‘THE MINOR POEMS’ IN VOL. I.

Balade that Chaucier made. So hath my herte caught in rémembraunce Your beautè hool, and stedfast governaunce, Your vertues allè, and your hy noblesse, That you to serve is set al my plesaunce; 5 So wel me lykth your womanly contenaunce, Your fresshe fetures and your comlinesse, That, whyl I live, my herte to his maistresse, You hath ful chose, in trew perséveraunce, Never to chaunge, for no maner distresse.

10 And sith I [you] shal do this observaunce Al my lyf, withouten displesaunce, You for to serve with al my besinesse, [Taketh me, lady, in your obeisaunce,] And have me somwhat in your souvenaunce. 15 My woful herte suffreth greet duresse; And [loke] how humbl[el]y, with al simplesse, My wil I cónforme to your ordenaunce, As you best list, my peynes to redresse.

Considring eek how I hange in balaunce 20 In your servysè; swich, lo! is my chaunce, Abyding grace, whan that your gentilnesse Of my gret wo list doon allegeaunce, And with your pitè me som wyse avaunce, In ful rebating of my hevinesse; 25 And thinkth, by reson, wommanly noblesse Shuld nat desyre for to doon outrance Ther-as she findeth noon unbuxumnesse.

Lenvoye. Auctour of norture, lady of plesaunce, Soveraine of beautè, flour of wommanhede, 30 Take ye non hede unto myn ignoraunce, But this receyveth of your goodlihede, Thinking that I have caught in remembraunce Your beautè hool, your stedfast governaunce.

Al hoolly youres, withouten otheres part! Wherefore? y-wis, that I ne can ne may My service chaungen; thus of al suche art The lerninge I desyre for ever and ay. 5 And evermore, whyl that I live may, In trouthe I wol your servant stille abyde, Although my wo encresè day by day, Til that to me be come the dethes tyde.

Seint Valentyne! to you I rénovele 10 My woful lyf, as I can, compleyninge; But, as me thinketh, to you a quarele Right greet I have, whan I, rememberinge Bitwene, how kinde, ayeins the yeres springe, Upon your day, doth ech foul chese his make; 15 And you list not in swich comfórt me bringe, That to her grace my lady shulde me take.

Wherfor unto you, Cupide, I beseche, Furth with Venús, noble lusty goddesse, Sith ye may best my sorowe lesse and eche; 20 And I, your man, oppressed with distresse, Can not crye ‘help!’ but to your gentilnesse: So voucheth sauf, sith I, your man, wol dye, My ladies herte in pitè folde and presse, That of my peyne I finde remedye.

25 To your conning, my hertes right princesse, My mortal fo, whiche I best love and serve, I recommaunde my boistous lewednesse. And, for I can not altherbest deserve Your grace, I preye, as he that wol nat swerve, 30 That I may fare the better for my trouthe; Sith I am youres, til deth my herte kerve, On me, your man, now mercy have and routhe.

Of gretter cause may no wight him compleyne Than I; for love hath set me in swich caas That lasse Ioye and more encrees of peyne Ne hath no man; wherfore I crye ‘allas!’ 5 A thousand tyme, whan I have tyme and space. For she, that is my verray sorowes grounde, Wol with her grace no wyse my sorowes sounde.

And that, shulde be my sorowes hertes leche, Is me ageins, and maketh me swich werre, 10 That shortly, [in] al maner thought and speche, Whether it be that I be nigh or ferre, I misse the grace of you, my lode-sterre, Which causeth me on you thus for to crye; And al is it for lakke of remedye.

15 My soverain Ioye thus is my mortal fo; She that shulde causen al my lustinesse List in no wyse of my sorowes saye ‘ho!’ But let me thus darraine, in hevinesse, With woful thoughtes and my grete distresse, 20 The which she might right wele, [at] every tyde, If that her liste, out of my herte gyde.

But it is so, that her list, in no wyse, Have pitè on my woful besinesse; And I ne can do no maner servyse 25 That may me torne out of my hevinesse; So woldè god, that she now wolde impresse Right in her herte my trouthe and eek good wille; And let me not, for lakke of mercy, spille.

Now wele I woot why thus I smerte sore; 30 For couthe I wele, as othere folkes, feyne, Than neded me to live in peyne no more, But, whan I were from you, unteye my reyne, And, for the tyme, drawe in another cheyne. But woldè god that alle swich were y-knowe, 35 And duely punisshed of hye and lowe.

Swich lyf defye I, bothe in thoughte and worde, For yet me were wel lever for to sterve Than in my herte for to make an horde Of any falshood; for, til deth to-kerve 40 My herte and body, shal I never swerve From you, that best may be my fynal cure, But, at your liste, abyde myn aventure;

And preye to you, noble seint Valentyne, My ladies herte that ye wolde enbrace, 45 And make her pitè to me more enclyne That I may stonden in her noble grace In hasty tyme, whyl I have lyves space: For yit wiste I never noon, of my lyve, So litel hony in so fayre hyve.

Whan that Aprille with his shoures sote The droghte of Marche hath perced to the rote, And bathed every veyne in swich licour, Of which vertu engendred is the flour; 5 Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne, And smale fowles maken melodye, 10 That slepen al the night with open yë, (So priketh hem nature in hir corages): Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages (And palmers for to seken straunge strondes) To ferne halwes, couthe in sondry londes; 15 And specially, from every shires ende Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende, The holy blisful martir for to seke, That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke.

Bifel that, in that seson on a day, 20 In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay Redy to wenden on my pilgrimage To Caunterbury with ful devout corage, At night was come in-to that hostelrye Wel nyne and twenty in a companye, 25 Of sondry folk, by aventure y-falle In felawshipe, and pilgrims were they alle, That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde; The chambres and the stables weren wyde, And wel we weren esed atte beste. 30 And shortly, whan the sonne was to reste, So hadde I spoken with hem everichon, That I was of hir felawshipe anon, And made forward erly for to ryse, To take our wey, ther as I yow devyse.

35 But natheles, whyl I have tyme and space, Er that I ferther in this tale pace, Me thinketh it acordaunt to resoun, To telle yow al the condicioun Of ech of hem, so as it semed me, 40 And whiche they weren, and of what degree; And eek in what array that they were inne: And at a knight than wol I first biginne.

Knight. A Knight ther was, and that a worthy man, That fro the tyme that he first bigan 45 To ryden out, he loved chivalrye, Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisye. Ful worthy was he in his lordes werre, And therto hadde he riden (no man ferre) As wel in Cristendom as hethenesse, 50 And ever honoured for his worthinesse.

At Alisaundre he was, whan it was wonne; Ful ofte tyme he hadde the bord bigonne Aboven alle naciouns in Pruce. In Lettow hadde he reysed and in Ruce, 55 No Cristen man so ofte of his degree. In Gernade at the sege eek hadde he be Of Algezir, and riden in Belmarye. At Lyeys was he, and at Satalye, Whan they were wonne; and in the Grete See 60 At many a noble aryve hadde he be. At mortal batailles hadde he been fiftene, And foughten for our feith at Tramissene In listes thryes, and ay slayn his foo. This ilke worthy knight had been also 65 Somtyme with the lord of Palatye, Ageyn another hethen in Turkye: And evermore he hadde a sovereyn prys. And though that he were worthy, he was wys, And of his port as meke as is a mayde. 70 He never yet no vileinye ne sayde In al his lyf, un-to no maner wight. He was a verray parfit gentil knight. But for to tellen yow of his array, His hors were gode, but he was nat gay. 75 Of fustian he wered a gipoun Al bismotered with his habergeoun; For he was late y-come from his viage, And wente for to doon his pilgrimage.

Squyer. With him ther was his sone, a yong Squyer, 80 A lovyere, and a lusty bacheler, With lokkes crulle, as they were leyd in presse. Of twenty yeer of age he was, I gesse. Of his stature he was of evene lengthe, And wonderly deliver, and greet of strengthe. 85 And he had been somtyme in chivachye, In Flaundres, in Artoys, and Picardye, And born him wel, as of so litel space, In hope to stonden in his lady grace. Embrouded was he, as it were a mede 90 Al ful of fresshe floures, whyte and rede. Singinge he was, or floytinge, al the day; He was as fresh as is the month of May. Short was his goune, with sleves longe and wyde. Wel coude he sitte on hors, and faire ryde. 95 He coude songes make and wel endyte, Iuste and eek daunce, and wel purtreye and wryte, So hote he lovede, that by nightertale He sleep namore than dooth a nightingale. Curteys he was, lowly, and servisable, 100 And carf biforn his fader at the table.

