Incipit Liber Secundus

Inuidie culpa magis est attrita dolore, Nam sua mens nullo tempore leta manet: Quo gaudent alii, dolet ille, nec vnus amicus Est, cui de puro comoda velle facit. Proximitatis honor sua corda veretur, et omnis Est sibi leticia sic aliena dolor. Hoc etenim vicium quam sepe repugnat amanti, Non sibi, set reliquis, dum fauet ipsa Venus. Est amor ex proprio motu fantasticus, et que Gaudia fert alius, credit obesse sibi.

Now after Pride the secounde Ther is, which many a woful stounde Towardes othre berth aboute Withinne himself and noght withoute; For in his thoght he brenneth evere, Whan that he wot an other levere Or more vertuous than he, Which passeth him in his degre; Therof he takth his maladie: That vice is cleped hot Envie. 10

Forthi, my Sone, if it be so Thou art or hast ben on of tho, As forto speke in loves cas, If evere yit thin herte was Sek of an other mannes hele?

So god avance my querele, Mi fader, ye, a thousend sithe: Whanne I have sen an other blithe Of love, and hadde a goodly chiere, Ethna, which brenneth yer be yere, 20 Was thanne noght so hot as I Of thilke Sor which prively Min hertes thoght withinne brenneth. The Schip which on the wawes renneth, And is forstormed and forblowe, Is noght more peined for a throwe Than I am thanne, whanne I se An other which that passeth me In that fortune of loves yifte. Bot, fader, this I telle in schrifte, 30 That is nowher bot in o place; For who that lese or finde grace In other stede, it mai noght grieve: Bot this ye mai riht wel believe, Toward mi ladi that I serve, Thogh that I wiste forto sterve, Min herte is full of such sotie, That I myself mai noght chastie. Whan I the Court se of Cupide Aproche unto my ladi side 40 Of hem that lusti ben and freisshe,— Thogh it availe hem noght a reisshe, Bot only that thei ben in speche,— My sorwe is thanne noght to seche: Bot whan thei rounen in hire Ere, Than groweth al my moste fere, And namly whan thei talen longe; My sorwes thanne be so stronge Of that I se hem wel at ese, I can noght telle my desese. 50 Bot, Sire, as of my ladi selve, Thogh sche have wowers ten or twelve, For no mistrust I have of hire Me grieveth noght, for certes, Sire, I trowe, in al this world to seche, Nis womman that in dede and speche Woll betre avise hire what sche doth, Ne betre, forto seie a soth, Kepe hire honour ate alle tide, And yit get hire a thank beside. 60 Bot natheles I am beknowe, That whanne I se at eny throwe, Or elles if I mai it hiere, That sche make eny man good chiere, Thogh I therof have noght to done, Mi thought wol entermette him sone. For thogh I be miselve strange, Envie makth myn herte change, That I am sorghfully bestad Of that I se an other glad 70 With hire; bot of other alle, Of love what so mai befalle, Or that he faile or that he spede, Therof take I bot litel heede. Now have I seid, my fader, al As of this point in special, Als ferforthli as I have wist. Now axeth further what you list.

Mi Sone, er I axe eny more, I thenke somdiel for thi lore 80 Telle an ensample of this matiere Touchende Envie, as thou schalt hiere. Write in Civile this I finde: Thogh it be noght the houndes kinde To ete chaf, yit wol he werne An Oxe which comth to the berne, Therof to taken eny fode. And thus, who that it understode, It stant of love in many place: Who that is out of loves grace 90 And mai himselven noght availe, He wolde an other scholde faile; And if he may put eny lette, He doth al that he mai to lette. Wherof I finde, as thou schalt wite, To this pourpos a tale write.

Ther ben of suche mo than twelve, That ben noght able as of hemselve To gete love, and for Envie Upon alle othre thei aspie; 100 And for hem lacketh that thei wolde, Thei kepte that non other scholde Touchende of love his cause spede: Wherof a gret ensample I rede, Which unto this matiere acordeth, As Ovide in his bok recordeth, How Poliphemus whilom wroghte, Whan that he Galathee besoghte Of love, which he mai noght lacche. That made him forto waite and wacche 110 Be alle weies how it ferde, Til ate laste he knew and herde How that an other hadde leve To love there as he mot leve, As forto speke of eny sped: So that he knew non other red, Bot forto wayten upon alle, Til he may se the chance falle That he hire love myhte grieve, Which he himself mai noght achieve. 120 This Galathee, seith the Poete, Above alle othre was unmete Of beaute, that men thanne knewe, And hadde a lusti love and trewe, A Bacheler in his degree, Riht such an other as was sche, On whom sche hath hire herte set, So that it myhte noght be let For yifte ne for no beheste, That sche ne was al at his heste. 130 This yonge knyht Acis was hote, Which hire ayeinward als so hote Al only loveth and nomo. Hierof was Poliphemus wo Thurgh pure Envie, and evere aspide, And waiteth upon every side, Whan he togedre myhte se This yonge Acis with Galathe.

So longe he waiteth to and fro, Til ate laste he fond hem tuo, 140 In prive place wher thei stode To speke and have here wordes goode. The place wher as he hem syh, It was under a banke nyh The grete See, and he above Stod and behield the lusti love Which ech of hem to other made With goodly chiere and wordes glade, That al his herte hath set afyre Of pure Envie: and as a fyre 150 Which fleth out of a myhti bowe, Aweie he fledde for a throwe, As he that was for love wod, Whan that he sih how that it stod. This Polipheme a Geant was; And whan he sih the sothe cas, How Galathee him hath forsake And Acis to hire love take, His herte mai it noght forbere That he ne roreth lich a Bere; 160 And as it were a wilde beste, The whom no reson mihte areste, He ran Ethna the hell aboute, Wher nevere yit the fyr was oute, Fulfild of sorghe and gret desese, That he syh Acis wel at ese. Til ate laste he him bethoghte, As he which al Envie soghte, And torneth to the banke ayein, Wher he with Galathee hath seyn 170 Acis, whom that he thoghte grieve, Thogh he himself mai noght relieve. This Geant with his ruide myht Part of the banke he schof doun riht, The which evene upon Acis fell, So that with fallinge of this hell This Poliphemus Acis slowh, Wherof sche made sorwe ynowh. And as sche fledde fro the londe, Neptunus tok hire into honde 180 And kept hire in so sauf a place Fro Polipheme and his manace, That he with al his false Envie Ne mihte atteigne hir compaignie. This Galathee of whom I speke, That of hirself mai noght be wreke, Withouten eny semblant feigned Sche hath hire loves deth compleigned, And with hire sorwe and with hire wo Sche hath the goddes moeved so, 190 That thei of pite and of grace Have Acis in the same place, Ther he lai ded, into a welle Transformed, as the bokes telle, With freisshe stremes and with cliere, As he whilom with lusti chiere Was freissh his love forto qweme. And with this ruide Polipheme For his Envie and for his hate Thei were wrothe.

And thus algate, 200 Mi Sone, thou myht understonde, That if thou wolt in grace stonde With love, thou most leve Envie: And as thou wolt for thi partie Toward thi love stonde fre, So most thou soffre an other be, What so befalle upon the chaunce: For it is an unwys vengance, Which to non other man is lief, And is unto himselve grief. 210

Mi fader, this ensample is good; Bot how so evere that it stod With Poliphemes love as tho, It schal noght stonde with me so, To worchen eny felonie In love for no such Envie. Forthi if ther oght elles be, Now axeth forth, in what degre It is, and I me schal confesse With schrifte unto youre holinesse. 220

Mi goode Sone, yit ther is A vice revers unto this, Which envious takth his gladnesse Of that he seth the hevinesse Of othre men: for his welfare Is whanne he wot an other care: Of that an other hath a fall, He thenkth himself arist withal. Such is the gladschipe of Envie In worldes thing, and in partie 230 Fulofte times ek also In loves cause it stant riht so. If thou, my Sone, hast joie had, Whan thou an other sihe unglad, Schrif the therof.

Mi fader, yis: I am beknowe unto you this. Of these lovers that loven streyte, And for that point which thei coveite Ben poursuiantz fro yeer to yere In loves Court, whan I may hiere 240 How that thei clymbe upon the whel, And whan thei wene al schal be wel, Thei ben doun throwen ate laste, Thanne am I fedd of that thei faste, And lawhe of that I se hem loure; And thus of that thei brewe soure I drinke swete, and am wel esed Of that I wot thei ben desesed. Bot this which I you telle hiere Is only for my lady diere; 250 That for non other that I knowe Me reccheth noght who overthrowe, Ne who that stonde in love upriht: Bot be he squier, be he knyht, Which to my ladiward poursuieth, The more he lest of that he suieth, The mor me thenketh that I winne, And am the more glad withinne Of that I wot him sorwe endure. For evere upon such aventure 260 It is a confort, as men sein, To him the which is wo besein To sen an other in his peine, So that thei bothe mai compleigne. Wher I miself mai noght availe To sen an other man travaile, I am riht glad if he be let; And thogh I fare noght the bet, His sorwe is to myn herte a game: Whan that I knowe it is the same 270 Which to mi ladi stant enclined, And hath his love noght termined, I am riht joifull in my thoght. If such Envie grieveth oght, As I beknowe me coupable, Ye that be wys and resonable, Mi fader, telleth youre avis.

Mi Sone, Envie into no pris Of such a forme, I understonde, Ne mihte be no resoun stonde 280 For this Envie hath such a kinde, That he wole sette himself behinde To hindre with an othre wyht, And gladly lese his oghne riht To make an other lesen his. And forto knowe how it so is, A tale lich to this matiere I thenke telle, if thou wolt hiere, To schewe proprely the vice Of this Envie and the malice. 290

Of Jupiter this finde I write, How whilom that he wolde wite Upon the pleigntes whiche he herde, Among the men how that it ferde, As of here wrong condicion To do justificacion: And for that cause doun he sente An Angel, which about wente, That he the sothe knowe mai. So it befell upon a dai 300 This Angel, which him scholde enforme, Was clothed in a mannes forme, And overtok, I understonde, Tuo men that wenten over londe, Thurgh whiche he thoghte to aspie His cause, and goth in compaignie. This Angel with hise wordes wise Opposeth hem in sondri wise, Now lowde wordes and now softe, That mad hem to desputen ofte, 310 And ech of hem his reson hadde. And thus with tales he hem ladde With good examinacioun, Til he knew the condicioun, What men thei were bothe tuo; And sih wel ate laste tho, That on of hem was coveitous, And his fela was envious. And thus, whan he hath knowlechinge, Anon he feigneth departinge, 320 And seide he mot algate wende. Bot herkne now what fell at ende: For thanne he made hem understonde That he was there of goddes sonde, And seide hem, for the kindeschipe That thei have don him felaschipe, He wole hem do som grace ayein, And bad that on of hem schal sein What thing him is lievest to crave, And he it schal of yifte have; 330 And over that ek forth withal He seith that other have schal The double of that his felaw axeth; And thus to hem his grace he taxeth.

