Front matter (continued 5)

FRAGMENT B.

Whan I had smelled the savour swote, No wille hadde I fro thens yit go, But somdel neer it wente I tho, To take it; but myn hond, for drede, 1710 Ne dorste I to the rose bede, For thistels sharpe, of many maneres, Netles, thornes, and hoked breres; [Ful] muche they distourbled me, For sore I dradde to harmed be. 1715 The God of Love, with bowe bent, That al day set hadde his talent To pursuen and to spyen me, Was stonding by a fige-tree. And whan he sawe how that I 1720 Had chosen so ententifly The botoun, more unto my pay Than any other that I say, He took an arowe ful sharply whet, And in his bowe whan it was set, 1725 He streight up to his ere drough The stronge bowe, that was so tough, And shet at me so wonder smerte, That through myn eye unto myn herte The takel smoot, and depe it wente. 1730 And ther-with-al such cold me hente, That, under clothes warme and softe, Sith that day I have chevered ofte. Whan I was hurt thus in [that] stounde, I fel doun plat unto the grounde. 1735 Myn herte failed and feynted ay, And long tyme [ther] a-swone I lay. But whan I com out of swoning, And hadde wit, and my feling, I was al maat, and wende ful wel 1740 Of blood have loren a ful gret del. But certes, the arowe that in me stood Of me ne drew no drope of blood, For-why I found my wounde al dreye. Than took I with myn hondis tweye 1745 The arowe, and ful fast out it plight, And in the pulling sore I sight. So at the last the shaft of tree I drough out, with the fethers three. But yet the hoked heed, y-wis, 1750 The whiche Beautee callid is, Gan so depe in myn herte passe, That I it mighte nought arace; But in myn herte stille it stood, Al bledde I not a drope of blood. 1755 I was bothe anguissous and trouble For the peril that I saw double; I niste what to seye or do, Ne gete a leche my woundis to; For neithir thurgh gras ne rote, 1760 Ne hadde I help of hope ne bote. But to the botoun ever-mo Myn herte drew; for al my wo, My thought was in non other thing. For hadde it been in my keping, 1765 It wolde have brought my lyf agayn. For certeinly, I dar wel seyn, The sight only, and the savour, Alegged muche of my langour. Than gan I for to drawe me 1770 Toward the botoun fair to see; And Love hadde gete him, in [a] throwe, Another arowe into his bowe, And for to shete gan him dresse; The arowis name was Simplesse. 1775 And whan that Love gan nyghe me nere, He drow it up, withouten were, And shet at me with al his might, So that this arowe anon-right Thourghout [myn] eigh, as it was founde, 1780 Into myn herte hath maad a wounde. Thanne I anoon dide al my crafte For to drawen out the shafte, And ther-with-al I sighed eft. But in myn herte the heed was left, 1785 Which ay encresid my desyre, Unto the botoun drawe nere; And ever, mo that me was wo, The more desyr hadde I to go Unto the roser, where that grew 1790 The fresshe botoun so bright of hewe. Betir me were have leten be; But it bihoved nedes me To don right as myn herte bad. For ever the body must be lad 1795 Aftir the herte; in wele and wo, Of force togidre they must go. But never this archer wolde fyne To shete at me with alle his pyne, And for to make me to him mete. 1800 The thridde arowe he gan to shete, Whan best his tyme he mighte espye, The which was named Curtesye; Into myn herte it dide avale. A-swone I fel, bothe deed and pale; 1805 Long tyme I lay, and stired nought, Til I abraid out of my thought. And faste than I avysed me To drawen out the shafte of tree; But ever the heed was left bihinde 1810 For ought I couthe pulle or winde. So sore it stikid whan I was hit, That by no craft I might it flit; But anguissous and ful of thought, I felte such wo, my wounde ay wrought, 1815 That somoned me alway to go Toward the rose, that plesed me so; But I ne durste in no manere, Bicause the archer was so nere. For evermore gladly, as I rede, 1820 Brent child of fyr hath muche drede. And, certis yit, for al my peyne, Though that I sigh yit arwis reyne, And grounde quarels sharpe of stele, Ne for no payne that I might fele, 1825 Yit might I not my-silf withholde The faire roser to biholde; For Love me yaf sich hardement For to fulfille his comaundement. Upon my feet I roos up than 1830 Feble, as a forwoundid man; And forth to gon [my] might I sette, And for the archer nolde I lette. Toward the roser fast I drow; But thornes sharpe mo than y-now 1835 Ther were, and also thistels thikke, And breres, brimme for to prikke, That I ne mighte gete grace The rowe thornes for to passe, To sene the roses fresshe of hewe. 1840 I must abide, though it me rewe, The hegge aboute so thikke was, That closid the roses in compas. But o thing lyked me right wele; I was so nygh, I mighte fele 1845 Of the botoun the swote odour, And also see the fresshe colour; And that right gretly lyked me, That I so neer it mighte see. Sich Ioye anoon therof hadde I, 1850 That I forgat my malady. To sene [it] hadde I sich delyt, Of sorwe and angre I was al quit, And of my woundes that I had thar; For no-thing lyken me might mar 1855 Than dwellen by the roser ay, And thennes never to passe away. But whan a whyle I had be thar, The God of Love, which al to-shar Myn herte with his arwis kene, 1860 Caste him to yeve me woundis grene. He shet at me ful hastily An arwe named Company, The whiche takel is ful able To make these ladies merciable. 1865 Than I anoon gan chaungen hewe For grevaunce of my wounde newe, That I agayn fel in swoning, And sighed sore in compleyning. Sore I compleyned that my sore 1870 On me gan greven more and more. I had non hope of allegeaunce; So nigh I drow to desperaunce, I rought of dethe ne of lyf, Whither that love wolde me dryf. 1875 If me a martir wolde he make, I might his power nought forsake. And whyl for anger thus I wook, The God of Love an arowe took; Ful sharp it was and [ful] pugnaunt, 1880 And it was callid Fair-Semblaunt, The which in no wys wol consente, That any lover him repente To serve his love with herte and alle, For any peril that may bifalle. 1885 But though this arwe was kene grounde As any rasour that is founde, To cutte and kerve, at the poynt, The God of Love it hadde anoynt With a precious oynement, 1890 Somdel to yeve aleggement Upon the woundes that he had Through the body in my herte maad, To helpe hir sores, and to cure, And that they may the bet endure. 1895 But yit this arwe, withoute more, Made in myn herte a large sore, That in ful gret peyne I abood. But ay the oynement wente abrood; Throughout my woundes large and wyde 1900 It spredde aboute in every syde; Through whos vertu and whos might Myn herte Ioyful was and light. I had ben deed and al to-shent But for the precious oynement. 1905 The shaft I drow out of the arwe, Roking for wo right wondir narwe; But the heed, which made me smerte, Lefte bihinde in myn herte With other foure, I dar wel say, 1910 That never wol be take away; But the oynement halp me wele. And yit sich sorwe dide I fele, That al-day I chaunged hewe, Of my woundes fresshe and newe, 1915 As men might see in my visage. The arwis were so fulle of rage, So variaunt of diversitee, That men in everich mighte see Bothe gret anoy and eek swetnesse, 1920 And Ioye meynt with bittirnesse. Now were they esy, now were they wood, In hem I felte bothe harm and good; Now sore without aleggement, Now softening with oynement; 1925 It softned here, and prikked there, Thus ese and anger togider were. The God of Love deliverly Com lepand to me hastily, And seide to me, in gret rape, 1930 'Yeld thee, for thou may not escape! May no defence availe thee here; Therfore I rede mak no daungere. If thou wolt yelde thee hastily, Thou shalt [the] rather have mercy. 1935 He is a fool in sikernesse, That with daunger or stoutnesse Rebellith ther that he shulde plese; In such folye is litel ese. Be meek, wher thou must nedis bowe; 1940 To stryve ageyn is nought thy prowe. Come at ones, and have y-do, For I wol that it be so. Than yeld thee here debonairly.' And I answerid ful humbly, 1945 'Gladly, sir; at your bidding, I wol me yelde in alle thing. To your servyse I wol me take; For god defende that I shulde make Ageyn your bidding resistence; 1950 I wol not doon so gret offence; For if I dide, it were no skile. Ye may do with me what ye wile, Save or spille, and also sloo; Fro you in no wyse may I go. 1955 My lyf, my deth, is in your honde, I may not laste out of your bonde. Pleyn at your list I yelde me, Hoping in herte, that sumtyme ye Comfort and ese shulle me sende; 1960 Or ellis shortly, this is the ende, Withouten helthe I moot ay dure, But-if ye take me to your cure. Comfort or helthe how shuld I have, Sith ye me hurte, but ye me save? 1965 The helthe of lovers moot be founde Wher-as they token firste hir wounde. And if ye list of me to make Your prisoner, I wol it take Of herte and wil, fully at gree. 1970 Hoolly and pleyn I yelde me, Withoute feyning or feyntyse, To be governed by your empryse. Of you I here so much prys, I wol ben hool at your devys 1975 For to fulfille your lyking And repente for no-thing, Hoping to have yit in som tyde Mercy, of that [that] I abyde.' And with that covenaunt yeld I me, 1980 Anoon doun kneling upon my knee, Profering for to kisse his feet; But for no-thing he wolde me lete, And seide, 'I love thee bothe and preyse, Sen that thyn answer doth me ese, 1985 For thou answerid so curteisly. For now I wot wel uttirly, That thou art gentil, by thy speche. For though a man fer wolde seche, He shulde not finden, in certeyn, 1990 No sich answer of no vileyn; For sich a word ne mighte nought Isse out of a vilayns thought. Thou shalt not lesen of thy speche, For [to] thy helping wol I eche, 1995 And eek encresen that I may. But first I wol that thou obay Fully, for thyn avauntage, Anon to do me here homage. And sithen kisse thou shalt my mouth, 2000 Which to no vilayn was never couth For to aproche it, ne for to touche; For sauf of cherlis I ne vouche That they shulle never neigh it nere. For curteys, and of fair manere, 2005 Wel taught, and ful of gentilnesse He muste ben, that shal me kisse, And also of ful high fraunchyse, That shal atteyne to that empryse. And first of o thing warne I thee, 2010 That peyne and gret adversitee He mot endure, and eek travaile, That shal me serve, withoute faile. But ther-ageyns, thee to comforte, And with thy servise to desporte, 2015 Thou mayst ful glad and Ioyful be So good a maister to have as me, And lord of so high renoun. I bere of Love the gonfanoun, Of Curtesye the banere; 2020 For I am of the silf manere, Gentil, curteys, meek and free; That who [so] ever ententif be Me to honoure, doute, and serve, And also that he him observe 2025 Fro trespas and fro vilanye, And him governe in curtesye With wil and with entencioun; For whan he first in my prisoun Is caught, than muste he uttirly, 2030 Fro thennes-forth ful bisily, Caste him gentil for to be, If he desyre helpe of me.' Anoon withouten more delay, Withouten daunger or affray, 2035 I bicom his man anoon, And gave him thankes many a oon, And kneled doun with hondis Ioynt, And made it in my port ful queynt; The Ioye wente to myn herte rote. 2040 Whan I had kissed his mouth so swote, I had sich mirthe and sich lyking, It cured me of languisshing. He askid of me than hostages:— I have,' he seide, 'taken fele homages 2045 Of oon and other, where I have been Disceyved ofte, withouten wene. These felouns, fulle of falsitee, Have many sythes bigyled me, And through falshede hir lust acheved, 2050 Wherof I repente and am agreved. And I hem gete in my daungere, Hir falshed shulie they bye ful dere. But for I love thee, I seye thee pleyn, I wol of thee be more certeyn; 2055 For thee so sore I wol now binde, That thou away ne shalt not winde For to denyen the covenaunt, Or doon that is not avenaunt. That thou were fals it were gret reuthe, 2060 Sith thou semest so ful of treuthe.' 