Yeman. A Yeman hadde he, and servaunts namo At that tyme, for him liste ryde so; And he was clad in cote and hood of grene; A sheef of pecok-arwes brighte and kene 105 Under his belt he bar ful thriftily; (Wel coude he dresse his takel yemanly: His arwes drouped noght with fetheres lowe), And in his hand he bar a mighty bowe. A not-heed hadde he, with a broun visage. 110 Of wode-craft wel coude he al the usage. Upon his arm he bar a gay bracer, And by his syde a swerd and a bokeler, And on that other syde a gay daggere, Harneised wel, and sharp as point of spere; 115 A Cristofre on his brest of silver shene. An horn he bar, the bawdrik was of grene; A forster was he, soothly, as I gesse.

Prioresse. Ther was also a Nonne, a Prioresse, That of hir smyling was ful simple and coy; 120 Hir gretteste ooth was but by sëynt Loy; And she was cleped madame Eglentyne. Ful wel she song the service divyne, Entuned in hir nose ful semely; And Frensh she spak ful faire and fetisly, 125 After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe, For Frensh of Paris was to hir unknowe. At mete wel y-taught was she with-alle; She leet no morsel from hir lippes falle, Ne wette hir fingres in hir sauce depe. 130 Wel coude she carie a morsel, and wel kepe, That no drope ne fille up-on hir brest. In curteisye was set ful muche hir lest. Hir over lippe wyped she so clene, That in hir coppe was no ferthing sene 135 Of grece, whan she dronken hadde hir draughte. Ful semely after hir mete she raughte, And sikerly she was of greet disport, And ful plesaunt, and amiable of port, And peyned hir to countrefete chere 140 Of court, and been estatlich of manere, And to ben holden digne of reverence. But, for to speken of hir conscience, She was so charitable and so pitous, She wolde wepe, if that she sawe a mous 145 Caught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde. Of smale houndes had she, that she fedde With rosted flesh, or milk and wastel-breed. But sore weep she if oon of hem were deed, Or if men smoot it with a yerde smerte: 150 And al was conscience and tendre herte. Ful semely hir wimpel pinched was; Hir nose tretys; hir eyen greye as glas; Hir mouth ful smal, and ther-to softe and reed; But sikerly she hadde a fair forheed; 155 It was almost a spanne brood, I trowe; For, hardily, she was nat undergrowe. Ful fetis was hir cloke, as I was war. Of smal coral aboute hir arm she bar A peire of bedes, gauded al with grene; 160 And ther-on heng a broche of gold ful shene, On which ther was first write a crowned A, And after, Amor vincit omnia.

Nonne. Another Nonne with hir hadde she, 3 Preestes. That was hir chapeleyne, and Preestes three. Monk. A Monk ther was, a fair for the maistrye, 166 An out-rydere, that lovede venerye; A manly man, to been an abbot able. Ful many a deyntee hors hadde he in stable: And, whan he rood, men mighte his brydel here 170 Ginglen in a whistling wind as clere, And eek as loude as dooth the chapel-belle, Ther as this lord was keper of the celle. The reule of seint Maure or of seint Beneit, By-cause that it was old and som-del streit, 175 This ilke monk leet olde thinges pace, And held after the newe world the space. He yaf nat of that text a pulled hen, That seith, that hunters been nat holy men; Ne that a monk, whan he is cloisterlees, 180 Is lykned til a fish that is waterlees; This is to seyn, a monk out of his cloistre. But thilke text held he nat worth an oistre; And I seyde, his opinioun was good. What sholde he studie, and make him-selven wood, 185 Upon a book in cloistre alwey to poure, Or swinken with his handes, and laboure, As Austin bit? How shal the world be served? Lat Austin have his swink to him reserved. Therfore he was a pricasour aright; 190 Grehoundes he hadde, as swifte as fowel in flight; Of priking and of hunting for the hare Was al his lust, for no cost wolde he spare. I seigh his sleves purfiled at the hond With grys, and that the fyneste of a lond; 195 And, for to festne his hood under his chin, He hadde of gold y-wroght a curious pin: A love-knotte in the gretter ende ther was. His heed was balled, that shoon as any glas, And eek his face, as he had been anoint. 200 He was a lord ful fat and in good point; His eyen stepe, and rollinge in his heed, That stemed as a forneys of a leed; His botes souple, his hors in greet estat. Now certeinly he was a fair prelat; 205 He was nat pale as a for-pyned goost. A fat swan loved he best of any roost. His palfrey was as broun as is a berye.

Frere. A Frere ther was, a wantown and a merye, A limitour, a ful solempne man. 210 In alle the ordres foure is noon that can So muche of daliaunce and fair langage. He hadde maad ful many a mariage Of yonge wommen, at his owne cost. Un-to his ordre he was a noble post. 215 Ful wel biloved and famulier was he With frankeleyns over-al in his contree, And eek with worthy wommen of the toun: For he had power of confessioun, As seyde him-self, more than a curat, 220 For of his ordre he was licentiat. Ful swetely herde he confessioun, And plesaunt was his absolucioun; He was an esy man to yeve penaunce Ther as he wiste to han a good pitaunce; 225 For unto a povre ordre for to yive Is signe that a man is wel y-shrive. For if he yaf, he dorste make avaunt, He wiste that a man was repentaunt. For many a man so hard is of his herte, 230 He may nat wepe al-thogh him sore smerte. Therfore, in stede of weping and preyeres, Men moot yeve silver to the povre freres. His tipet was ay farsed ful of knyves And pinnes, for to yeven faire wyves. 235 And certeinly he hadde a mery note; Wel coude he singe and pleyen on a rote. Of yeddinges he bar utterly the prys. His nekke whyt was as the flour-de-lys; Ther-to he strong was as a champioun. 240 He knew the tavernes wel in every toun, And everich hostiler and tappestere Bet than a lazar or a beggestere; For un-to swich a worthy man as he Acorded nat, as by his facultee, 245 To have with seke lazars aqueyntaunce. It is nat honest, it may nat avaunce For to delen with no swich poraille, But al with riche and sellers of vitaille. And over-al, ther as profit sholde aryse, 250 Curteys he was, and lowly of servyse. Ther nas no man no-wher so vertuous. He was the beste beggere in his hous; 252 b [And yaf a certeyn ferme for the graunt; 252 c Noon of his bretheren cam ther in his haunt;] For thogh a widwe hadde noght a sho, So plesaunt was his “In principio,” 255 Yet wolde he have a ferthing, er he wente. His purchas was wel bettre than his rente. And rage he coude, as it were right a whelpe. (260) In love-dayes ther coude he muchel helpe. For there he was nat lyk a cloisterer, 260 With a thredbar cope, as is a povre scoler, But he was lyk a maister or a pope. Of double worsted was his semi-cope, That rounded as a belle out of the presse. Somwhat he lipsed, for his wantownesse, 265 To make his English swete up-on his tonge; And in his harping, whan that he had songe, His eyen twinkled in his heed aright, (270) As doon the sterres in the frosty night. This worthy limitour was cleped Huberd.

Marchant. A Marchant was ther with a forked berd, 271 In mottelee, and hye on horse he sat, Up-on his heed a Flaundrish bever hat; His botes clasped faire and fetisly. His resons he spak ful solempnely, 275 Souninge alway thencrees of his winning. He wolde the see were kept for any thing Bitwixe Middelburgh and Orewelle. (280) Wel coude he in eschaunge sheeldes selle. This worthy man ful wel his wit bisette; 280 Ther wiste no wight that he was in dette, So estatly was he of his governaunce, With his bargaynes, and with his chevisaunce. For sothe he was a worthy man with-alle, But sooth to seyn, I noot how men him calle.