The coveitous was wonder glad, And to that other man he bad And seith that he ferst axe scholde: For he supposeth that he wolde Make his axinge of worldes good; For thanne he knew wel how it stod, 340 That he himself be double weyhte Schal after take, and thus be sleyhte, Be cause that he wolde winne, He bad his fela ferst beginne. This Envious, thogh it be late, Whan that he syh he mot algate Make his axinge ferst, he thoghte, If he worschipe or profit soghte, It schal be doubled to his fiere: That wolde he chese in no manere. 350 Bot thanne he scheweth what he was Toward Envie, and in this cas Unto this Angel thus he seide And for his yifte this he preide, To make him blind of his on yhe, So that his fela nothing syhe. This word was noght so sone spoke, That his on yhe anon was loke, And his felawh forthwith also Was blind of bothe his yhen tuo. 360 Tho was that other glad ynowh, That on wepte, and that other lowh, He sette his on yhe at no cost, Wherof that other two hath lost.

Of thilke ensample which fell tho, Men tellen now fulofte so, The world empeireth comunly: And yit wot non the cause why; For it acordeth noght to kinde Min oghne harm to seche and finde 370 Of that I schal my brother grieve; It myhte nevere wel achieve.

What seist thou, Sone, of this folie?

Mi fader, bot I scholde lie, Upon the point which ye have seid Yit was myn herte nevere leid, Bot in the wise as I you tolde. Bot overmore, if that ye wolde Oght elles to my schrifte seie Touchende Envie, I wolde preie. 380

Mi Sone, that schal wel be do: Now herkne and ley thin Ere to.

Touchende as of Envious brod I wot noght on of alle good; Bot natheles, suche as thei be, Yit is ther on, and that is he Which cleped in Detraccioun. And to conferme his accioun, He hath withholde Malebouche, Whos tunge neither pyl ne crouche 390 Mai hyre, so that he pronounce A plein good word withoute frounce Awher behinde a mannes bak. For thogh he preise, he fint som lak, Which of his tale is ay the laste, That al the pris schal overcaste: And thogh ther be no cause why, Yit wole he jangle noght forthi, As he which hath the heraldie Of hem that usen forto lye. 400 For as the Netle which up renneth The freisshe rede Roses brenneth And makth hem fade and pale of hewe, Riht so this fals Envious hewe, In every place wher he duelleth, With false wordes whiche he telleth He torneth preisinge into blame And worschipe into worldes schame. Of such lesinge as he compasseth, Is non so good that he ne passeth 410 Betwen his teeth and is bacbited, And thurgh his false tunge endited: Lich to the Scharnebudes kinde, Of whos nature this I finde, That in the hoteste of the dai, Whan comen is the merie Maii, He sprat his wynge and up he fleth: And under al aboute he seth The faire lusti floures springe, Bot therof hath he no likinge; 420 Bot where he seth of eny beste The felthe, ther he makth his feste, And therupon he wole alyhte, Ther liketh him non other sihte. Riht so this janglere Envious, Thogh he a man se vertuous And full of good condicioun, Therof makth he no mencioun: Bot elles, be it noght so lyte, Wherof that he mai sette a wyte, 430 Ther renneth he with open mouth, Behinde a man and makth it couth. Bot al the vertu which he can, That wole he hide of every man, And openly the vice telle, As he which of the Scole of helle Is tawht, and fostred with Envie Of houshold and of compaignie, Wher that he hath his propre office To sette on every man a vice. 440 How so his mouth be comely, His word sit evermore awry And seith the worste that he may.

And in this wise now a day In loves Court a man mai hiere Fulofte pleigne of this matiere, That many envious tale is stered, Wher that it mai noght ben ansuered; Bot yit fulofte it is believed, And many a worthi love is grieved 450 Thurgh bacbitinge of fals Envie.

If thou have mad such janglerie In loves Court, mi Sone, er this, Schrif thee therof.

Mi fader, yis: Bot wite ye how? noght openly, Bot otherwhile prively, Whan I my diere ladi mete, And thenke how that I am noght mete Unto hire hihe worthinesse, And ek I se the besinesse 460 Of al this yonge lusty route, Whiche alday pressen hire aboute, And ech of hem his time awaiteth, And ech of hem his tale affaiteth, Al to deceive an innocent, Which woll noght ben of here assent; And for men sein unknowe unkest, Hire thombe sche holt in hire fest So clos withinne hire oghne hond, That there winneth noman lond; 470 Sche lieveth noght al that sche hiereth, And thus fulofte hirself sche skiereth And is al war of “hadde I wist”:— Bot for al that myn herte arist, Whanne I thes comun lovers se, That woll noght holden hem to thre, Bot welnyh loven overal, Min herte is Envious withal, And evere I am adrad of guile, In aunter if with eny wyle 480 Thei mihte hire innocence enchaunte. Forthi my wordes ofte I haunte Behynden hem, so as I dar, Wherof my ladi may be war: I sai what evere comth to mowthe, And worse I wolde, if that I cowthe; For whanne I come unto hir speche, Al that I may enquere and seche Of such deceipte, I telle it al, And ay the werste in special. 490 So fayn I wolde that sche wiste How litel thei ben forto triste, And what thei wolde and what thei mente, So as thei be of double entente: Thus toward hem that wicke mene My wicked word was evere grene. And natheles, the soth to telle, In certain if it so befelle That althertrewest man ybore, To chese among a thousend score, 500 Which were alfulli forto triste, Mi ladi lovede, and I it wiste, Yit rathere thanne he scholde spede, I wolde swiche tales sprede To my ladi, if that I myhte, That I scholde al his love unrihte, And therto wolde I do mi peine. For certes thogh I scholde feigne, And telle that was nevere thoght, For al this world I myhte noght 510 To soffre an othre fully winne, Ther as I am yit to beginne. For be thei goode, or be thei badde, I wolde non my ladi hadde; And that me makth fulofte aspie And usen wordes of Envie, Al forto make hem bere a blame. And that is bot of thilke same, The whiche unto my ladi drawe, For evere on hem I rounge and gknawe 520 And hindre hem al that evere I mai; And that is, sothly forto say, Bot only to my lady selve: I telle it noght to ten ne tuelve, Therof I wol me wel avise, To speke or jangle in eny wise That toucheth to my ladi name, The which in ernest and in game I wolde save into my deth; For me were levere lacke breth 530 Than speken of hire name amis. Now have ye herd touchende of this, Mi fader, in confessioun: And therfor of Detraccioun In love, of that I have mispoke, Tel how ye wole it schal be wroke. I am al redy forto bere Mi peine, and also to forbere What thing that ye wol noght allowe; For who is bounden, he mot bowe. 540 So wol I bowe unto youre heste, For I dar make this beheste, That I to yow have nothing hid, Bot told riht as it is betid; And otherwise of no mispeche, Mi conscience forto seche, I can noght of Envie finde, That I mispoke have oght behinde Wherof love owhte be mispaid. Now have ye herd and I have said; 550 What wol ye, fader, that I do?

Mi Sone, do nomore so, Bot evere kep thi tunge stille, Thou miht the more have of thi wille. For as thou saist thiselven here, Thi ladi is of such manere, So wys, so war in alle thinge, It nedeth of no bakbitinge That thou thi ladi mis enforme: For whan sche knoweth al the forme, 560 How that thiself art envious, Thou schalt noght be so gracious As thou peraunter scholdest elles. Ther wol noman drinke of tho welles Whiche as he wot is puyson inne; And ofte swich as men beginne Towardes othre, swich thei finde, That set hem ofte fer behinde, Whan that thei wene be before. Mi goode Sone, and thou therfore 570 Bewar and lef thi wicke speche, Wherof hath fallen ofte wreche To many a man befor this time. For who so wole his handes lime, Thei mosten be the more unclene; For many a mote schal be sene, That wolde noght cleve elles there; And that schold every wys man fere: For who so wol an other blame, He secheth ofte his oghne schame, 580 Which elles myhte be riht stille. Forthi if that it be thi wille To stonde upon amendement, A tale of gret entendement I thenke telle for thi sake, Wherof thou miht ensample take.

A worthi kniht in Cristes lawe Of grete Rome, as is the sawe, The Sceptre hadde forto rihte; Tiberie Constantin he hihte, 590 Whos wif was cleped Ytalie: Bot thei togedre of progenie No children hadde bot a Maide; And sche the god so wel apaide, That al the wide worldes fame Spak worschipe of hire goode name. Constance, as the Cronique seith, Sche hihte, and was so ful of feith, That the greteste of Barbarie, Of hem whiche usen marchandie, 600 Sche hath converted, as thei come To hire upon a time in Rome, To schewen such thing as thei broghte; Whiche worthili of hem sche boghte, And over that in such a wise Sche hath hem with hire wordes wise Of Cristes feith so full enformed, That thei therto ben all conformed, So that baptesme thei receiven And alle here false goddes weyven. 610 Whan thei ben of the feith certein, Thei gon to Barbarie ayein, And ther the Souldan for hem sente And axeth hem to what entente Thei have here ferste feith forsake. And thei, whiche hadden undertake The rihte feith to kepe and holde, The matiere of here tale tolde With al the hole circumstance. And whan the Souldan of Constance 620 Upon the point that thei ansuerde The beaute and the grace herde, As he which thanne was to wedde, In alle haste his cause spedde To sende for the mariage. And furthermor with good corage He seith, be so he mai hire have, That Crist, which cam this world to save, He woll believe: and this recorded, Thei ben on either side acorded, 630 And therupon to make an ende The Souldan hise hostages sende To Rome, of Princes Sones tuelve: Wherof the fader in himselve Was glad, and with the Pope avised Tuo Cardinals he hath assissed With othre lordes many mo, That with his doghter scholden go, To se the Souldan be converted.