'Sire, if thee list to undirstande, I merveile thee asking this demande. For-why or wherfore shulde ye Ostages or borwis aske of me, 2065 Or any other sikirnesse, Sith ye wote, in sothfastnesse, That ye have me surprysed so, And hool myn herte taken me fro, That it wol do for me no-thing 2070 But-if it be at your bidding? Myn herte is yours, and myn right nought, As it bihoveth, in dede and thought, Redy in alle to worche your wille, Whether so [it] turne to good or ille. 2075 So sore it lustith you to plese, No man therof may you disseise. Ye have theron set sich Iustise, That it is werreyd in many wise. And if ye doute it nolde obeye, 2080 Ye may therof do make a keye, And holde it with you for ostage.' Now certis, this is noon outrage,' Quoth Love, 'and fully I accord; For of the body he is ful lord 2085 That hath the herte in his tresor; Outrage it were to asken more.' Than of his aumener he drough A litel keye, fetys y-nough, Which was of gold polisshed clere, 2090 And seide to me, 'With this keye here Thyn herte to me now wol I shette; For al my Iowellis loke and knette I binde under this litel keye, That no wight may carye aweye; 2095 This keye is ful of gret poeste.' With which anoon he touchid me Undir the syde ful softely, That he myn herte sodeynly Without [al] anoy had spered, 2100 That yit right nought it hath me dered. Whan he had doon his wil al-out, And I had put him out of dout, Sire,' I seide, 'I have right gret wille Your lust and plesaunce to fulfille. 2105 Loke ye my servise take at gree, By thilke feith ye owe to me. I seye nought for recreaundyse, For I nought doute of your servyse. But the servaunt traveileth in vayne, 2110 That for to serven doth his payne Unto that lord, which in no wyse Can him no thank for his servyse.' Love seide, 'Dismaye thee nought, Sin thou for sucour hast me sought, 2115 In thank thy servise wol I take, And high of degree I wol thee make, If wikkidnesse ne hindre thee; But, as I hope, it shal nought be. To worship no wight by aventure 2120 May come, but-if he peyne endure. Abyde and suffre thy distresse; That hurtith now, it shal be lesse; I wot my-silf what may thee save, What medicyne thou woldist have. 2125 And if thy trouthe to me thou kepe, I shal unto thyn helping eke, To cure thy woundes and make hem clene, Wher-so they be olde or grene; Thou shalt be holpen, at wordis fewe. 2130 For certeynly thou shalt wel shewe Wher that thou servest with good wille, For to complisshen and fulfille My comaundementis, day and night, Whiche I to lovers yeve of right.' 2135 'Ah, sire, for goddis love,' seide I, Er ye passe hens, ententifly Your comaundementis to me ye say, And I shal kepe hem, if I may; For hem to kepen is al my thought. 2140 And if so be I wot hem nought, Than may I [sinne] unwitingly. Wherfore I pray you enterely, With al myn herte, me to lere, That I trespasse in no manere.' 2145 The god of love than chargid me Anoon, as ye shal here and see, Word by word, by right empryse, So as the Romance shal devyse. The maister lesith his tyme to lere, 2150 Whan the disciple wol not here. It is but veyn on him to swinke, That on his lerning wol not thinke. Who-so lust love, let him entende, For now the Romance ginneth amende. 2155 Now is good to here, in fay, If any be that can it say, And poynte it as the resoun is Set; for other-gate, y-wis, It shal nought wel in alle thing 2160 Be brought to good undirstonding: For a reder that poyntith ille A good sentence may ofte spille. The book is good at the ending, Maad of newe and lusty thing; 2165 For who-so wol the ending here, The crafte of love he shal now lere, If that he wol so long abyde, Til I this Romance may unhyde, And undo the signifiaunce 2170 Of this dreme into Romaunce. The sothfastnesse that now is hid, Without coverture shal be kid, Whan I undon have this dreming, Wherin no word is of lesing. 2175 'Vilany, at the biginning, I wol,' sayd Love, 'over alle thing, Thou leve, if thou wolt [not] be Fals, and trespasse ageynes me. I curse and blame generally 2180 Alle hem that loven vilany; For vilany makith vilayn, And by his dedis a cherle is seyn. Thise vilayns arn without pitee, Frendshipe, love, and al bounte. 2185 I nil receyve to my servyse Hem that ben vilayns of empryse. 'But undirstonde in thyn entent, That this is not myn entendement, To clepe no wight in no ages 2190 Only gentil for his linages. But who-so [that] is vertuous, And in his port nought outrageous, Whan sich oon thou seest thee biforn, Though he be not gentil born, 2195 Thou mayst wel seyn, this is a soth, That he is gentil, bicause he doth As longeth to a gentilman; Of hem non other deme I can. For certeynly, withouten drede, 2200 A cherl is demed by his dede, Of hye or lowe, as ye may see, Or of what kinrede that he be. Ne say nought, for noon yvel wille, Thing that is to holden stille; 2205 It is no worship to misseye. Thou mayst ensample take of Keye, That was somtyme, for misseying, Hated bothe of olde and ying; As fer as Gaweyn, the worthy, 2210 Was preysed for his curtesy, Keye was hated, for he was fel, Of word dispitous and cruel. Wherfore be wyse and aqueyntable, Goodly of word, and resonable 2215 Bothe to lesse and eek to mar. And whan thou comest ther men ar, Loke that thou have in custom ay First to salue hem, if thou may: And if it falle, that of hem som 2220 Salue thee first, be not dom, But quyte him curteisly anoon Without abiding, er they goon. 'For no-thing eek thy tunge applye To speke wordis of ribaudye. 2225 To vilayn speche in no degree Lat never thy lippe unbounden be. For I nought holde him, in good feith, Curteys, that foule wordis seith. And alle wimmen serve and preyse, 2230 And to thy power hir honour reyse. And if that any missayere Dispyse wimmen, that thou mayst here, Blame him, and bidde him holde him stille. And set thy might and al thy wille 2235 Wimmen and ladies for to plese, And to do thing that may hem ese, That they ever speke good of thee, For so thou mayst best preysed be. 'Loke fro pryde thou kepe thee wele; 2240 For thou mayst bothe perceyve and fele, That pryde is bothe foly and sinne; And he that pryde hath, him withinne, Ne may his herte, in no wyse, Meken ne souplen to servyse. 2245 For pryde is founde, in every part, Contrarie unto Loves art. And he that loveth trewely Shulde him contene Iolily, Withouten pryde in sondry wyse, 2250 And him disgysen in queyntyse. For queynt array, withouten drede, Is no-thing proud, who takith hede; For fresh array, as men may see, Withouten pryde may ofte be. 2255 'Mayntene thy-silf aftir thy rent, Of robe and eek of garnement; For many sythe fair clothing A man amendith in mich thing. And loke alwey that they be shape, 2260 What garnement that thou shalt make, Of him that can [hem] beste do, With al that perteyneth therto. Poyntis and sleves be wel sittand, Right and streight upon the hand. 2265 Of shoon and botes, newe and faire, Loke at the leest thou have a paire; And that they sitte so fetisly, That these rude may uttirly Merveyle, sith that they sitte so pleyn, 2270 How they come on or of ageyn. Were streite gloves, with aumenere Of silk; and alwey with good chere Thou yeve, if thou have richesse; And if thou have nought, spend the lesse. 2275 Alwey be mery, if thou may, But waste not thy good alway. Have hat of floures fresh as May, Chapelet of roses of Whitsonday; For sich array ne cost but lyte. 2280 Thyn hondis wasshe, thy teeth make whyte, And let no filthe upon thee be. Thy nailes blak if thou mayst see, Voide it awey deliverly, And kembe thyn heed right Iolily. 2285 [Fard] not thy visage in no wyse, For that of love is not thempryse; For love doth haten, as I finde, A beaute that cometh not of kinde. Alwey in herte I rede thee 2290 Glad and mery for to be, And be as Ioyful as thou can; Love hath no Ioye of sorowful man. That yvel is ful of curtesye That [lauhwith] in his maladye; 2295 For ever of love the siknesse Is meynd with swete and bitternesse. The sore of love is merveilous; For now the lover [is] Ioyous, Now can he pleyne, now can he grone, 2300 Now can he singen, now maken mone. To-day he pleyneth for hevinesse, To-morowe he pleyeth for Iolynesse. The lyf of love is ful contrarie, Which stoundemele can ofte varie. 2305 But if thou canst [som] mirthis make, That men in gree wole gladly take, Do it goodly, I comaunde thee; For men sholde, wher-so-ever they be, Do thing that hem [best] sitting is, 2310 For therof cometh good loos and pris. Wher-of that thou be vertuous, Ne be not straunge ne daungerous. For if that thou good rider be, Prike gladly, that men may se. 2315 In armes also if thou conne, Pursue, til thou a name hast wonne. And if thy voice be fair and clere, Thou shalt maken no gret daungere Whan to singe they goodly preye; 2320 It is thy worship for to obeye. Also to you it longith ay To harpe and giterne, daunce and play; For if he can wel foote and daunce, It may him greetly do avaunce. 2325 Among eek, for thy lady sake, Songes and complayntes that thou make; For that wol meve [hem] in hir herte, Whan they reden of thy smerte. Loke that no man for scarce thee holde, 2330 For that may greve thee manyfolde. Resoun wol that a lover be In his yiftes more large and free Than cherles that been not of loving. For who ther-of can any thing, 2335 He shal be leef ay for to yeve, In [Loves] lore who so wolde leve; For he that, through a sodeyn sight, Or for a kissing, anon-right Yaf hool his herte in wille and thought, 2340 And to him-silf kepith right nought, Aftir [swich yift], is good resoun, He yeve his good in abandoun. 'Now wol I shortly here reherce, Of that [that] I have seid in verse, 2345 Al the sentence by and by, In wordis fewe compendiously, That thou the bet mayst on hem thinke, Whether-so it be thou wake or winke; For [that] the wordis litel greve 2350 A man to kepe, whanne it is breve. 'Who-so with Love wol goon or ryde He mot be curteys, and void of pryde, Mery and fulle of Iolite, And of largesse alosed be. 2355 'First I Ioyne thee, here in penaunce, That ever, withoute repentaunce, Thou set thy thought in thy loving, To laste withoute repenting; And thenke upon thy mirthis swete, 2360 That shal folowe aftir whan ye mete. 'And for thou trewe to love shalt be, I wol, and [eek] comaunde thee, That in oo place thou sette, al hool, Thyn herte, withouten halfen dool, 2365 For trecherie, [in] sikernesse; For I lovede never doublenesse. To many his herte that wol depart, Everiche shal have but litel part. But of him drede I me right nought, 2370 That in oo place settith his thought. Therfore in oo place it sette, And lat it never thennes flette. For if thou yevest it in lening, I holde it but a wrecchid thing: 2375 Therfore yeve it hool and quyte, And thou shalt have the more merite. If it be lent, than aftir soon, The bountee and the thank is doon; But, in love, free yeven thing 2380 Requyrith a gret guerdoning. Yeve it in yift al quit fully, And make thy yift debonairly; For men that yift [wol] holde more dere That yeven is with gladsome chere. 