Front matter (continued 8)

63. Frere, is there ony perfiter rule of religion than Christ, goddes sone, gave in his gospell to his brethren, or than that religion that saynt James in his epistle maketh mencion of? If 390 †ye saye 'yes,' than puttest thou on Christ, that is wysdom of god the †fader, uncunning, unpower, or evil will. For eyther than he coude not make his rule so good as an-other did his, (and so he hadde be uncunning, that he might not make his rule so good as another man might, and so were he unmighty and not 395 god); or he wolde not make his rule so perfit as an-other did his (and so had he ben evill-willed, namely to himselfe!) For if he might, and coude, and wold[e] have mad a rule perfit without defaute, and did not, he was not goddes sone almighty. For if ony other rule be perfiter than Christes, than must Christes rule 400 lacke of that perfeccion by as much as the other were more perfiter; and so were defaute, and Christ had failed in makinge of his rule. But to putte ony defaute or failinge in god, is blasphemy. If thou saye that Christes rule and that religion that saynt James maketh mencion of, is the perfitest; why holdest 405 thou not than thilke rule without more? And why clepest thou thee rather of saynt Frances or saynt Dominiks rule or religion or order, than of Christes rule or Christes order?

64. Frere, canst thou assigne ony defaute in Christes rule of the gospell, with the whiche he taught al men sikerly to be saved, 410 if they kepte it to hir endinge? If thou saye it was to hard, than sayest thou that Christ lyed; for he saide of his rule: 'My yoke is softe, and my burthen light.' If thou saye Christes rule was to light, that may be assigned for no defaute, for the better may it be kept. If thou sayst that there is no defaute in Christes 415 rule of the gospell, sith Christ him-selfe saith it is light and esy: what nede was it to patrons of freres to adde more therto, and so to make an harder religion, to save freres, than was the religion that Christes apostels and his disciples helden and weren saved by; but-if they wolden that her freres saten above the apostels 420 in heven, for the harder religion that they kepen here? And so wolde they sitten in heven above Christ himselfe for the moo and strait observaunces; than so shulde they be better than Christ himselfe, with misc[h]aunce!

Go now forth, and frayne youre clerkes, 425 And grounde you in goddes lawe, and geve Jack answere. And whan ye han assoiled me that I have said, sadly in treuth, I shall soill thee of thyn order, and save thee to heven!

If freres cunne not or mow not excuse hem of these questions asked of hem, it semeth that they be horrible gilty against god 430 and hir even-Christen; for which gyltes and defautes it were worthy that the order that they calle hir order were for-don. And it is wonder that men susteyne hem or suffer hem live in suche maner. For holy writ biddeth that thou do well to the meke, and geve not to the wicked, but forbid to geve hem breed, lest 435 they be mad thereby mightier through you. Finis.

¶ Prynted for Jhon Gough. Cum Priuilegio Regali.

O noble worthy king, Henry the ferthe, In whom the gladde fortune is befalle The people to governe here upon erthe, God hath thee chose, in comfort of us alle; 5 The worship of this land, which was doun falle, Now stant upright, through grace of thy goodnesse, Which every man is holde for to blesse.

The highe god, of his justyce alone, The right which longeth to thy regalye 10 Declared hath to stande in thy persone; And more than god may no man justifye. Thy title is knowe upon thyn auncestrye; The londes folk hath eek thy right affermed; So stant thy regne, of god and man confermed.

15 Ther is no man may saye in other wyse That god him-self ne hath the right declared; Wherof the land is boun to thy servyse, Which for defaute of helpe hath longe cared. But now ther is no mannes herte spared 20 To love and serve, and worche thy plesaunce; And al this is through goddes purveyaunce.

In alle thing which is of god begonne Ther foloweth grace, if it be wel governed; Thus tellen they whiche olde bokes conne, 25 Wherof, my lord, I wot wel thou art lerned. Aske of thy god; so shalt thou nat be werned Of no request [the] whiche is resonable; For god unto the goode is favorable.

King Salomon, which hadde at his askinge 30 Of god, what thing him was levest to crave, He chees wysdom unto the governinge Of goddes folk, the whiche he wolde save; And as he chees, it fil him for to have; For through his wit, whyl that his regne laste, 35 He gat him pees and reste, unto the laste.

But Alisaundre, as telleth his historie, Unto the god besoughte in other weye, Of al the worlde to winne the victorie, So that under his swerde it might[e] obeye; 40 In werre he hadde al that he wolde preye. The mighty god behight[e] him that behest; The world he wan, and hadde it of conquest.

But though it fil at thilke tyme so, That Alisaundre his asking hath acheved, 45 This sinful world was al[le] payën tho; Was noon whiche hath the highe god beleved; No wonder was, though thilke world was greved. Though a tyraunt his purpos mighte winne, Al was vengeaunce, and infortune of sinne.

50 But now the faith of Crist is come a-place Among the princes in this erthe here, It sit hem wel to do pitè and grace, But yet it mot be tempred in manere. For as they fynden cause in the matere 55 Upon the poynt, what afterward betyde, The lawe of right shal nat be layd a-syde.

So may a king of werre the viage Ordayne and take, as he therto is holde, To clayme and aske his rightful heritage 60 In alle places wher it is with-holde. But other-wyse, if god him-selve wolde Afferme love and pees bitween the kinges, Pees is the beste, above alle erthly thinges.

Good is t'eschewe werre, and nathelees 65 A king may make werre upon his right; For of bataile the fynal ende is pees; Thus stant the lawe, that a worthy knight Upon his trouthe may go to the fight. But-if so were that he mighte chese, 70 Betre is the pees of which may no man lese.

To stere pees oughte every man on-lyve, First, for to sette his liege lord in reste, And eek these othre men, that they ne stryve; For so this land may standen atte beste. 75 What king that wolde be the worthieste, The more he mighte our deedly werre cese, The more he shulde his worthinesse encrese.

Pees is the cheef of al the worldes welthe, And to the heven it ledeth eek the way; 80 Pees is of soule and lyfe the mannes helthe Of pestilence, and doth the werre away. My liege lord, tak hede of that I say, If werre may be left, tak pees on honde, Which may nat be withoute goddes sonde.

85 With pees stant every crëature in reste, Withoute pees ther may no lyf be glad; Above al other good, pees is the beste; Pees hath him-self, whan werre is al bestad; The pees is sauf, the werre is ever adrad. 90 Pees is of al[le] charitè the keye, Whiche hath the lyf and soule for to weye.

My liege lord, if that thee list to seche The sothe ensamples, what the werre hath wrought, Thou shalt wel here, of wyse mennes speche, 95 That deedly werre tourneth in-to nought. For if these olde bokes be wel sought, Ther might thou see what thing the werre hath do Bothe of conquest and conquerour also.