Bot that which nevere was wel herted, 640 Envie, tho began travaile In destourbance of this spousaile So prively that non was war. The Moder which this Souldan bar Was thanne alyve, and thoghte this Unto hirself: “If it so is Mi Sone him wedde in this manere, Than have I lost my joies hiere, For myn astat schal so be lassed.” Thenkende thus sche hath compassed 650 Be sleihte how that sche may beguile Hire Sone; and fell withinne a while, Betwen hem two whan that thei were, Sche feigneth wordes in his Ere, And in this wise gan to seie: “Mi Sone, I am be double weie With al myn herte glad and blithe, For that miself have ofte sithe Desired thou wolt, as men seith, Receive and take a newe feith, 660 Which schal be forthringe of thi lif: And ek so worschipful a wif, The doughter of an Emperour, To wedde it schal be gret honour. Forthi, mi Sone, I you beseche That I such grace mihte areche, Whan that my doughter come schal, That I mai thanne in special, So as me thenkth it is honeste, Be thilke which the ferste feste 670 Schal make unto hire welcominge.” The Souldan granteth hire axinge, And sche therof was glad ynowh: For under that anon sche drowh With false wordes that sche spak Covine of deth behinde his bak. And therupon hire ordinance She made so, that whan Constance Was come forth with the Romeins, Of clerkes and of Citezeins, 680 A riche feste sche hem made: And most whan that thei weren glade, With fals covine which sche hadde Hire clos Envie tho sche spradde, And alle tho that hadden be Or in apert or in prive Of conseil to the mariage, Sche slowh hem in a sodein rage Endlong the bord as thei be set, So that it myhte noght be let; 690 Hire oghne Sone was noght quit, Bot deide upon the same plit. Bot what the hihe god wol spare It mai for no peril misfare: This worthi Maiden which was there Stod thanne, as who seith, ded for feere, To se the feste how that it stod, Which al was torned into blod: The Dissh forthwith the Coppe and al Bebled thei weren overal; 700 Sche sih hem deie on every side; No wonder thogh sche wepte and cride Makende many a wofull mone. Whan al was slain bot sche al one, This olde fend, this Sarazine, Let take anon this Constantine With al the good sche thider broghte, And hath ordeined, as sche thoghte, A nakid Schip withoute stiere, In which the good and hire in fiere, 710 Vitailed full for yeres fyve, Wher that the wynd it wolde dryve, Sche putte upon the wawes wilde.

Bot he which alle thing mai schilde, Thre yer, til that sche cam to londe, Hire Schip to stiere hath take in honde, And in Northumberlond aryveth; And happeth thanne that sche dryveth Under a Castel with the flod, Which upon Humber banke stod 720 And was the kynges oghne also, The which Allee was cleped tho, A Saxon and a worthi knyht, Bot he believed noght ariht. Of this Castell was Chastellein Elda the kinges Chamberlein, A knyhtly man after his lawe; And whan he sih upon the wawe The Schip drivende al one so, He bad anon men scholden go 730 To se what it betokne mai. This was upon a Somer dai, The Schip was loked and sche founde; Elda withinne a litel stounde It wiste, and with his wif anon Toward this yonge ladi gon, Wher that thei founden gret richesse; Bot sche hire wolde noght confesse, Whan thei hire axen what sche was. And natheles upon the cas 740 Out of the Schip with gret worschipe Thei toke hire into felaschipe, As thei that weren of hir glade: Bot sche no maner joie made, Bot sorweth sore of that sche fond No cristendom in thilke lond; Bot elles sche hath al hire wille, And thus with hem sche duelleth stille.

Dame Hermyngheld, which was the wif Of Elda, lich hire oghne lif 750 Constance loveth; and fell so, Spekende alday betwen hem two, Thurgh grace of goddes pourveance This maiden tawhte the creance Unto this wif so parfitly, Upon a dai that faste by In presence of hire housebonde, Wher thei go walkende on the Stronde, A blind man, which cam there lad, Unto this wif criende he bad, 760 With bothe hise hondes up and preide To hire, and in this wise he seide: “O Hermyngeld, which Cristes feith, Enformed as Constance seith, Received hast, yif me my sihte.”

Upon his word hire herte afflihte Thenkende what was best to done, Bot natheles sche herde his bone And seide, “In trust of Cristes lawe, Which don was on the crois and slawe, 770 Thou bysne man, behold and se.” With that to god upon his kne Thonkende he tok his sihte anon, Wherof thei merveile everychon, Bot Elda wondreth most of alle: This open thing which is befalle Concludeth him be such a weie, That he the feith mot nede obeie.

Now lest what fell upon this thing. This Elda forth unto the king 780 A morwe tok his weie and rod, And Hermyngeld at home abod Forth with Constance wel at ese. Elda, which thoghte his king to plese, As he that thanne unwedded was, Of Constance al the pleine cas Als goodliche as he cowthe tolde. The king was glad and seide he wolde Come thider upon such a wise That he him mihte of hire avise, 790 The time apointed forth withal. This Elda triste in special Upon a knyht, whom fro childhode He hadde updrawe into manhode: To him he tolde al that he thoghte, Wherof that after him forthoghte; And natheles at thilke tide Unto his wif he bad him ride To make redi alle thing Ayein the cominge of the king, 800 And seith that he himself tofore Thenkth forto come, and bad therfore That he him kepe, and told him whanne. This knyht rod forth his weie thanne; And soth was that of time passed He hadde in al his wit compassed How he Constance myhte winne; Bot he sih tho no sped therinne, Wherof his lust began tabate, And that was love is thanne hate; 810 Of hire honour he hadde Envie, So that upon his tricherie A lesinge in his herte he caste. Til he cam home he hieth faste, And doth his ladi tunderstonde The Message of hire housebonde: And therupon the longe dai Thei setten thinges in arrai, That al was as it scholde be Of every thing in his degree; 820 And whan it cam into the nyht, This wif hire hath to bedde dyht, Wher that this Maiden with hire lay. This false knyht upon delay Hath taried til thei were aslepe, As he that wolde his time kepe His dedly werkes to fulfille; And to the bed he stalketh stille, Wher that he wiste was the wif, And in his hond a rasour knif 830 He bar, with which hire throte he cutte, And prively the knif he putte Under that other beddes side, Wher that Constance lai beside. Elda cam hom the same nyht, And stille with a prive lyht, As he that wolde noght awake His wif, he hath his weie take Into the chambre, and ther liggende He fond his dede wif bledende, 840 Wher that Constance faste by Was falle aslepe; and sodeinly He cride alowd, and sche awok, And forth withal sche caste a lok And sih this ladi blede there, Wherof swoundende ded for fere Sche was, and stille as eny Ston She lay, and Elda therupon Into the Castell clepeth oute, And up sterte every man aboute, 850 Into the chambre and forth thei wente. Bot he, which alle untrouthe mente, This false knyht, among hem alle Upon this thing which is befalle Seith that Constance hath don this dede; And to the bed with that he yede After the falshed of his speche, And made him there forto seche, And fond the knif, wher he it leide, And thanne he cride and thanne he seide, 860 “Lo, seth the knif al blody hiere! What nedeth more in this matiere To axe?” And thus hire innocence He sclaundreth there in audience With false wordes whiche he feigneth. Bot yit for al that evere he pleigneth, Elda no full credence tok: And happeth that ther lay a bok, Upon the which, whan he it sih, This knyht hath swore and seid on hih, 870 That alle men it mihte wite, “Now be this bok, which hier is write, Constance is gultif, wel I wot.” With that the hond of hevene him smot In tokne of that he was forswore, That he hath bothe hise yhen lore, Out of his hed the same stounde Thei sterte, and so thei weren founde. A vois was herd, whan that they felle, Which seide, “O dampned man to helle, 880 Lo, thus hath god the sclaundre wroke That thou ayein Constance hast spoke: Beknow the sothe er that thou dye.” And he told out his felonie, And starf forth with his tale anon. Into the ground, wher alle gon, This dede lady was begrave: Elda, which thoghte his honour save, Al that he mai restreigneth sorwe.

For the seconde day a morwe 890 The king cam, as thei were acorded; And whan it was to him recorded What god hath wroght upon this chaunce, He tok it into remembrance And thoghte more than he seide. For al his hole herte he leide Upon Constance, and seide he scholde For love of hire, if that sche wolde, Baptesme take and Cristes feith Believe, and over that he seith 900 He wol hire wedde, and upon this Asseured ech til other is. And forto make schorte tales, Ther cam a Bisschop out of Wales Fro Bangor, and Lucie he hihte, Which thurgh the grace of god almihte The king with many an other mo Hath cristned, and betwen hem tuo He hath fulfild the mariage. Bot for no lust ne for no rage 910 Sche tolde hem nevere what sche was; And natheles upon the cas The king was glad, how so it stod, For wel he wiste and understod Sche was a noble creature. The hihe makere of nature Hire hath visited in a throwe, That it was openliche knowe Sche was with childe be the king, Wherof above al other thing 920 He thonketh god and was riht glad. And fell that time he was bestad Upon a werre and moste ride; And whil he scholde there abide, He lefte at hom to kepe his wif Suche as he knew of holi lif, Elda forth with the Bisschop eke; And he with pouer goth to seke Ayein the Scottes forto fonde The werre which he tok on honde. 930

The time set of kinde is come, This lady hath hire chambre nome, And of a Sone bore full, Wherof that sche was joiefull, Sche was delivered sauf and sone. The bisshop, as it was to done, Yaf him baptesme and Moris calleth; And therupon, as it befalleth, With lettres writen of record Thei sende unto here liege lord, 940 That kepers weren of the qweene: And he that scholde go betwene, The Messager, to Knaresburgh, Which toun he scholde passe thurgh, Ridende cam the ferste day. The kinges Moder there lay, Whos rihte name was Domilde, Which after al the cause spilde: For he, which thonk deserve wolde, Unto this ladi goth and tolde 950 Of his Message al how it ferde. And sche with feigned joie it herde And yaf him yiftes largely, Bot in the nyht al prively Sche tok the lettres whiche he hadde, Fro point to point and overradde, As sche that was thurghout untrewe, And let do wryten othre newe In stede of hem, and thus thei spieke:

“Oure liege lord, we thee beseke 960 That thou with ous ne be noght wroth, Though we such thing as is thee loth Upon oure trowthe certefie. Thi wif, which is of faierie, Of such a child delivered is Fro kinde which stant al amis: Bot for it scholde noght be seie, We have it kept out of the weie For drede of pure worldes schame, A povere child and in the name 970 Of thilke which is so misbore We toke, and therto we be swore, That non bot only thou and we Schal knowen of this privete: Moris it hatte, and thus men wene That it was boren of the qweene And of thin oghne bodi gete. Bot this thing mai noght be foryete, That thou ne sende ous word anon What is thi wille therupon.” 980

This lettre, as thou hast herd devise, Was contrefet in such a wise That noman scholde it aperceive: And sche, which thoghte to deceive, It leith wher sche that other tok. This Messager, whan he awok, And wiste nothing how it was, Aros and rod the grete pas And tok this lettre to the king. And whan he sih this wonder thing, 990 He makth the Messager no chiere, Bot natheles in wys manere He wrote ayein, and yaf hem charge That thei ne soffre noght at large His wif to go, bot kepe hire stille, Til thei have herd mor of his wille. This Messager was yifteles, Bot with this lettre natheles, Or be him lief or be him loth, In alle haste ayein he goth 1000 Be Knaresburgh, and as he wente, Unto the Moder his entente Of that he fond toward the king He tolde; and sche upon this thing Seith that he scholde abide al nyht And made him feste and chiere ariht, Feignende as thogh sche cowthe him thonk. Bot he with strong wyn which he dronk Forth with the travail of the day Was drunke, aslepe and while he lay, 1010 Sche hath hise lettres overseie And formed in an other weie.

Ther was a newe lettre write, Which seith: “I do you forto wite, That thurgh the conseil of you tuo I stonde in point to ben undo, As he which is a king deposed. For every man it hath supposed, How that my wif Constance is faie; And if that I, thei sein, delaie 1020 To put hire out of compaignie, The worschipe of my Regalie Is lore; and over this thei telle, Hire child schal noght among hem duelle, To cleymen eny heritage. So can I se non avantage, Bot al is lost, if sche abide: Forthi to loke on every side Toward the meschief as it is, I charge you and bidde this, 1030 That ye the same Schip vitaile, In which that sche tok arivaile, Therinne and putteth bothe tuo, Hireself forthwith hire child also, And so forth broght unto the depe Betaketh hire the See to kepe. Of foure daies time I sette, That ye this thing no longer lette, So that your lif be noght forsfet.” And thus this lettre contrefet 1040 The Messager, which was unwar, Upon the kingeshalve bar, And where he scholde it hath betake. Bot whan that thei have hiede take, And rad that writen is withinne, So gret a sorwe thei beginne, As thei here oghne Moder sihen Brent in a fyr before here yhen: Ther was wepinge and ther was wo, Bot finaly the thing is do. 1050

Upon the See thei have hire broght, Bot sche the cause wiste noght, And thus upon the flod thei wone, This ladi with hire yonge Sone: And thanne hire handes to the hevene Sche strawhte, and with a milde stevene Knelende upon hire bare kne Sche seide, “O hihe mageste, Which sest the point of every trowthe, Tak of thi wofull womman rowthe 1060 And of this child that I schal kepe.” And with that word sche gan to wepe, Swounende as ded, and ther sche lay; Bot he which alle thinges may Conforteth hire, and ate laste Sche loketh and hire yhen caste Upon hire child and seide this: “Of me no maner charge it is What sorwe I soffre, bot of thee Me thenkth it is a gret pite, 1070 For if I sterve thou schalt deie: So mot I nedes be that weie For Moderhed and for tendresse With al myn hole besinesse Ordeigne me for thilke office, As sche which schal be thi Norrice.” Thus was sche strengthed forto stonde; And tho sche tok hire child in honde And yaf it sowke, and evere among Sche wepte, and otherwhile song 1080 To rocke with hire child aslepe: And thus hire oghne child to kepe Sche hath under the goddes cure.

And so fell upon aventure, Whan thilke yer hath mad his ende, Hire Schip, so as it moste wende Thurgh strengthe of wynd which god hath yive, Estward was into Spaigne drive Riht faste under a Castell wall, Wher that an hethen Amirall 1090 Was lord, and he a Stieward hadde, Oon Thelous, which al was badde, A fals knyht and a renegat. He goth to loke in what astat The Schip was come, and there he fond Forth with a child upon hire hond This lady, wher sche was al one. He tok good hiede of the persone, And sih sche was a worthi wiht, And thoghte he wolde upon the nyht 1100 Demene hire at his oghne wille, And let hire be therinne stille, That mo men sih sche noght that dai. At goddes wille and thus sche lai, Unknowe what hire schal betide; And fell so that be nyhtes tide This knyht withoute felaschipe Hath take a bot and cam to Schipe, And thoghte of hire his lust to take, And swor, if sche him daunger make, 1110 That certeinly sche scholde deie. Sche sih ther was non other weie, And seide he scholde hire wel conforte, That he ferst loke out ate porte, That noman were nyh the stede, Which myhte knowe what thei dede, And thanne he mai do what he wolde. He was riht glad that sche so tolde, And to the porte anon he ferde: Sche preide god, and he hire herde, 1120 And sodeinliche he was out throwe And dreynt, and tho began to blowe A wynd menable fro the lond, And thus the myhti goddes hond Hire hath conveied and defended.

And whan thre yer be full despended, Hire Schip was drive upon a dai, Wher that a gret Navye lay Of Schipes, al the world at ones: And as god wolde for the nones, 1130 Hire Schip goth in among hem alle, And stinte noght, er it be falle And hath the vessell undergete, Which Maister was of al the Flete, Bot there it resteth and abod. This grete Schip on Anker rod; The Lord cam forth, and whan he sih That other ligge abord so nyh, He wondreth what it myhte be, And bad men to gon in and se. 1140 This ladi tho was crope aside, As sche that wolde hireselven hide, For sche ne wiste what thei were: Thei soghte aboute and founde hir there And broghten up hire child and hire; And therupon this lord to spire Began, fro whenne that sche cam, And what sche was. Quod sche, “I am A womman wofully bestad. I hadde a lord, and thus he bad, 1150 That I forth with my litel Sone Upon the wawes scholden wone, Bot why the cause was, I not: Bot he which alle thinges wot Yit hath, I thonke him, of his miht Mi child and me so kept upriht, That we be save bothe tuo.” This lord hire axeth overmo How sche believeth, and sche seith, “I lieve and triste in Cristes feith, 1160 Which deide upon the Rode tree.” “What is thi name?” tho quod he. “Mi name is Couste,” sche him seide: Bot forthermor for noght he preide Of hire astat to knowe plein, Sche wolde him nothing elles sein Bot of hir name, which sche feigneth; Alle othre thinges sche restreigneth, That a word more sche ne tolde. This lord thanne axeth if sche wolde 1170 With him abide in compaignie, And seide he cam fro Barbarie To Romeward, and hom he wente. Tho sche supposeth what it mente, And seith sche wolde with him wende And duelle unto hire lyves ende, Be so it be to his plesance. And thus upon here aqueintance He tolde hire pleinly as it stod, Of Rome how that the gentil blod 1180 In Barbarie was betraied, And therupon he hath assaied Be werre, and taken such vengance, That non of al thilke alliance, Be whom the tresoun was compassed, Is from the swerd alyve passed; Bot of Constance hou it was, That cowthe he knowe be no cas, Wher sche becam, so as he seide.

Hire Ere unto his word sche leide, 1190 Bot forther made sche no chiere. And natheles in this matiere It happeth thilke time so: This Lord, with whom sche scholde go, Of Rome was the Senatour, And of hir fader themperour His brother doughter hath to wyve, Which hath hir fader ek alyve, And was Salustes cleped tho; This wif Heleine hihte also, 1200 To whom Constance was Cousine. Thus to the sike a medicine Hath god ordeined of his grace, That forthwith in the same place This Senatour his trowthe plihte, For evere, whil he live mihte, To kepe in worschipe and in welthe, Be so that god wol yive hire helthe, This ladi, which fortune him sende. And thus be Schipe forth sailende 1210 Hire and hir child to Rome he broghte, And to his wif tho he besoghte To take hire into compaignie: And sche, which cowthe of courtesie Al that a good wif scholde konne, Was inly glad that sche hath wonne The felaschip of so good on. Til tuelve yeres were agon, This Emperoures dowhter Custe Forth with the dowhter of Saluste 1220 Was kept, bot noman redily Knew what sche was, and noght forthi Thei thoghten wel sche hadde be In hire astat of hih degre, And every lif hire loveth wel.