2385 That yift nought to preisen is That man yeveth, maugre his. Whan thou hast yeven thyn herte, as I Have seid thee here [al] openly, Than aventures shulle thee falle, 2390 Which harde and hevy been withalle. For ofte whan thou bithenkist thee Of thy loving, wher-so thou be, Fro folk thou must depart in hy, That noon perceyve thy malady, 2395 But hyde thyn harm thou must alone, And go forth sole, and make thy mone. Thou shalt no whyl be in oo stat, But whylom cold and whylom hat; Now reed as rose, now yelowe and fade. 2400 Such sorowe, I trowe, thou never hade; Cotidien, ne [yit] quarteyne, It is nat so ful of peyne. For ofte tymes it shal falle In love, among thy peynes alle, 2405 That thou thy-self, al hoolly, Foryeten shalt so utterly, That many tymes thou shalt be Stille as an image of tree, Dom as a stoon, without stering 2410 Of foot or hond, without speking. Than, sone after al thy peyne, To memorie shalt thou come ageyn, As man abasshed wondre sore, And after sighen more and more. 2415 For wit thou wel, withouten wene, In swich astat ful oft have been That have the yvel of love assayd, Wher-through thou art so dismayd. 'After, a thought shal take thee so, 2420 That thy love is to fer thee fro: Thou shalt say, "God, what may this be, That I ne may my lady see? Myne herte aloon is to her go, And I abyde al sole in wo, 2425 Departed fro myn owne thought, And with myne eyen see right nought. '"Alas, myn eyen sende I ne may, My careful herte to convay! Myn hertes gyde but they be, 2430 I praise no-thing what ever they see. Shul they abyde thanne? nay; But goon visyte without delay That myn herte desyreth so. For certeynly, but-if they go, 2435 A fool my-self I may wel holde, Whan I ne see what myn herte wolde. Wherfore I wol gon her to seen, Or esed shal I never been, But I have som tokening." 2440 Then gost thou forth without dwelling; But ofte thou faylest of thy desyre, Er thou mayst come hir any nere, And wastest in vayn thy passage. Than fallest thou in a newe rage; 2445 For want of sight thou ginnest morne, And homward pensif dost retorne. In greet mischeef than shall thou be, For than agayn shal come to thee Sighes and pleyntes, with newe wo, 2450 That no icching prikketh so. Who wot it nought, he may go lere Of hem that byen love so dere. 'No-thing thyn herte appesen may, That oft thou wolt goon and assay, 2455 If thou mayst seen, by aventure, Thy lyves joy, thyn hertis cure; So that, by grace if thou might Atteyne of hir to have a sight, Than shall thou doon non other dede 2460 But with that sight thyn eyen fede. That faire fresh whan thou mayst see, Thyn herte shal so ravisshed be, That never thou woldest, thy thankis, lete, Ne remove, for to see that swete. 2465 The more thou seest in sothfastnesse, The more thou coveytest of that swetnesse; The more thyn herte brenneth in fyr, The more thyn herte is in desyr. For who considreth every del, 2470 It may be lykned wondir wel, The peyne of love, unto a fere; For ever [the] more thou neighest nere Thought, or who-so that it be, For verray sothe I telle it thee, 2475 The hatter ever shal thou brenne, As experience shal thee kenne. Wher-so [thou] comest in any cost, Who is next fyr, he brenneth most. And yit forsothe, for al thyn hete, 2480 Though thou for love swelte and swete, Ne for no-thing thou felen may, Thou shalt not willen to passe away. And though thou go, yet must thee nede Thenke al-day on hir fairhede, 2485 Whom thou bihelde with so good wille; And holde thysilf bigyled ille, That thou ne haddest non hardement To shewe hir ought of thyn entent. Thyn herte ful sore thou wolt dispyse, 2490 And eek repreve of cowardyse, That thou, so dulle in every thing, Were dom for drede, without speking. Thou shalt eek thenke thou didest foly, That thou were hir so faste by, 2495 And durst not auntre thee to say Som-thing, er thou cam away; For thou haddist no more wonne, To speke of hir whan thou bigonne: But yif she wolde, for thy sake, 2500 In armes goodly thee have take, It shulde have be more worth to thee Than of tresour greet plentee. 'Thus shalt thou morne and eek compleyn, And gete enchesoun to goon ageyn 2505 Unto thy walk, or to thy place, Where thou biheld hir fleshly face. And never, for fals suspeccioun, Thou woldest finde occasioun For to gon unto hir hous. 2510 So art thou thanne desirous A sight of hir for to have, If thou thine honour mightest save, Or any erand mightist make Thider, for thy loves sake; 2515 Ful fayn thou woldist, but for drede Thou gost not, lest that men take hede. Wherfore I rede, in thy going, And also in thyn ageyn-coming, Thou be wel war that men ne wit; 2520 Feyne thee other cause than it To go that weye, or faste by; To hele wel is no folye. And if so be it happe thee That thou thy love ther mayst see, 2525 In siker wyse thou hir salewe, Wherwith thy colour wol transmewe, And eke thy blood shal al to-quake, Thyn hewe eek chaungen for hir sake. But word and wit, with chere ful pale, 2530 Shul wante for to telle thy tale. And if thou mayst so fer-forth winne, That thou [thy] resoun durst biginne, And woldist seyn three thingis or mo, Thou shalt ful scarsly seyn the two. 2535 Though thou bithenke thee never so wel, Thou shalt foryete yit somdel, But-if thou dele with trecherye. For fals lovers mowe al folye Seyn, what hem lust, withouten drede, 2540 They be so double in hir falshede; For they in herte cunne thenke a thing And seyn another, in hir speking. And whan thy speche is endid al, Right thus to thee it shal bifal; 2545 If any word than come to minde, That thou to seye hast left bihinde, Than thou shalt brenne in greet martyr; For thou shalt brenne as any fyr. This is the stryf and eke the affray, 2550 And the batail that lastith ay. This bargeyn ende may never take, But-if that she thy pees wil make. 'And whan the night is comen, anon A thousand angres shal come upon. 2555 To bedde as fast thou wolt thee dight, Where thou shalt have but smal delyt; For whan thou wenest for to slepe, So ful of peyne shalt thou crepe, Sterte in thy bedde aboute ful wyde, 2560 And turne ful ofte on every syde; Now dounward groffe, and now upright, And walowe in wo the longe night, Thyne armis shalt thou sprede a-brede, As man in werre were forwerreyd. 2565 Than shal thee come a remembraunce Of hir shape and hir semblaunce, Wherto non other may be pere. And wite thou wel, withoute were, That thee shal [seme], somtyme that night, 2570 That thou hast hir, that is so bright, Naked bitwene thyn armes there, Al sothfastnesse as though it were. Thou shalt make castels than in Spayne, And dreme of Ioye, al but in vayne, 2575 And thee delyten of right nought, Whyl thou so slomrest in that thought, That is so swete and delitable, The which, in soth, nis but a fable, For it ne shal no whyle laste. 2580 Than shalt thou sighe and wepe faste, And say, "Dere god, what thing is this? My dreme is turned al amis, Which was ful swete and apparent, But now I wake, it is al shent! 2585 Now yede this mery thought away! Twenty tymes upon a day I wolde this thought wolde come ageyn, For it alleggith wel my peyn. It makith me ful of Ioyful thought, 2590 It sleeth me, that it lastith noght. A, lord! why nil ye me socoure, The Ioye, I trowe, that I langoure? The deth I wolde me shulde slo Whyl I lye in hir armes two. 2595 Myn harm is hard, withouten wene, My greet unese ful ofte I mene. But wolde Love do so I might Have fully Ioye of hir so bright, My peyne were quit me richely. 2600 Allas, to greet a thing aske I! It is but foly, and wrong wening, To aske so outrageous a thing. And who-so askith folily, He moot be warned hastily; 2605 And I ne wot what I may say, I am so fer out of the way; For I wolde have ful gret lyking And ful gret Ioye of lasse thing. For wolde she, of hir gentilnesse, 2610 Withouten more, me onis kesse, It were to me a greet guerdoun, Relees of al my passioun. But it is hard to come therto; Al is but foly that I do, 2615 So high I have myn herte set, Where I may no comfort get. I noot wher I sey wel or nought; But this I wot wel in my thought, That it were bet of hir aloon, 2620 For to stinte my wo and moon, A loke on [me] y-cast goodly, [Than] for to have, al utterly, Of another al hool the pley. A! lord! wher I shal byde the day 2625 That ever she shal my lady be? He is ful cured that may hir see. A! god! whan shal the dawning spring? To ly thus is an angry thing; I have no Ioye thus here to ly 2630 Whan that my love is not me by. A man to lyen hath gret disese, Which may not slepe ne reste in ese. I wolde it dawed, and were now day, And that the night were went away; 2635 For were it day, I wolde upryse. A! slowe sonne, shew thyn enpryse! Speed thee to sprede thy bemis bright, And chace the derknesse of the night, To putte away the stoundes stronge, 2640 Which in me lasten al to longe." 'The night shalt thou contene so, Withoute rest, in peyne and wo; If ever thou knewe of love distresse, Thou shalt mowe lerne in that siknesse. 2645 And thus enduring shalt thou ly, And ryse on morwe up erly Out of thy bedde, and harneys thee Er ever dawning thou mayst see. Al privily than shalt thou goon, 2650 What [weder] it be, thy-silf aloon, For reyn, or hayl, for snow, for slete, Thider she dwellith that is so swete, The which may falle aslepe be, And thenkith but litel upon thee. 2655 Than shalt thou goon, ful foule aferd; Loke if the gate be unsperd, And waite without in wo and peyn, Ful yvel a-cold in winde and reyn. Than shal thou go the dore bifore, 2660 If thou maist fynde any score, Or hole, or reft, what ever it were; Than shalt thou stoupe, and lay to ere, If they within a-slepe be; I mene, alle save thy lady free. 2665 Whom waking if thou mayst aspye, Go put thy-silf in Iupartye, To aske grace, and thee bimene, That she may wite, withouten wene, That thou [a]night no rest hast had, 2670 So sore for hir thou were bistad. Wommen wel ought pite to take Of hem that sorwen for hir sake. And loke, for love of that relyke, That thou thenke non other lyke, 2675 For [whom] thou hast so greet annoy, Shal kisse thee er thou go away, And hold that in ful gret deyntee. And, for that no man shal thee see Bifore the hous, ne in the way, 2680 Loke thou be goon ageyn er day. Suche coming, and such going, Such hevinesse, and such walking, Makith lovers, withouten wene, Under hir clothes pale and lene, 2685 For Love leveth colour ne cleernesse; Who loveth trewe hath no fatnesse. Thou shalt wel by thy-selfe see That thou must nedis assayed be. For men that shape hem other wey 2690 Falsly her ladies to bitray, It is no wonder though they be fat; With false othes hir loves they gat; For oft I see suche losengeours Fatter than abbatis or priours. 2695 'Yet with o thing I thee charge, That is to seye, that thou be large Unto the mayd that hir doth serve, So best hir thank thou shalt deserve. Yeve hir yiftes, and get hir grace, 2700 For so thou may [hir] thank purchace, That she thee worthy holde and free, Thy lady, and alle that may thee see. Also hir servauntes worshipe ay, And plese as muche as thou may; 2705 Gret good through hem may come to thee, Bicause with hir they been prive. They shal hir telle how they thee fand Curteis and wys, and wel doand, And she shal preyse [thee] wel the mare. 2710 Loke out of londe thou be not fare; And if such cause thou have, that thee Bihoveth to gon out of contree, Leve hool thyn herte in hostage, Til thou ageyn make thy passage. 2715 Thenk long to see the swete thing That hath thyn herte in hir keping. 