Clerk. A Clerk ther was of Oxenford also, 286 That un-to logik hadde longe y-go. As lene was his hors as is a rake, (290) And he nas nat right fat, I undertake; But loked holwe, and ther-to soberly. 290 Ful thredbar was his overest courtepy; For he had geten him yet no benefyce, Ne was so worldly for to have offyce. For him was lever have at his beddes heed Twenty bokes, clad in blak or reed, 295 Of Aristotle and his philosophye, Than robes riche, or fithele, or gay sautrye. But al be that he was a philosophre, (300) Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre; But al that he mighte of his freendes hente, 300 On bokes and on lerninge he it spente, And bisily gan for the soules preye Of hem that yaf him wher-with to scoleye. Of studie took he most cure and most hede. Noght o word spak he more than was nede, 305 And that was seyd in forme and reverence, And short and quik, and ful of hy sentence. Souninge in moral vertu was his speche, (310) And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.

Man of Lawe. A Sergeant of the Lawe, war and wys, 310 That often hadde been at the parvys, Ther was also, ful riche of excellence. Discreet he was, and of greet reverence: He semed swich, his wordes weren so wyse. Iustyce he was ful often in assyse, 315 By patente, and by pleyn commissioun; For his science, and for his heigh renoun Of fees and robes hadde he many oon. (320) So greet a purchasour was no-wher noon. Al was fee simple to him in effect, 320 His purchasing mighte nat been infect. No-wher so bisy a man as he ther nas, And yet he semed bisier than he was. In termes hadde he caas and domes alle, That from the tyme of king William were falle. 325 Therto he coude endyte, and make a thing, Ther coude no wight pinche at his wryting; And every statut coude he pleyn by rote. (330) He rood but hoomly in a medlee cote Girt with a ceint of silk, with barres smale; Of his array telle I no lenger tale.

Frankeleyn. A Frankeleyn was in his companye; Whyt was his berd, as is the dayesye. Of his complexioun he was sangwyn. Wel loved he by the morwe a sop in wyn. 335 To liven in delyt was ever his wone, For he was Epicurus owne sone, That heeld opinioun, that pleyn delyt Was verraily felicitee parfyt. (340) An housholdere, and that a greet, was he; Seint Iulian he was in his contree. His breed, his ale, was alwey after oon; A bettre envyned man was no-wher noon. With-oute bake mete was never his hous, Of fish and flesh, and that so plentevous, 345 It snewed in his hous of mete and drinke, Of alle deyntees that men coude thinke. After the sondry sesons of the yeer, (350) So chaunged he his mete and his soper. Ful many a fat partrich hadde he in mewe, 350 And many a breem and many a luce in stewe. Wo was his cook, but-if his sauce were Poynaunt and sharp, and redy al his gere. His table dormant in his halle alway Stood redy covered al the longe day. 355 At sessiouns ther was he lord and sire; Ful ofte tyme he was knight of the shire. An anlas and a gipser al of silk (360) Heng at his girdel, whyt as morne milk. A shirreve hadde he been, and a countour; 360 Was no-wher such a worthy vavasour.

Habaerdassher. An Haberdassher and a Carpenter, Carpenter. A Webbe, a Dyere, and a Tapicer, Webbe. Dyere. Were with us eek, clothed in o liveree, Tapicer. Of a solempne and greet fraternitee. 365 Ful fresh and newe hir gere apyked was; Hir knyves were y-chaped noght with bras, But al with silver, wroght ful clene and weel, (370) Hir girdles and hir pouches every-deel. Wel semed ech of hem a fair burgeys, 370 To sitten in a yeldhalle on a deys. Everich, for the wisdom that he can, Was shaply for to been an alderman. For catel hadde they y-nogh and rente, And eek hir wyves wolde it wel assente; 375 And elles certein were they to blame. It is ful fair to been y-clept “ma dame,” And goon to vigilyës al bifore, (380) And have a mantel royalliche y-bore.

Cook. A Cook they hadde with hem for the nones, 380 To boille the chiknes with the mary-bones, And poudre-marchant tart, and galingale. Wel coude he knowe a draughte of London ale. He coude roste, and sethe, and broille, and frye, Maken mortreux, and wel bake a pye. 385 But greet harm was it, as it thoughte me, That on his shine a mormal hadde he; (389) For blankmanger, that made he with the beste.

Shipman. A Shipman was ther, woning fer by weste: For aught I woot, he was of Dertemouthe. 390 He rood up-on a rouncy, as he couthe, In a gowne of falding to the knee. A daggere hanging on a laas hadde he Aboute his nekke under his arm adoun. The hote somer had maad his hewe al broun; 395 And, certeinly, he was a good felawe. Ful many a draughte of wyn had he y-drawe From Burdeux-ward, whyl that the chapman sleep. (400) Of nyce conscience took he no keep. If that he faught, and hadde the hyer hond, 400 By water he sente hem hoom to every lond. But of his craft to rekene wel his tydes, His stremes and his daungers him bisydes, His herberwe and his mone, his lodemenage, Ther nas noon swich from Hulle to Cartage. 405 Hardy he was, and wys to undertake; With many a tempest hadde his berd been shake. He knew wel alle the havenes, as they were, (410) From Gootlond to the cape of Finistere, And every cryke in Britayne and in Spayne; 410 His barge y-cleped was the Maudelayne.

Doctour. With us ther was a Doctour of Phisyk, In al this world ne was ther noon him lyk To speke of phisik and of surgerye; For he was grounded in astronomye. 415 He kepte his pacient a ful greet del In houres, by his magik naturel. Wel coude he fortunen the ascendent (420) Of his images for his pacient. He knew the cause of everich maladye, 420 Were it of hoot or cold, or moiste, or drye, And where engendred, and of what humour; He was a verrey parfit practisour. The cause y-knowe, and of his harm the rote, Anon he yaf the seke man his bote. 425 Ful redy hadde he his apothecaries, To sende him drogges and his letuaries, For ech of hem made other for to winne; (430) Hir frendschipe nas nat newe to biginne. Wel knew he the olde Esculapius, 430 And Deiscorides, and eek Rufus, Old Ypocras, Haly, and Galien; Serapion, Razis, and Avicen; Averrois, Damascien, and Constantyn; Bernard, and Gatesden, and Gilbertyn. 435 Of his diete mesurable was he, For it was of no superfluitee, But of greet norissing and digestible. (440) His studie was but litel on the Bible. In sangwin and in pers he clad was al, 440 Lyned with taffata and with sendal; And yet he was but esy of dispence; He kepte that he wan in pestilence. For gold in phisik is a cordial, Therfore he lovede gold in special.

Wyf of Bathe. A good Wyf was ther of bisyde Bathe, 446 But she was som-del deef, and that was scathe. Of clooth-making she hadde swiche an haunt, (450) She passed hem of Ypres and of Gaunt. In al the parisshe wyf ne was ther noon 450 That to the offring bifore hir sholde goon; And if ther dide, certeyn, so wrooth was she, That she was out of alle charitee. Hir coverchiefs ful fyne were of ground; I dorste swere they weyeden ten pound 455 That on a Sonday were upon hir heed. Hir hosen weren of fyn scarlet reed, Ful streite y-teyd, and shoos ful moiste and newe. (460) Bold was hir face, and fair, and reed of hewe. She was a worthy womman al hir lyve, 460 Housbondes at chirche-dore she hadde fyve, Withouten other companye in youthe; But therof nedeth nat to speke as nouthe. And thryes hadde she been at Ierusalem; She hadde passed many a straunge streem; 465 At Rome she hadde been, and at Boloigne, In Galice at seint Iame, and at Coloigne. She coude muche of wandring by the weye. (470) Gat-tothed was she, soothly for to seye. Up-on an amblere esily she sat, 470 Y-wimpled wel, and on hir heed an hat As brood as is a bokeler or a targe; A foot-mantel aboute hir hipes large, And on hir feet a paire of spores sharpe. In felawschip wel coude she laughe and carpe. 475 Of remedyes of love she knew per-chaunce, For she coude of that art the olde daunce.