Now herke how thilke unstable whel, Which evere torneth, wente aboute. The king Allee, whil he was oute, As thou tofore hast herd this cas, Deceived thurgh his Moder was: 1230 Bot whan that he cam hom ayein, He axeth of his Chamberlein And of the Bisschop ek also, Wher thei the qweene hadden do. And thei answerde, there he bad, And have him thilke lettre rad, Which he hem sende for warant, And tolde him pleinli as it stant, And sein, it thoghte hem gret pite To se so worthi on as sche, 1240 With such a child as ther was bore, So sodeinly to be forlore. He axeth hem what child that were; And thei him seiden, that naghere, In al the world thogh men it soghte, Was nevere womman that forth broghte A fairer child than it was on. And thanne he axede hem anon, Whi thei ne hadden write so: Thei tolden, so thei hadden do. 1250 He seide, “Nay.” Thei seiden, “Yis.” The lettre schewed rad it is, Which thei forsoken everidel. Tho was it understonde wel That ther is tresoun in the thing: The Messager tofore the king Was broght and sodeinliche opposed; And he, which nothing hath supposed Bot alle wel, began to seie That he nagher upon the weie 1260 Abod, bot only in a stede; And cause why that he so dede Was, as he wente to and fro, At Knaresburgh be nyhtes tuo The kinges Moder made him duelle. And whan the king it herde telle, Withinne his herte he wiste als faste The treson which his Moder caste; And thoghte he wolde noght abide, Bot forth riht in the same tide 1270 He tok his hors and rod anon. With him ther riden manion, To Knaresburgh and forth thei wente, And lich the fyr which tunder hente, In such a rage, as seith the bok, His Moder sodeinliche he tok And seide unto hir in this wise: “O beste of helle, in what juise Hast thou deserved forto deie, That hast so falsly put aweie 1280 With tresoun of thi bacbitinge The treweste at my knowlechinge Of wyves and the most honeste? Bot I wol make this beheste, I schal be venged er I go.” And let a fyr do make tho, And bad men forto caste hire inne: Bot ferst sche tolde out al the sinne, And dede hem alle forto wite How sche the lettres hadde write, 1290 Fro point to point as it was wroght. And tho sche was to dethe broght And brent tofore hire Sones yhe: Wherof these othre, whiche it sihe And herden how the cause stod, Sein that the juggement is good, Of that hir Sone hire hath so served; For sche it hadde wel deserved Thurgh tresoun of hire false tunge, Which thurgh the lond was after sunge, 1300 Constance and every wiht compleigneth. Bot he, whom alle wo distreigneth, This sorghfull king, was so bestad, That he schal nevermor be glad, He seith, eftsone forto wedde, Til that he wiste how that sche spedde, Which hadde ben his ferste wif: And thus his yonge unlusti lif He dryveth forth so as he mai.

Til it befell upon a dai, 1310 Whan he hise werres hadde achieved, And thoghte he wolde be relieved Of Soule hele upon the feith Which he hath take, thanne he seith That he to Rome in pelrinage Wol go, wher Pope was Pelage, To take his absolucioun. And upon this condicioun He made Edwyn his lieutenant, Which heir to him was apparant, 1320 That he the lond in his absence Schal reule: and thus be providence Of alle thinges wel begon He tok his leve and forth is gon. Elda, which tho was with him there, Er thei fulliche at Rome were, Was sent tofore to pourveie; And he his guide upon the weie, In help to ben his herbergour, Hath axed who was Senatour, 1330 That he his name myhte kenne. Of Capadoce, he seide, Arcenne He hihte, and was a worthi kniht. To him goth Elda tho forth riht And tolde him of his lord tidinge, And preide that for his comynge He wolde assigne him herbergage; And he so dede of good corage.

Whan al is do that was to done, The king himself cam after sone. 1340 This Senatour, whan that he com, To Couste and to his wif at hom Hath told how such a king Allee Of gret array to the Citee Was come, and Couste upon his tale With herte clos and colour pale Aswoune fell, and he merveileth So sodeinly what thing hire eyleth, And cawhte hire up, and whan sche wok, Sche syketh with a pitous lok 1350 And feigneth seknesse of the See; Bot it was for the king Allee, For joie which fell in hire thoght That god him hath to toune broght. This king hath spoke with the Pope And told al that he cowthe agrope, What grieveth in his conscience; And thanne he thoghte in reverence Of his astat, er that he wente, To make a feste, and thus he sente 1360 Unto the Senatour to come Upon the morwe and othre some, To sitte with him at the mete. This tale hath Couste noght foryete, Bot to Moris hire Sone tolde That he upon the morwe scholde In al that evere he cowthe and mihte Be present in the kinges sihte, So that the king him ofte sihe. Moris tofore the kinges yhe 1370 Upon the morwe, wher he sat, Fulofte stod, and upon that The king his chiere upon him caste, And in his face him thoghte als faste He sih his oghne wif Constance; For nature as in resemblance Of face hem liketh so to clothe, That thei were of a suite bothe. The king was moeved in his thoght Of that he seth, and knoweth it noght; 1380 This child he loveth kindely, And yit he wot no cause why. Bot wel he sih and understod That he toward Arcenne stod, And axeth him anon riht there, If that this child his Sone were. He seide, “Yee, so I him calle, And wolde it were so befalle, Bot it is al in other wise.”

And tho began he to devise 1390 How he the childes Moder fond Upon the See from every lond Withinne a Schip was stiereles, And how this ladi helpeles Forth with hir child he hath forthdrawe. The king hath understonde his sawe, The childes name and axeth tho, And what the Moder hihte also That he him wolde telle he preide. “Moris this child is hote,” he seide, 1400 “His Moder hatte Couste, and this I not what maner name it is.” But Allee wiste wel ynowh, Wherof somdiel smylende he lowh; For Couste in Saxoun is to sein Constance upon the word Romein. Bot who that cowthe specefie What tho fell in his fantasie, And how his wit aboute renneth Upon the love in which he brenneth, 1410 It were a wonder forto hiere: For he was nouther ther ne hiere, Bot clene out of himself aweie, That he not what to thenke or seie, So fain he wolde it were sche. Wherof his hertes privete Began the werre of yee and nay, The which in such balance lay, That contenance for a throwe He loste, til he mihte knowe 1420 The sothe: bot in his memoire The man which lith in purgatoire Desireth noght the hevene more, That he ne longeth al so sore To wite what him schal betide. And whan the bordes were aside And every man was rise aboute, The king hath weyved al the route, And with the Senatour al one He spak and preide him of a bone, 1430 To se this Couste, wher sche duelleth At hom with him, so as he telleth. The Senatour was wel appaied, This thing no lengere is delaied, To se this Couste goth the king; And sche was warned of the thing, And with Heleine forth sche cam Ayein the king, and he tho nam Good hiede, and whan he sih his wif, Anon with al his hertes lif 1440 He cawhte hire in his arm and kiste. Was nevere wiht that sih ne wiste A man that more joie made, Wherof thei weren alle glade Whiche herde tellen of this chance.

This king tho with his wif Constance, Which hadde a gret part of his wille, In Rome for a time stille Abod and made him wel at ese: Bot so yit cowthe he nevere plese 1450 His wif, that sche him wolde sein Of hire astat the trowthe plein, Of what contre that sche was bore, Ne what sche was, and yit therfore With al his wit he hath don sieke. Thus as they lihe abedde and spieke, Sche preide him and conseileth bothe, That for the worschipe of hem bothe, So as hire thoghte it were honeste, He wolde an honourable feste 1460 Make, er he wente, in the Cite, Wher themperour himself schal be: He graunteth al that sche him preide. Bot as men in that time seide, This Emperour fro thilke day That ferst his dowhter wente away He was thanne after nevere glad; Bot what that eny man him bad Of grace for his dowhter sake, That grace wolde he noght forsake; 1470 And thus ful gret almesse he dede, Wherof sche hadde many a bede.

This Emperour out of the toun Withinne a ten mile enviroun, Where as it thoghte him for the beste, Hath sondry places forto reste; And as fortune wolde tho, He was duellende at on of tho. The king Allee forth with thassent Of Couste his wif hath thider sent 1480 Moris his Sone, as he was taght, To themperour and he goth straght, And in his fader half besoghte, As he which his lordschipe soghte, That of his hihe worthinesse He wolde do so gret meknesse, His oghne toun to come and se, And yive a time in the cite, So that his fader mihte him gete That he wolde ones with him ete. 1490 This lord hath granted his requeste; And whan the dai was of the feste, In worschipe of here Emperour The king and ek the Senatour Forth with here wyves bothe tuo, With many a lord and lady mo, On horse riden him ayein; Til it befell, upon a plein Thei sihen wher he was comende. With that Constance anon preiende 1500 Spak to hir lord that he abyde, So that sche mai tofore ryde, To ben upon his bienvenue The ferste which schal him salue; And thus after hire lordes graunt Upon a Mule whyt amblaunt Forth with a fewe rod this qweene. Thei wondren what sche wolde mene, And riden after softe pas; Bot whan this ladi come was 1510 To themperour, in his presence Sche seide alowd in audience, “Mi lord, mi fader, wel you be! And of this time that I se Youre honour and your goode hele, Which is the helpe of my querele, I thonke unto the goddes myht.” For joie his herte was affliht Of that sche tolde in remembrance; And whanne he wiste it was Constance, 1520 Was nevere fader half so blithe. Wepende he keste hire ofte sithe, So was his herte al overcome; For thogh his Moder were come Fro deth to lyve out of the grave, He mihte nomor wonder have Than he hath whan that he hire sih. With that hire oghne lord cam nyh And is to themperour obeied; Bot whan the fortune is bewreied, 1530 How that Constance is come aboute, So hard an herte was non oute, That he for pite tho ne wepte.

Arcennus, which hire fond and kepte, Was thanne glad of that is falle, So that with joie among hem alle Thei riden in at Rome gate. This Emperour thoghte al to late, Til that the Pope were come, And of the lordes sende some 1540 To preie him that he wolde haste: And he cam forth in alle haste, And whan that he the tale herde, How wonderly this chance ferde, He thonketh god of his miracle, To whos miht mai be non obstacle: The king a noble feste hem made, And thus thei weren alle glade. A parlement, er that thei wente, Thei setten unto this entente, 1550 To puten Rome in full espeir That Moris was apparant heir And scholde abide with hem stille, For such was al the londes wille.

Whan every thing was fulli spoke, Of sorwe and queint was al the smoke, Tho tok his leve Allee the king, And with full many a riche thing, Which themperour him hadde yive, He goth a glad lif forto live; 1560 For he Constance hath in his hond, Which was the confort of his lond. For whan that he cam hom ayein, Ther is no tunge it mihte sein What joie was that ilke stounde Of that he hath his qweene founde, Which ferst was sent of goddes sonde, Whan sche was drive upon the Stronde, Be whom the misbelieve of Sinne Was left, and Cristes feith cam inne 1570 To hem that whilom were blinde.

Bot he which hindreth every kinde And for no gold mai be forboght, The deth comende er he be soght, Tok with this king such aqueintance, That he with al his retenance Ne mihte noght defende his lif; And thus he parteth from his wif, Which thanne made sorwe ynowh. And therupon hire herte drowh 1580 To leven Engelond for evere And go wher that sche hadde levere, To Rome, whenne that sche cam: And thus of al the lond sche nam Hir leve, and goth to Rome ayein. And after that the bokes sein, She was noght there bot a throwe, Whan deth of kinde hath overthrowe Hir worthi fader, which men seide That he betwen hire armes deide. 1590 And afterward the yer suiende The god hath mad of hire an ende, And fro this worldes faierie Hath take hire into compaignie. Moris hir Sone was corouned, Which so ferforth was abandouned To Cristes feith, that men him calle Moris the cristeneste of alle.