'Now have I told thee, in what wyse A lover shal do me servyse. Do it than, if thou wolt have 2720 The mede that thou aftir crave.' Whan Love al this had boden me, I seide him:—'Sire, how may it be That lovers may in such manere Endure the peyne ye have seid here? 2725 I merveyle me wonder faste, How any man may live or laste In such peyne, and such brenning, In sorwe and thought, and such sighing, Ay unrelesed wo to make, 2730 Whether so it be they slepe or wake. In such annoy continuely, As helpe me god, this merveile I, How man, but he were maad of stele, Might live a month, such peynes to fele.' 2735 The God of Love than seide me, Freend, by the feith I owe to thee, May no man have good, but he it by. A man loveth more tendirly The thing that he hath bought most dere. 2740 For wite thou wel, withouten were, In thank that thing is taken more, For which a man hath suffred sore. Certis, no wo ne may atteyne Unto the sore of loves peyne. 2745 Non yvel therto ne may amounte, No more than a man [may] counte The dropes that of the water be. For drye as wel the grete see Thou mightist, as the harmes telle 2750 Of hem that with Love dwelle In servyse; for peyne hem sleeth, And that ech man wolde flee the deeth, And trowe they shulde never escape, Nere that hope couthe hem make 2755 Glad as man in prisoun set, And may not geten for to et But barly-breed, and watir pure, And lyeth in vermin and in ordure; With alle this, yit can he live, 2760 Good hope such comfort hath him yive, Which maketh wene that he shal be Delivered and come to liberte; In fortune is [his] fulle trust. Though he lye in strawe or dust, 2765 In hope is al his susteyning. And so for lovers, in hir wening, Whiche Love hath shit in his prisoun; Good-Hope is hir salvacioun. Good-Hope, how sore that they smerte, 2770 Yeveth hem bothe wille and herte To profre hir body to martyre; For Hope so sore doth hem desyre To suffre ech harm that men devyse, For Ioye that aftir shal aryse. 2775 Hope, in desire [to] cacche victorie; In Hope, of love is al the glorie, For Hope is al that love may yive; Nere Hope, ther shulde no lover live. Blessid be Hope, which with desyre 2780 Avaunceth lovers in such manere. Good-Hope is curteis for to plese, To kepe lovers from al disese. Hope kepith his lond, and wol abyde, For any peril that may betyde; 2785 For Hope to lovers, as most cheef, Doth hem enduren al mischeef; Hope is her help, whan mister is. And I shal yeve thee eek, y-wis, Three other thingis, that greet solas 2790 Doth to hem that be in my las. 'The firste good that may be founde, To hem that in my lace be bounde, Is Swete-Thought, for to recorde Thing wherwith thou canst accorde 2795 Best in thyn herte, wher she be; Thought in absence is good to thee. Whan any lover doth compleyne, And liveth in distresse and peyne, Than Swete-Thought shal come, as blyve, 2800 Awey his angre for to dryve. It makith lovers have remembraunce Of comfort, and of high plesaunce, That Hope hath hight him for to winne. For Thought anoon than shal biginne, 2805 As fer, god wot, as he can finde, To make a mirrour of his minde; For to biholde he wol not lette. Hir person he shal afore him sette, Hir laughing eyen, persaunt and clere, 2810 Hir shape, hir fourme, hir goodly chere, Hir mouth that is so gracious, So swete, and eek so saverous; Of alle hir fetures he shal take heede, His eyen with alle hir limes fede. 2815 'Thus Swete-Thenking shal aswage The peyne of lovers, and hir rage. Thy Ioye shal double, withoute gesse, Whan thou thenkist on hir semlinesse, Or of hir laughing, or of hir chere, 2820 That to thee made thy lady dere. This comfort wol I that thou take; And if the next thou wolt forsake Which is not lesse saverous, Thou shuldist been to daungerous. 2825 'The secounde shal be Swete-Speche, That hath to many oon be leche, To bringe hem out of wo and were, And helpe many a bachilere; And many a lady sent socoure, 2830 That have loved par-amour, Through speking, whan they mighten here Of hir lovers, to hem so dere. To [hem] it voidith al hir smerte, The which is closed in hir herte. 2835 In herte it makith hem glad and light, Speche, whan they mowe have sight. And therfore now it cometh to minde, In olde dawes, as I finde, That clerkis writen that hir knewe 2840 Ther was a lady fresh of hewe, Which of hir love made a song On him for to remembre among, In which she seide, "Whan that I here Speken of him that is so dere, 2845 To me it voidith al [my] smerte, Y-wis, he sit so nere myn herte. To speke of him, at eve or morwe, It cureth me of al my sorwe. To me is noon so high plesaunce 2850 As of his persone daliaunce." She wist ful wel that Swete-Speking Comfortith in ful muche thing. Hir love she had ful wel assayed, Of him she was ful wel apayed; 2855 To speke of him hir Ioye was set. Therfore I rede thee that thou get A felowe that can wel concele And kepe thy counsel, and wel hele, To whom go shewe hoolly thyn herte, 2860 Bothe wele and wo, Ioye and smerte: To gete comfort to him thou go, And privily, bitween yow two, Ye shal speke of that goodly thing, That hath thyn herte in hir keping; 2865 Of hir beaute and hir semblaunce, And of hir goodly countenaunce. Of al thy state thou shalt him sey, And aske him counseil how thou may Do any thing that may hir plese; 2870 For it to thee shal do gret ese, That he may wite thou trust him so, Bothe of thy wele and of thy wo. And if his herte to love be set, His companye is muche the bet, 2875 For resoun wol, he shewe to thee Al uttirly his privite; And what she is he loveth so, To thee pleynly he shal undo, Withoute drede of any shame, 2880 Bothe telle hir renoun and hir name. Than shal he forther, ferre and nere, And namely to thy lady dere, In siker wyse; ye, every other Shal helpen as his owne brother, 2885 In trouthe withoute doublenesse, And kepen cloos in sikernesse. For it is noble thing, in fay, To have a man thou darst say Thy prive counsel every del; 2890 For that wol comfort thee right wel, And thou shall holde thee wel apayed, Whan such a freend thou hast assayed. 'The thridde good of greet comfort That yeveth to lovers most disport, 2895 Comith of sight and biholding, That clepid is Swete-Loking, The whiche may noon ese do, Whan thou art fer thy lady fro; Wherfore thou prese alwey to be 2900 In place, where thou mayst hir se. For it is thing most amerous, Most delitable and saverous, For to aswage a mannes sorowe, To sene his lady by the morowe. 2905 For it is a ful noble thing Whan thyn eyen have meting With that relyke precious, Wherof they be so desirous. But al day after, soth it is, 2910 They have no drede to faren amis, They dreden neither wind ne reyn, Ne [yit] non other maner peyn. For whan thyn eyen were thus in blis, Yit of hir curtesye, y-wis, 2915 Aloon they can not have hir Ioye, But to the herte they [it] convoye; Part of hir blis to him [they] sende, Of al this harm to make an ende. The eye is a good messangere, 2920 Which can to the herte in such manere Tidyngis sende, that [he] hath seen, To voide him of his peynes cleen. Wherof the herte reioyseth so That a gret party of his wo 2925 Is voided, and put awey to flight. Right as the derknesse of the night Is chased with clerenesse of the mone, Right so is al his wo ful sone Devoided clene, whan that the sight 2930 Biholden may that fresshe wight That the herte desyreth so, That al his derknesse is ago; For than the herte is al at ese, Whan they seen that [that] may hem plese. 2935 'Now have I thee declared alout, Of that thou were in drede and dout; For I have told thee feithfully What thee may curen utterly, And alle lovers that wole be 2940 Feithful, and ful of stabilite. Good-Hope alwey kepe by thy syde, And Swete-Thought make eek abyde, Swete-Loking and Swete-Speche; Of alle thyn harmes they shal be leche. 2945 Of every thou shalt have greet plesaunce; If thou canst byde in sufferaunce, And serve wel without feyntyse, Thou shalt be quit of thyn empryse, With more guerdoun, if that thou live; 2950 But al this tyme this I thee yive.' The God of Love whan al the day Had taught me, as ye have herd say, And enfourmed compendiously, He vanished awey al sodeynly, 2955 And I alone lefte, al sole, So ful of compleynt and of dole, For I saw no man ther me by. My woundes me greved wondirly; Me for to curen no-thing I knew, 2960 Save the botoun bright of hew, Wheron was set hoolly my thought; Of other comfort knew I nought, But it were through the God of Love; I knew nat elles to my bihove 2965 That might me ese or comfort gete, But-if he wolde him entermete. The roser was, withoute doute, Closed with an hegge withoute, As ye to-forn have herd me seyn; 2970 And fast I bisied, and wolde fayn Have passed the haye, if I might Have geten in by any slight Unto the botoun so fair to see. But ever I dradde blamed to be, 2975 If men wolde have suspeccioun That I wolde of entencioun Have stole the roses that ther were; Therfore to entre I was in fere. But at the last, as I bithought 2980 Whether I sholde passe or nought, I saw come with a gladde chere To me, a lusty bachelere, Of good stature, and of good hight, And Bialacoil forsothe he hight. 2985 Sone he was to Curtesy, And he me graunted ful gladly The passage of the outer hay, And seide:—'Sir, how that ye may Passe, if [it] your wille be, 2990 The fresshe roser for to see, And ye the swete savour fele. Your warrant may [I be] right wele; So thou thee kepe fro folye, Shal no man do thee vilanye. 2995 If I may helpe you in ought, I shal not feyne, dredeth nought; For I am bounde to your servyse, Fully devoide of feyntyse.' Than unto Bialacoil saide I, 3000 'I thank you, sir, ful hertely, And your biheest [I] take at gree, That ye so goodly prefer me; To you it cometh of greet fraunchyse, That ye me prefer your servyse.' 3005 Than aftir, ful deliverly, Through the breres anoon wente I, Wherof encombred was the hay. I was wel plesed, the soth to say, To see the botoun fair and swote, 3010 So fresshe spronge out of the rote. And Bialacoil me served wel, Whan I so nygh me mighte fele Of the botoun the swete odour, And so lusty hewed of colour. 3015 But than a cherl (foule him bityde!) Bisyde the roses gan him hyde, To kepe the roses of that roser, Of whom the name was Daunger. This cherl was hid there in the greves, 3020 Covered with grasse and with leves, To spye and take whom that he fond Unto that roser putte an hond. He was not sole, for ther was mo; For with him were other two 3025 Of wikkid maners, and yvel fame. That oon was clepid, by his name, Wikked-Tonge, god yeve him sorwe! For neither at eve, ne at morwe, He can of no man [no] good speke; 3030 On many a Iust man doth he wreke. Ther was a womman eek, that hight Shame, that, who can reken right, Trespas was hir fadir name, Hir moder Resoun; and thus was Shame 3035 [On lyve] brought of these ilk two. And yit had Trespas never ado With Resoun, ne never ley hir by, He was so hidous and ugly, I mene, this that Trespas hight; 3040 But Resoun conceyveth, of a sight, Shame, of that I spak aforn. And whan that Shame was thus born, It was ordeyned, that Chastitee Shulde of the roser lady be, 3045 Which, of the botouns more and las, With sondry folk assailed was, That she ne wiste what to do. For Venus hir assailith so, That night and day from hir she stal 3050 Botouns and roses over-al. To Resoun than prayeth Chastitee, Whom Venus flemed over the see, That she hir doughter wolde hir lene, To kepe the roser fresh and grene. 