Persoun. A good man was ther of religioun, (480) And was a povre Persoun of a toun; But riche he was of holy thoght and werk. 480 He was also a lerned man, a clerk, That Cristes gospel trewely wolde preche; His parisshens devoutly wolde he teche. Benigne he was, and wonder diligent, And in adversitee ful pacient; 485 And swich he was y-preved ofte sythes. Ful looth were him to cursen for his tythes, But rather wolde he yeven, out of doute, (490) Un-to his povre parisshens aboute Of his offring, and eek of his substaunce. 490 He coude in litel thing han suffisaunce. Wyd was his parisshe, and houses fer a-sonder, But he ne lafte nat, for reyn ne thonder, In siknes nor in meschief, to visyte The ferreste in his parisshe, muche and lyte, 495 Up-on his feet, and in his hand a staf. This noble ensample to his sheep he yaf, That first he wroghte, and afterward he taughte; (500) Out of the gospel he tho wordes caughte; And this figure he added eek ther-to, 500 That if gold ruste, what shal iren do? For if a preest be foul, on whom we truste, No wonder is a lewed man to ruste; And shame it is, if a preest take keep, A shiten shepherde and a clene sheep. 505 Wel oghte a preest ensample for to yive, By his clennesse, how that his sheep shold live. He sette nat his benefice to hyre, (510) And leet his sheep encombred in the myre, And ran to London, un-to sëynt Poules, 510 To seken him a chaunterie for soules, Or with a bretherhed to been withholde; But dwelte at hoom, and kepte wel his folde, So that the wolf ne made it nat miscarie; He was a shepherde and no mercenarie. 515 And though he holy were, and vertuous, He was to sinful man nat despitous, Ne of his speche daungerous ne digne, (520) But in his teching discreet and benigne. To drawen folk to heven by fairnesse 520 By good ensample, was his bisinesse: But it were any persone obstinat, What-so he were, of heigh or lowe estat, Him wolde he snibben sharply for the nones. A bettre preest, I trowe that nowher noon is. 525 He wayted after no pompe and reverence, Ne maked him a spyced conscience, But Cristes lore, and his apostles twelve, (530) He taughte, and first he folwed it him-selve.

Plowman. With him ther was a Plowman, was his brother, 530 That hadde y-lad of dong ful many a fother, A trewe swinker and a good was he, Livinge in pees and parfit charitee. God loved he best with al his hole herte At alle tymes, thogh him gamed or smerte, 535 And thanne his neighebour right as him-selve. He wolde thresshe, and ther-to dyke and delve, For Cristes sake, for every povre wight, (540) Withouten hyre, if it lay in his might. His tythes payed he ful faire and wel, 540 Bothe of his propre swink and his catel. In a tabard he rood upon a mere.

Ther was also a Reve and a Millere, A Somnour and a Pardoner also, A Maunciple, and my-self; ther were namo. Miller. The Miller was a stout carl, for the nones, 546 Ful big he was of braun, and eek of bones; That proved wel, for over-al ther he cam, (550) At wrastling he wolde have alwey the ram. He was short-sholdred, brood, a thikke knarre, 550 Ther nas no dore that he nolde heve of harre, Or breke it, at a renning, with his heed. His berd as any sowe or fox was reed, And ther-to brood, as though it were a spade. Up-on the cop right of his nose he hade 555 A werte, and ther-on stood a tuft of heres, Reed as the bristles of a sowes eres; His nose-thirles blake were and wyde. (560) A swerd and bokeler bar he by his syde; His mouth as greet was as a greet forneys. 560 He was a Ianglere and a goliardeys, And that was most of sinne and harlotryes. Wel coude he stelen corn, and tollen thryes; And yet he hadde a thombe of gold, pardee. A whyt cote and a blew hood wered he. 565 A baggepype wel coude he blowe and sowne, And ther-with-al he broghte us out of towne.

Maunciple. A gentil Maunciple was ther of a temple, (570) Of which achatours mighte take exemple For to be wyse in bying of vitaille. 570 For whether that he payde, or took by taille, Algate he wayted so in his achat, That he was ay biforn and in good stat. Now is nat that of God a ful fair grace, That swich a lewed mannes wit shal pace 575 The wisdom of an heep of lerned men? Of maistres hadde he mo than thryes ten, That were of lawe expert and curious; (580) Of which ther were a doseyn in that hous, Worthy to been stiwardes of rente and lond 580 Of any lord that is in Engelond, To make him live by his propre good, In honour dettelees, but he were wood, Or live as scarsly as him list desire; And able for to helpen al a shire 585 In any cas that mighte falle or happe; And yit this maunciple sette hir aller cappe.

Reve. The Reve was a sclendre colerik man, (590) His berd was shave as ny as ever he can. His heer was by his eres round y-shorn. 590 His top was dokked lyk a preest biforn. Ful longe were his legges, and ful lene, Y-lyk a staf, ther was no calf y-sene. Wel coude he kepe a gerner and a binne; Ther was noon auditour coude on him winne. 595 Wel wiste he, by the droghte, and by the reyn, The yelding of his seed, and of his greyn. His lordes sheep, his neet, his dayerye, (600) His swyn, his hors, his stoor, and his pultrye, Was hoolly in this reves governing, 600 And by his covenaunt yaf the rekening, Sin that his lord was twenty yeer of age; Ther coude no man bringe him in arrerage. Ther nas baillif, ne herde, ne other hyne, That he ne knew his sleighte and his covyne; 605 They were adrad of him, as of the deeth. His woning was ful fair up-on an heeth, With grene treës shadwed was his place. (610) He coude bettre than his lord purchace. Ful riche he was astored prively, 610 His lord wel coude he plesen subtilly, To yeve and lene him of his owne good, And have a thank, and yet a cote and hood. In youthe he lerned hadde a good mister; He was a wel good wrighte, a carpenter. 615 This reve sat up-on a ful good stot, That was al pomely grey, and highte Scot. A long surcote of pers up-on he hade, (620) And by his syde he bar a rusty blade. Of Northfolk was this reve, of which I telle, 620 Bisyde a toun men clepen Baldeswelle. Tukked he was, as is a frere, aboute, And ever he rood the hindreste of our route.

Somnour. A Somnour was ther with us in that place, That hadde a fyr-reed cherubinnes face, 625 For sawcefleem he was, with eyen narwe. As hoot he was, and lecherous, as a sparwe; With scalled browes blake, and piled berd; (630) Of his visage children were aferd. Ther nas quik-silver, litarge, ne brimstoon, 630 Boras, ceruce, ne oille of tartre noon, Ne oynement that wolde dense and byte, That him mighte helpen of his whelkes whyte, Nor of the knobbes sittinge on his chekes. Wel loved he garleek, oynons, and eek lekes, 635 And for to drinken strong wyn, reed as blood. Thanne wolde he speke, and crye as he were wood. And whan that he wel dronken hadde the wyn, (640) Than wolde he speke no word but Latyn. A fewe termes hadde he, two or three, 640 That he had lerned out of som decree; No wonder is, he herde it al the day; And eek ye knowen wel, how that a Iay Can clepen ‘Watte,’ as well as can the pope. But who-so coude in other thing him grope, 645 Thanne hadde he spent al his philosophye; Ay ‘Questio quid iuris’ wolde he crye. He was a gentil harlot and a kinde; (650) A bettre felawe sholde men noght finde. He wolde suffre, for a quart of wyn, 650 A good felawe to have his concubyn A twelf-month, and excuse him atte fulle: Ful prively a finch eek coude he pulle. And if he fond o-wher a good felawe, He wolde techen him to have non awe, 655 In swich cas, of the erchedeknes curs, But-if a mannes soule were in his purs; For in his purs he sholde y-punisshed be. (660) ‘Purs is the erchedeknes helle,’ seyde he. But wel I woot he lyed right in dede; 660 Of cursing oghte ech gilty man him drede— For curs wol slee, right as assoilling saveth— And also war him of a significavit. In daunger hadde he at his owne gyse The yonge girles of the diocyse, 665 And knew hir counseil, and was al hir reed. A gerland hadde he set up-on his heed, As greet as it were for an ale-stake; (670) A bokeler hadde he maad him of a cake.

