight of the body. And he was asked, \"Since when were you...\" And he answered. Since the time that I began to doubt and question myself, he heard a man recite false words and untruths. To whom he said, \"If you hear another say what you say, you would not believe him. Therefore, no one believes the unwise. And Aristophanes said, \"Victory in words is not true victory. But the true victory is in the deed.\" And Anaxagoras said, \"A wise man does not fear death, for wisdom governs his mind and truth guides his heart and will. Pity and mercy are his friends. Seeking wisdom is his delight. His lordship is Justice. His reign is measure. His sword is grace. His weapon is peace. His arrow is salvation. His knighthood is the counsel of wise men. His ornaments are strength. His treasure is discipline. His love is the company of good people. His love and all his desire is to flee from sin and serve and love God.\" And he said, \"A great treasure is to have friends and is a noble affection.\" It is convenient to cherish and keep [them] well, and to win one over as often as birds do draw [each] other. A king asked a wise man to be a good judge, and he answered, \"He who is not deceived by flattery, not corrupted by bribes, and not deceived due to lack of discretion.\" Another said, \"Slanderers are worse than thieves, for thieves steal goods but slanderers take and destroy love.\" And another said, \"Worship given without cause ultimately turns to shame.\" And another said, \"It is better to be in company and conversation with a serpent than with an evil woman. One ought to doubt the subtlety and craft of his enemy if he is wise, and if he is a fool, fear his folly. Another said, \"The most liberal in this world is he who is reputed for great things for the good deeds done to him, and who reputes little of what he has done for others, and is content with what he has, whether poor or rich. The most niggardly of all men is he who asks importunately after he has once been given.\" denied and refused his ascension. One said envy destroys the world and frets and wearies it as the filth of a goad does the iron. And another said, just as nothing may be written in a pair of tables without the first writing being erased, so the virtues and nobilities cannot be had in anyone without the vices and wretchednesses being removed first. And another said, a man cannot hold with one eye the sky and with the other the earth. In the same way, a man cannot prepare and dispose his wit for virtues and vices together. And another said, true steady love is when friends are of like conditions; and if they are diverse or contrary, love may not long endure. And people ought to doubt their king and obey him with fear and in love. And some asked him when the wit of man is perfect. He said when he speaks the truth. And another said the envy-instigator and the nagging one getting may not be justified nor healthy. may not be friendship with deception nor noblesse with bad discipline nor love with pride nor justice with necessity nor rest of heart with envy nor wit and discretion with vengeance nor processes without counsel\nAnd another said trust not a fool neither for love nor for neighborly friendship for it were as good to have your neighbor's house take with fire.\nAnd another said he is your greatest enemy whose works are harsh, bitter, and noising to you, and his words sweet and courteous.\nAnd another said the wise endure all their lives long and afterwards loved.\nAnd another said a fool would give alms to the needy people, and in doing so, you shall do service and please our Lord God.\nAnd another said it is better for a man to hold his peace than to contrary and argue with a fool. It is good to have the enemy as friends rather than the hard and sharp life in doing well, and the harsh and difficult life is better than the sweetest in doing evil deeds. It is better to be without evil than with poverty, and the poor man without vices is better than the rich man who is praised for his sins. And another said, \"It is better not to know an unjust king than to be his counselor or next in his grace.\" And another said, \"If you give to have fame only for that, it is not liberality, for you do it for your own advantage.\" And another said, \"He is not of laudable life who is not as good or better today as he was yesterday.\" And another said, \"You shall not have that which you desire without bearing patiently the griefs that you would not have.\" And another said, \"A mean will be in your hands as long as he trusts you.\" It was asked of a wise man why he did not want a son. He answered, \"Because I have had enough trouble with one.\" Chastise my body and address my soul without having any other person to rule or teach me. It was asked of him, who was the most repentant one in this world. He answered, at his death, the wise man, because he had not acted wisely, and he who had done good to an unkind man.\n\nIt was asked of him, what thing increases the law. He answered truthfully. And what sustains truth? Reason and wisdom, and by what is wisdom governed? By keeping the tongue, and how is the tongue kept? With patience. What causes patience? Fear of God. And what causes fear of God? Often to speak and remember death, and to consider and know one's frailty.