Poetical Works Geoffrey Chaucer (part 2) (2024)

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{{Template}}Poetical Works Geoffrey Chaucer is a work by Thomas Tyrwhitt.

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"Thinke eke how elde wasteth every hourIn each of you a part of beaute,And therefore, ere that age the devour,Go love, for old there woll no wight of thee:Let this proverbe, a lore unto you bee,'Too late yware ' ( quod beaute) ' whan And elde daunteth daunger, at the last.'"The kinges foole is wont to crie aloud,Whan that he thinketh a woman bereth her hie,' So longe mote ye liven, and all proud,Till crowes feet growen under your eie,And send you than a mirrour in to prie,In which that ye may see your face a morow,'Nece, I bid him wish you no more sorow. "With this he stint, and caste down the head,And she began to brest and wepe anone,And said, " Alas for wo, why nere I dead,For of this world the faith is all agone:Alas, what shoulden straunge unto me done,Whan he that for my best frende I wend,Rate me to love, and should it me defend." Alas, I would have trusted doubteles,That if that I, through my disaventure,Had loved either him or Achilles,Hector, any other creature,Ye nolde have had mercy ne measureOn me, but alway had me in repreve:This false world alas, who may it leve?" What? is this all the joy and all the feast?Is this your rede? is this my blisfull caas?Is this the very mede of your behest?Is all this painted processe said (alas)Right for this fine? O lady mine Pallas,Thou in this dredefull case for me purvey,For so astonied am I, that I dey."With that she gan full sorrowfully to sike,"Ne may it be no bet," (quod Pandarus)" By God I shall no more come here this weke,And God toforne, that am mistrusted thus:I see well now ye setten light of us,Or of our death, alas, I wofull wretch,Might he yet live, of me were nought to retch." O cruell god, O dispitous Marte,O furies three of Hell, on you I crie,So let me never out of this house depart,If that I meant harme or villanie:But sith I see my lord mote needes die,And I with him, here I me shrive and sey,That wickedly ye done us both to dey."But sith it liketh you, that I be dead,By Neptunus, that god is of the see,Fro this forth shall I never eaten bread,Till that I mine owne herte blood may see:For certaine I woll die as soone as hee."And up he stert, and on his way he raught,Till she againe him by the lappe caught.Creseide, which that well nigh starf for feare,So as she was the fearfullest wight That might be, and heard eke with her eare,And saw the sorrowfull earnest of the knight,And in his praier saw eke none unright,And for the harme eke that might fall more,She gan to rew and dread her wonder sore.And thought thus, " Unhapes do fallen thicke Alday for love, and in such manner caas,As men ben cruell in hemselfe and wicke:And if this man slee here himselfe, alas,In my presence, it n'ill be no solas,What men would of it deme I can nat say,It needeth me full slighly for to play."And with a sorowfull sigh, she said thrie," Ah, Lord, what me is tidde a sorry chaunce,For mine estate lieth in jeopardie,And eke mine emes life lieth in ballaunce:But nathelesse, with Godes governaunceI shall so done, mine honour shall I keepe,And eke his life, and stinte for to weepe.22"Of harmes two, the lesse is for to chese,Yet had I lever maken him good chere In honour, than my emes life to lese,Ye sain, ye nothing eles me requere. '"No wis," (quod he) " mine owne nece so dere. ""Now well " (quod she) " and I woll done my paine,I shall mine herte ayen my lust constraine."But that I nill nat holden him in hond,Ne love a man, that can I naught ne may,Ayenst my will, but eles woll I fonde,Mine honour save, plesen him fro day to day,Thereto nolde I not ones have said nay,But that I dredde, as in my fantasie:But cesse cause, aie cesseth maladie."But here I make a protestacion,That in this processe if ye deper go,That certainly, for no salvation Of you, though that ye sterven bothe two,280 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. II. v. 488-613Though all the world on o day be my fo,Ne shall I never on him have other routhe: "" I graunt wel," ( quod Pandare) by my trouthe."But maie I trust well to you," (quod he)" That of this thing that ye han hight me here Ye woll it holde truely unto me?"" Yea doubtlesse," (quod she) " mine uncle dere."" Ne that I shall have cause in this matere(Quod he) " to plain, or ofter you to preach?"Why no parde, what nedeth more speach. "66Tho fell they in other tales glade""Till at the last, " O good Eme," (quod she tho)" For love of God which that us bothe made,Tell me how first ye wisten of his wo:Wot none of it but ye? " he said " No: "" Can he well speake of love," (quod she) "I preie?Tell me, for I the bet shall me purveie. "Tho Pandarus a litel gan to smile,And saied: " By my trouth I shall now tell,This other daie, nat gon full long while,Within the paleis gardin by a well Gan he and I, well halfe a day to dwell,Right for to speaken of an ordinaunce,How we the Grekes mighten disavaunce."Sone after that we gone for to lepe,And casten with our dartes to and fro:Till at the last, he saied, he would slepe,And on the grasse adoune he laied him tho,And I after gan to romen to and fro,Till that I heard, as I walked alone,How he began full wofully to grone."Tho gan I stalke him softly behind,And sikerly the sothe for to saine,As I can