For vayne honóur, or for the worldes good, 100 They that whylom the stronge werres made, Wher be they now? Bethink wel, in thy mood, The day is goon, the night is derke and fade; Hir crueltè, which made hem thanne glade, They sorowen now, and yet have naught the more; 105 The blood is shad, which no man may restore.

The werre is moder of the wronges alle; It sleeth the preest in holy chirche at masse, Forlyth the mayde, and doth her flour to falle. The werre maketh the grete citee lasse, 110 And doth the lawe his reules overpasse. Ther is nothing, wherof mescheef may growe Whiche is not caused of the werre, I trowe.

The werre bringth in póverte at his heles, Wherof the comun people is sore greved; 115 The werre hath set his cart on thilke wheles Wher that fortune may not be beleved. For whan men wene best to have acheved, Ful ofte it is al newe to beginne; The werre hath nothing siker, thogh he winne.

120 For-thy, my worthy prince, in Cristes halve, As for a part whos fayth thou hast to gyde, Ley to this olde sore a newe salve, And do the werre away, what-so betyde. Purchace pees, and sette it by thy syde, 125 And suffre nat thy people be devoured; So shal thy name ever after stande honóured!

If any man be now, or ever was Ayein the pees thy prevy counsaylour, Let god be of thy counsayl in this cas, 130 And put away the cruel werreyour. For god, whiche is of man the creatour, He wolde not men slowe his crëature Withoute cause of deedly forfayture.

Wher nedeth most, behoveth most to loke; 135 My lord, how so thy werres be withoute, Of tyme passed who that hede toke, Good were at home to see right wel aboute; For evermore the worste is for to doute. But, if thou mightest parfit pees attayne, 140 Ther shulde be no cause for to playne.

Aboute a king, good counsayl is to preyse Above al othre thinges most vailable; But yet a king within him-self shal peyse And seen the thinges that be resonable. 145 And ther-upon he shal his wittes stable Among the men to sette pees in evene, For love of him whiche is the king of hevene.

A! wel is him that shedde never blood But-if it were in cause of rightwysnesse! 150 For if a king the peril understood What is to slee the people, thanne, I gesse, The deedly werres and the hevinesse Wher-of the pees distourbed is ful ofte, Shulde at som tyme cesse and wexe softe.

155 O king! fulfilled of grace and of knighthode, Remembre upon this poynt, for Cristes sake; If pees be profred unto thy manhode, Thyn honour sauf, let it nat be forsake! Though thou the werres darst wel undertake, 160 After resoun yet temper thy corage; For lyk to pees ther is non avauntage.

My worthy lord, thenk wel, how-so befalle Of thilke lore, as holy bokes sayn; Crist is the heed, and we be membres alle, 165 As wel the subject as the soverayn. So sit it wel, that charitè be playn, Whiche unto god him-selve most accordeth, So as the lore of Cristes word recordeth.

In th'olde lawe, or Crist him-self was bore, 170 Among the ten comaundëments, I rede, How that manslaughter shulde be forbore; Such was the wil, that tyme, of the godhede. But afterward, whan Crist took his manhede, Pees was the firste thing he leet do crye 175 Ayenst the worldes rancour and envye.

And, or Crist wente out of this erthe here, And stigh to heven, he made his testament, Wher he bequath to his disciples there And yaf his pees, which is the foundement 180 Of charitè, withouten whos assent The worldes pees may never wel be tryed, Ne lovë kept, ne lawë justifyed.

The Jewes with the payens hadden werre, But they among hem-self stode ever in pees; 185 Why shulde than our pees stonde out of herre, Which Crist hath chose unto his owne encrees? For Crist is more than was Moÿses; And Crist hath set the parfit of the lawe, The whiche shulde in no wyse be withdrawe.

190 To yeve us pees was causë why Crist dyde, Withoute pees may nothing stonde avayled; But now a man may see on every syde How Cristes fayth is every day assayled, With the payens distroyed, and so batayled 195 That, for defaute of helpe and of defence, Unneth hath Crist his dewe reverence.

The righte fayth to kepe of holy chirche The firste poynt is named of knighthode; And every man is holde for to wirche 200 Upon the poynt that stant to his manhode. But now, alas! the fame is spred so brode That every man this thing [alday] complayneth; And yet is ther no man that help ordayneth.

The worldes cause is wayted over-al; 205 Ther be the werres redy, to the fulle; But Cristes owne cause in special, Ther ben the swerdes and the speres dulle. And with the sentence of the popes bulle As for to doon the folk payën obeye, 210 The chirche is tourned al another weye.

It is wonder, above any mannes wit, Withoute werre how Cristes fayth was wonne; And we that been upon this erthë yit Ne kepe it nat as it was first begonne. 215 To every crëature under the sonne Crist bad him-self, how that we shulde preche, And to the folke his evangely teche.

More light it is to kepe than to make; But that we founden mad to-fore the hond 220 We kepe nat, but lete it lightly slake; The pees of Crist hath al to-broke his bond. We reste our-self, and suffren every lond To slee eche other as thing undefended; So stant the werre, and pees is nat amended.

225 But though the heed of holy chirche above Ne do nat al his hole businesse Among the men to sette pees and love, These kinges oughten, of hir rightwysnesse, Hir owne cause among hem-self redresse. 230 Thogh Peters ship, as now, hath lost his stere, It lyth in hem that barge for to stere.

If holy chirche after the dewetè Of Cristes word ne be nat al avysed To make pees, accord, and unitè 235 Among the kinges that be now devysed, Yet, natheles, the lawë stant assysed Of mannes wit, to be so resonable Withoute that to stande hem-selve stable.

Of holy chirche we ben children alle, 240 And every child is holde for to bowe Unto the moder, how that ever it falle, Or elles he mot reson disalowe. And, for that cause, a knight shal first avowe The right of holy chirche to defende, 245 That no man shal the privilege offende.

Thus were it good to setten al in evene The worldes princes and the prelats bothe, For love of him whiche is the king of hevene; And if men shulde algate wexen wrothe, 250 The Sarazins, whiche unto Crist ben lothe, Let men be armed ayenst hem to fighte, So may the knight his dede of armes righte.

Upon three poynts stant Cristes pees oppressed; First, holy chirche is in her-self devyded; 255 Which oughte, of reson, first to be redressed; But yet so high a cause is nat decyded. And thus, whan humble pacience is pryded, The remenaunt, which that they shulde reule, No wonder is, though it stande out of reule.

260 Of that the heed is syk, the limmes aken; These regnes, that to Cristes pees belongen, For worldes good, these deedly werres maken, Which helpelees, as in balaunce, hongen. The heed above hem hath nat underfongen 265 To sette pees, but every man sleeth other; And in this wyse hath charitè no brother.

The two defautes bringen in the thridde Of miscreants, that seen how we debate; Between the two, they fallen in a-midde 270 Wher now al-day they fynde an open gate. Lo! thus the deedly werre stant al-gate. But ever I hopë of king Henries grace, That he it is which shal the pees embrace.