\n\nAnd another said, superfluity makes the body sick, worry troubles the mind, wrath is contrary to wisdom, but temperance comforts the heart and puts away all heaviness, causing health.\n\nAnd he said, how can a wise man be of low kinship yet be noble? And though he be a stranger, he should be worshipped, and though he be poor, yet the people have need of him. And one asked a wise man to tell him the difference between this world and the other. And he answered, \"This world is Admeas.\" And the other world is a thing awakened. And another said, \"It is better to speak well than to keep silence. And better to keep silence than to speak evil.\"\n\nAnd another said, \"I have accompanied the rich men and have seen their rich clothing and other things better than mine. Whereupon I had such envy and melancholy that I had no rest in myself. Then I accompanied the poor men, like myself, and was satisfied and at peace.\"\n\nAnd another said, \"Like a man in a dark cave cannot see his own image,\"\n\nAnd another said, \"And like children who are born in pain and enter this world, rejoice afterwards and feel the delights and eases thereof. In the same way, men are sorrowful when they shall die. Yet if they have lived well, they go into a better world where they shall rejoice perpetually.\"\n\nAnd another said, \"As the goodness of wise men increases in amending, so do the malices of fools grow daily in employing.\"\n\nAnd another said, \"If you correct a wise man, he will...\" thank you for teaching a fool. He is your true friend, offering himself and all his goods to you in your necessity. The governor of a wise man is patience, and the governor of a fool is pride. A man who is slow in his work is commonly envious of the well-being of others. It is good to inquire twice about uncertain things, for the first question comes from the will, and the second from discretion. Truth is worshipped for the love of its master. He who multiplies temporal goods diminishes his expenses. Those who believe and fear God steadfastly have no delight but in Him and in His works. The most laudable works one may do is to obey the commandments and please our Lord God. The work of the body joined to the work of the heart is more laudable than the work of the heart alone. Another. The evil creatures are worse than serpents, lions, or carriages. And just as there is nothing better than good creatures on earth, there is nothing worse than those who are wicked. One said that he who assumes a higher station than what belongs to him suffers great pain from being spoken evil of. Another said that he who desires peace in his life ought to avoid four occasions: the first is that he should not be angry though some creature lives whom he would have killed; the second is if someone brings up someone of lower degree than him; and another said to meddle and deal little with inconvenient walls; and another said the wiser a man is alone, the greater is his joy, be it day or night. An evil-disposed king is like a carrion crow that makes the earth stink around it, and a good king is like the fair, refreshing river that is profitable to creatures. The wise men are not content to profit only themselves. Self similarly affect others, and fools harm not only themselves but trouble others as well. One said, a fool for a little thing exposes himself lightly to fortune. And another said, you cannot be so well dressed nor be seen as truly. And another said, abstaining from wrath and covetousness is a laudable thing in this world as in the other. And another said, he who gives counsel and prays for it himself would be called discreet. And another said, let not well-doing go unrewarded though good deeds go unrecognized; well-doing is good enough in itself at the last. And another said, good discretion ought not to exercise one in impossible things, nor say things not valuable, nor spend more than one's winnings allow, nor promise more than one can fulfill. And another said, a man may have only pain and labor in this world. And he who does not eat shall die of hunger, and if he eats more than enough, he shall be sick; therefore, it is a difficult thing for a man to live long. \"in health And another said not to trust him for he would betray his faith for worldly things And another said idleness engenders ignorance & ignorance engenders error And another said you will find everywhere where clothing, food, and a place to dwell if you have anything, but that is not enough, you will be subject to covetousness And the aforementioned sayings, as they concern other matters, And they also requested that I print the said book. I have therefore obeyed his request and command and have overseen this his book, ensuring as much as I could that it corresponds with the original in French. I find nothing discordant therein, except for the dictates and sayings of Socrates. In which I find that my said lord has left out certain and various conclusions regarding women. I marvel that my said lord has not written them, nor what moved him to do so, Nor what caused him at that time.