Part 16

“Now tell me thanne, I you beseche, Wherof that riche bridel serveth.”

With that hire chere awei sche swerveth, And gan to wepe, and thus sche tolde: “This bridel, which ye nou beholde 1410 So riche upon myn horse hed,— Ma Dame, afore, er I was ded, Whan I was in mi lusti lif, Ther fel into myn herte a strif Of love, which me overcom, So that therafter hiede I nom And thoghte I wolde love a kniht: That laste wel a fourtenyht, For it no lengere mihte laste, So nyh my lif was ate laste. 1420 Bot now, allas, to late war That I ne hadde him loved ar: For deth cam so in haste bime, Er I therto hadde eny time, That it ne mihte ben achieved. Bot for al that I am relieved, Of that mi will was good therto, That love soffreth it be so That I schal swiche a bridel were. Now have ye herd al myn ansuere: 1430 To godd, ma Dame, I you betake, And warneth alle for mi sake, Of love that thei ben noght ydel, And bidd hem thenke upon mi brydel.” And with that word al sodeinly Sche passeth, as it were a Sky, Al clene out of this ladi sihte: And tho for fere hire herte afflihte, And seide to hirself, “Helas! I am riht in the same cas. 1440 Bot if I live after this day, I schal amende it, if I may.” And thus homward this lady wente, And changede al hire ferste entente, Withinne hire herte and gan to swere That sche none haltres wolde bere.

Lo, Sone, hier miht thou taken hiede, How ydelnesse is forto drede, Namliche of love, as I have write. For thou miht understonde and wite, 1450 Among the gentil nacion Love is an occupacion, Which forto kepe hise lustes save Scholde every gentil herte have: For as the ladi was chastised, Riht so the knyht mai ben avised, Which ydel is and wol noght serve To love, he mai per cas deserve A grettere peine than sche hadde, Whan sche aboute with hire ladde 1460 The horse haltres; and forthi Good is to be wel war therbi. Bot forto loke aboven alle, These Maidens, hou so that it falle, Thei scholden take ensample of this Which I have told, for soth it is.

Mi ladi Venus, whom I serve, What womman wole hire thonk deserve, Sche mai noght thilke love eschuie Of paramours, bot sche mot suie 1470 Cupides lawe; and natheles Men sen such love sielde in pes, That it nys evere upon aspie Of janglinge and of fals Envie, Fulofte medlid with disese: Bot thilke love is wel at ese, Which set is upon mariage; For that dar schewen the visage In alle places openly. A gret mervaile it is forthi, 1480 How that a Maiden wolde lette, That sche hir time ne besette To haste unto that ilke feste, Wherof the love is al honeste. Men mai recovere lost of good, Bot so wys man yit nevere stod, Which mai recovere time lore: So mai a Maiden wel therfore Ensample take, of that sche strangeth Hir love, and longe er that sche changeth 1490 Hir herte upon hir lustes greene To mariage, as it is seene. For thus a yer or tuo or thre Sche lest, er that sche wedded be, Whyl sche the charge myhte bere Of children, whiche the world forbere Ne mai, bot if it scholde faile. Bot what Maiden hire esposaile Wol tarie, whan sche take mai, Sche schal per chance an other dai 1500 Be let, whan that hire lievest were. Wherof a tale unto hire Ere, Which is coupable upon this dede, I thenke telle of that I rede.

Among the Jewes, as men tolde, Ther was whilom be daies olde A noble Duck, which Jepte hihte. And fell, he scholde go to fyhte Ayein Amon the cruel king: And forto speke upon this thing, 1510 Withinne his herte he made avou To god and seide, “Ha lord, if thou Wolt grante unto thi man victoire, I schal in tokne of thi memoire The ferste lif that I mai se, Of man or womman wher it be, Anon as I come hom ayein, To thee, which art god sovereign, Slen in thi name and sacrifie.” And thus with his chivalerie 1520 He goth him forth, wher that he scholde, And wan al that he winne wolde And overcam his fomen alle.