My worthy noble prince, and king anoynt, 275 Whom god hath, of his grace, so preserved, Behold and see the world upon this poynt, As for thy part, that Cristes pees be served. So shal thy highe mede be reserved To him, whiche al shal quyten atte laste; 280 For this lyf herë may no whyle laste.

See Alisandre, Hector, and Julius, See Machabeus, David, and Josuë, See Charlemayne, Godfray, and Arthus Fulfild of werre and of mortalitee! 285 Hir fame abit, but al is vanitee; For deth, whiche hath the werres under fote, Hath mad an ende, of which ther is no bote.

So may a man the sothe wite and knowe, That pees is good for every king to have; 290 The fortune of the werre is ever unknowe, But wher pees is, ther ben the marches save. That now is up, to-morwe is under grave. The mighty god hath alle grace in honde; Withouten him, men may nat longe stonde.

295 Of the tenetz to winne or lese a chace May no lyf wite, or that the bal be ronne; Al stant in god, what thing men shal purchace: Th'ende is in him, or that it be begonne; Men sayn, the wolle, whan it is wel sponne, 300 Doth that the cloth is strong and profitable, And elles it may never be durable.

The worldes chaunces upon aventure Ben ever set; but thilke chaunce of pees Is so behovely to the crëature 305 That it above al other is peerlees. But it may nat †be gete, nathelees, Among the men to lasten any whyle, But wher the herte is playn, withoute gyle.

The pees is as it were a sacrament 310 To-fore the god, and shal with wordes playne Withouten any double entendëment Be treted; for the trouthe can nat feyne. But if the men within hem-self be vayne, The substaunce of the pees may nat be trewe, 315 But every day it chaungeth upon newe.

But who that is of charitè parfyte, He voydeth alle sleightes fer aweye, And set his word upon the same plyte Wher that his herte hath founde a siker weye; 320 And thus, whan conscience is trewly weye, And that the pees be handled with the wyse, It shal abyde and stande, in alle wyse.

Th'apostel sayth, ther may no lyf be good Whiche is nat grounded upon charitè; 325 For charitè ne shedde never blood. So hath the werre, as ther, no propertè; For thilke vertue which is sayd 'pitè' With charitè so ferforth is acquaynted That in her may no fals sembla[u]nt be paynted.

330 Cassodore, whos wryting is authorysed Sayth: 'wher that pitè regneth, ther is grace'; Through which the pees hath al his welthe assysed, So that of werre he dredeth no manace. Wher pitè dwelleth, in the same place 335 Ther may no deedly crueltè sojourne Wherof that mercy shulde his wey[e] tourne.

To see what pitè, forth with mercy, doth, The cronique is at Rome, in thilke empyre Of Constantyn, which is a tale soth, 340 Whan him was lever his owne deth desyre Than do the yonge children to martyre. Of crueltee he lefte the quarele; Pitè he wroughte, and pitè was his hele.

For thilke mannes pitè which he dede 345 God was pitous, and made him hool at al; Silvester cam, and in the same stede Yaf him baptyme first in special, Which dide away the sinne original, And al his lepre it hath so purifyed, 350 That his pitè for ever is magnifyed.

Pitè was cause why this emperour Was hool in body and in soule bothe; And Rome also was set in thilke honour Of Cristes fayth, so that the leve, of lothe 355 Whiche hadden be with Crist tofore wrothe, Receyved werë unto Cristes lore. Thus shal pitè be praysed evermore.

My worthy liege lord, Henry by name, Which Engëlond hast to governe and righte, 360 Men oughten wel thy pitè to proclame, Which openliche, in al the worldes sighte, Is shewed, with the helpe of god almighte, To yeve us pees, which long hath be debated, Wherof thy prys shal never be abated.

365 My lord, in whom hath ever yet be founde Pitè, withoute spotte of violence, Keep thilke pees alway, withinne bounde, Which god hath planted in thy conscience. So shal the cronique of thy pacience 370 Among the saynts be take in-to memórie To the loënge of perdurable glorie.

And to thyn erthely prys, so as I can, Whiche every man is holde to commende, I Gower, which am al thy liege man, 375 This lettre unto thyn excellence I sende, As I, whiche ever unto my lyves ende Wol praye for the stat of thy persone, In worshipe of thy sceptre and of thy trone.

Nat only to my king of pees I wryte, 380 But to these othre princes Cristen alle, That eche of hem his owne herte endyte And cese the werre, or more mescheef falle. Set eek the rightful pope upon his stalle; Keep charitè, and draw pitè to honde, 385 Maynteyne lawe; and so the pees shal stonde.

Electus Christi,pie rex Henrice, fuisti, Qui bene venisti,cum propria regna petisti; Tu mala vicisti-que bonis bona restituisti, Et populo tristinova gaudia contribuisti.

390 Est mihi spes lata,quod adhuc per te renovata Succedent fataveteri probitate beata; Est tibi nam gratagratia sponte data.

Henrici quarti primus regni fuit annus Quo mihi defecit visus ad acta mea. 395 Omnia tempus habent, finem natura ministrat, Quem virtute sua frangere nemo potest. Ultra posse nihil, quamvis mihi velle remansit, Amplius ut scribam non mihi posse manet. Dum potui, scripsi, sed nunc quia curua senectus 400 Turbauit sensus, scripta relinquo scolis. Scribat qui veniet post me discretior alter, Ammodo namque manus et mea penna silent. Hoc tamen in fine verborum queso meorum, Prospera quod statuat regna futura deus.

¶ Explicit.

Cupido, unto whos comaundëment The gentil kinrede of goddes on hy And people infernal been obedient, And mortel folk al serven besily, 5 The goddesse sonë Cithera soothly, To alle tho that to our deitee Ben sugets, hertly greting sende we!

In general, we wolë that ye knowe That ladies of honour and reverence, 10 And other gentil women, haven sowe Such seed of compleynt in our audience Of men that doon hem outrage and offence, That it our eres greveth for to here; So pitous is th'effect of this matere.

15 Passing al londes, on the litel yle That cleped is Albion they most compleyne; They seyn, that there is croppe and rote of gyle. So conne tho men dissimulen and feyne With stonding dropes in hir eyen tweyne, 20 When that hir hertes feleth no distresse, To blinden women with hir doublenesse.

Hir wordes spoken ben so syghingly, With so pitousë chere and contenaunce, That every wight that meneth trewely 25 Demeth that they in herte have such grevaunce; They seyn so importáble is hir penaunce That, but hir lady lust to shewe hem grace, They right anoon †mot sterven in the place.

'A, lady myn!' they seyn, 'I yow ensure, 30 As doth me grace, and I shal ever be, Whyl that my lyf may lasten and endure, To yow as humble and lowe in ech degree As possible is, and kepe al thing secree Right as your-selven liste that I do; 35 And elles moot myn herte breste a-two.'