\" I suppose that some fair lady asked him to leave it out of his book or else he was infatuated with some noble lady for whose love he would not set it in his book. Or else for the very affection, love and good will that he had towards all ladies and gentlewomen. He thought that Socrates spared the truth. And wrote about women more than truth. Which I cannot think that such a true man and so noble a philosopher as Socrates was would write otherwise than truth. For if he had erred in writing of women, he ought not to be believed in his other dictates and sayings. But I perceive that my said lord knows very well that such defects have not been had or found in the women born and dwelling in these parts or regions of the world. Socrates was a Greek born in a far country. Whose country is of other conditions than this is. And men and women of other nature than they are here in this country. For I well know what condition some women are in Greece. The women of this country are different. right good/wise/pleasant/humble/discrete/sober/chaste/obedient to their husbands/true/secret/steadfast/ever busy & never idle/Attempt rash in speaking/and virtuous in all their works. Or act least should be so. For which reasons so evidently my said lord, as I suppose, thought it was not necessary to set in his book the sayings of his Author Socrates concerning women. But since I had commanded my said lord to correct and amend where I should find fault, and found none saved that he had left out these dictated words, I blew over the leaf at the time, and nothing of them of this Realm, whom I would have reserved in particular in his said dictates. Always not presuming to put and set them in my said lord's book, but intending to keep them apart in the rehearsal of the works. Humbly requiring all them that shall read this little rehearsal that if they find any fault, they take it to Socrates and not to me, who writes as follows:\n\nSocrates said that: Women are like traps for men, but they take only those who are willing or those who do not know them. He said that there is no greater hindrance to a man than Ignorance, and women. He saw a woman carrying fire, of whom he said, the hotter she bears the colder. He saw a sick woman. Of her, he said, evil rests and dwells with evil. He saw a woman brought to justice, and many other women followed her weeping. Of them, he said, evil is sorry and angry because evil shall perish. He saw a young maiden learning to write. Of her, he said, evil begets evil upon evil. He said, \"Do you want me to teach and show you how to escape from all evil.\" And they answered you. Then he said to them, \"For whatever reason that it be, keep yourselves and obey not women who answered to him again. And what do you mean by our good mothers and sisters?\" He said to them, \"Suffice it with what I have said to you. For all are similar in malice.\" And he said, \"Whoever wishes to acquire and get knowledge, let him never put himself in the governance of a woman.\" He saw a woman who made herself fresh and gay. To her he said, \"You resemble the fire. For the more wood is laid to the fire, the more woe and the greater is the heat.\" And once someone asked him, \"What do you think of women?\" He answered, \"The woman is like a tree named Edelflower. It is the fairest tree to behold and see, but within it is full of venom.\" And they said to him and demanded why he blamed women and why he himself had come into this world, along with no other men, without them. He answered, \"The woman is like a tree named Edelflower.\" Chassoygnet. Why there are many things sharp and pricking, which hurt and prick those who approach them. Yet the same tree brings forth good dates and sweet ones. They asked him why he fled from women. He answered, \"Because as much as I see them flee and shun the good, and commonly do evil. A woman said to him, 'Will you have any other woman than me?' He answered to her, 'Art not thou ashamed to offer yourself to him who demands or desires not?'\n\nThese are the dictates and sayings of the philosopher Socrates, which he wrote in his book. And certainly he wrote no worse than what is recounted here. And since it is appropriate that his dictates and sayings should be held in the same regard as others, therefore I have placed them at the beginning of this book. Furthermore, some people, perhaps, who have read this book in French, would have found a great fault in me for not doing my duty in visiting and overseeing my lord's book according to his desire. Some may have supposed that Socrates had written more ill of women than is specified here; therefore, in order to satisfy all parties and to excuse Socrates, I have included the following dictates and sayings in this book. For those who are not pleased with all that they read, they may either cross it out or tear the leaf out of the book. I humbly request and beseech my said lord, or any other person who may read or hear it, not to take offense at my presumption but to pardon any faults found. I also request that they take the trouble of having it printed, which I have gladly done in fulfillment of his desire and commandment. I am bound to do so for the good reward I have received from his lordship. Whom I beseech Almighty God to protect and continue in his virtuous disposition in this world. And after this life, may he rest in peace. lyue euer\u2223lastyngly in heuen Amen\n\u00b6Et sic est finis", "creation_year": 1477, "creation_year_earliest": 1477, "creation_year_latest": 1477, "source_dataset": "EEBO", "source_dataset_detailed": "EEBO_Phase1"}
+]
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