Mai noman lette that schal falle. This Duc a lusti dowhter hadde, And fame, which the wordes spradde, Hath broght unto this ladi Ere How that hire fader hath do there. Sche waiteth upon his cominge With dansinge and with carolinge, 1530 As sche that wolde be tofore Al othre, and so sche was therfore In Masphat at hir fader gate The ferste; and whan he com therate, And sih his douhter, he tobreide Hise clothes and wepende he seide:

“O mihti god among ous hiere, Nou wot I that in no manere This worldes joie mai be plein. I hadde al that I coude sein 1540 Ayein mi fomen be thi grace, So whan I cam toward this place Ther was non gladdere man than I: But now, mi lord, al sodeinli Mi joie is torned into sorwe, For I mi dowhter schal tomorwe Tohewe and brenne in thi servise To loenge of thi sacrifise Thurgh min avou, so as it is.”

The Maiden, whan sche wiste of this, 1550 And sih the sorwe hir fader made, So as sche mai with wordes glade Conforteth him, and bad him holde The covenant which he is holde Towardes god, as he behihte. Bot natheles hire herte aflihte Of that sche sih hire deth comende; And thanne unto the ground knelende Tofore hir fader sche is falle, And seith, so as it is befalle 1560 Upon this point that sche schal deie, Of o thing ferst sche wolde him preie, That fourty daies of respit He wolde hir grante upon this plit, That sche the whyle mai bewepe Hir maidenhod, which sche to kepe So longe hath had and noght beset; Wherof her lusti youthe is let, That sche no children hath forthdrawe In Mariage after the lawe, 1570 So that the poeple is noght encressed. Bot that it mihte be relessed, That sche hir time hath lore so, Sche wolde be his leve go With othre Maidens to compleigne, And afterward unto the peine Of deth sche wolde come ayein.

The fader herde his douhter sein, And therupon of on assent The Maidens were anon asent, 1580 That scholden with this Maiden wende. So forto speke unto this ende, Thei gon the dounes and the dales With wepinge and with wofull tales, And every wyht hire maidenhiede Compleigneth upon thilke nede, That sche no children hadde bore, Wherof sche hath hir youthe lore, Which nevere sche recovere mai: For so fell that hir laste dai 1590 Was come, in which sche scholde take Hir deth, which sche may noght forsake. Lo, thus sche deiede a wofull Maide For thilke cause which I saide, As thou hast understonde above.

Mi fader, as toward the Love Of Maidens forto telle trowthe, Ye have thilke vice of Slowthe, Me thenkth, riht wonder wel declared, That ye the wommen have noght spared 1600 Of hem that tarien so behinde. Bot yit it falleth in my minde, Toward the men hou that ye spieke Of hem that wole no travail sieke In cause of love upon decerte: To speke in wordes so coverte, I not what travaill that ye mente.

Mi Sone, and after min entente I woll thee telle what I thoghte, Hou whilom men here loves boghte 1610 Thurgh gret travaill in strange londes, Wher that thei wroghten with here hondes Of armes many a worthi dede, In sondri place as men mai rede.

That every love of pure kinde Is ferst forthdrawe, wel I finde: Bot natheles yit overthis Decerte doth so that it is The rather had in mani place. Forthi who secheth loves grace, 1620 Wher that these worthi wommen are, He mai noght thanne himselve spare Upon his travail forto serve, Wherof that he mai thonk deserve, There as these men of Armes be, Somtime over the grete Se: So that be londe and ek be Schipe He mot travaile for worschipe And make manye hastyf rodes, Somtime in Prus, somtime in Rodes, 1630 And somtime into Tartarie; So that these heraldz on him crie, “Vailant, vailant, lo, wher he goth!” And thanne he yifth hem gold and cloth, So that his fame mihte springe, And to his ladi Ere bringe Som tidinge of his worthinesse; So that sche mihte of his prouesce Of that sche herde men recorde, The betre unto his love acorde 1640 And danger pute out of hire mod, Whanne alle men recorden good, And that sche wot wel, for hir sake That he no travail wol forsake.

Mi Sone, of this travail I meene: Nou schrif thee, for it schal be sene If thou art ydel in this cas.