Ful hard it is to knowe a mannes herte; For outward may no man the trouthe deme; When word out of his mouthe may noon asterte But it by reson any wight shuld queme, 40 So is it seyd of herte, as hit wolde seme. O feythful woman, ful of innocence, Thou art deceyved by fals apparence!

By proces women, meved of pitee, Wening that al thing were as thise men sey, 45 They graunte hem grace of hir benignitee For that men shulde nat for hir sake dey; And with good herte sette hem in the wey Of blisful lovë—kepe it if they conne; Thus other-whylë women beth y-wonne.

50 And whan this man the pot hath by the stele, And fully is in his possessioun, With that woman he kepeth not to dele, After if he may fynden in the toun Any woman, his blinde affeccioun 55 On to bestowë; evel mote he preve! A man, for al his othes, is hard to leve!

And, for that every fals man hath a make, (As un-to every wight is light to knowe), Whan this traitour this woman hath forsake, 60 He faste him spedeth un-to his felowe; Til he be there, his herte is on a lowe; His fals deceyt ne may him not suffyse, But of his treson telleth al the wyse.

Is this a fair avaunt? is this honour, 65 A man him-self accuse thus, and diffame? Now is it good, confesse him a traitour, And bringe a woman to a sclandrous name, And telle how he her body hath do shame? No worship may he thus to him conquere, 70 But greet esclaundre un-to him and here!

To herë? Nay, yet was it no repreef; For al for vertu was it that she wroughte; But he that brewed hath al this mischeef, That spak so faire, and falsly inward thoughte, 75 His be the sclaundre, as it by reson oughte, And un-to her a thank perpetuel, That in a nede helpe can so wel!

Althogh of men, through sleyght and sotiltee, A sely, simple, and innocent woman 80 Betrayed is, no wonder, sith the citee Of Troye—as that the storie telle can— Betrayed was, through the disceyt of man, And set on fyre, and al doun over-throwe, And finally destroyed, as men knowe.

85 Betrayen men not citees grete, and kinges? What wight is that can shape remedye Ageynes thise falsly purpósed thinges? Who can the craft such craftes to espye But man, whos wit ay redy is t'aplye 90 To thing that souneth in-to hy falshede? Women, beth ware of mennes sleight, I rede!

And furthermore han thise men in usage That, where as they not lykly been to spede, Suche as they been with a double visage 95 They prócuren, for to pursewe hir nede; He prayeth him in his causë to procede, And largely guerdoneth he his travayle; Smal witen wommen how men hem assayle!

Another wrecche un-to his felowe seyth: 100 'Thou fisshest faire! She that thee hath fyred Is fals and inconstaunt, and hath no feyth. She for the rode of folke is so desyred And, as an hors, fro day to day is hyred That, when thou twinnest fro hir companye, 105 Another comth, and blered is thyn eyë!

'Now prikke on fastë, and ryd thy journey Whyl thou art there; for she, behind thy bak, So liberal is, she wol no wight with-sey, But smertly of another take a snak; 110 For thus thise wommen faren, al the pak! Who-so hem trusteth, hanged mote he be! Ay they desyren chaunge and noveltee!'

Wher-of procedeth this but of envye? For he him-selve her ne winne may, 115 He speketh her repreef and vileinye, As mannes blabbing tonge is wont alway. Thus dyvers men ful often make assay For to distourben folk in sondry wyse, For they may not acheven hir empryse.

120 Ful many a man eek wolde, for no good, (That hath in love his tyme spent and used) Men wiste, his lady his axing withstood, And that he were of her pleynly refused, Or wast and veyn were al that he had mused; 125 Wherfore he can no better remedye But on his lady shapeth him to lye:

'Every womman,' he seyth, 'is light to gete; Can noon sey "nay," if she be wel y-soght. Who-so may leyser han, with her to trete, 130 Of his purpós ne shal he faile noght, But he on madding be so depe y-broght That he shende al with open hoomlinesse; That loven wommen nat, as that I gesse!'

To sclaundre wommen thus, what may profyte 135 To gentils namely, that hem armen sholde, And in defence of wommen hem delyte As that the ordre of gentilesse wolde? If that a man list gentil to be holde, He moot flee al that ther-to is contrarie; 140 A sclaundring tonge is his grete adversarie.

A foul vice is of tonge to be light; For who-so michel clappeth, gabbeth ofte. The tonge of man so swift is and so wight That, whan it is areysed up-on lofte, 145 Resoun it seweth so slowly and softe, That it him never over-take may: Lord! so thise men ben trusty in assay!

Al-be-it that man fynde oo woman nyce, Inconstant, rechelees, or variable, 150 Deynouse or proud, fulfilled of malyce, Withouten feyth or love, and deceyvable, Sly, queynt, and fals, in al unthrift coupable, Wikked and feers, and ful of crueltee. It foloweth nat that swiche al wommen be.

155 Whan that the high god aungels formed had, Among hem alle whether ther werë noon That founden was malicious and bad? Yis! al men woot that ther was many oon That, for hir pryde, fil from heven anoon. 160 Shul men therfore alle aungels proude name? Nay! he that that susteneth is to blame.

Of twelve apostels oon a traitour was; The remënant yit godë were and trewe. Than, if it happe men fyndë, per cas, 165 Oo womman fals, swich good is for t'eschewe, And deme nat that they ben alle untrewe. I see wel mennes owne falsenesse Hem causeth wommen for to trusten lesse.

O! every man oghte have an herte tendre 170 Unto womman, and deme her honurable, Whether his shap be outher thikke or slendre, Or be he bad or good; this is no fable. Every man woot, that wit hath resonable, That of a womman he descended is: 175 Than is it shame, of her to speke amis.

A wikked tree good fruit may noon forth bring, For swich the fruit is, as that is the tree. Tak hede of whom thou took thy biginning; Lat thy moder be mirour unto thee. 180 Honoure her, if thou wolt honoured be! Dispyse thou her nat, in no manere, Lest that ther-by thy wikkednesse appere!

An old provérbë seyd is in English: Men seyn, 'that brid or foul is dishonest, 185 What that he be, and holden ful churlish, That useth to defoule his owne nest.' Men, to sey wel of wommen it is best, And nat for to despyse hem ne deprave, If that they wole hir honour kepe and save.

190 Thise ladies eek compleynen hem on clerkes That they han maad bokës of hir diffame, In which they lakken wommen and hir werkes And speken of hem greet repreef and shame, And causëlees yive hem a wikked name. 195 Thus they despysed been on every syde, And sclaundred, and bilowen on ful wyde.

The sory bokes maken mencioun How they betrayden, in especial, Adam, David, Sampsoun, and Salamoun, 200 And many oon mo; who may rehersen al The treson that they havë doon, and shal? The world hir malice may not comprehende; As that thise clerkes seyn, it hath non ende.