Pardoner. With him ther rood a gentil Pardoner 670 Of Rouncival, his freend and his compeer, That streight was comen fro the court of Rome. Ful loude he song, ‘Com hider, love, to me.’ This somnour bar to him a stif burdoun, Was never trompe of half so greet a soun. 675 This pardoner hadde heer as yelow as wex, But smothe it heng, as dooth a strike of flex; By ounces henge his lokkes that he hadde, (680) And ther-with he his shuldres overspradde; But thinne it lay, by colpons oon and oon; 680 But hood, for Iolitee, ne wered he noon, For it was trussed up in his walet. Him thoughte, he rood al of the newe Iet; Dischevele, save his cappe, he rood al bare. Swiche glaringe eyen hadde he as an hare. 685 A vernicle hadde he sowed on his cappe. His walet lay biforn him in his lappe, Bret-ful of pardoun come from Rome al hoot. (690) A voys he hadde as smal as hath a goot. No berd hadde he, ne never sholde have, 690 As smothe it was as it were late y-shave; I trowe he were a gelding or a mare. But of his craft, fro Berwik into Ware, Ne was ther swich another pardoner. For in his male he hadde a pilwe-beer, 695 Which that, he seyde, was our lady veyl: He seyde, he hadde a gobet of the seyl That sëynt Peter hadde, whan that he wente (700) Up-on the see, til Iesu Crist him hente. He hadde a croys of latoun, ful of stones, 700 And in a glas he hadde pigges bones. But with thise relikes, whan that he fond A povre person dwelling up-on lond, Up-on a day he gat him more moneye Than that the person gat in monthes tweye. 705 And thus, with feyned flaterye and Iapes, He made the person and the peple his apes. But trewely to tellen, atte laste, (710) He was in chirche a noble ecclesiaste. Wel coude he rede a lessoun or a storie, 710 But alderbest he song an offertorie; For wel he wiste, whan that song was songe, He moste preche, and wel affyle his tonge, To winne silver, as he ful wel coude; Therefore he song so meriely and loude.

715 Now have I told you shortly, in a clause, Thestat, tharray, the nombre, and eek the cause Why that assembled was this companye (720) In Southwerk, at this gentil hostelrye, That highte the Tabard, faste by the Belle. 720 But now is tyme to yow for to telle How that we baren us that ilke night, Whan we were in that hostelrye alight. And after wol I telle of our viage, And al the remenaunt of our pilgrimage. 725 But first I pray yow, of your curteisye, That ye narette it nat my vileinye, Thogh that I pleynly speke in this matere, (730) To telle yow hir wordes and hir chere; Ne thogh I speke hir wordes properly. 730 For this ye knowen al-so wel as I, Who-so shal telle a tale after a man, He moot reherce, as ny as ever he can, Everich a word, if it be in his charge, Al speke he never so rudeliche and large; 735 Or elles he moot telle his tale untrewe, Or feyne thing, or finde wordes newe. He may nat spare, al-thogh he were his brother; (740) He moot as wel seye o word as another. Crist spak him-self ful brode in holy writ, 740 And wel ye woot, no vileinye is it. Eek Plato seith, who-so that can him rede, The wordes mote be cosin to the dede. Also I prey yow to foryeve it me, Al have I nat set folk in hir degree 745 Here in this tale, as that they sholde stonde; My wit is short, ye may wel understonde.

Greet chere made our hoste us everichon, (750) And to the soper sette he us anon; And served us with vitaille at the beste. 750 Strong was the wyn, and wel to drinke us leste. A semely man our hoste was with-alle For to han been a marshal in an halle; A large man he was with eyen stepe, A fairer burgeys is ther noon in Chepe: 755 Bold of his speche, and wys, and wel y-taught, And of manhod him lakkede right naught. Eek therto he was right a mery man, (760) And after soper pleyen he bigan, And spak of mirthe amonges othere thinges, 760 Whan that we hadde maad our rekeninges; And seyde thus: ‘Now, lordinges, trewely, Ye been to me right welcome hertely: For by my trouthe, if that I shal nat lye, I ne saugh this yeer so mery a companye 765 At ones in this herberwe as is now. Fayn wolde I doon yow mirthe, wiste I how. And of a mirthe I am right now bithoght, (770) To doon yow ese, and it shal coste noght.

Ye goon to Caunterbury; God yow spede, 770 The blisful martir quyte yow your mede. And wel I woot, as ye goon by the weye, Ye shapen yow to talen and to pleye; For trewely, confort ne mirthe is noon To ryde by the weye doumb as a stoon; 775 And therfore wol I maken yow disport, As I seyde erst, and doon yow som confort. And if yow lyketh alle, by oon assent, (780) Now for to stonden at my Iugement, And for to werken as I shal yow seye, 780 To-morwe, whan ye ryden by the weye, Now, by my fader soule, that is deed, But ye be merye, I wol yeve yow myn heed. Hold up your hond, withouten more speche.’

Our counseil was nat longe for to seche; 785 Us thoughte it was noght worth to make it wys, And graunted him withouten more avys, And bad him seye his verdit, as him leste.

(790) ‘Lordinges,’ quod he, ‘now herkneth for the beste; But tak it not, I prey yow, in desdeyn; 790 This is the poynt, to speken short and pleyn, That ech of yow, to shorte with your weye, In this viage, shal telle tales tweye, To Caunterbury-ward, I mene it so, And hom-ward he shal tellen othere two, 795 Of aventures that whylom han bifalle. And which of yow that bereth him best of alle, That is to seyn, that telleth in this cas (800) Tales of best sentence and most solas, Shal have a soper at our aller cost 800 Here in this place, sitting by this post, Whan that we come agayn fro Caunterbury. And for to make yow the more mery, I wol my-selven gladly with yow ryde, Right at myn owne cost, and be your gyde. 805 And who-so wol my Iugement withseye Shal paye al that we spenden by the weye. And if ye vouche-sauf that it be so, (810) Tel me anon, with-outen wordes mo, And I wol erly shape me therfore.’

810 This thing was graunted, and our othes swore With ful glad herte, and preyden him also That he wold vouche-sauf for to do so, And that he wolde been our governour, And of our tales Iuge and reportour, 815 And sette a soper at a certeyn prys; And we wold reuled been at his devys, In heigh and lowe; and thus, by oon assent, (820) We been acorded to his Iugement. And ther-up-on the wyn was fet anon; 820 We dronken, and to reste wente echon, With-outen any lenger taryinge.

A-morwe, whan that day bigan to springe, Up roos our host, and was our aller cok, And gadrede us togidre, alle in a flok, 825 And forth we riden, a litel more than pas, Un-to the watering of seint Thomas. And there our host bigan his hors areste, (830) And seyde; ‘Lordinges, herkneth, if yow leste. Ye woot your forward, and I it yow recorde. 830 If even-song and morwe-song acorde, Lat se now who shal telle the firste tale. As ever mote I drinke wyn or ale, Who-so be rebel to my Iugement Shal paye for al that by the weye is spent. 835 Now draweth cut, er that we ferrer twinne; He which that hath the shortest shal biginne. Sire knight,’ quod he, ‘my maister and my lord, (840) Now draweth cut, for that is myn acord. Cometh neer,’ quod he, ‘my lady prioresse; 840 And ye, sir clerk, lat be your shamfastnesse, Ne studieth noght; ley hond to, every man.’

Anon to drawen every wight bigan, And shortly for to tellen, as it was, Were it by aventure, or sort, or cas, 845 The sothe is this, the cut fil to the knight, Of which ful blythe and glad was every wight; And telle he moste his tale, as was resoun, (850) By forward and by composicioun, As ye han herd; what nedeth wordes mo? 850 And whan this gode man saugh it was so, As he that wys was and obedient To kepe his forward by his free assent, He seyde: ‘Sin I shal biginne the game, What, welcome be the cut, a Goddes name! 855 Now lat us ryde, and herkneth what I seye.’

And with that word we riden forth our weye; And he bigan with right a mery chere (860) His tale anon, and seyde in this manere.

Iamque domos patrias, Scithice post aspera gentis Prelia, laurigero, &c. [Statius, Theb. xii. 519.]

Whylom, as olde stories tellen us, 860 Ther was a duk that highte Theseus; Of Athenes he was lord and governour, And in his tyme swich a conquerour, That gretter was ther noon under the sonne. Ful many a riche contree hadde he wonne; 865 What with his wisdom and his chivalrye, He conquered al the regne of Femenye, That whylom was y-cleped Scithia; (10) And weddede the quene Ipolita, And broghte hir hoom with him in his contree 870 With muchel glorie and greet solempnitee, And eek hir yonge suster Emelye. And thus with victorie and with melodye Lete I this noble duk to Athenes ryde, And al his hoost, in armes, him bisyde.