And thus the wel meninge of love Was ate laste set above; 1600 And so as thou hast herd tofore, The false tunges weren lore, Whiche upon love wolden lie. Forthi touchende of this Envie Which longeth unto bacbitinge, Be war thou make no lesinge In hindringe of an other wiht: And if thou wolt be tawht ariht What meschief bakbitinge doth Be other weie, a tale soth 1610 Now miht thou hiere next suiende, Which to this vice is acordende.

In a Cronique, as thou schalt wite, A gret ensample I finde write, Which I schal telle upon this thing. Philippe of Macedoyne kyng Two Sones hadde be his wif, Whos fame is yit in Grece rif: Demetrius the ferste brother Was hote, and Perseus that other. 1620 Demetrius men seiden tho The betre knyht was of the tuo, To whom the lond was entendant, As he which heir was apparant To regne after his fader dai: Bot that thing which no water mai Quenche in this world, bot evere brenneth, Into his brother herte it renneth, The proude Envie of that he sih His brother scholde clymbe on hih, 1630 And he to him mot thanne obeie: That may he soffre be no weie. With strengthe dorst he nothing fonde, So tok he lesinge upon honde, Whan he sih time and spak therto. For it befell that time so, His fader grete werres hadde With Rome, whiche he streite ladde Thurgh mihty hond of his manhode, As he which hath ynowh knihthode, 1640 And ofte hem hadde sore grieved. Bot er the werre were achieved, As he was upon ordinance At hom in Grece, it fell per chance, Demetrius, which ofte aboute Ridende was, stod that time oute, So that this Perse in his absence, Which bar the tunge of pestilence, With false wordes whiche he feigneth Upon his oghne brother pleigneth 1650 In privete behinde his bak, And to his fader thus he spak:

“Mi diere fader, I am holde Be weie of kinde, as resoun wolde, That I fro yow schal nothing hide, Which mihte torne in eny side Of youre astat into grevance: Forthi myn hertes obeissance Towardes you I thenke kepe; For it is good ye take kepe 1660 Upon a thing which is me told. Mi brother hath ous alle sold To hem of Rome, and you also; For thanne they behote him so, That he with hem schal regne in pes. Thus hath he cast for his encress That youre astat schal go to noght; And this to proeve schal be broght So ferforth, that I undertake It schal noght wel mow be forsake.” 1670

The king upon this tale ansuerde And seide, if this thing which he herde Be soth and mai be broght to prove, “It schal noght be to his behove, Which so hath schapen ous the werste, For he himself schal be the ferste That schal be ded, if that I mai.”

Thus afterward upon a dai, Whan that Demetrius was come, Anon his fader hath him nome, 1680 And bad unto his brother Perse That he his tale schal reherse Of thilke tresoun which he tolde. And he, which al untrowthe wolde, Conseileth that so hih a nede Be treted wher as it mai spede, In comun place of juggement. The king therto yaf his assent, Demetrius was put in hold, Wherof that Perseus was bold. 1690 Thus stod the trowthe under the charge, And the falshede goth at large, Which thurgh beheste hath overcome The greteste of the lordes some, That privelich of his acord Thei stonde as witnesse of record: The jugge was mad favorable: Thus was the lawe deceivable So ferforth that the trowthe fond Rescousse non, and thus the lond 1700 Forth with the king deceived were.

The gulteles was dampned there And deide upon accusement: Bot such a fals conspirement, Thogh it be prive for a throwe, Godd wolde noght it were unknowe; And that was afterward wel proved In him which hath the deth controved. Of that his brother was so slain This Perseus was wonder fain, 1710 As he that tho was apparant, Upon the Regne and expectant; Wherof he wax so proud and vein, That he his fader in desdeign Hath take and set of non acompte, As he which thoghte him to surmonte; That wher he was ferst debonaire, He was tho rebell and contraire, And noght as heir bot as a king He tok upon him alle thing 1720 Of malice and of tirannie In contempt of the Regalie, Livende his fader, and so wroghte, That whan the fader him bethoghte And sih to whether side it drowh, Anon he wiste well ynowh How Perse after his false tunge Hath so thenvious belle runge, That he hath slain his oghne brother. Wherof as thanne he knew non other, 1730 Bot sodeinly the jugge he nom, Which corrupt sat upon the dom, In such a wise and hath him pressed, That he the sothe him hath confessed Of al that hath be spoke and do.

Mor sori than the king was tho Was nevere man upon this Molde, And thoghte in certain that he wolde Vengance take upon this wrong. Bot thother parti was so strong, 1740 That for the lawe of no statut Ther mai no riht ben execut; And upon this division The lond was torned up so doun: Wherof his herte is so distraght, That he for pure sorwe hath caght The maladie of which nature Is queint in every creature.

And whan this king was passed thus, This false tunged Perseus 1750 The regiment hath underfonge. Bot ther mai nothing stonde longe Which is noght upon trowthe grounded; For god, which alle thing hath bounded And sih the falshod of his guile, Hath set him bot a litel while, That he schal regne upon depos; For sodeinliche as he aros So sodeinliche doun he fell.

In thilke time it so befell, 1760 This newe king of newe Pride With strengthe schop him forto ride, And seide he wolde Rome waste, Wherof he made a besi haste, And hath assembled him an host In al that evere he mihte most: What man that mihte wepne bere Of alle he wolde non forbere; So that it mihte noght be nombred, The folk which after was encombred 1770 Thurgh him, that god wolde overthrowe.

Anon it was at Rome knowe, The pompe which that Perse ladde; And the Romeins that time hadde A Consul, which was cleped thus Be name, Paul Emilius, A noble, a worthi kniht withalle; And he, which chief was of hem alle, This werre on honde hath undertake. And whanne he scholde his leve take 1780 Of a yong dowhter which was his, Sche wepte, and he what cause it is Hire axeth, and sche him ansuerde That Perse is ded; and he it herde, And wondreth what sche meene wolde: And sche upon childhode him tolde That Perse hir litel hound is ded. With that he pulleth up his hed And made riht a glad visage, And seide how that was a presage 1790 Touchende unto that other Perse, Of that fortune him scholde adverse, He seith, for such a prenostik Most of an hound was to him lik: For as it is an houndes kinde To berke upon a man behinde, Riht so behinde his brother bak With false wordes whiche he spak He hath do slain, and that is rowthe. “Bot he which hateth alle untrowthe, 1800 The hihe god, it schal redresse; For so my dowhter prophetesse Forth with hir litel houndes deth Betokneth.” And thus forth he geth Conforted of this evidence, With the Romeins in his defence Ayein the Greks that ben comende.

This Perseüs, as noght seende This meschief which that him abod, With al his multitude rod, 1810 And prided him upon the thing, Of that he was become a king, And how he hadde his regne gete; Bot he hath al the riht foryete Which longeth unto governance. Wherof thurgh goddes ordinance It fell, upon the wynter tide That with his host he scholde ride Over Danubie thilke flod, Which al befrose thanne stod 1820 So harde, that he wende wel To passe: bot the blinde whiel, Which torneth ofte er men be war, Thilke ys which that the horsmen bar Tobrak, so that a gret partie Was dreint; of the chivalerie The rerewarde it tok aweie, Cam non of hem to londe dreie.

Paulus the worthi kniht Romein Be his aspie it herde sein, 1830 And hasteth him al that he may, So that upon that other day He cam wher he this host beheld, And that was in a large feld, Wher the Baneres ben desplaied. He hath anon hise men arraied, And whan that he was embatailled, He goth and hath the feld assailed, And slowh and tok al that he fond; Wherof the Macedoyne lond, 1840 Which thurgh king Alisandre honoured Long time stod, was tho devoured. To Perse and al that infortune Thei wyte, so that the comune Of al the lond his heir exile; And he despeired for the while Desguised in a povere wede To Rome goth, and ther for nede The craft which thilke time was, To worche in latoun and in bras, 1850 He lerneth for his sustienance. Such was the Sones pourveance, And of his fader it is seid, In strong prisoun that he was leid In Albe, wher that he was ded For hunger and defalte of bred. The hound was tokne and prophecie That lich an hound he scholde die, Which lich was of condicioun, Whan he with his detraccioun 1860 Bark on his brother so behinde.

Lo, what profit a man mai finde, Which hindre wole an other wiht. Forthi with al thin hole miht, Mi Sone, eschuie thilke vice.

Mi fader, elles were I nyce: For ye therof so wel have spoke, That it is in myn herte loke And evere schal: bot of Envie, If ther be more in his baillie 1870 Towardes love, sai me what.

Mi Sone, as guile under the hat With sleyhtes of a tregetour Is hidd, Envie of such colour Hath yit the ferthe deceivant, The which is cleped Falssemblant, Wherof the matiere and the forme Now herkne and I thee schal enforme.

Of Falssemblant if I schal telle, Above alle othre it is the welle 1880 Out of the which deceipte floweth. Ther is noman so wys that knoweth Of thilke flod which is the tyde, Ne how he scholde himselven guide To take sauf passage there. And yit the wynd to mannes Ere Is softe, and as it semeth oute It makth clier weder al aboute; Bot thogh it seme, it is noght so. For Falssemblant hath everemo 1890 Of his conseil in compaignie The derke untrewe Ypocrisie, Whos word descordeth to his thoght: Forthi thei ben togedre broght Of o covine, of on houshold, As it schal after this be told. Of Falssemblant it nedeth noght To telle of olde ensamples oght; For al dai in experience A man mai se thilke evidence 1900 Of faire wordes whiche he hiereth; Bot yit the barge Envie stiereth And halt it evere fro the londe, Wher Falssemblant with Ore on honde It roweth, and wol noght arive, Bot let it on the wawes dryve In gret tempeste and gret debat, Wherof that love and his astat Empeireth. And therfore I rede, Mi Sone, that thou fle and drede 1910 This vice, and what that othre sein, Let thi Semblant be trewe and plein. For Falssemblant is thilke vice, Which nevere was withoute office: Wher that Envie thenkth to guile, He schal be for that ilke while Of prive conseil Messagier. For whan his semblant is most clier, Thanne is he most derk in his thoght, Thogh men him se, thei knowe him noght; 1920 Bot as it scheweth in the glas Thing which therinne nevere was, So scheweth it in his visage That nevere was in his corage: Thus doth he al his thing with sleyhte.