Ovyde, in his boke called 'Remedye 205 Of Lovë,' greet repreef of wommen wryteth; Wherin, I trowe, he dide greet folye, And every wight that in such cas delyteth. A clerkes custom is, whan he endyteth Of wommen, be it prose, or ryme, or vers, 210 Sey they ben wikke, al knowe he the revers.

And that book scolers lerne in hir childhede, For they of wommen be war sholde in age, And for to love hem ever been in drede, Sin to deceyve is set al hir corage. 215 They seyn, peril to caste is avantage, And namely, suche as men han in be wrapped; For many a man by woman hath mishapped.

No charge is, what-so that thise clerkes seyn; Of al hir wrong wryting I do no cure; 220 Al hir travayle and labour is in veyn. For, betwex me and my lady Nature, Shal nat be suffred, whyl the world may dure, Thise clerkes, by hir cruel tyrannye, Thus upon wommen kythen hir maistrye.

225 Whylom ful many of hem were in my cheyne Y-tyed, and now, what for unweldy age And for unlust, may not to love atteyne, And seyn, that love is but verray dotage. Thus, for that they hem-self lakken corage, 230 They folk excyten, by hir wikked sawes, For to rebelle agayn me and my lawes.

But, maugre hem that blamen wommen most, Suche is the force of myn impressioun, That sodeinly I felle can hir bost 235 And al hir wrong imaginacioun. It shal not been in hir eleccioun The foulest slutte of al a toun refuse, If that me list, for al that they can muse;

But her in herte as brenningly desyre 240 As thogh she were a duchesse or a quene; So can I folkes hertes sette on fyre, And (as me list) hem sende joye or tene. They that to wommen been y-whet so kene My sharpe persing strokes, how they smyte, 245 Shul fele and knowe; and how they kerve and byte.

Perdee, this grete clerk, this sotil Ovyde And many another han deceyved be Of wommen, as it knowen is ful wyde; Wot no man more; and that is greet deyntee, 250 So excellent a clerk as that was he, And other mo that coude so wel preche Betrapped were, for aught they coude teche.

And trusteth wel, that it is no mervayle; For wommen knewen pleynly hir entente. 255 They wiste how sotilly they coude assayle Hem, and what falshood they in herte mente; And thise clerkes they in hir daunger hente. With oo venym another was distroyed; And thus thise clerkes often were anoyed.

260 Thise ladies ne thise gentils, nevertheles, Were noon of tho that wroughten in this wyse; But swiche filthes as were vertules They quitten thus thise olde clerkes wyse. To clerkes forthy lesse may suffyse 265 Than to deprave wommen generally; For worship shul they gete noon therby.

If that thise men, that lovers hem pretende, To wommen weren feythful, gode, and trewe, And dredde hem to deceyven or offende, 270 Wommen to love hem wolde nat eschewe. But every day hath man an herte newe; It upon oon abyde can no whyle. What fors is it, swich a wight to begyle?

Men beren eek thise wommen upon honde 275 That lightly, and withouten any peyne, They wonne been; they can no wight withstonde That his disese list to hem compleyne. They been so freel, they mowe hem nat refreyne; But who-so lyketh may hem lightly have; 280 So been hir hertes esy in to grave.

To maister Iohn de Meun, as I suppose, Than it was a lewd occupacioun In making of the Romance of the Rose; So many a sly imaginacioun 285 And perils for to rollen up and doun, So long proces, so many a sly cautele For to deceyve a sely damosele!

Nat can I seen, ne my wit comprehende That art and peyne and sotiltee sholde fayle 290 For to conquére, and sone make an ende, Whan man a feble place shal assayle; And sone also to venquisshe a batayle Of which no wight dar maken resistence, Ne herte hath noon to stonden at defence.

295 Than moot it folwen of necessitee, Sin art asketh so greet engyn and peyne A womman to disceyve, what she be, Of constauncë they been not so bareyne As that somme of thise sotil clerkes feyne; 300 But they ben as that wommen oghten be, Sad, constant, and fulfilled of pitee.

How frendly was Medea to Jasoun In the conquéring of the flees of gold! How falsly quitte he her affeccioun 305 By whom victórie he gat, as he hath wold! How may this man, for shame, be so bold To falsen her, that from his dethe and shame Him kepte, and gat him so gret prys and name?

Of Troye also the traitour Eneas, 310 The feythles wrecche, how hath he him forswore To Dido, that queen of Cartágë was, That him releved of his smertes sore! What gentilesse might she han doon more Than she with herte unfeyned to him kidde? 315 And what mischeef to her ther-of betidde!

In my Legende of Martres men may fynde (Who-so that lyketh therin for to rede) That ooth noon ne behest may no man bynde; Of reprevable shame han they no drede. 320 In mannes herte trouthe hath no stede; The soil is noght, ther may no trouthe growe! To womman namely it is nat unknowe.

Clerkes seyn also: 'ther is no malyce Unto wommannes crabbed wikkednesse!' 325 O woman! How shalt thou thy-self chevyce, Sin men of thee so muchel harm witnesse? No fors! Do forth! Takë no hevinesse! Kepë thyn ownë, what men clappe or crake; And somme of hem shul smerte, I undertake!

330 Malyce of wommen, what is it to drede? They slee no men, distroyen no citees; They not oppressen folk ne overlede, Betraye empyres, remes, ne duchees, Ne men bereve hir landes ne hir mees, 335 Empoyson folk, ne houses sette on fyre, Ne false contractes maken for non hyre!

Trust, perfit love, and entere charitee, Fervent wil, and entalented corage To thewes gode, as it sit wel to be, 340 Han wommen ay, of custome and usage; And wel they can a mannes ire aswage With softe wordes discreet and benigne; What they be inward, sheweth outward signe.

Wommannes herte un-to no crueltee 345 Enclyned is, but they ben charitable, Pitous, devout, fulle of humilitee, Shamfaste, debonaire, and amiable, Dredful, and of hir wordes mesurable: What womman thise hath not, peraventure, 350 Ne folweth nat the wey of her nature.

Men seyn: 'our firste moder, natheles, Made al man-kynde lese his libertee, And naked it of joye, douteles; For goddes hestes disobeyed she, 355 Whan she presumed tasten of a tree, Which god forbad that she nat ete of sholde; And, nad the devel been, namore she wolde.'

Th' envýous swelling that the feend, our fo, Had unto man in herte, for his welthe, 360 Sente a serpent, and made her for to go To disceyve Eve; and thus was mannes helthe Beraft him by the fende, right in a stelthe, The womman noght knowing of the deceyt; God wot, ful fer was it from her conceyt.

365 Wherfore I sey, this godë womman Eve Our fader Adam ne deceyved noght. Ther may no man for a deceyt it preve Proprely, but-if that she, in her thoght, Had it compassed first, er it was wroght; 370 And, for swich was nat her impressioun, Men calle it may no déceyt, by resoun.