875 And certes, if it nere to long to here, I wolde han told yow fully the manere, How wonnen was the regne of Femenye (20) By Theseus, and by his chivalrye; And of the grete bataille for the nones 880 Bitwixen Athenës and Amazones; And how asseged was Ipolita, The faire hardy quene of Scithia; And of the feste that was at hir weddinge, And of the tempest at hir hoom-cominge; 885 But al that thing I moot as now forbere. I have, God woot, a large feeld to ere, And wayke been the oxen in my plough. (30) The remenant of the tale is long y-nough. I wol nat letten eek noon of this route; 890 Lat every felawe telle his tale aboute, And lat see now who shal the soper winne; And ther I lefte, I wol ageyn biginne.

This duk, of whom I make mencioun, When he was come almost unto the toun, 895 In al his wele and in his moste pryde, He was war, as he caste his eye asyde, Wher that ther kneled in the hye weye (40) A companye of ladies, tweye and tweye, Ech after other, clad in clothes blake; 900 But swich a cry and swich a wo they make, That in this world nis creature livinge, That herde swich another weymentinge; And of this cry they nolde never stenten, Til they the reynes of his brydel henten.

905 ‘What folk ben ye, that at myn hoom-cominge Perturben so my feste with cryinge?’ Quod Theseus, ‘have ye so greet envye (50) Of myn honour, that thus compleyne and crye? Or who hath yow misboden, or offended? 910 And telleth me if it may been amended; And why that ye ben clothed thus in blak?’ The eldest lady of hem alle spak, When she hadde swowned with a deedly chere, That it was routhe for to seen and here, 915 And seyde: ‘Lord, to whom Fortune hath yiven Victorie, and as a conquerour to liven, Noght greveth us your glorie and your honour; (60) But we biseken mercy and socour. Have mercy on our wo and our distresse. 920 Som drope of pitee, thurgh thy gentillesse, Up-on us wrecched wommen lat thou falle. For certes, lord, ther nis noon of us alle, That she nath been a duchesse or a quene; Now be we caitifs, as it is wel sene: 925 Thanked be Fortune, and hir false wheel, That noon estat assureth to be weel. And certes, lord, to abyden your presence, (70) Here in the temple of the goddesse Clemence We han ben waytinge al this fourtenight; 930 Now help us, lord, sith it is in thy might.

I wrecche, which that wepe and waille thus, Was whylom wyf to king Capaneus, That starf at Thebes, cursed be that day! And alle we, that been in this array, 935 And maken al this lamentacioun, We losten alle our housbondes at that toun, Whyl that the sege ther-aboute lay. (80) And yet now the olde Creon, weylaway! That lord is now of Thebes the citee, 940 Fulfild of ire and of iniquitee, He, for despyt, and for his tirannye, To do the dede bodyes vileinye, Of alle our lordes, whiche that ben slawe, Hath alle the bodyes on an heep y-drawe, 945 And wol nat suffren hem, by noon assent, Neither to been y-buried nor y-brent, But maketh houndes ete hem in despyt.’ (90) And with that word, with-outen more respyt, They fillen gruf, and cryden pitously, 950 ‘Have on us wrecched wommen som mercy, And lat our sorwe sinken in thyn herte.’

This gentil duk doun from his courser sterte With herte pitous, whan he herde hem speke. Him thoughte that his herte wolde breke, 955 Whan he saugh hem so pitous and so mat, That whylom weren of so greet estat. And in his armes he hem alle up hente, (100) And hem conforteth in ful good entente; And swoor his ooth, as he was trewe knight, 960 He wolde doon so ferforthly his might Up-on the tyraunt Creon hem to wreke, That al the peple of Grece sholde speke How Creon was of Theseus y-served, As he that hadde his deeth ful wel deserved. 965 And right anoon, with-outen more abood, His baner he desplayeth, and forth rood To Thebes-ward, and al his host bisyde; (110) No neer Athenës wolde he go ne ryde, Ne take his ese fully half a day, 970 But onward on his wey that night he lay; And sente anoon Ipolita the quene, And Emelye hir yonge suster shene, Un-to the toun of Athenës to dwelle; And forth he rit; ther nis namore to telle.

975 The rede statue of Mars, with spere and targe, So shyneth in his whyte baner large, That alle the feeldes gliteren up and doun; (120) And by his baner born is his penoun Of gold ful riche, in which ther was y-bete 980 The Minotaur, which that he slough in Crete. Thus rit this duk, thus rit this conquerour, And in his host of chivalrye the flour, Til that he cam to Thebes, and alighte Faire in a feeld, ther as he thoghte fighte. 985 But shortly for to speken of this thing, With Creon, which that was of Thebes king, He faught, and slough him manly as a knight (130) In pleyn bataille, and putte the folk to flight; And by assaut he wan the citee after, 990 And rente adoun bothe wal, and sparre, and rafter; And to the ladyes he restored agayn The bones of hir housbondes that were slayn, To doon obsequies, as was tho the gyse. But it were al to long for to devyse 995 The grete clamour and the waymentinge That the ladyes made at the brenninge Of the bodyes, and the grete honour (140) That Theseus, the noble conquerour, Doth to the ladyes, whan they from him wente; 1000 But shortly for to telle is myn entente. Whan that this worthy duk, this Theseus, Hath Creon slayn, and wonne Thebes thus, Stille in that feeld he took al night his reste, And dide with al the contree as him leste.

1005 To ransake in the tas of bodyes dede, Hem for to strepe of harneys and of wede, The pilours diden bisinesse and cure, (150) After the bataille and disconfiture. And so bifel, that in the tas they founde, 1010 Thurgh-girt with many a grevous blody wounde, Two yonge knightes ligging by and by, Bothe in oon armes, wroght ful richely, Of whiche two, Arcita hight that oon, And that other knight hight Palamon. 1015 Nat fully quike, ne fully dede they were, But by hir cote-armures, and by hir gere, The heraudes knewe hem best in special, (160) As they that weren of the blood royal Of Thebes, and of sustren two y-born. 1020 Out of the tas the pilours han hem torn, And han hem caried softe un-to the tente Of Theseus, and he ful sone hem sente To Athenës, to dwellen in prisoun Perpetuelly, he nolde no raunsoun. 1025 And whan this worthy duk hath thus y-don, He took his host, and hoom he rood anon With laurer crowned as a conquerour; (170) And there he liveth, in Ioye and in honour, Terme of his lyf; what nedeth wordes mo? 1030 And in a tour, in angwish and in wo, Dwellen this Palamoun and eek Arcite, For evermore, ther may no gold hem quyte.

This passeth yeer by yeer, and day by day, Til it fil ones, in a morwe of May, 1035 That Emelye, that fairer was to sene Than is the lilie upon his stalke grene, And fressher than the May with floures newe— (180) For with the rose colour stroof hir hewe, I noot which was the fairer of hem two— 1040 Er it were day, as was hir wone to do, She was arisen, and al redy dight; For May wol have no slogardye a-night. The sesoun priketh every gentil herte, And maketh him out of his sleep to sterte, 1045 And seith, ‘Arys, and do thyn observaunce.’ This maked Emelye have remembraunce To doon honour to May, and for to ryse. (190) Y-clothed was she fresh, for to devyse; Hir yelow heer was broyded in a tresse, 1050 Bihinde hir bak, a yerde long, I gesse. And in the gardin, at the sonne up-riste, She walketh up and doun, and as hir liste She gadereth floures, party whyte and rede, To make a sotil gerland for hir hede, 1055 And as an aungel hevenly she song. The grete tour, that was so thikke and strong, Which of the castel was the chief dongeoun, (200) (Ther-as the knightes weren in prisoun, Of whiche I tolde yow, and tellen shal) 1060 Was evene Ioynant to the gardin-wal, Ther as this Emelye hadde hir pleyinge. Bright was the sonne, and cleer that morweninge, And Palamon, this woful prisoner, As was his wone, by leve of his gayler, 1065 Was risen, and romed in a chambre on heigh, In which he al the noble citee seigh, And eek the gardin, ful of braunches grene, (210) Ther-as this fresshe Emelye the shene Was in hir walk, and romed up and doun. 1070 This sorweful prisoner, this Palamoun, Goth in the chambre, roming to and fro, And to him-self compleyning of his wo; That he was born, ful ofte he seyde, ‘alas!’ And so bifel, by aventure or cas, 1075 That thurgh a window, thikke of many a barre Of yren greet, and square as any sparre, He caste his eye upon Emelya, (220) And ther-with-al he bleynte, and cryde ‘a!’ As though he stongen were un-to the herte. 1080 And with that cry Arcite anon up-sterte, And seyde, ‘Cosin myn, what eyleth thee, That art so pale and deedly on to see? Why crydestow? who hath thee doon offence? For Goddes love, tak al in pacience 1085 Our prisoun, for it may non other be; Fortune hath yeven us this adversitee. Som wikke aspect or disposicioun (230) Of Saturne, by sum constellacioun, Hath yeven us this, al-though we hadde it sworn; 1090 So stood the heven whan that we were born; We moste endure it: this is the short and pleyn.’