My fader ye, and evere was: For as me thenketh trewely That every man doth mor than I 1650 As of this point, and if so is That I have oght so don er this, It is so litel of acompte, As who seith, it mai noght amonte To winne of love his lusti yifte. For this I telle you in schrifte, That me were levere hir love winne Than Kaire and al that is ther inne: And forto slen the hethen alle, I not what good ther mihte falle, 1660 So mochel blod thogh ther be schad. This finde I writen, hou Crist bad That noman other scholde sle. What scholde I winne over the Se, If I mi ladi loste at hom? Bot passe thei the salte fom, To whom Crist bad thei scholden preche To al the world and his feith teche: Bot now thei rucken in here nest And resten as hem liketh best 1670 In all the swetnesse of delices. Thus thei defenden ous the vices, And sitte hemselven al amidde; To slen and feihten thei ous bidde Hem whom thei scholde, as the bok seith, Converten unto Cristes feith. Bot hierof have I gret mervaile, Hou thei wol bidde me travaile: A Sarazin if I sle schal, I sle the Soule forth withal, 1680 And that was nevere Cristes lore. Bot nou ho ther, I seie nomore.

Bot I wol speke upon mi schrifte; And to Cupide I make a yifte, That who as evere pris deserve Of armes, I wol love serve; And thogh I scholde hem bothe kepe, Als wel yit wolde I take kepe Whan it were time to abide, As forto travaile and to ryde: 1690 For how as evere a man laboure, Cupide appointed hath his houre.

For I have herd it telle also, Achilles lefte hise armes so Bothe of himself and of his men At Troie for Polixenen, Upon hire love whanne he fell, That for no chance that befell Among the Grecs or up or doun, He wolde noght ayein the toun 1700 Ben armed, for the love of hire. And so me thenketh, lieve Sire, A man of armes mai him reste Somtime in hope for the beste, If he mai finde a weie nerr. What scholde I thanne go so ferr In strange londes many a mile To ryde, and lese at hom therwhile Mi love? It were a schort beyete To winne chaf and lese whete. 1710 Bot if mi ladi bidde wolde, That I for hire love scholde Travaile, me thenkth trewely I mihte fle thurghout the Sky, And go thurghout the depe Se, For al ne sette I at a stre What thonk that I mihte elles gete. What helpeth it a man have mete, Wher drinke lacketh on the bord? What helpeth eny mannes word 1720 To seie hou I travaile faste, Wher as me faileth ate laste That thing which I travaile fore? O in good time were he bore, That mihte atteigne such a mede. Bot certes if I mihte spede With eny maner besinesse Of worldes travail, thanne I gesse, Ther scholde me non ydelschipe Departen fro hir ladischipe. 1730 Bot this I se, on daies nou The blinde god, I wot noght hou, Cupido, which of love is lord, He set the thinges in discord, That thei that lest to love entende Fulofte he wole hem yive and sende Most of his grace; and thus I finde That he that scholde go behinde, Goth many a time ferr tofore: So wot I noght riht wel therfore, 1740 On whether bord that I schal seile. Thus can I noght miself conseile, Bot al I sette on aventure, And am, as who seith, out of cure For ought that I can seie or do: For everemore I finde it so, The more besinesse I leie, The more that I knele and preie With goode wordes and with softe, The more I am refused ofte, 1750 With besinesse and mai noght winne. And in good feith that is gret Sinne; For I mai seie, of dede and thoght That ydel man have I be noght; For hou as evere I be deslaied, Yit evermore I have assaied. Bot thogh my besinesse laste, Al is bot ydel ate laste, For whan theffect is ydelnesse, I not what thing is besinesse. 1760 Sei, what availeth al the dede, Which nothing helpeth ate nede? For the fortune of every fame Schal of his ende bere a name. And thus for oght is yit befalle, An ydel man I wol me calle As after myn entendement: Bot upon youre amendement, Min holi fader, as you semeth, Mi reson and my cause demeth. 1770