No wight deceyveth but he it purpóse; The feend this déceyt caste, and nothing she. Than is it wrong to demen or suppose 375 That she sholde of this harm the cause be. Wyteth the feend, and his be the maugree; And for excused have her innocence, Sauf only that she brak obedience.

And touching this, ful fewe men ther been, 380 Unnethes any, dar I saufly seye— Fro day to day, as that men mow wel seen, But that the hest of god they disobeye. Have this in mynde, sires, I yow preye; If that ye be discreet and resonable, 385 Ye wol her holde the more excusable.

And wher men seyn, 'in man is stedfastnesse, And woman is of her corage unstable,' Who may of Adam bere swich witnesse? Telleth me this:—was he nat chaungeable? 390 They bothe weren in a caas semblable, Sauf willingly the feend deceyved Eve, And so did she nat Adam, by your leve.

Yet was this sinne happy to mankynde, The feend deceyved was, for al his sleight; 395 For aught he coude him in his sleightes wynde, God, to discharge mankynde of the weight Of his trespas, cam doun from hevenes height, And flesh and blood he took of a virgyne, And suffred deeth, him to deliver of pyne.

400 And god, to whom ther may nothing hid be, If he in woman knowe had such malyce As men of hem recorde in generaltee, Of our lady, of lyf reparatryce, Nolde han be born; but, for that she of vyce 405 Was voyde, and of al vertu (wel he wiste) Endowed, of her to be bore him liste.

Her heped vertu hath swich excellence That al to lene is mannes facultee To déclare it, and therfor in suspence 410 Her duë preysing put mot nedes be. But this we witen verrayly, that she, Next god, the best frend is that to man longeth; The key of mercy by her girdil hongeth.

And of mercy hath every man swich nede 415 That, cessing that, farwel the joye of man! Of her power now taketh right good hede; She mercy may, wol, and purchace can. Displese her nat, honoureth that womman, And other wommen alle, for her sake! 420 And, but ye do, your sorowe shal awake.

Thou precious gemme, O martir Margarete, Of thy blood draddest noon effusioun! Thy martirdom ne may I nat foryete; Thou, constant womman in thy passioun, 425 Overcoom the feendes temptacioun; And many a wight converted thy doctryne Unto the feith of god, holy virgyne!

But understondeth, I commende hir noght By enchesoun of hir virginitee; 430 Trusteth right wel, it cam not in my thoght; For ever I werrey ayein chastitee, And ever shal; but this, lo! meveth me, Her loving herte and constant to her lay Dryve out of rémembrauncë I ne may.

435 In any boke also wher can ye fynde, That of the werkes or the dethe or lyf Of Jesu speketh, or maketh any mynde, That womman him forsook, for wo or stryf? Wher was ther any wight so ententyf 440 Abouten him as wommen? Pardee, noon! Th'apostels him forsoken, everichoon.

Womman forsook him noght; for al the feyth Of holy chirche in womman lefte only. This is no lees, for holy writ thus seyth; 445 Loke, and ye shal so fynde it, hardely. And therfore it may preved be therby, That in womman regneth stable constaunce And in men is the chaunge and variaunce!

Now holdeth this for ferme and for no lye, 450 That this trewe and just commendacioun Of wommen is nat told for flaterye, Ne to cause hem pryde or elacioun, But only, lo! for this entencioun, To yeve hem corage of perseveraunce 455 In vertu, and hir honour to enhaunce.

The more vertu, the lasse is the pryde; Vertu so digne is, and so noble in kynde That vyce and she wol not in-fere abyde. She putteth vyce clene out of her mynde, 460 She fleeth from him, she leveth him behynde. O womman, that of vertu art hostesse, Greet is thyn honour and thy worthinesse!

Than wol we thus concluden and diffyne: We yow comaunde, our ministres, echoon 465 That redy been to our hestes enclyne, That of thise false men, our rebel foon, Ye do punisshëment, and that anoon! Voide hem our court and banish hem for ever So that ther-inne they ne come never.

470 Fulfilled be it, cessing al delay; Look that ther be non excusacioun. Writen in th'ayr, the lusty month of May, In our paleys (wher many a millioun Of loveres trewe han habitacioun) 475 The yere of grace joyful and jocounde A thousand and foure hundred and secounde.

I.

To you, welle of honour and worthinesse, Our Cristen king, the heir and successour Un-to Justinians devout tendrenesse In the feith of Jesu, our redemptour; 5 And to you, lordes of the Garter, 'flour Of chevalrye,' as men you clepe and calle; The lord of vertu and of grace auctour Graunte the fruit of your loos never appalle!

O lige lord, that han eek the lyknesse 10 Of Constantyn, th'ensaumple and the mirour To princes alle, in love and buxumnesse To holy chirche, O verray sustenour And piler of our feith, and werreyour Ageyn the heresyës bitter galle, 15 Do forth, do forth, continue your socour! Hold up Cristes baner; lat it nat falle!

This yle, or this, had been but hethenesse, Nad been of your feith the force and vigour! And yit, this day, the feendes fikilnesse 20 Weneth fully to cacche a tyme and hour To have on us, your liges, a sharp shour, And to his servitude us knitte and thralle. But ay we truste in you, our prótectour; On your constaunce we awayten alle.

25 Commandeth that no wight have hardinesse, O worthy king, our Cristen emperour, Of the feith to despute more or lesse Openly among people, wher errour Springeth al day and engendreth rumour. 30 Maketh swich lawe, and for aught may befalle, Observe it wel; ther-to be ye dettour. Doth so, and god in glorie shal you stalle.

II.

Ye lordes eek, shyninge in noble fame, To whiche appropred is the maintenaunce 35 Of Cristes cause; in honour of his name Shove on, and putte his foos to the outrance! God wolde so; so wolde eek your ligeaunce; To tho two prikketh you your duëtee. Who-so nat kepeth this double observaunce 40 Of merit and honour naked is he!

Your style seith that ye ben foos to shame; Now kythe of your feith the perséveraunce, In which an heep of us arn halte and lame. Our Cristen king of England and of Fraunce, 45 And ye, my lordes, with your alliaunce, And other feithful people that ther be (Truste I to god) shul quenche al this nuisaunce And this land sette in hy prosperitee.

Conquest of hy prowesse is for to tame 50 The wilde woodnesse of this mescreaunce; Right to the rote repe ye that same! Slepe nat this, but, for goddes plesaunce And his modres, and in signifiaunce That ye ben of seint Georges liveree, 55 Doth him servyce and knightly obeisaunce; For Cristes cause is his, wel knowen ye!

Stif stande in that, and ye shul greve and grame The fo to pees, the norice of distaunce; That now is ernest, torne it into game; 60 Dampnáble fro feith werë variaunce! Lord lige, and lordes, have in rémembraunce, Lord of al is the blessed Trinitee, Of whos vertu the mighty habundaunce You herte and strengthe in feithful unitee! Amen.

Cest tout.