This Palamon answerde, and seyde ageyn, ‘Cosyn, for sothe, of this opinioun Thou hast a veyn imaginacioun. 1095 This prison caused me nat for to crye. But I was hurt right now thurgh-out myn yë In-to myn herte, that wol my bane be. (240) The fairnesse of that lady that I see Yond in the gardin romen to and fro, 1100 Is cause of al my crying and my wo. I noot wher she be womman or goddesse; But Venus is it, soothly, as I gesse.’ And ther-with-al on kneës doun he fil, And seyde: ‘Venus, if it be thy wil 1105 Yow in this gardin thus to transfigure Bifore me, sorweful wrecche creature, Out of this prisoun help that we may scapen. (250) And if so be my destinee be shapen By eterne word to dyen in prisoun, 1110 Of our linage have som compassioun, That is so lowe y-broght by tirannye.’ And with that word Arcite gan espye Wher-as this lady romed to and fro. And with that sighte hir beautee hurte him so, 1115 That, if that Palamon was wounded sore, Arcite is hurt as muche as he, or more. And with a sigh he seyde pitously: (260) ‘The fresshe beautee sleeth me sodeynly Of hir that rometh in the yonder place; 1120 And, but I have hir mercy and hir grace, That I may seen hir atte leeste weye, I nam but deed; ther nis namore to seye.’

This Palamon, whan he tho wordes herde, Dispitously he loked, and answerde: 1125 ‘Whether seistow this in ernest or in pley?’

‘Nay,’ quod Arcite, ‘in ernest, by my fey! God help me so, me list ful yvele pleye.’ (270) This Palamon gan knitte his browes tweye: ‘It nere,’ quod he, ‘to thee no greet honour 1130 For to be fals, ne for to be traytour To me, that am thy cosin and thy brother Y-sworn ful depe, and ech of us til other, That never, for to dyen in the peyne, Til that the deeth departe shal us tweyne, 1135 Neither of us in love to hindren other, Ne in non other cas, my leve brother; But that thou sholdest trewely forthren me (280) In every cas, and I shal forthren thee. This was thyn ooth, and myn also, certeyn; 1140 I wot right wel, thou darst it nat withseyn. Thus artow of my counseil, out of doute. And now thou woldest falsly been aboute To love my lady, whom I love and serve, And ever shal, til that myn herte sterve. 1145 Now certes, fals Arcite, thou shalt nat so. I loved hir first, and tolde thee my wo As to my counseil, and my brother sworn (290) To forthre me, as I have told biforn. For which thou art y-bounden as a knight 1150 To helpen me, if it lay in thy might, Or elles artow fals, I dar wel seyn.’

This Arcitë ful proudly spak ageyn, ‘Thou shalt,’ quod he, ‘be rather fals than I; But thou art fals, I telle thee utterly; 1155 For par amour I loved hir first er thow. What wiltow seyn? thou wistest nat yet now Whether she be a womman or goddesse! (300) Thyn is affeccioun of holinesse, And myn is love, as to a creature; 1160 For which I tolde thee myn aventure As to my cosin, and my brother sworn. I pose, that thou lovedest hir biforn; Wostow nat wel the olde clerkes sawe, That ‘who shal yeve a lover any lawe?’ 1165 Love is a gretter lawe, by my pan, Than may be yeve to any erthly man. And therefore positif lawe and swich decree (310) Is broke al-day for love, in ech degree. A man moot nedes love, maugree his heed. 1170 He may nat fleen it, thogh he sholde be deed, Al be she mayde, or widwe, or elles wyf. And eek it is nat lykly, al thy lyf, To stonden in hir grace; namore shal I; For wel thou woost thy-selven, verraily, 1175 That thou and I be dampned to prisoun Perpetuelly; us gayneth no raunsoun. We stryve as dide the houndes for the boon, (320) They foughte al day, and yet hir part was noon; Ther cam a kyte, whyl that they were wrothe, 1180 And bar awey the boon bitwixe hem bothe. And therfore, at the kinges court, my brother, Ech man for him-self, ther is non other. Love if thee list; for I love and ay shal; And soothly, leve brother, this is al. 1185 Here in this prisoun mote we endure, And everich of us take his aventure.’

Greet was the stryf and long bitwixe hem tweye, (330) If that I hadde leyser for to seye; But to theffect. It happed on a day, 1190 (To telle it yow as shortly as I may) A worthy duk that highte Perotheus, That felawe was un-to duk Theseus Sin thilke day that they were children lyte, Was come to Athenes, his felawe to visyte, 1195 And for to pleye, as he was wont to do, For in this world he loved no man so: And he loved him as tendrely ageyn. (340) So wel they loved, as olde bokes seyn, That whan that oon was deed, sothly to telle, 1200 His felawe wente and soghte him doun in helle; But of that story list me nat to wryte. Duk Perotheus loved wel Arcite, And hadde him knowe at Thebes yeer by yere; And fynally, at requeste and preyere 1205 Of Perotheus, with-oute any raunsoun, Duk Theseus him leet out of prisoun, Freely to goon, wher that him liste over-al, (350) In swich a gyse, as I you tellen shal. This was the forward, pleynly for tendyte, 1210 Bitwixen Theseus and him Arcite: That if so were, that Arcite were y-founde Ever in his lyf, by day or night or stounde In any contree of this Theseus, And he were caught, it was acorded thus, 1215 That with a swerd he sholde lese his heed; Ther nas non other remedye ne reed, But taketh his leve, and homward he him spedde; (360) Let him be war, his nekke lyth to wedde!

How greet a sorwe suffreth now Arcite! 1220 The deeth he feleth thurgh his herte smyte; He wepeth, wayleth, cryeth pitously; To sleen him-self he wayteth prively. He seyde, ‘Allas that day that I was born! Now is my prison worse than biforn; 1225 Now is me shape eternally to dwelle Noght in purgatorie, but in helle. Allas! that ever knew I Perotheus! (370) For elles hadde I dwelled with Theseus Y-fetered in his prisoun ever-mo. 1230 Than hadde I been in blisse, and nat in wo. Only the sighte of hir, whom that I serve, Though that I never hir grace may deserve, Wolde han suffised right y-nough for me. O dere cosin Palamon,’ quod he, 1235 ‘Thyn is the victorie of this aventure, Ful blisfully in prison maistow dure; In prison? certes nay, but in paradys! (380) Wel hath fortune y-turned thee the dys, That hast the sighte of hir, and I thabsence. 1240 For possible is, sin thou hast hir presence, And art a knight, a worthy and an able, That by som cas, sin fortune is chaungeable, Thou mayst to thy desyr som-tyme atteyne. But I, that am exyled, and bareyne 1245 Of alle grace, and in so greet despeir, That ther nis erthe, water, fyr, ne eir, Ne creature, that of hem maked is, (390) That may me helpe or doon confort in this. Wel oughte I sterve in wanhope and distresse; 1250 Farwel my lyf, my lust, and my gladnesse!