3055 Anoon Resoun to Chastitee Is fully assented that it be, And grauntid hir, at hir request, That Shame, bicause she is honest, Shal keper of the roser be. 3060 And thus to kepe it ther were three, That noon shulde hardy be ne bold (Were he yong, or were he old) Ageyn hir wille awey to bere Botouns ne roses, that ther were. 3065 I had wel sped, had I not been Awayted with these three, and seen. For Bialacoil, that was so fair, So gracious and debonair, Quitte him to me ful curteisly, 3070 And, me to plese, bad that I Shuld drawe me to the botoun nere; Prese in, to touche the rosere Which bar the roses, he yaf me leve; This graunt ne might but litel greve. 3075 And for he saw it lyked me, Right nygh the botoun pullede he A leef al grene, and yaf me that, The which ful nygh the botoun sat; I made [me] of that leef ful queynt. 3080 And whan I felte I was aqueynt With Bialacoil, and so prive, I wende al at my wille had be. Than wex I hardy for to tel To Bialacoil how me bifel 3085 Of Love, that took and wounded me, And seide: 'Sir, so mote I thee, I may no loye have in no wyse, Upon no syde, but it ryse; For sithe (if I shal not feyne) 3090 In herte I have had so gret peyne, So gret annoy, and such affray, That I ne wot what I shal say; I drede your wrath to disserve. Lever me were, that knyves kerve 3095 My body shulde in pecis smalle, Than in any wyse it shulde falle That ye wratthed shulde been with me.' Sey boldely thy wille,' quod he, I nil be wroth, if that I may, 3100 For nought that thou shalt to me say.' Thanne seide I, 'Sir, not you displese To knowen of my greet unese, In which only love hath me brought; For peynes greet, disese and thought, 3105 Fro day to day he doth me drye; Supposeth not, sir, that I lye. In me fyve woundes dide he make, The sore of whiche shal never slake But ye the botoun graunte me, 3110 Which is most passaunt of beautee, My lyf, my deth, and my martyre, And tresour that I most desyre.' Than Bialacoil, affrayed all, Seyde, 'Sir, it may not fall; 3115 That ye desire, it may not ryse. What? wolde ye shende me in this wyse? A mochel foole than I were, If I suffrid you awey to bere The fresh botoun, so fair of sight. 3120 For it were neither skile ne right Of the roser ye broke the rind, Or take the rose aforn his kind; Ye ar not courteys to aske it. Lat it stil on the roser sit, 3125 And growe til it amended be, And parfitly come to beaute. I nolde not that it pulled wer Fro the roser that it ber, To me it is so leef and dere.' 3130 With that sterte out anoon Daungere, Out of the place where he was hid. His malice in his chere was kid; Ful greet he was, and blak of hewe, Sturdy and hidous, who-so him knewe; 3135 Like sharp urchouns his here was growe, His eyes rede as the fire-glow; His nose frounced ful kirked stood, He com criand as he were wood, And seide, 'Bialacoil, tel me why 3140 Thou bringest hider so boldly Him that so nygh [is] the roser? Thou worchist in a wrong maner; He thenkith to dishonour thee, Thou art wel worthy to have maugree 3145 To late him of the roser wit; Who serveth a feloun is yvel quit. Thou woldist have doon greet bountee, And he with shame wolde quyte thee. Flee hennes, felowe! I rede thee go! 3150 It wanteth litel I wol thee slo; For Bialacoil ne knew thee nought, Whan thee to serve he sette his thought; For thou wolt shame him, if thou might, Bothe ageyn resoun and right. 3155 I wol no more in thee affye, That comest so slyghly for tespye; For it preveth wonder wel, Thy slight and tresoun every del.' I durst no more ther make abode, 3160 For the cherl, he was so wode; So gan he threten and manace, And thurgh the haye he did me chace. For feer of him I tremblid and quook, So cherlishly his heed he shook; 3165 And seide, if eft he might me take, I shulde not from his hondis scape. Than Bialacoil is fled and mate, And I al sole, disconsolate, Was left aloon in peyne and thought; 3170 For shame, to deth I was nygh brought. Than thought I on myn high foly, How that my body, utterly, Was yeve to peyne and to martyre; And therto hadde I so gret yre, 3175 That I ne durst the hayes passe; There was non hope, there was no grace. I trowe never man wiste of peyne, But he were laced in Loves cheyne; Ne no man [wot], and sooth it is, 3180 But-if he love, what anger is. Love holdith his heest to me right wele, Whan peyne he seide I shulde fele. Non herte may thenke, ne tunge seyne, A quarter of my wo and peyne. 3185 I might not with the anger laste; Myn herte in poynt was for to braste, Whan I thought on the rose, that so Was through Daunger cast me froo. A long whyl stood I in that state, 3190 Til that me saugh so mad and mate The lady of the highe ward, Which from hir tour lokid thiderward. Resoun men clepe that lady, Which from hir tour deliverly 3195 Come doun to me withouten more. But she was neither yong, ne hore, Ne high ne low, ne fat ne lene, But best, as it were in a mene. Hir eyen two were cleer and light 3200 As any candel that brenneth bright; And on hir heed she hadde a crown. Hir semede wel an high persoun; For rounde enviroun, hir crownet Was ful of riche stonis fret. 3205 Hir goodly semblaunt, by devys, I trowe were maad in paradys; Nature had never such a grace, To forge a werk of such compace. For certeyn, but the letter lye, 3210 God him-silf, that is so high, Made hir aftir his image, And yaf hir sith sich avauntage, That she hath might and seignorye To kepe men from al folye; 3215 Who-so wole trowe hir lore, Ne may offenden nevermore. And whyl I stood thus derk and pale, Resoun bigan to me hir tale; She seide: 'Al hayl, my swete frend! 3220 Foly and childhood wol thee shend, Which thee have put in greet affray; Thou hast bought dere the tyme of May, That made thyn herte mery to be. In yvel tyme thou wentist to see 3225 The gardin, wherof Ydilnesse Bar the keye, and was maistresse Whan thou yedest in the daunce With hir, and haddest aqueyntaunce: Hir aqueyntaunce is perilous, 3230 First softe, and aftir[ward] noyous; She hath [thee] trasshed, withoute ween; The God of Love had thee not seen, Ne hadde Ydilnesse thee conveyed In the verger where Mirthe him pleyed. 3235 If Foly have supprised thee, Do so that it recovered be; And be wel war to take no more Counsel, that greveth aftir sore; He is wys that wol himsilf chastyse. 3240 And though a young man in any wyse Trespace among, and do foly, Lat him not tarye, but hastily Lat him amende what so be mis. And eek I counseile thee, y-wis, 3245 The God of Love hoolly foryet, That hath thee in sich peyne set, And thee in herte tormented so. I can nat seen how thou mayst go Other weyes to garisoun; 3250 For Daunger, that is so feloun, Felly purposith thee to werrey, Which is ful cruel, the soth to sey. 'And yit of Daunger cometh no blame, In reward of my doughter Shame, 3255 Which hath the roses in hir warde, As she that may be no musarde. And Wikked-Tunge is with these two, That suffrith no man thider go; For er a thing be do, he shal, 3260 Where that he cometh, over-al, In fourty places, if it be sought, Seye thing that never was doon ne wrought; So moche tresoun is in his male, Of falsnesse for to [feyne] a tale. 3265 Thou delest with angry folk, y-wis; Wherfor to thee [it] bettir is From these folk awey to fare, For they wol make thee live in care. This is the yvel that Love they calle, 3270 Wherin ther is but foly alle, For love is foly everydel; Who loveth, in no wyse may do wel, Ne sette his thought on no good werk. His scole he lesith, if he be clerk; 3275 Of other craft eek if he be, He shal not thryve therin; for he In love shal have more passioun Than monke, hermyte, or chanoun. The peyne is hard, out of mesure, 3280 The Ioye may eek no whyl endure; And in the possessioun Is muche tribulacioun; The Ioye it is so short-lasting, And but in happe is the geting; 3285 For I see ther many in travaille, That atte laste foule fayle. I was no-thing thy counseler, Whan thou were maad the homager Of God of Love to hastily; 3290 Ther was no wisdom, but foly. Thyn herte was Ioly, but not sage, Whan thou were brought in sich a rage, To yelde thee so redily, And to Love, of his gret maistry. 3295 'I rede thee Love awey to dryve, That makith thee recche not of thy lyve. The foly more fro day to day Shal growe, but thou it putte away. Take with thy teeth the bridel faste, 3300 To daunte thyn herte; and eek thee caste, If that thou mayst, to gete defence For to redresse thy first offence. Who-so his herte alwey wol leve, Shal finde among that shal him greve' 3305 Whan I hir herd thus me chastyse, I answerd in ful angry wyse. I prayed hir cessen of hir speche, Outher to chastyse me or teche, To bidde me my thought refreyne, 3310 Which Love hath caught in his demeyne:— What? wene ye Love wol consent, That me assailith with bowe bent, To draw myn herte out of his honde, Which is so quikly in his bonde? 3315 That ye counsayle, may never be; For whan he first arested me, He took myn herte so hool him til, That it is no-thing at my wil; He [taughte] it so him for to obey, 3320 That he it sparred with a key. I pray yow lat me be al stille. For ye may wel, if that ye wille, Your wordis waste in idilnesse; For utterly, withouten gesse, 3325 Al that ye seyn is but in veyne. Me were lever dye in the peyne, Than Love to me-ward shulde arette Falsheed, or tresoun on me sette. I wol me gete prys or blame, 3330 And love trewe, to save my name; Who me chastysith, I him hate.' With that word Resoun wente hir gate, Whan she saugh for no sermoning She might me fro my foly bring. 3335 Than dismayed, I lefte al sool, Forwery, forwandred as a fool, For I ne knew no chevisaunce. Than fel into my remembraunce, How Love bade me to purveye 3340 A felowe, to whom I mighte seye My counsel and my privete, For that shulde muche availe me. With that bithought I me, that I Hadde a felowe faste by, 3345 Trewe and siker, curteys, and hend, And he was called by name a Freend; A trewer felowe was no-wher noon. In haste to him I wente anoon, And to him al my wo I tolde, 3350 Fro him right nought I wold withholde. I tolde him al withoute were, And made my compleynt on Daungere, How for to see he was hidous, And to-me-ward contrarious; 3355 The whiche through his cruelte Was in poynt to have meygned me; With Bialacoil whan he me sey Within the gardyn walke and pley, Fro me he made him for to go, 3360 And I bilefte aloon in wo; I durst no lenger with him speke, For Daunger seide he wolde be wreke, Whan that he sawe how I wente The fresshe botoun for to hente, 3365 If I were hardy to come neer Bitwene the hay and the roser. This Freend, whan he wiste of my thought, He discomforted me right nought, But seide, 'Felowe, be not so mad, 3370 Ne so abaysshed nor bistad. My-silf I knowe ful wel Daungere, And how he is feers of his chere, At prime temps, Love to manace; Ful ofte I have ben in his caas. 3375 A feloun first though that he be, Aftir thou shalt him souple see. Of long passed I knew him wele; Ungoodly first though men him fele, He wol meek aftir, in his bering, 3380 Been, for service and obeysshing. I shal thee telle what thou shalt do.— Mekely I rede thou go him to, Of herte pray him specialy Of thy trespace to have mercy, 3385 And hote him wel, [him] here to plese, That thou shalt nevermore him displese. Who can best serve of flatery, Shal plese Daunger most uttirly.' My Freend hath seid to me so wel, 3390 That he me esid hath somdel, And eek allegged of my torment; For through him had I hardement Agayn to Daunger for to go, To preve if I might meke him so. 3395 To Daunger cam I, al ashamed, The which aforn me hadde blamed, Desyring for to pese my wo; But over hegge durst I not go, For he forbad me the passage. 