Mi Sone, I have herd thi matiere, Of that thou hast thee schriven hiere: And forto speke of ydel fare, Me semeth that thou tharst noght care, Bot only that thou miht noght spede. And therof, Sone, I wol thee rede, Abyd, and haste noght to faste; Thi dees ben every dai to caste, Thou nost what chance schal betyde. Betre is to wayte upon the tyde 1780 Than rowe ayein the stremes stronge: For thogh so be thee thenketh longe, Per cas the revolucion Of hevene and thi condicion Ne be noght yit of on acord. Bot I dar make this record To Venus, whos Prest that I am, That sithen that I hidir cam To hiere, as sche me bad, thi lif, Wherof thou elles be gultif, 1790 Thou miht hierof thi conscience Excuse, and of gret diligence, Which thou to love hast so despended, Thou oghtest wel to be comended. Bot if so be that ther oght faile, Of that thou slowthest to travaile In armes forto ben absent, And for thou makst an argument Of that thou seidest hiere above, Hou Achilles thurgh strengthe of love 1800 Hise armes lefte for a throwe, Thou schalt an other tale knowe, Which is contraire, as thou schalt wite. For this a man mai finde write, Whan that knyhthode schal be werred, Lust mai noght thanne be preferred; The bedd mot thanne be forsake And Schield and spere on honde take, Which thing schal make hem after glade, Whan thei ben worthi knihtes made. 1810 Wherof, so as it comth to honde, A tale thou schalt understonde, Hou that a kniht schal armes suie, And for the while his ese eschuie.

Upon knyhthode I rede thus, How whilom whan the king Nauplus, The fader of Palamades, Cam forto preien Ulixes With othre Gregois ek also, That he with hem to Troie go, 1820 Wher that the Siege scholde be, Anon upon Penolope His wif, whom that he loveth hote, Thenkende, wolde hem noght behote. Bot he schop thanne a wonder wyle, How that he scholde hem best beguile, So that he mihte duelle stille At home and welde his love at wille: Wherof erli the morwe day Out of his bedd, wher that he lay, 1830 Whan he was uppe, he gan to fare Into the field and loke and stare, As he which feigneth to be wod: He tok a plowh, wher that it stod, Wherinne anon in stede of Oxes He let do yoken grete foxes, And with gret salt the lond he siew. But Nauplus, which the cause kniew, Ayein the sleihte which he feigneth An other sleihte anon ordeigneth. 1840 And fell that time Ulixes hadde A chyld to Sone, and Nauplus radde How men that Sone taken scholde, And setten him upon the Molde, Wher that his fader hield the plowh, In thilke furgh which he tho drowh. For in such wise he thoghte assaie, Hou it Ulixes scholde paie, If that he were wod or non.

The knihtes for this child forthgon; 1850 Thelamacus anon was fett, Tofore the plowh and evene sett, Wher that his fader scholde dryve. Bot whan he sih his child, als blyve He drof the plowh out of the weie, And Nauplus tho began to seie, And hath half in a jape cryd: “O Ulixes, thou art aspyd: What is al this thou woldest meene? For openliche it is now seene 1860 That thou hast feigned al this thing, Which is gret schame to a king, Whan that for lust of eny slowthe Thou wolt in a querele of trowthe Of armes thilke honour forsake, And duelle at hom for loves sake: For betre it were honour to winne Than love, which likinge is inne. Forthi tak worschipe upon honde, And elles thou schalt understonde 1870 These othre worthi kinges alle Of Grece, which unto thee calle, Towardes thee wol be riht wrothe, And grieve thee per chance bothe: Which schal be tothe double schame Most for the hindrynge of thi name, That thou for Slouthe of eny love Schalt so thi lustes sette above And leve of armes the knyhthode, Which is the pris of thi manhode 1880 And oghte ferst to be desired.” Bot he, which hadde his herte fyred Upon his wif, whan he this herde, Noght o word therayein ansuerde, Bot torneth hom halvinge aschamed, And hath withinne himself so tamed His herte, that al the sotie Of love for chivalerie He lefte, and be him lief or loth, To Troie forth with hem he goth, 1890 That he him mihte noght excuse. Thus stant it, if a knyht refuse The lust of armes to travaile, Ther mai no worldes ese availe, Bot if worschipe be with al. And that hath schewed overal; For it sit wel in alle wise A kniht to ben of hih emprise And puten alle drede aweie; For in this wise, I have herd seie, 1900

The worthi king Protheselai On his passage wher he lai Towardes Troie thilke Siege, Sche which was al his oghne liege, Laodomie his lusti wif, Which for his love was pensif, As he which al hire herte hadde, Upon a thing wherof sche dradde A lettre, forto make him duelle Fro Troie, sende him, thus to telle, 1910 Hou sche hath axed of the wyse Touchende of him in such a wise, That thei have don hire understonde, Towardes othre hou so it stonde, The destine it hath so schape That he schal noght the deth ascape In cas that he arryve at Troie. Forthi as to hir worldes joie With al hire herte sche him preide, And many an other cause alleide, 1920 That he with hire at home abide. Bot he hath cast hir lettre aside, As he which tho no maner hiede Tok of hire wommannysshe drede; And forth he goth, as noght ne were, To Troie, and was the ferste there Which londeth, and tok arryvaile: For him was levere in the bataille, He seith, to deien as a knyht, Than forto lyve in al his myht 1930 And be reproeved of his name. Lo, thus upon the worldes fame Knyhthode hath evere yit be set, Which with no couardie is let.