Now ley thi conscience in weyhte, Mi goode Sone, and schrif the hier, If thou were evere Custummer To Falssemblant in eny wise.

For ought I can me yit avise, 1930 Mi goode fader, certes no. If I for love have oght do so, Now asketh, I wol praie yow: For elles I wot nevere how Of Falssemblant that I have gilt.

Mi Sone, and sithen that thou wilt That I schal axe, gabbe noght, Bot tell if evere was thi thoght With Falssemblant and coverture To wite of eny creature 1940 How that he was with love lad; So were he sori, were he glad, Whan that thou wistest how it were, Al that he rounede in thin Ere Thou toldest forth in other place, To setten him fro loves grace Of what womman that thee beste liste, Ther as noman his conseil wiste Bot thou, be whom he was deceived Of love, and from his pourpos weyved; 1950 And thoghtest that his destourbance Thin oghne cause scholde avance, As who saith, “I am so celee, Ther mai no mannes privete Be heled half so wel as myn.” Art thou, mi Sone, of such engin? Tell on.

Mi goode fader, nay As for the more part I say; Bot of somdiel I am beknowe, That I mai stonde in thilke rowe 1960 Amonges hem that Saundres use. I wol me noght therof excuse, That I with such colour ne steyne, Whan I my beste Semblant feigne To my felawh, til that I wot Al his conseil bothe cold and hot: For be that cause I make him chiere, Til I his love knowe and hiere; And if so be myn herte soucheth That oght unto my ladi toucheth 1970 Of love that he wol me telle, Anon I renne unto the welle And caste water in the fyr, So that his carte amidd the Myr, Be that I have his conseil knowe, Fulofte sithe I overthrowe, Whan that he weneth best to stonde. Bot this I do you understonde, If that a man love elles where, So that my ladi be noght there, 1980 And he me telle, I wole it hide, Ther schal no word ascape aside, For with deceipte of no semblant To him breke I no covenant; Me liketh noght in other place To lette noman of his grace, Ne forto ben inquisitif To knowe an other mannes lif: Wher that he love or love noght, That toucheth nothing to my thoght, 1990 Bot al it passeth thurgh myn Ere Riht as a thing that nevere were, And is foryete and leid beside. Bot if it touche on eny side Mi ladi, as I have er spoken, Myn Eres ben noght thanne loken; For certes, whanne that betitt, My will, myn herte and al my witt Ben fully set to herkne and spire What eny man wol speke of hire. 2000 Thus have I feigned compaignie Fulofte, for I wolde aspie What thing it is that eny man Telle of mi worthi lady can: And for tuo causes I do this, The ferste cause wherof is,— If that I myhte ofherkne and seke That eny man of hire mispeke, I wolde excuse hire so fully, That whan sche wist in inderly, 2010 Min hope scholde be the more To have hir thank for everemore.

That other cause, I you assure, Is, why that I be coverture Have feigned semblant ofte time To hem that passen alday byme And ben lovers als wel as I, For this I weene trewely, That ther is of hem alle non, That thei ne loven everich on 2020 Mi ladi: for sothliche I lieve And durste setten it in prieve, Is non so wys that scholde asterte, Bot he were lustles in his herte, Forwhy and he my ladi sihe, Hir visage and hir goodlych yhe, Bot he hire lovede, er he wente. And for that such is myn entente, That is the cause of myn aspie, Why that I feigne compaignie 2030 And make felawe overal; For gladly wolde I knowen al And holde me covert alway, That I fulofte ye or nay Ne liste ansuere in eny wise, Bot feigne semblant as the wise And herkne tales, til I knowe Mi ladi lovers al arowe. And whanne I hiere how thei have wroght, I fare as thogh I herde it noght 2040 And as I no word understode; Bot that is nothing for here goode: For lieveth wel, the sothe is this, That whanne I knowe al how it is, I wol bot forthren hem a lite, Bot al the worste I can endite I telle it to my ladi plat In forthringe of myn oghne astat, And hindre hem al that evere I may. Bot for al that yit dar I say, 2050 I finde unto miself no bote, Althogh myn herte nedes mote Thurgh strengthe of love al that I hiere Discovere unto my ladi diere: For in good feith I have no miht To hele fro that swete wiht, If that it touche hire eny thing. Bot this wot wel the hevene king, That sithen ferst this world began, Unto non other strange man 2060 Ne feigned I semblant ne chiere, To wite or axe of his matiere, Thogh that he lovede ten or tuelve, Whanne it was noght my ladi selve: Bot if he wolde axe eny red Al onlich of his oghne hed, How he with other love ferde, His tales with myn Ere I herde, Bot to myn herte cam it noght Ne sank no deppere in my thoght, 2070 Bot hield conseil, as I was bede, And tolde it nevere in other stede, Bot let it passen as it com. Now, fader, say what is thi dom, And hou thou wolt that I be peined For such Semblant as I have feigned.

Mi Sone, if reson be wel peised, Ther mai no vertu ben unpreised Ne vice non be set in pris. Forthi, my Sone, if thou be wys, 2080 Do no viser upon thi face, Which as wol noght thin herte embrace: For if thou do, withinne a throwe To othre men it schal be knowe, So miht thou lihtli falle in blame And lese a gret part of thi name. And natheles in this degree Fulofte time thou myht se Of suche men that now aday This vice setten in a say: 2090 I speke it for no mannes blame, Bot forto warne thee the same. Mi Sone, as I mai hiere talke In every place where I walke, I not if it be so or non, Bot it is manye daies gon That I ferst herde telle this, How Falssemblant hath ben and is Most comunly fro yer to yere With hem that duelle among ous here, 2100 Of suche as we Lombardes calle. For thei ben the slyeste of alle, So as men sein in toune aboute, To feigne and schewe thing withoute Which is revers to that withinne: Wherof that thei fulofte winne, Whan thei be reson scholden lese; Thei ben the laste and yit thei chese, And we the ferste, and yit behinde We gon, there as we scholden finde 2110 The profit of oure oghne lond: Thus gon thei fre withoute bond To don her profit al at large, And othre men bere al the charge. Of Lombardz unto this covine, Whiche alle londes conne engine, Mai Falssemblant in special Be likned, for thei overal, Wher as they thenken forto duelle, Among hemself, so as thei telle, 2120 Ferst ben enformed forto lere A craft which cleped is Fa crere: For if Fa crere come aboute, Thanne afterward hem stant no doute To voide with a soubtil hond The beste goodes of the lond And bringe chaf and take corn. Where as Fa crere goth toforn, In all his weie he fynt no lette; That Dore can non huissher schette 2130 In which him list to take entre: And thus the conseil most secre Of every thing Fa crere knoweth, Which into strange place he bloweth, Where as he wot it mai most grieve. And thus Fa crere makth believe, So that fulofte he hath deceived, Er that he mai ben aperceived. Thus is this vice forto drede; For who these olde bokes rede 2140 Of suche ensamples as were ar, Him oghte be the more war Of alle tho that feigne chiere, Wherof thou schalt a tale hiere.

Of Falssemblant which is believed Ful many a worthi wiht is grieved, And was long time er we wer bore. To thee, my Sone, I wol therfore A tale telle of Falssemblant, Which falseth many a covenant, 2150 And many a fraude of fals conseil Ther ben hangende upon his Seil: And that aboghten gulteles Bothe Deianire and Hercules, The whiche in gret desese felle Thurgh Falssemblant, as I schal telle. Whan Hercules withinne a throwe Al only hath his herte throwe Upon this faire Deianire, It fell him on a dai desire, 2160 Upon a Rivere as he stod, That passe he wolde over the flod Withoute bot, and with him lede His love, bot he was in drede For tendresce of that swete wiht, For he knew noght the forde ariht. Ther was a Geant thanne nyh, Which Nessus hihte, and whanne he sih This Hercules and Deianyre, Withinne his herte he gan conspire, 2170 As he which thurgh his tricherie Hath Hercules in gret envie, Which he bar in his herte loke, And thanne he thoghte it schal be wroke. Bot he ne dorste natheles Ayein this worthi Hercules Falle in debat as forto feihte; Bot feigneth Semblant al be sleihte Of frendschipe and of alle goode, And comth where as thei bothe stode, 2180 And makth hem al the chiere he can, And seith that as here oghne man He is al redy forto do What thing he mai; and it fell so That thei upon his Semblant triste, And axen him if that he wiste What thing hem were best to done, So that thei mihten sauf and sone The water passe, he and sche. And whan Nessus the privete 2190 Knew of here herte what it mente, As he that was of double entente, He made hem riht a glad visage; And whanne he herde of the passage Of him and hire, he thoghte guile, And feigneth Semblant for a while To don hem plesance and servise, Bot he thoghte al an other wise. This Nessus with hise wordes slyhe Yaf such conseil tofore here yhe 2200 Which semeth outward profitable And was withinne deceivable. He bad hem of the Stremes depe That thei be war and take kepe, So as thei knowe noght the pas; Bot forto helpe in such a cas, He seith himself that for here ese He wolde, if that it mihte hem plese, The passage of the water take, And for this ladi undertake 2210 To bere unto that other stronde And sauf to sette hire up alonde, And Hercules may thanne also The weie knowe how he schal go: And herto thei acorden alle. Bot what as after schal befalle, Wel payd was Hercules of this, And this Geant also glad is, And tok this ladi up alofte And set hire on his schuldre softe, 2220 And in the flod began to wade, As he which no grucchinge made, And bar hire over sauf and sound. Bot whanne he stod on dreie ground And Hercules was fer behinde, He sette his trowthe al out of mynde, Who so therof be lief or loth, With Deianyre and forth he goth, As he that thoghte to dissevere The compaignie of hem for evere. 2230 Whan Hercules therof tok hiede, Als faste as evere he mihte him spiede He hyeth after in a throwe; And hapneth that he hadde a bowe, The which in alle haste he bende, As he that wolde an Arwe sende, Which he tofore hadde envenimed. He hath so wel his schote timed, That he him thurgh the bodi smette, And thus the false wiht he lette. 2240

Bot lest now such a felonie: Whan Nessus wiste he scholde die, He tok to Deianyre his scherte, Which with the blod was of his herte Thurghout desteigned overal, And tolde how sche it kepe schal Al prively to this entente, That if hire lord his herte wente To love in eny other place, The scherte, he seith, hath such a grace, 2250 That if sche mai so mochel make That he the scherte upon him take, He schal alle othre lete in vein And torne unto hire love ayein. Who was tho glad bot Deianyre? Hire thoghte hire herte was afyre Til it was in hire cofre loke, So that no word therof was spoke.