My noble sones, and eek my lordes dere, I, your fader called, unworthily, Sende un-to you this litel tretys here Writen with myn owne hand full rudëly; 5 Although it be that I not reverently Have writen to your estats, yet I you praye, Myn unconning taketh benignëly For goddes sake, and herken what I seye.

I complayn sore, whan I remembre me 10 The sodeyn age that is upon me falle; More I complayn my mispent juventè The whiche is impossible ayein to calle. But certainly, the most complaynte of alle Is for to thinke, that I have been so nyce 15 That I ne wolde no virtue to me calle In al my youthe, but vyces ay cheryce.

Of whiche I aske mercy of thee, lord, That art almighty god in majestè, Beseking thee, to make so even accord 20 Betwix thee and my soule, that vanitè Of worldly lust, ne blynd prosperitè Have no lordship over my flesshe so frele. Thou lord of reste and parfit unitè, Put fro me vyce, and keep my soules hele.

25 And yeve me might, whyl I have lyf and space, Me to conforme fully to thy plesaunce; Shewe upon me th'abundaunce of thy grace, In gode werkes graunt me perséveraunce. Of al my youthe forget the ignoraunce; 30 Yeve me good wil, to serve thee ay to queme; Set al my lyf after thyn ordinaunce, And able me to mercy, or thou deme!

My lordes dere, why I this complaint wryte To you, alle whom I love entierly, 35 Is for to warne you, as I can endyte, That tyme y-lost in youthe folily Greveth a wight goostly and bodily, I mene hem that to lust and vyce entende. Wherfore, I pray you, lordes, specially, 40 Your youthe in vertue shapeth to dispende.

Planteth the rote of youthe in suche a wyse That in vertue your growing be alway; Loke ay, goodnesse be in your exercyse, That shal you mighty make, at eche assay, 45 The feend for to withstonde at eche affray. Passeth wysly this perilous pilgrimage, Thinke on this word, and werke it every day; That shal you yeve a parfit floured age.

Taketh also hede, how that these noble clerkes 50 Write in hir bokes of gret sapience, Saying, that fayth is deed withouten werkes; So is estat withoute intelligence Of vertue; and therfore, with diligence, Shapeth of vertue so to plante the rote, 55 That ye therof have ful experience, To worship of your lyfe and soules bote.

Taketh also hede, that lordship ne estat, Withoute vertue, may not longe endure; Thinketh eek how vyce and vertue at debat 60 Have been, and shal, whyles the world may dure; And ay the vicious, by aventure, Is overthrowe; and thinketh evermore That god is lord of vertue and figure Of al goodnesse; and therfore folowe his lore.

65 My mayster Chaucer, god his soulë have! That in his langage was so curious, He sayde, the fader whiche is deed and grave, Biquath nothing his vertue with his hous Unto his sone; therfore laborious 70 Ought ye to be, beseching god, of grace, To yeve you might for to be vertuous, Through which ye might have part of his fayr place.

Here may ye see that vertuous noblesse Cometh not to you by way of auncestrye, 75 But it cometh thorugh leefful besinesse Of honest lyfe, and not by slogardrye. Wherfore in youthe I rede you edefye The hous of vertue in so wys manere That in your age it may you kepe and gye 80 Fro the tempest of worldly wawes here.

Thinketh how, betwixë vertue and estat There is a parfit blessed mariage; Vertue is cause of pees, vyce of debat In mannes soule; for which, with ful corage, 85 Cherissheth vertue, vyces to outrage: Dryveth hem away; let hem have no wonning In your soules; leseth not the heritage Which god hath yeve to vertuous living.

Taketh hede also, how men of povre degree 90 Through vertue have be set in greet honour, And ever have lived in greet prosperitee Through cherisshing of vertuous labour. Thinketh also, how many a governour Called to estat, hath oft be set ful lowe 95 Through misusing of right, and for errour, Therfore I counsaile you, vertue to knowe.

Thus 'by your eldres may ye nothing clayme,' As that my mayster Chaucer sayth expresse, 'But temporel thing, that man may hurte and mayme'; 100 Than is god stocke of vertuous noblesse; And sith that he is lord of blessednesse, And made us alle, and for us alle deyde, Folowe his vertue with ful besinesse, And of this thing herke how my mayster seyde:—

105 The firste stok, fader of gentilesse, What man that claymeth gentil for to be Must folowe his trace, and alle his wittes dresse Vertu to sewe, and vyces for to flee. For unto vertu longeth dignitee, 110 And noght the revers, saufly dar I deme, Al were he mytre, croune, or diademe.

This firste stok was ful of rightwisnesse, Trewe of his word, sobre, pitous, and free, Clene of his goste, and loved besinesse 115 Ageinst the vyce of slouthe, in honestee; And, but his heir love vertu, as dide he, He is noght gentil, though he riche seme, Al were he mytre, croune, or diademe.

Vyce may wel be heir to old richesse; 120 But ther may no man, as men may wel see, Bequethe his heir his vertuous noblesse; That is appropred unto no degree, But to the firste fader in magestee That maketh him his heir, that can him queme, 125 Al were he mytre, croune, or diademe.

Lo here, this noble poete of Bretayne How hyely he, in vertuous sentence, The losse in youthe of vertue can complayne; Wherfore I pray you, dooth your diligence, 130 For your estats and goddes reverence, T'enprintë vertue fully in your mynde, That, whan ye come in your juges presence, Ye be not set as vertules behynde.

Ye lordes have a maner now-a-dayes, 135 Though oon shewe you a vertuous matere, Your fervent youthe is of so false alayes That of that art ye have no joy to here. But, as a ship that is withouten stere Dryveth up and doun, withouten governaunce, 140 Wening that calm wol lastë, yeer by yere, Right so fare ye, for very ignoraunce.

For very shamë, knowe ye nat, by réson That, after an ebbe, ther cometh a flood ful rage? In the same wyse, whan youth passeth his séson, 145 Cometh croked and unweldy palled age; Sone after comen kalends of dotage; And if your youth no vertue have provyded, Al men wol saye, fy on your vassalage! Thus hath your slouth fro worship you devyded.

150 Boëce the clerk, as men may rede and see, Saith, in his Boke of Consolacioun, What man desyreth †have of vyne or tree Plentee of fruit, in the ryping sesoun, Must ay eschewe to doon oppressioun 155 Unto the rote, whyle it is yong and grene; Ye may wel see, by this conclusioun, That youthë vertulees doth mochel tene.

Seeth, there-ayenst, how vertuous noblesse Roted in youthe, with good perséveraunce, 160 Dryveth away al vyce and wrecchednesse, As slogardrye, ryote and distaunce! Seeth eek how vertue causeth suffisaunce, And suffisaunce exyleth coveityse! And who hath vertue hath al abundaunce 165 Of wele, as fer as reson can devyse.