3400 I fond him cruel in his rage, And in his hond a gret burdoun. To him I knelid lowe adoun, Ful meke of port, and simple of chere, And seide, 'Sir, I am comen here 3405 Only to aske of you mercy. That greveth me, [sir], ful gretly That ever my lyf I wratthed you, But for to amende I am come now, With al my might, bothe loude and stille, 3410 To doon right at your owne wille; For Love made me for to do That I have trespassed hidirto; Fro whom I ne may withdrawe myn herte; Yit shal I never, for Ioy ne smerte, 3415 What so bifalle, good or ille, Offende more ageyn your wille. Lever I have endure disese Than do that shulde you displese. 'I you require and pray, that ye 3420 Of me have mercy and pitee, To stinte your yre that greveth so, That I wol swere for evermo To be redressid at your lyking, If I trespasse in any thing; 3425 Save that I pray thee graunte me A thing that may nat warned be, That I may love, al only; Non other thing of you aske I. I shal doon elles wel, y-wis, 3430 If of your grace ye graunte me this. And ye [ne] may not letten me, For wel wot ye that love is free, And I shal loven, [sith] that I wil, Who-ever lyke it wel or il; 3435 And yit ne wold I, for al Fraunce, Do thing to do you displesaunce.' Than Daunger fil in his entent For to foryeve his maltalent; But al his wratthe yit at laste 3440 He hath relesed, I preyde so faste: Shortly he seide, 'Thy request Is not to mochel dishonest; Ne I wol not werne it thee, For yit no-thing engreveth me. 3445 For though thou love thus evermore, To me is neither softe ne sore. Love wher thee list; what recchith me, So [thou] fer fro my roses be? Trust not on me, for noon assay, 3450 In any tyme to passe the hay.' Thus hath he graunted my prayere. Than wente I forth, withouten were, Unto my Freend, and tolde him al, Which was right Ioyful of my tale. 3455 He seide, 'Now goth wel thyn affaire, He shal to thee be debonaire. Though he aforn was dispitous, He shal heeraftir be gracious. If he were touchid on som good veyne, 3460 He shuld yit rewen on thy peyne. Suffire, I rede, and no boost make, Til thou at good mes mayst him take. By suffraunce, and [by] wordis softe, A man may overcomen ofte 3465 Him that aforn he hadde in drede, In bookis sothly as I rede.' Thus hath my Freend with gret comfort Avaunced me with high disport, Which wolde me good as mich as I. 3470 And thanne anoon ful sodeynly I took my leve, and streight I went Unto the hay; for gret talent I had to seen the fresh botoun, Wherin lay my salvacioun; 3475 And Daunger took kepe, if that I Kepe him covenaunt trewly. So sore I dradde his manasing, I durst not breke[n] his bidding; For, lest that I were of him shent, 3480 I brak not his comaundement, For to purchase his good wil. It was [hard] for to come ther-til, His mercy was to fer bihinde; I wepte, for I ne might it finde. 3485 I compleyned and sighed sore, And languisshed evermore, For I durst not over go Unto the rose I loved so. Thurghout my deming outerly, 3490 [Than] had he knowlege certeinly, [That] Love me ladde in sich a wyse, That in me ther was no feyntyse, Falsheed, ne no trecherye. And yit he, ful of vilanye, 3495 Of disdeyne, and cruelte, On me ne wolde have pite, His cruel wil for to refreyne, Though I wepe alwey, and compleyne. And while I was in this torment, 3500 Were come of grace, by god sent, Fraunchyse, and with hir Pite Fulfild the botoun of bountee. They go to Daunger anon-right To forther me with al hir might, 3505 And helpe in worde and in dede, For wel they saugh that it was nede. First, of hir grace, dame Fraunchyse Hath taken [word] of this empryse: She seide, 'Daunger, gret wrong ye do 3510 To worche this man so muche wo, Or pynen him so angerly; It is to you gret vilany. I can not see why, ne how, That he hath trespassed ageyn you, 3515 Save that he loveth; wherfore ye shulde The more in cherete of him holde. The force of love makith him do this; Who wolde him blame he dide amis? He leseth more than ye may do; 3520 His peyne is hard, ye may see, lo! And Love in no wyse wolde consente That [he] have power to repente; For though that quik ye wolde him sloo, Fro Love his herte may not go. 3525 Now, swete sir, is it your ese Him for to angre or disese? Allas, what may it you avaunce To doon to him so greet grevaunce? What worship is it agayn him take, 3530 Or on your man a werre make, Sith he so lowly every wyse Is redy, as ye lust devyse? If Love hath caught him in his lace, You for tobeye in every caas, 3535 And been your suget at your wille, Shulde ye therfore willen him ille? Ye shulde him spare more, al-out, Than him that is bothe proud and stout. Curtesye wol that ye socour 3540 Hem that ben meke undir your cure. His herte is hard, that wole not meke, Whan men of mekenesse him biseke.' 'That is certeyn,' seide Pite; We see ofte that humilitee 3545 Bothe ire, and also felonye Venquissheth, and also melancolye; To stonde forth in such duresse, This crueltee and wikkednesse. Wherfore I pray you, sir Daungere, 3550 For to mayntene no lenger here Such cruel werre agayn your man, As hoolly youres as ever he can; Nor that ye worchen no more wo On this caytif that languisshith so, 3555 Which wol no more to you trespasse, But put him hoolly in your grace. His offense ne was but lyte; The God of Love it was to wyte, That he your thral so gretly is, 3560 And if ye harm him, ye doon amis; For he hath had ful hard penaunce, Sith that ye refte him thaqueyntaunce Of Bialacoil, his moste Ioye, Which alle his peynes might acoye. 3565 He was biforn anoyed sore, But than ye doubled him wel more; For he of blis hath ben ful bare, Sith Bialacoil was fro him fare. Love hath to him do greet distresse, 3570 He hath no nede of more duresse. Voideth from him your ire, I rede; Ye may not winnen in this dede. Makith Bialacoil repeire ageyn, And haveth pite upon his peyn; 3575 For Fraunchise wol, and I, Pite, That merciful to him ye be; And sith that she and I accorde, Have upon him misericorde; For I you pray, and eek moneste, 3580 Nought to refusen our requeste; For he is hard and fel of thought, That for us two wol do right nought.' Daunger ne might no more endure, He meked him unto mesure. 3585 'I wol in no wyse,' seith Daungere, Denye that ye have asked here; It were to greet uncurtesye. I wol ye have the companye Of Bialacoil, as ye devyse; 3590 I wol him letten in no wyse.' To Bialacoil than wente in hy Fraunchyse, and seide ful curteisly:— Ye have to longe be deignous Unto this lover, and daungerous, 3595 Fro him to withdrawe your presence, Which hath do to him grete offence, That ye not wolde upon him see; Wherfore a sorowful man is he. Shape ye to paye him, and to plese, 3600 Of my love if ye wol have ese. Fulfil his wil, sith that ye knowe Daunger is daunted and brought lowe Thurgh help of me and of Pite; You [thar] no more afered be.' 3605 'I shal do right as ye wil,' Saith Bialacoil, 'for it is skil, Sith Daunger wol that it so be.' Than Fraunchise hath him sent to me. Bialacoil at the biginning 3610 Salued me in his coming. No straungenes was in him seen, No more than he ne had wrathed been. As faire semblaunt than shewed he me, And goodly, as aforn did he; 3615 And by the honde, withouten doute, Within the haye, right al aboute He ladde me, with right good chere, Al environ the vergere, That Daunger had me chased fro. 3620 Now have I leve over-al to go; Now am I raised, at my devys, Fro helle unto paradys. Thus Bialacoil, of gentilnesse, With alle his peyne and besinesse, 3625 Hath shewed me, only of grace, The estres of the swote place. I saw the rose, whan I was nigh, Was gretter woxen, and more high, Fresh, rody, and fair of hewe, 3630 Of colour ever yliche newe. And whan I had it longe seen, I saugh that through the leves grene The rose spredde to spanishing; To sene it was a goodly thing. 3635 But it ne was so spred on brede, That men within might knowe the sede; For it covert was and [en]close Bothe with the leves and with the rose. The stalk was even and grene upright, 3640 It was theron a goodly sight; And wel the better, withouten wene, For the seed was not [y]-sene. Ful faire it spradde, [god it] blesse! For suche another, as I gesse, 3645 Aforn ne was, ne more vermayle. I was abawed for merveyle, For ever, the fairer that it was, The more I am bounden in Loves laas. Longe I abood there, soth to saye, 3650 Til Bialacoil I gan to praye, Whan that I saw him in no wyse To me warnen his servyse, That he me wolde graunte a thing, Which to remembre is wel sitting; 3655 This is to sayne, that of his grace He wolde me yeve leyser and space To me that was so desirous To have a kissing precious Of the goodly freshe rose, 3660 That swetely smelleth in my nose; For if it you displesed nought, I wolde gladly, as I have sought, Have a cos therof freely Of your yeft; for certainly 3665 I wol non have but by your leve, So loth me were you for to greve.' He sayde, 'Frend, so god me spede, Of Chastite I have suche drede, Thou shuldest not warned be for me, 3670 But I dar not, for Chastite. Agayn hir dar I not misdo, For alwey biddeth she me so To yeve no lover leve to kisse; For who therto may winnen, y-wis, 3675 He of the surplus of the pray May live in hope to get som day. For who so kissing may attayne, Of loves peyne hath, soth to sayne, The beste and most avenaunt, 3680 And ernest of the remenaunt.' Of his answere I syghed sore; I durst assaye him tho no more, I had such drede to greve him ay. A man shulde not to muche assaye 3685 To chafe his frend out of mesure, Nor put his lyf in aventure; For no man at the firste stroke Ne may nat felle doun an oke; Nor of the reisins have the wyne, 3690 Til grapes rype and wel afyne Be sore empressid, I you ensure, And drawen out of the pressure. But I, forpeyned wonder stronge, [Thought] that I abood right longe 3695 Aftir the kis, in peyne and wo, Sith I to kis desyred so: Til that, [rewing] on my distresse, Ther [to me] Venus the goddesse, Which ay werreyeth Chastite, 3700 Came of hir grace, to socoure me, Whos might is knowe fer and wyde, For she is modir of Cupyde, The God of Love, blinde as stoon, That helpith lovers many oon. 3705 This lady brought in hir right hond Of brenning fyr a blasing brond; Wherof the flawme and hote fyr Hath many a lady in desyr Of love brought, and sore het, 3710 And in hir servise hir hertes set. This lady was of good entayle, Right wondirful of apparayle; By hir atyre so bright and shene, Men might perceyve wel, and seen, 3715 She was not of religioun. Nor I nil make mencioun Nor of [hir] robe, nor of tresour, Of broche, [nor] of hir riche attour; Ne of hir girdil aboute hir syde, 3720 For that I nil not long abyde. But knowith wel, that certeynly She was arayed richely. Devoyd of pryde certeyn she was; To Bialacoil she wente a pas, 3725 And to him shortly, in a clause, She seide: 'Sir, what is the cause Ye been of port so daungerous Unto this lover, and deynous, To graunte him no-thing but a kis? 3730 To werne it him ye doon amis; Sith wel ye wote, how that he Is Loves servaunt, as ye may see, And hath beaute, wher-through [he] is Worthy of love to have the blis. 3735 How he is semely, biholde and see, How he is fair, how he is free, How he is swote and debonair, Of age yong, lusty, and fair. Ther is no lady so hauteyne, 3740 Duchesse, countesse, ne chasteleyne, That I nolde holde hir ungoodly For to refuse him outerly. His breeth is also good and swete, And eke his lippis rody, and mete 3745 Only to pleyen, and to kisse. Graunte him a kis, of gentilnesse! His teeth arn also whyte and clene; Me thinkith wrong, withouten wene, If ye now werne him, trustith me, 3750 To graunte that a kis have he; The lasse [to] helpe him that ye haste, The more tyme shul ye waste.' Whan the flawme of the verry brond, That Venus brought in hir right hond, 3755 Had Bialacoil with hete smete, Anoon he bad, withouten lette, Graunte to me the rose kisse. Than of my peyne I gan to lisse, And to the rose anoon wente I, 3760 And kissid it ful feithfully. Thar no man aske if I was blythe, Whan the savour soft and lythe Strook to myn herte withoute more, And me alegged of my sore, 3765 So was I ful of Ioye and blisse. It is fair sich a flour to kisse, It was so swote and saverous. I might not be so anguisshous, That I mote glad and Ioly be, 3770 Whan that I remembre me. Yit ever among, sothly to seyn, I suffre noye and moche peyn. The see may never be so stil, That with a litel winde it [nil] 3775 Overwhelme and turne also, As it were wood, in wawis go. Aftir the calm the trouble sone Mot folowe, and chaunge as the mone. Right so farith Love, that selde in oon 3780 Holdith his anker; for right anoon Whan they in ese wene best to live, They been with tempest al fordrive. Who serveth Love, can telle of wo; The stoundemele Ioye mot overgo. 