The daies gon, the yeres passe, The hertes waxen lasse and lasse 2260 Of hem that ben to love untrewe: This Hercules with herte newe His love hath set on Eolen, And therof spieken alle men. This Eolen, this faire maide, Was, as men thilke time saide, The kinges dowhter of Eurice; And sche made Hercules so nyce Upon hir Love and so assote, That he him clotheth in hire cote, 2270 And sche in his was clothed ofte; And thus fieblesce is set alofte, And strengthe was put under fote, Ther can noman therof do bote. Whan Deianyre hath herd this speche, Ther was no sorwe forto seche: Of other helpe wot sche non, Bot goth unto hire cofre anon; With wepende yhe and woful herte Sche tok out thilke unhappi scherte, 2280 As sche that wende wel to do, And broghte hire werk aboute so That Hercules this scherte on dede, To such entente as she was bede Of Nessus, so as I seide er. Bot therof was sche noght the ner, As no fortune may be weyved; With Falssemblant sche was deceived, That whan sche wende best have wonne, Sche lost al that sche hath begonne. 2290 For thilke scherte unto the bon His body sette afyre anon, And cleveth so, it mai noght twinne, For the venym that was therinne. And he thanne as a wilde man Unto the hihe wode he ran, And as the Clerk Ovide telleth, The grete tres to grounde he felleth With strengthe al of his oghne myght, And made an huge fyr upriht, 2300 And lepte himself therinne at ones And brende him bothe fleissh and bones. Which thing cam al thurgh Falssemblant, That false Nessus the Geant Made unto him and to his wif; Wherof that he hath lost his lif, And sche sori for everemo.

Forthi, my Sone, er thee be wo, I rede, be wel war therfore; For whan so gret a man was lore, 2310 It oghte yive a gret conceipte To warne alle othre of such deceipte.

Grant mercy, fader, I am war So fer that I nomore dar Of Falssemblant take aqueintance; Bot rathere I wol do penance That I have feigned chiere er this. Now axeth forth, what so ther is Of that belongeth to my schrifte.

Mi Sone, yit ther is the fifte 2320 Which is conceived of Envie, And cleped is Supplantarie, Thurgh whos compassement and guile Ful many a man hath lost his while In love als wel as otherwise, Hierafter as I schal devise.

The vice of Supplantacioun With many a fals collacioun, Which he conspireth al unknowe, Full ofte time hath overthrowe 2330 The worschipe of an other man. So wel no lif awayte can Ayein his sleyhte forto caste, That he his pourpos ate laste Ne hath, er that it be withset. Bot most of alle his herte is set In court upon these grete Offices Of dignitees and benefices: Thus goth he with his sleyhte aboute To hindre and schowve an other oute 2340 And stonden with his slyh compas In stede there an other was; And so to sette himselven inne, He reccheth noght, be so he winne, Of that an other man schal lese, And thus fulofte chalk for chese He changeth with ful litel cost, Wherof an other hath the lost And he the profit schal receive. For his fortune is to deceive 2350 And forto change upon the whel His wo with othre mennes wel: Of that an other man avaleth, His oghne astat thus up he haleth, And takth the bridd to his beyete, Wher othre men the buisshes bete.

Mi Sone, and in the same wise Ther ben lovers of such emprise, That schapen hem to be relieved Where it is wrong to ben achieved: 2360 For it is other mannes riht, Which he hath taken dai and niht To kepe for his oghne Stor Toward himself for everemor, And is his propre be the lawe, Which thing that axeth no felawe, If love holde his covenant. Bot thei that worchen be supplaunt, Yit wolden thei a man supplaunte, And take a part of thilke plaunte 2370 Which he hath for himselve set: And so fulofte is al unknet, That som man weneth be riht fast. For Supplant with his slyhe cast Fulofte happneth forto mowe Thing which an other man hath sowe, And makth comun of proprete With sleihte and with soubtilite, As men mai se fro yer to yere. Thus cleymeth he the bot to stiere, 2380 Of which an other maister is.

Forthi, my Sone, if thou er this Hast ben of such professioun, Discovere thi confessioun: Hast thou supplanted eny man?

For oght that I you telle can, Min holi fader, as of the dede I am withouten eny drede Al gulteles; bot of my thoght Mi conscience excuse I noght. 2390 For were it wrong or were it riht, Me lakketh nothing bote myht, That I ne wolde longe er this Of other mannes love ywiss Be weie of Supplantacioun Have mad apropriacioun And holde that I nevere boghte, Thogh it an other man forthoghte. And al this speke I bot of on, For whom I lete alle othre gon; 2400 Bot hire I mai noght overpasse, That I ne mot alwey compasse, Me roghte noght be what queintise, So that I mihte in eny wise Fro suche that mi ladi serve Hire herte make forto swerve Withouten eny part of love. For be the goddes alle above I wolde it mihte so befalle, That I al one scholde hem alle 2410 Supplante, and welde hire at mi wille. And that thing mai I noght fulfille, Bot if I scholde strengthe make; And that I dar noght undertake, Thogh I were as was Alisaundre, For therof mihte arise sklaundre; And certes that schal I do nevere, For in good feith yit hadde I levere In my simplesce forto die, Than worche such Supplantarie. 2420 Of otherwise I wol noght seie That if I founde a seker weie, I wolde as for conclusioun Worche after Supplantacioun, So hihe a love forto winne. Now, fader, if that this be Sinne, I am al redy to redresce The gilt of which I me confesse.

Mi goode Sone, as of Supplant Thee thar noght drede tant ne quant, 2430 As for nothing that I have herd, Bot only that thou hast misferd Thenkende, and that me liketh noght, For godd beholt a mannes thoght. And if thou understode in soth In loves cause what it doth, A man to ben a Supplantour, Thou woldest for thin oghne honour Be double weie take kepe: Ferst for thin oghne astat to kepe, 2440 To be thiself so wel bethoght That thou supplanted were noght, And ek for worschipe of thi name Towardes othre do the same, And soffren every man have his. Bot natheles it was and is, That in a wayt at alle assaies Supplant of love in oure daies The lief fulofte for the levere Forsakth, and so it hath don evere. 2450

Ensample I finde therupon, At Troie how that Agamenon Supplantede the worthi knyht Achilles of that swete wiht, Which named was Brexeida; And also of Criseida, Whom Troilus to love ches, Supplanted hath Diomedes.

Of Geta and Amphitrion, That whilom weren bothe as on 2460 Of frendschipe and of compaignie, I rede how that Supplantarie In love, as it betidde tho, Beguiled hath on of hem tuo. For this Geta that I of meene, To whom the lusti faire Almeene Assured was be weie of love, Whan he best wende have ben above And sikerest of that he hadde, Cupido so the cause ladde, 2470 That whil he was out of the weie, Amphitrion hire love aweie Hath take, and in this forme he wroghte. Be nyhte unto the chambre he soghte, Wher that sche lay, and with a wyle He contrefeteth for the whyle The vois of Gete in such a wise, That made hire of hire bedd arise, Wenende that it were he, And let him in, and whan thei be 2480 Togedre abedde in armes faste, This Geta cam thanne ate laste Unto the Dore and seide, “Undo.” And sche ansuerde and bad him go, And seide how that abedde al warm Hir lief lay naked in hir arm; Sche wende that it were soth. Lo, what Supplant of love doth: This Geta forth bejaped wente, And yit ne wiste he what it mente; 2490 Amphitrion him hath supplanted With sleyhte of love and hire enchaunted: And thus put every man out other, The Schip of love hath lost his Rother, So that he can no reson stiere. And forto speke of this matiere Touchende love and his Supplant, A tale which is acordant Unto thin Ere I thenke enforme. Now herkne, for this is the forme. 2500

Of thilke Cite chief of alle Which men the noble Rome calle, Er it was set to Cristes feith, Ther was, as the Cronique seith, An Emperour, the which it ladde In pes, that he no werres hadde: Ther was nothing desobeissant Which was to Rome appourtenant, Bot al was torned into reste. To some it thoghte for the beste, 2510 To some it thoghte nothing so, And that was only unto tho Whos herte stod upon knyhthode: Bot most of alle of his manhode The worthi Sone of themperour, Which wolde ben a werreiour, As he that was chivalerous Of worldes fame and desirous, Began his fadre to beseche That he the werres mihte seche, 2520 In strange Marches forto ride. His fader seide he scholde abide, And wolde granten him no leve: Bot he, which wolde noght beleve, A kniht of his to whom he triste, So that his fader nothing wiste, He tok and tolde him his corage, That he pourposeth a viage. If that fortune with him stonde, He seide how that he wolde fonde 2530 The grete See to passe unknowe, And there abyde for a throwe Upon the werres to travaile. And to this point withoute faile This kniht, whan he hath herd his lord, Is swore, and stant of his acord, As thei that bothe yonge were; So that in prive conseil there Thei ben assented forto wende. And therupon to make an ende, 2540 Tresor ynowh with hem thei token, And whan the time is best thei loken, That sodeinliche in a Galeie Fro Romelond thei wente here weie And londe upon that other side. The world fell so that ilke tide, Which evere hise happes hath diverse, The grete Soldan thanne of Perse Ayein the Caliphe of Egipte A werre, which that him beclipte, 2550 Hath in a Marche costeiant. And he, which was a poursuiant Worschipe of armes to atteigne, This Romein, let anon ordeigne, That he was redi everydel: And whan he was arraied wel Of every thing which him belongeth, Straght unto Kaire his weie he fongeth, Wher he the Soldan thanne fond, And axeth that withinne his lond 2560 He mihte him for the werre serve, As he which wolde his thonk deserve.