Of king Saül also I finde, Whan Samuel out of his kinde, Thurgh that the Phitonesse hath lered, In Samarie was arered Long time after that he was ded, The king Saül him axeth red, 1940 If that he schal go fyhte or non. And Samuel him seide anon, “The ferste day of the bataille Thou schalt be slain withoute faile And Jonathas thi Sone also.” Bot hou as evere it felle so, This worthi kniht of his corage Hath undertake the viage, And wol noght his knyhthode lette For no peril he couthe sette; 1950 Wherof that bothe his Sone and he Upon the Montz of Gelboe Assemblen with here enemys: For thei knyhthode of such a pris Be olde daies thanne hielden, That thei non other thing behielden. And thus the fader for worschipe Forth with his Sone of felaschipe Thurgh lust of armes weren dede, As men mai in the bible rede; 1960 The whos knyhthode is yit in mende, And schal be to the worldes ende.

And forto loken overmore, It hath and schal ben evermore That of knihthode the prouesse Is grounded upon hardinesse Of him that dar wel undertake. And who that wolde ensample take Upon the forme of knyhtes lawe, How that Achilles was forthdrawe 1970 With Chiro, which Centaurus hihte, Of many a wondre hiere he mihte. For it stod thilke time thus, That this Chiro, this Centaurus, Withinne a large wildernesse, Wher was Leon and Leonesse, The Lepard and the Tigre also, With Hert and Hynde, and buck and doo, Hadde his duellinge, as tho befell, Of Pileon upon the hel, 1980 Wherof was thanne mochel speche. Ther hath Chiro this Chyld to teche, What time he was of tuelve yer age; Wher forto maken his corage The more hardi be other weie, In the forest to hunte and pleie Whan that Achilles walke wolde, Centaurus bad that he ne scholde After no beste make his chace, Which wolde flen out of his place, 1990 As buck and doo and hert and hynde, With whiche he mai no werre finde; Bot tho that wolden him withstonde, Ther scholde he with his Dart on honde Upon the Tigre and the Leon Pourchace and take his veneison, As to a kniht is acordant. And therupon a covenant This Chiro with Achilles sette, That every day withoute lette 2000 He scholde such a cruel beste Or slen or wounden ate leste, So that he mihte a tokne bringe Of blod upon his hom cominge. And thus of that Chiro him tawhte Achilles such an herte cawhte, That he nomore a Leon dradde, Whan he his Dart on honde hadde, Thanne if a Leon were an asse: And that hath mad him forto passe 2010 Alle othre knihtes of his dede, Whan it cam to the grete nede, As it was afterward wel knowe.

Lo, thus, my Sone, thou miht knowe That the corage of hardiesce Is of knyhthode the prouesce, Which is to love sufficant Aboven al the remenant That unto loves court poursuie. Bot who that wol no Slowthe eschuie, 2020 Upon knihthode and noght travaile, I not what love him scholde availe; Bot every labour axeth why Of som reward, wherof that I Ensamples couthe telle ynowe Of hem that toward love drowe Be olde daies, as thei scholde.

Mi fader, therof hiere I wolde.

Mi Sone, it is wel resonable, In place which is honorable 2030 If that a man his herte sette, That thanne he for no Slowthe lette To do what longeth to manhede. For if thou wolt the bokes rede Of Lancelot and othre mo, Ther miht thou sen hou it was tho Of armes, for thei wolde atteigne To love, which withoute peine Mai noght be gete of ydelnesse. And that I take to witnesse 2040 An old Cronique in special, The which into memorial Is write, for his loves sake Hou that a kniht schal undertake.