3785 Now he hurteth, and now he cureth, For selde in oo poynt Love endureth. Now is it right me to procede, How Shame gan medle and take hede, Thurgh whom felle angres I have had; 3790 And how the stronge wal was maad, And the castell of brede and lengthe, That God of Love wan with his strengthe. Al this in romance wil I sette, And for no-thing ne wil I lette, 3795 So that it lyking to hir be, That is the flour of beaute; For she may best my labour quyte, That I for hir love shal endyte. Wikkid-Tunge, that the covyne 3800 Of every lover can devyne Worst, and addith more somdel, (For Wikkid-Tunge seith never wel), To me-ward bar he right gret hate, Espying me erly and late, 3805 Til he hath seen the grete chere Of Bialacoil and me y-fere. He mighte not his tunge withstonde Worse to reporte than he fonde, He was so ful of cursed rage; 3810 It sat him wel of his linage, For him an Irish womman bar. His tunge was fyled sharp, and squar, Poignaunt and right kerving, And wonder bitter in speking. 3815 For whan that he me gan espye, He swoor, afferming sikirly, Bitwene Bialacoil and me Was yvel aquayntaunce and privee. He spak therof so folily, 3820 That he awakid Ielousy; Which, al afrayed in his rysing, Whan that he herde [him] Iangling, He ran anoon, as he were wood, To Bialacoil ther that he stood; 3825 Which hadde lever in this caas Have been at Reynes or Amyas; For foot-hoot, in his felonye To him thus seide Ielousye:— Why hast thou been so necligent, 3830 To kepen, whan I was absent, This verger here left in thy ward? To me thou haddist no reward, To truste (to thy confusioun) Him thus, to whom suspeccioun 3835 I have right greet, for it is nede; It is wel shewed by the dede. Greet faute in thee now have I founde; By god, anoon thou shalt be bounde, And faste loken in a tour, 3840 Withoute refuyt or socour. For Shame to long hath be thee fro; Over sone she was agoo. Whan thou hast lost bothe drede and fere, It semed wel she was not here. 3845 She was [not] bisy, in no wyse, To kepe thee and [to] chastyse, And for to helpen Chastitee To kepe the roser, as thinkith me. For than this boy-knave so boldely 3850 Ne sholde not have be hardy, [Ne] in this verger had such game, Which now me turneth to gret shame.' Bialacoil nist what to sey; Ful fayn he wolde have fled awey, 3855 For fere han hid, nere that he Al sodeynly took him with me. And whan I saugh he hadde so, This Ielousye, take us two, I was astoned, and knew no rede, 3860 But fledde awey for verrey drede. Than Shame cam forth ful simply; She wende have trespaced ful gretly; Humble of hir port, and made it simple, Wering a vayle in stede of wimple, 3865 As nonnis doon in hir abbey. Bicause hir herte was in affray, She gan to speke, within a throwe, To Ielousye, right wonder lowe. First of his grace she bisought, 3870 And seide:—'Sire, ne leveth nought Wikkid-Tunge, that fals espye, Which is so glad to feyne and lye. He hath you maad, thurgh flatering, On Bialacoil a fals lesing. 3875 His falsnesse is not now anew, It is to long that he him knew. This is not the firste day; For Wikkid-Tunge hath custom ay Yongé folkis to bewreye, 3880 And false lesinges on hem leye. 'Yit nevertheles I see among, That the loigne it is so longe Of Bialacoil, hertis to lure, In Loves servise for to endure, 3885 Drawing suche folk him to, That he had no-thing with to do; But in sothnesse I trowe nought, That Bialacoil hadde ever in thought To do trespace or vilanye; 3890 But, for his modir Curtesye Hath taught him ever [for] to be Good of aqueyntaunce and privee; For he loveth non hevinesse, But mirthe and pley, and al gladnesse; 3895 He hateth alle [trecherous], Soleyn folk and envious; For [wel] ye witen how that he Wol ever glad and Ioyful be Honestly with folk to pley. 3900 I have be negligent, in good fey, To chastise him; therfore now I Of herte crye you here mercy, That I have been so recheles To tamen him, withouten lees. 3905 Of my foly I me repente; Now wol I hool sette myn entente To kepe, bothe [loude] and stille, Bialacoil to do your wille.' 'Shame, Shame,' seyde Ielousy, 3910 'To be bitrasshed gret drede have I. Lecherye hath clombe so hye, That almost blered is myn ye; No wonder is, if that drede have I. Over-al regnith Lechery, 3915 Whos might [yit] growith night and day. Bothe in cloistre and in abbey Chastite is werreyed over-al. Therfore I wol with siker wal Close bothe roses and roser. 3920 I have to longe in this maner Left hem unclosid wilfully; Wherfore I am right inwardly Sorowful and repente me. But now they shal no lenger be 3925 Unclosid; and yit I drede sore, I shal repente ferthermore, For the game goth al amis. Counsel I [mot take] newe, y-wis. I have to longe tristed thee, 3930 But now it shal no lenger be; For he may best, in every cost, Disceyve, that men tristen most. I see wel that I am nygh shent, But-if I sette my ful entent 3935 Remedye to purveye. Therfore close I shal the weye Fro hem that wol the rose espye, And come to wayte me vilanye, For, in good feith and in trouthe, 3940 I wol not lette, for no slouthe, To live the more in sikirnesse, [To] make anoon a forteresse, [To enclose] the roses of good savour. In middis shal I make a tour 3945 To putte Bialacoil in prisoun, For ever I drede me of tresoun. I trowe I shal him kepe so, That he shal have no might to go Aboute to make companye 3950 To hem that thenke of vilanye; Ne to no such as hath ben here Aforn, and founde in him good chere, Which han assailed him to shende, And with hir trowandyse to blende. 3955 A fool is eyth [for] to bigyle; But may I lyve a litel while, He shal forthenke his fair semblaunt.' And with that word cam Drede avaunt, Which was abasshed, and in gret fere, 3960 Whan he wiste Ielousye was there. He was for drede in such affray, That not a word durste he say, But quaking stood ful stille aloon, Til Ielousye his wey was goon, 3965 Save Shame, that him not forsook; Bothe Drede and she ful sore quook; [Til] that at laste Drede abreyde, And to his cosin Shame seyde: Shame,' he seide, 'in sothfastnesse, 3970 To me it is gret hevinesse, That the noyse so fer is go, And the sclaundre of us two. But sith that it is [so] bifalle, We may it not ageyn [do] calle, 3975 Whan onis sprongen is a fame. For many a yeer withouten blame We han been, and many a day; For many an April and many a May We han [y]-passed, not [a]shamed, 3980 Til Ielousye hath us blamed Of mistrust and suspecioun Causeles, withouten enchesoun. Go we to Daunger hastily, And late us shewe him openly, 3985 That he hath not aright [y]-wrought, Whan that he sette nought his thought To kepe better the purpryse; In his doing he is not wyse. He hath to us [y]-do gret wrong, 3990 That hath suffred now so long Bialacoil to have his wille, Alle his lustes to fulfille. He must amende it utterly, Or ellis shal he vilaynsly 3995 Exyled be out of this londe; For he the werre may not withstonde Of Ielousye, nor the greef, Sith Bialacoil is at mischeef.' To Daunger, Shame and Drede anoon 4000 The righte wey ben [bothe a]-goon. The cherl they founden hem aforn Ligging undir an hawethorn. Undir his heed no pilowe was, But in the stede a trusse of gras. 4005 He slombred, and a nappe he took, Til Shame pitously him shook, And greet manace on him gan make. Why slepist thou whan thou shulde wake?' Quod Shame; 'thou dost us vilanye! 4010 Who tristith thee, he doth folye, To kepe roses or botouns, Whan they ben faire in hir sesouns. Thou art woxe to familiere Where thou shulde be straunge of chere, 4015 Stout of thy port, redy to greve. Thou dost gret foly for to leve Bialacoil here-in, to calle The yonder man to shenden us alle. Though that thou slepe, we may here 4020 Of Ielousie gret noyse here. Art thou now late? ryse up [in hy], And stoppe sone and deliverly Alle the gappis of the hay; Do no favour, I thee pray. 4025 It fallith no-thing to thy name Make fair semblaunt, where thou maist blame. 'If Bialacoil be swete and free, Dogged and fel thou shuldist be; Froward and outrageous, y-wis; 4030 A cherl chaungeth that curteis is. This have I herd ofte in seying, That man [ne] may, for no daunting, Make a sperhauke of a bosarde. Alle men wole holde thee for musarde, 4035 That debonair have founden thee, It sit thee nought curteis to be; To do men plesaunce or servyse, In thee it is recreaundyse. Let thy werkis, fer and nere, 4040 Be lyke thy name, which is Daungere.' Than, al abawid in shewing, Anoon spak Dreed, right thus seying, And seide, 'Daunger, I drede me That thou ne wolt [not] bisy be 4045 To kepe that thou hast to kepe; Whan thou shuldist wake, thou art aslepe. Thou shalt be greved certeynly, If thee aspye Ielousy, Or if he finde thee in blame. 4050 He hath to-day assailed Shame, And chased awey, with gret manace, Bialacoil out of this place, And swereth shortly that he shal Enclose him in a sturdy wal; 4055 And al is for thy wikkednesse, For that thee faileth straungenesse. Thyn herte, I trowe, be failed al; Thou shalt repente in special, If Ielousye the sothe knewe; 4060 Thou shalt forthenke, and sore rewe.' With that the cherl his clubbe gan shake, Frouning his eyen gan to make, And hidous chere; as man in rage, For ire he brente in his visage. 4065 Whan that he herde him blamed so, He seide, 'Out of my wit I go; To be discomfit I have gret wrong. Certis, I have now lived to long, Sith I may not this closer kepe; 4070 Al quik I wolde be dolven depe, If any man shal more repeire Into this garden, for foule or faire. Myn herte for ire goth a-fere, That I lete any entre here. 4075 I have do foly, now I see, But now it shal amended bee. Who settith foot here any more, Truly, he shal repente it sore; For no man mo into this place 4080 Of me to entre shal have grace. Lever I hadde, with swerdis tweyne, Thurgh-out myn herte, in every veyne Perced to be, with many a wounde, Than slouthe shulde in me be founde. 