Allas, why pleynen folk so in commune Of purveyaunce of God, or of fortune, That yeveth hem ful ofte in many a gyse Wel bettre than they can hem-self devyse? 1255 Som man desyreth for to han richesse, That cause is of his mordre or greet siknesse. And som man wolde out of his prison fayn, (400) That in his hous is of his meynee slayn. Infinite harmes been in this matere; 1260 We witen nat what thing we preyen here. We faren as he that dronke is as a mous; A dronke man wot wel he hath an hous, But he noot which the righte wey is thider; And to a dronke man the wey is slider. 1265 And certes, in this world so faren we; We seken faste after felicitee, But we goon wrong ful often, trewely. (410) Thus may we seyen alle, and namely I, That wende and hadde a greet opinioun, 1270 That, if I mighte escapen from prisoun, Than hadde I been in Ioye and perfit hele, Ther now I am exyled fro my wele. Sin that I may nat seen yow, Emelye, I nam but deed; ther nis no remedye.’

1275 Up-on that other syde Palamon, Whan that he wiste Arcite was agon, Swich sorwe he maketh, that the grete tour (420) Resouneth of his youling and clamour. The pure fettres on his shines grete 1280 Weren of his bittre salte teres wete. ‘Allas!’ quod he, ‘Arcita, cosin myn, Of al our stryf, God woot, the fruyt is thyn. Thow walkest now in Thebes at thy large, And of my wo thou yevest litel charge. 1285 Thou mayst, sin thou hast wisdom and manhede, Assemblen alle the folk of our kinrede, And make a werre so sharp on this citee, (430) That by som aventure, or som tretee, Thou mayst have hir to lady and to wyf, 1290 For whom that I mot nedes lese my lyf. For, as by wey of possibilitee, Sith thou art at thy large, of prison free, And art a lord, greet is thyn avauntage, More than is myn, that sterve here in a cage. 1295 For I mot wepe and wayle, whyl I live, With al the wo that prison may me yive, And eek with peyne that love me yiveth also, (440) That doubleth al my torment and my wo.’ Ther-with the fyr of Ielousye up-sterte 1300 With-inne his brest, and hente him by the herte So woodly, that he lyk was to biholde The box-tree, or the asshen dede and colde. Tho seyde he; ‘O cruel goddes, that governe This world with binding of your word eterne, 1305 And wryten in the table of athamaunt Your parlement, and your eterne graunt, What is mankinde more un-to yow holde (450) Than is the sheep, that rouketh in the folde? For slayn is man right as another beste, 1310 And dwelleth eek in prison and areste, And hath siknesse, and greet adversitee, And ofte tymes giltelees, pardee!

What governaunce is in this prescience, That giltelees tormenteth innocence? 1315 And yet encreseth this al my penaunce, That man is bounden to his observaunce, For Goddes sake, to letten of his wille, (460) Ther as a beest may al his lust fulfille. And whan a beest is deed, he hath no peyne; 1320 But man after his deeth moot wepe and pleyne, Though in this world he have care and wo: With-outen doute it may stonden so. The answere of this I lete to divynis, But wel I woot, that in this world gret pyne is. 1325 Allas! I see a serpent or a theef, That many a trewe man hath doon mescheef, Goon at his large, and wher him list may turne. (470) But I mot been in prison thurgh Saturne, And eek thurgh Iuno, Ialous and eek wood, 1330 That hath destroyed wel ny al the blood Of Thebes, with his waste walles wyde. And Venus sleeth me on that other syde For Ielousye, and fere of him Arcite.’

Now wol I stinte of Palamon a lyte, 1335 And lete him in his prison stille dwelle, And of Arcita forth I wol yow telle. The somer passeth, and the nightes longe (480) Encresen double wyse the peynes stronge Bothe of the lovere and the prisoner. 1340 I noot which hath the wofullere mester. For shortly for to seyn, this Palamoun Perpetuelly is dampned to prisoun, In cheynes and in fettres to ben deed; And Arcite is exyled upon his heed 1345 For ever-mo as out of that contree, Ne never-mo he shal his lady see.

Yow loveres axe I now this questioun, (490) Who hath the worse, Arcite or Palamoun? That oon may seen his lady day by day, 1350 But in prison he moot dwelle alway. That other wher him list may ryde or go, But seen his lady shal he never-mo. Now demeth as yow liste, ye that can, For I wol telle forth as I bigan.

Explicit prima Pars. Sequitur pars secunda. 1355 Whan that Arcite to Thebes comen was, Ful ofte a day he swelte and seyde ‘allas,’ For seen his lady shal he never-mo. (500) And shortly to concluden al his wo, So muche sorwe had never creature 1360 That is, or shal, whyl that the world may dure. His sleep, his mete, his drink is him biraft, That lene he wex, and drye as is a shaft. His eyen holwe, and grisly to biholde; His hewe falwe, and pale as asshen colde, 1365 And solitarie he was, and ever allone, And wailling al the night, making his mone. And if he herde song or instrument, (510) Then wolde he wepe, he mighte nat be stent; So feble eek were his spirits, and so lowe, 1370 And chaunged so, that no man coude knowe His speche nor his vois, though men it herde. And in his gere, for al the world he ferde Nat oonly lyk the loveres maladye Of Hereos, but rather lyk manye 1375 Engendred of humour malencolyk, Biforen, in his celle fantastyk. And shortly, turned was al up-so-doun (520) Bothe habit and eek disposicioun Of him, this woful lovere daun Arcite.

1380 What sholde I al-day of his wo endyte? Whan he endured hadde a yeer or two This cruel torment, and this peyne and wo, At Thebes, in his contree, as I seyde, Up-on a night, in sleep as he him leyde, 1385 Him thoughte how that the winged god Mercurie Biforn him stood, and bad him to be murye. His slepy yerde in hond he bar uprighte; (530) An hat he werede up-on his heres brighte. Arrayed was this god (as he took keep) 1390 As he was whan that Argus took his sleep; And seyde him thus: ‘To Athenes shaltou wende; Ther is thee shapen of thy wo an ende.’ And with that word Arcite wook and sterte. ‘Now trewely, how sore that me smerte,’ 1395 Quod he, ‘to Athenes right now wol I fare; Ne for the drede of deeth shal I nat spare To see my lady, that I love and serve; (540) In hir presence I recche nat to sterve.’

And with that word he caughte a greet mirour, 1400 And saugh that chaunged was al his colour, And saugh his visage al in another kinde. And right anoon it ran him in his minde, That, sith his face was so disfigured Of maladye, the which he hadde endured, 1405 He mighte wel, if that he bar him lowe, Live in Athenes ever-more unknowe, And seen his lady wel ny day by day. (550) And right anon he chaunged his array, And cladde him as a povre laborer, 1410 And al allone, save oonly a squyer, That knew his privetee and al his cas, Which was disgysed povrely, as he was, To Athenes is he goon the nexte way. And to the court he wente up-on a day, 1415 And at the gate he profreth his servyse, To drugge and drawe, what so men wol devyse. And shortly of this matere for to seyn, (560) He fil in office with a chamberleyn, The which that dwelling was with Emelye. 1420 For he was wys, and coude soon aspye Of every servaunt, which that serveth here. Wel coude he hewen wode, and water bere, For he was yong and mighty for the nones, And ther-to be was strong and big of bones 1425 To doon that any wight can him devyse. A yeer or two he was in this servyse, Page of the chambre of Emelye the brighte; (570) And ‘Philostrate’ he seide that he highte. But half so wel biloved a man as he 1430 Ne was ther never in court, of his degree; He was so gentil of condicioun, That thurghout al the court was his renoun. They seyden, that it were a charitee That Theseus wolde enhauncen his degree, 1435 And putten him in worshipful servyse, Ther as he mighte his vertu excercyse. And thus, with-inne a whyle, his name is spronge (580) Bothe of his dedes, and his goode tonge, That Theseus hath taken him so neer 1440 That of his chambre he made him a squyer, And yaf him gold to mayntene his degree; And eek men broghte him out of his contree From yeer to yeer, ful prively, his rente; But honestly and slyly he it spente, 1445 That no man wondred how that he it hadde. And three yeer in this wyse his lyf he ladde, And bar him so in pees and eek in werre, (590) Ther nas no man that Theseus hath derre. And in this blisse lete I now Arcite, 1450 And speke I wol of Palamon a lyte.