Ther was a king, which Oënes Was hote, and he under his pes Hield Calidoyne in his Empire, And hadde a dowhter Deianire. Men wiste in thilke time non So fair a wiht as sche was on; 2050 And as sche was a lusti wiht, Riht so was thanne a noble kniht, To whom Mercurie fader was. This kniht the tuo pilers of bras, The whiche yit a man mai finde, Sette up in the desert of Ynde; That was the worthi Hercules, Whos name schal ben endeles For the merveilles whiche he wroghte. This Hercules the love soghte 2060 Of Deianire, and of this thing Unto hir fader, which was king, He spak touchende of Mariage. The king knowende his hih lignage, And dradde also hise mihtes sterne, To him ne dorste his dowhter werne; And natheles this he him seide, How Achelons er he ferst preide To wedden hire, and in accord Thei stode, as it was of record: 2070 Bot for al that this he him granteth, That which of hem that other daunteth In armes, him sche scholde take, And that the king hath undertake. This Achelons was a Geant, A soubtil man, a deceivant, Which thurgh magique and sorcerie Couthe al the world of tricherie: And whan that he this tale herde, Hou upon that the king ansuerde 2080 With Hercules he moste feighte, He tristeth noght upon his sleighte Al only, whan it comth to nede, Bot that which voydeth alle drede And every noble herte stereth, The love, that no lif forbereth, For his ladi, whom he desireth, With hardiesse his herte fyreth, And sende him word withoute faile That he wol take the bataille. 2090 Thei setten day, they chosen field, The knihtes coevered under Schield Togedre come at time set, And echon is with other met. It fell thei foghten bothe afote, Ther was no ston, ther was no rote, Which mihte letten hem the weie, But al was voide and take aweie. Thei smyten strokes bot a fewe, For Hercules, which wolde schewe 2100 His grete strengthe as for the nones, He sterte upon him al at ones And cawhte him in hise armes stronge. This Geant wot he mai noght longe Endure under so harde bondes, And thoghte he wolde out of hise hondes Be sleyhte in som manere ascape. And as he couthe himself forschape, In liknesse of an Eddre he slipte Out of his hond, and forth he skipte; 2110 And efte, as he that feighte wole, He torneth him into a Bole, And gan to belwe of such a soun, As thogh the world scholde al go doun: The ground he sporneth and he tranceth, Hise large hornes he avanceth And caste hem here and there aboute. Bot he, which stant of him no doute, Awaiteth wel whan that he cam, And him be bothe hornes nam 2120 And al at ones he him caste Unto the ground, and hield him faste, That he ne mihte with no sleighte Out of his hond gete upon heighte, Til he was overcome and yolde, And Hercules hath what he wolde. The king him granteth to fulfille His axinge at his oghne wille, And sche for whom he hadde served, Hire thoghte he hath hire wel deserved. 2130 And thus with gret decerte of Armes He wan him forto ligge in armes, As he which hath it dere aboght, For otherwise scholde he noght.

And overthis if thou wolt hiere Upon knihthode of this matiere, Hou love and armes ben aqueinted, A man mai se bothe write and peinted So ferforth that Pantasilee, Which was the queene of Feminee, 2140 The love of Hector forto sieke And for thonour of armes eke, To Troie cam with Spere and Schield, And rod hirself into the field With Maidens armed al a route In rescouss of the toun aboute, Which with the Gregois was belein.

Fro Pafagoine and as men sein, Which stant upon the worldes ende, That time it likede ek to wende 2150 To Philemenis, which was king, To Troie, and come upon this thing In helpe of thilke noble toun; And al was that for the renoun Of worschipe and of worldes fame, Of which he wolde bere a name: And so he dede, and forth withal He wan of love in special A fair tribut for everemo. For it fell thilke time so; 2160 Pirrus the Sone of Achilles This worthi queene among the press With dedli swerd soghte out and fond, And slowh hire with his oghne hond; Wherof this king of Pafagoine Pantasilee of Amazoine, Wher sche was queene, with him ladde, With suche Maidens as sche hadde Of hem that were left alyve, Forth in his Schip, til thei aryve; 2170 Wher that the body was begrave With worschipe, and the wommen save. And for the goodschipe of this dede Thei granten him a lusti mede, That every yeer as for truage To him and to his heritage Of Maidens faire he schal have thre. And in this wise spedde he, Which the fortune of armes soghte, With his travail his ese he boghte; 2180 For otherwise he scholde have failed, If that he hadde noght travailed.