Taketh hede of Tullius Hostilius, That cam fro povertee to hy degree; Through vertue redeth eek of Julius The conquerour, how povre a man was he; 170 Yet, through his vertue and humanitee, Of many a countree had he governaunce. Thus vertue bringeth unto greet degree Eche wight that list to do him entendaunce.

Rede, here-ayenst, of Nero vertulees; 175 Taketh hede also of proude Balthasar; They hated vertue, equitee, and pees. Loke how Antiochus fil fro his char, That he his skin and bones al to-tar! Loke what meschauncë they had for hir vyces! 180 Who-so that wol not by these signes be war, I dar wel say, infortunat or nyce is.

I can no more; but here-by may ye see How vertue causeth parfit sikernesse, And vyces doon exyle prosperitee; 185 The best is, ech to chesen, as I gesse. Doth as you list, I me excuse expresse; I wolde be sory, if that ye mischese. God you conferme in vertuous noblesse, So that through negligence ye nothing lese!

Explicit.

In May, whan Flora, the fresshe lusty quene, The soile hath clad in grene, rede, and whyte, And Phebus gan to shede his stremes shene Amid the Bole, with al the bemes brighte, 5 And Lucifer, to chace awey the night, Ayen the morowe our orizont hath take To bidde lovers out of hir sleepe awake,

And hertes hevy for to recomforte From dreriheed of hevy nightes sorowe, 10 Nature bad hem ryse, and hem disporte, Ayen the goodly, gladde, greye morowe; And Hope also, with seint Johan to borowe, Bad, in dispyt of daunger and dispeyre, For to take the hoolsom lusty eyre:

15 And with a sigh I gan for to abreyde Out of my slombre, and sodainly up sterte As he, alas! that nigh for sorowe deyde, My sekenes sat ay so nigh my herte. But, for to finde socour of my smerte, 20 Or at the leste som réles of my peyne, That me so sore halt in every veyne,

I roos anon, and thoghte I wolde goon Into the wode, to here the briddes singe, Whan that the misty vapour was agoon 25 And clere and faire was the morowning; The dewe also, lyk silver in shyning Upon the leves, as any baume swete, Til fyry Tytan, with his persaunt hete,

Had dryed up the lusty licour newe 30 Upon the herbes in the grene mede, And that the floures, of many dyvers hewe, Upon hir stalkes gonne for to sprede And for to splaye[n] out hir leves on-brede Agayn the sonne, gold-burned in his spere, 35 That doun to hem caste his bemes clere.

And by a river forth I gan costey Of water clere as berel or cristal Til at the laste I found a litel wey Toward a park, enclosed with a wal 40 In compas rounde, and by a gate smal Who-so that wolde frely mighte goon Into this park, walled with grene stoon.

And in I wente, to here the briddes song, Whiche on the braunches, bothe in playn and vale, 45 So loude songe, that al the wode rong Lyke as it shulde shiver in peces smale; And, as me thoughte, that the nightingale With so gret mighte her voys gan out-wreste Right as her herte for love wolde breste.

50 The soil was playn, smothe, and wonder softe Al oversprad with tapites that Nature Had mad her-selve, celured eek alofte With bowes grene, the floures for to cure, That in hir beautè they may longe endure 55 From al assaut of Phebus fervent fere, Whiche in his spere so hote shoon and clere.

The eyre attempre, and the smothe wind Of Zepherus, among the blossomes whyte, So hoolsom was and norisshing by kind, 60 That smale buddes, and rounde blomes lyte In maner gonnen of her brethe delyte To yeve us hope that hir fruit shal take, Ayens autumpne, redy for to shake.

I saw ther Daphne, closed under rinde, 65 Grene laurer, and the hoolsom pyne; The myrre also, that wepeth ever of kinde; The cedres hye, upright as a lyne; The philbert eek, that lowe doth enclyne Her bowes grene to the erthe adoun 70 Unto her knight, y-called Demophoun.

Ther saw I eek the fresshe hawëthorn In whyte motlè, that so swote doth smelle, Ash, firre, and ook, with many a yong acorn, And many a tree—mo than I can telle; 75 And, me beforn, I saw a litel welle, That had his cours, as I gan beholde, Under an hille, with quikke stremes colde.

The gravel gold, the water pure as glas, The bankes rounde, the welle envyroning; 80 And softe as veluët the yonge gras That therupon lustily cam springing; The sute of trees aboute compassing Hir shadowe caste, closing the welle rounde, And al the herbes growing on the grounde.

85 The water was so hoolsom and vertuous Through might of herbes growing there besyde, Not lyk the welle, wher-as Narcisus Y-slayn was, through vengeaunce of Cupyde, Where so covertly he didë hyde 90 The grayn of cruel dethe upon ech brinke, That deeth mot folowe, who that ever drinke;

Ne lyk the pittë of the Pegacè Under Pernaso, where poetës slepte; Nor lyk the welle of pure chastitè 95 Which that Dyane with her nymphes kepte, Whan she naked into the water lepte, That slow Acteon with his houndes felle Only for he cam so nigh the welle!

Bút this welle, that I here reherce, 100 So hoolsom was, that it wolde aswage Bollen hertes, and the venim perce Of pensifheed, with al the cruel rage, And evermore refresshe the visage Of hem that were in any werinesse 105 Of greet labour, or fallen in distresse.

And I, that had, through daunger and disdayne, So drye a thrust, thoughte I wolde assaye To taste a draughte of this welle, or twayne, My bitter langour if it mighte alaye; 110 And on the banke anon adoun I lay, And with myn heed unto the welle I raughte, And of the water drank I a good draughte;

Wherof, me thought, I was refresshed wele Of the brenning that sat so nigh my herte, 115 That verily anon I gan to fele An huge part relesed of my smerte; And therwithallë anon up I sterte, And thoughte I wolde walke, and see more Forth in the parke, and in the holtes hore.

120 And through a laundë as I yede a-pace And gan aboute faste to beholde, I found anon a délitable place That was beset with treës yonge and olde, Whose names here for me shal not be tolde; 125 Amidde of whiche stood an herber grene, That benched was, with colours newe and clene.

Thís herber was ful of floures inde, In-to the whiche as I beholde gan, Betwix an hulfere and a wodëbinde, 130 As I was war, I saw wher lay a man In blakke and whyte colour, pale and wan, And wonder deedly also of his hewe, Of hurtes grene and fresshe woundes newe.

And overmore distrayned with sekenesse, 135 Besyde al this, he was, ful grevously; For upon him he had an hoot accesse, That day by day him shook ful pitously; So that, for constreynt of his malady And hertly wo, thus lying al alone, 140 It was a deeth for to here him grone.

Wherof astonied, my foot I gan withdrawe, Greetly wondring what it mighte be That he so lay, and hadde no felawe, Ne that I coude no wight with him see; 145 Wherof I hadde routhe, and eek pitè, And gan anon, so softely as I coude, Among the busshes me prively to shroude;