4085 From hennesforth, by night or day, I shal defende it, if I may, Withouten any excepcioun Of ech maner condicioun; And if I any man it graunte, 4090 Holdeth me for recreaunte.' Than Daunger on his feet gan stonde, And hente a burdoun in his honde. Wroth in his ire, ne lefte he nought, But thurgh the verger he hath sought. 4095 If he might finde hole or trace, Wher-thurgh that men mot forth-by pace, Or any gappe, he dide it close, That no man mighte touche a rose Of the roser al aboute; 4100 He shitteth every man withoute. Thus day by day Daunger is wers, More wondirful and more divers, And feller eek than ever he was; For him ful oft I singe 'allas!' 4105 For I ne may nought, thurgh his ire, Recover that I most desire. Myn herte, allas, wol brest a-two, For Bialacoil I wratthed so. For certeynly, in every membre 4110 I quake, whan I me remembre Of the botoun, which [that] I wolde Fulle ofte a day seen and biholde. And whan I thenke upon the kisse, And how muche Ioye and blisse 4115 I hadde thurgh the savour swete, For wante of it I grone and grete. Me thenkith I fele yit in my nose The swete savour of the rose. And now I woot that I mot go 4120 So fer the fresshe floures fro, To me ful welcome were the deeth; Absens therof, allas, me sleeth! For whylom with this rose, allas, I touched nose, mouth, and face; 4125 But now the deeth I must abyde. But Love consente, another tyde, That onis I touche may and kisse, I trowe my peyne shal never lisse. Theron is al my coveityse, 4130 Which brent myn herte in many wyse. Now shal repaire agayn sighinge, Long wacche on nightis, and no slepinge; Thought in wisshing, torment, and wo, With many a turning to and fro, 4135 That half my peyne I can not telle. For I am fallen into helle From paradys and welthe, the more My turment greveth; more and more Anoyeth now the bittirnesse, 4140 That I toforn have felt swetnesse. And Wikkid-Tunge, thurgh his falshede, Causeth al my wo and drede. On me he leyeth a pitous charge, Bicause his tunge was to large. 4145 Now it is tyme, shortly that I Telle you som-thing of Ielousy, That was in gret suspecioun. Aboute him lefte he no masoun, That stoon coude leye, ne querrour; 4150 He hired hem to make a tour. And first, the roses for to kepe, Aboute hem made he a diche depe, Right wondir large, and also brood; Upon the whiche also stood 4155 Of squared stoon a sturdy wal, Which on a cragge was founded al, And right gret thikkenesse eek it bar. Abouten, it was founded squar, An hundred fadome on every syde, 4160 It was al liche longe and wyde. Lest any tyme it were assayled, Ful wel aboute it was batayled; And rounde enviroun eek were set Ful many a riche and fair touret. 4165 At every corner of this wal Was set a tour ful principal; And everich hadde, withoute fable, A porte-colys defensable To kepe of enemies, and to greve, 4170 That there hir force wolde preve. And eek amidde this purpryse Was maad a tour of gret maistryse; A fairer saugh no man with sight, Large and wyde, and of gret might. 4175 They [ne] dredde noon assaut Of ginne, gunne, nor skaffaut. [For] the temprure of the mortere Was maad of licour wonder dere; Of quikke lyme persant and egre, 4180 The which was tempred with vinegre. The stoon was hard [as] ademant, Wherof they made the foundement. The tour was rounde, maad in compas; In al this world no richer was, 4185 Ne better ordeigned therwithal. Aboute the tour was maad a wal, So that, bitwixt that and the tour, Rosers were set of swete savour, With many roses that they bere. 4190 And eek within the castel were Springoldes, gunnes, bows, archers; And eek above, atte corners, Men seyn over the walle stonde Grete engynes, [whiche] were nigh honde; 4195 And in the kernels, here and there, Of arblasters gret plentee were. Noon armure might hir stroke withstonde, It were foly to prece to honde. Without the diche were listes made, 4200 With walles batayled large and brade, For men and hors shulde not atteyne To neigh the diche over the pleyne. Thus Ielousye hath enviroun Set aboute his garnisoun 4205 With walles rounde, and diche depe, Only the roser for to kepe. And Daunger [eek], erly and late The keyes kepte of the utter gate, The which openeth toward the eest. 4210 And he hadde with him atte leest Thritty servauntes, echon by name. That other gate kepte Shame, Which openede, as it was couth, Toward the parte of the south. 4215 Sergeauntes assigned were hir to Ful many, hir wille for to do. Than Drede hadde in hir baillye The keping of the conestablerye, Toward the north, I undirstonde, 4220 That opened upon the left honde, The which for no-thing may be sure, But-if she do [hir] bisy cure Erly on morowe and also late, Strongly to shette and barre the gate. 4225 Of every thing that she may see Drede is aferd, wher-so she be; For with a puff of litel winde Drede is astonied in hir minde. Therfore, for stelinge of the rose, 4230 I rede hir nought the yate unclose. A foulis flight wol make hir flee, And eek a shadowe, if she it see. Thanne Wikked-Tunge, ful of envye, With soudiours of Normandye, 4235 As he that causeth al the bate, Was keper of the fourthe gate, And also to the tother three He went ful ofte, for to see. Whan his lot was to wake a-night, 4240 His instrumentis wolde he dight, For to blowe and make soun, Ofter than he hath enchesoun; And walken oft upon the wal, Corners and wikettis over-al 4245 Ful narwe serchen and espye; Though he nought fond, yit wolde he lye. Discordaunt ever fro armonye, And distoned from melodye, Controve he wolde, and foule fayle, 4250 With hornpypes of Cornewayle. In floytes made he discordaunce, And in his musik, with mischaunce, He wolde seyn, with notes newe, That he [ne] fond no womman trewe, 4255 Ne that he saugh never, in his lyf, Unto hir husbonde a trewe wyf; Ne noon so ful of honestee, That she nil laughe and mery be Whan that she hereth, or may espye, 4260 A man speken of lecherye. Everich of hem hath somme vyce; Oon is dishonest, another is nyce; If oon be ful of vilanye, Another hath a likerous ye; 4265 If oon be ful of wantonesse, Another is a chideresse. Thus Wikked-Tunge (god yeve him shame!) Can putte hem everichone in blame Withoute desert and causeles; 4270 He lyeth, though they been giltles. I have pite to seen the sorwe, That waketh bothe eve and morwe, To innocents doth such grevaunce; I pray god yeve him evel chaunce, 4275 That he ever so bisy is Of any womman to seyn amis! Eek Ielousye god confounde, That hath [y]-maad a tour so rounde, And made aboute a garisoun 4280 To sette Bialacoil in prisoun; The which is shet there in the tour, Ful longe to holde there soiour, There for to liven in penaunce. And for to do him more grevaunce, 4285 [Ther] hath ordeyned Ielousye An olde vekke, for to espye The maner of his governaunce; The whiche devel, in hir enfaunce, Had lerned [muche] of Loves art, 4290 And of his pleyes took hir part; She was [expert] in his servyse. She knew ech wrenche and every gyse Of love, and every [loveres] wyle, It was [the] harder hir to gyle. 4295 Of Bialacoil she took ay hede, That ever he liveth in wo and drede. He kepte him coy and eek privee, Lest in him she hadde see Any foly countenaunce, 4300 For she knew al the olde daunce. And aftir this, whan Ielousye Had Bialacoil in his baillye, And shette him up that was so free, For seure of him he wolde be, 4305 He trusteth sore in his castel; The stronge werk him lyketh wel. He dradde nat that no glotouns Shulde stele his roses or botouns. The roses weren assured alle, 4310 Defenced with the stronge walle. Now Ielousye ful wel may be Of drede devoid, in libertee, Whether that he slepe or wake; For of his roses may noon be take. 4315 But I, allas, now morne shal; Bicause I was without the wal, Ful moche dole and mone I made. Who hadde wist what wo I hadde, I trowe he wolde have had pitee. 4320 Love to deere had sold to me The good that of his love hadde I. I [wende a bought] it al queyntly; But now, thurgh doubling of my peyn, I see he wolde it selle ageyn, 4325 And me a newe bargeyn lere, The which al-out the more is dere, For the solace that I have lorn, Than I hadde it never aforn. Certayn I am ful lyk, indeed, 4330 To him that cast in erthe his seed; And hath Ioie of the newe spring, Whan it greneth in the ginning, And is also fair and fresh of flour, Lusty to seen, swote of odour; 4335 But er he it in sheves shere, May falle a weder that shal it dere, And maken it to fade and falle, The stalk, the greyn, and floures alle; That to the tilier is fordone 4340 The hope that he hadde to sone. I drede, certeyn, that so fare I; For hope and travaile sikerly Ben me biraft al with a storm; The floure nil seden of my corn. 4345 For Love hath so avaunced me, Whan I bigan my privitee To Bialacoil al for to telle, Whom I ne fond froward ne felle, But took a-gree al hool my play. 4350 But Love is of so hard assay, That al at onis he reved me, Whan I wend best aboven have be. It is of Love, as of Fortune, That chaungeth ofte, and nil contune; 4355 Which whylom wol on folke smyle, And gloumbe on hem another whyle; Now freend, now foo, [thou] shalt hir fele, For [in] a twinkling tourneth hir wheel. She can wrythe hir heed awey, 4360 This is the concours of hir pley; She can areyse that doth morne, And whirle adown, and overturne Who sittith hieghst, [al] as hir list; A fool is he that wol hir trist. 4365 For it [am] I that am com doun Thurgh change and revolucioun! Sith Bialacoil mot fro me twinne, Shet in the prisoun yond withinne, His absence at myn herte I fele; 4370 For al my Ioye and al myn hele Was in him and in the rose, That but yon [wal], which him doth close, Open, that I may him see, Love nil not that I cured be 4375 Of the peynes that I endure, Nor of my cruel aventure. A, Bialacoil, myn owne dere! Though thou be now a prisonere, Kepe atte leste thyn herte to me, 4380 And suffre not that it daunted be; Ne lat not Ielousye, in his rage, Putten thyn herte in no servage. Although he chastice thee withoute, And make thy body unto him loute, 4385 Have herte as hard as dyamaunt, Stedefast, and nought pliaunt; In prisoun though thy body be, At large kepe thyn herte free. A trewe herte wol not plye 4390 For no manace that it may drye. If Ielousye doth thee payne, Quyte him his whyle thus agayne, To venge thee, atte leest in thought, If other way thou mayest nought; 4395 And in this wyse sotilly Worche, and winne the maistry. But yit I am in gret affray Lest thou do not as I say; I drede thou canst me greet maugree, 4400 That thou emprisoned art for me; But that [is] not for my trespas, For thurgh me never discovered was Yit thing that oughte be secree. Wel more anoy [ther] is in me, 4405 Than is in thee, of this mischaunce; For I endure more hard penaunce Than any [man] can seyn or thinke, That for the sorwe almost I sinke. Whan I remembre me of my wo, 4410 Ful nygh out of my wit I go. Inward myn herte I fele blede, For comfortles the deeth I drede. Ow I not wel to have distresse, Whan false, thurgh hir wikkednesse, 4415 And traitours, that arn envyous, To noyen me be so coragious? A, Bialacoil! ful wel I see, That they hem shape to disceyve thee, To make thee buxom to hir lawe, 4420 And with hir corde thee to drawe Wher-so hem lust, right at hir wil; I drede they have thee brought thertil. Withoute comfort, thought me sleeth; This game wol bringe me to my deeth. 4425 For if your gode wille I lese, I mote be deed; I may not chese. And if that thou foryete me, Myn herte shal never in lyking be; Nor elles-where finde solace, 4430 If I be put out of your grace, As it shal never been, I hope; Than shulde I fallen in wanhope.