clepe ayen now to my mind,Right thus to love he gan him for to plain,He saied: Lorde, have routh upon my pain,All have I been rebell in mine entent,Now (mea culpa) lord I me repent." O God, that at thy disposicionLedest the fine, by just purveiaunceOf every wight, my lowe confession Accept in gree, and sende me soche penaunceAs liketh thee, but from me disesperaunce,That may my ghost departe alway fro the,Thou be my shilde, for thy benignite." For certes, lorde, so sore hath she me wounded That stode in blacke, with loking of hir iyen,That to mine hertes botome it is yfoundedThrough which I wot, that I must nedes dien;This is the worst, I dare me nought bewrien,And well the hoter been the gledes redeThat men hem wren with ashen pale and dede. '"With that he smote his hedde adoune anoneAnd gan to muttre, I na't what truely,And I with that gan still awaie to gone And lete thereof, as nothing wist had I,And come again anon and stode him by And saied, Awake, ye slepen all to long:It semeth nought that love doth you wrong." That slepen so that no man maie you wake;Who seie ever er this so dull a man?''Ye, frende,' (quod he) ' doe ye your heddes ake For love, and let me liven as I can.'But lorde though he for wo was pale and wan;Yet made he tho as fresh a countenaunce,As though he should have led the newe daunce."This passed forth, till now this other daie It fell that I come roming all alone Into his chambre, and founde how that he laieUpon his bedde: but man so sore grone Ne heard I never, and what was his moneNe wist I nought, for as I was comming All sodainly he left his complaining."Of whiche I toke somwhat suspection,And nere I come, and found him wepe sore;And God so wise be my salvacion,As never of thing had I no routh more:For neither with engine, ne with no lore,Unnethes might I fro the death him kepe,That yet fele I mine herte for him wepe." And God wot never sith that I was borneWas I so busie no man for to preache,Ne never was to wight so depe sworne,Er he me told, who might been his leache;But not to you rehearsen all his speach,Or all his wofull wordes for to sowne,Ne bid me nought, but ye woll se me swone ." But for to save his life, and eles nought,And to none harme of you, thus am I driven,And for the love of God that us hath wrought Soche chere him doth, that he and I maie liven;Now have I plat to you mine herte shriven,And sith ye wote that mine entent is cleane Take hede thereof, for none evill I meane." And right good thrift, I pray to God have ye,That han soche one ycaught withouten net,And be ye wise, as ye be faire to se,Well in the ring, than is the rubie set;There were never two so well ymet Whan ye been his all hole, as he is your:There mightie God yet graunt us to se the hour. ""Naie thereof spake I nat: A ha! " (quod she)"As helpe me God, ye shenden every dele: ""A mercie, dere nece, anon " (quod he)"What so I spake, I ment nought but wele,By Mars the god, that helmed is of stele:Now beth not wroth, my blood, my nece dere. ""Now well," (quod she) " foryeven be it here."With this he toke his leave, and home he went,Ye, Lord, how he was glad, and well bigon:Creseide arose, no lenger she ne shent,But streight into her closet went anon,And set her doune, as still as any stone,And every word gan up and doune to wind,That he had said as it came her to mind.And woxe somdele astonied in her thought,Right for the newe case, but whan that sheWas full avised, tho found she right nought,Of perill, why that she ought aferde beFor man may love of possibilite A woman so, his herte may to brest,And she nat love ayen, but if her lest.But as she sat alone, and thought thus,Th'ascrie arose at skarmoch all without,And men cried in the strete, " Se TroilusHath right now put to flight the Grekes rout."B. II . v. 614-739 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 281With that gonne all her meine for to shout:" A, go we se, cast up the gates wide,For through this strete he mote to paleis ride. "For other waie is fro the gates none,Of Dardanus, there open is the cheine:With that come he, and all his folke anoneAn easie pace riding, in routes tweine,Right as his happy day was, soth to seine:For which men saith, may not distourbed be That shall betide of necessite.This Troilus sat on his baie stedeAll armed save his head full richely,And wounded was his horse, and gan to blede,On which he rode a pace full softely:But such a knightly sight truely As was on him, was nat withouten faileTo loke on Mars, that god is of battaile.So like a man of armes, and a knight He was to seen, fulfilled of high prowesse,For both he had a body, and mightTo doen that thing, as well as hardinesse,And eke to seen him in his geare dresse So freshe, so yong, so weldy semed he,It was an heaven upon him for to se.His helme to hewen was in twenty places,That by a tissue hong, his backe behind,His shelde to dashed with swerds and with maces,In which men might many an arowe find,That thirled had both horn, nerfe, and rind:And aie the people cried, " Here cometh our joie,And next his brother, holder up of Troie."For which he wext a little redde for shameWhan he so heard the people upon him crien.That to behold it was a noble game,How soberliche he cast adoune his eyen:Creseide anon gan all his chere espien,And let it so soft in hir herte sinke,That to her self she said, " Who yave me drinke?""For all her own thought, she woxe all redde,Remembring her right thus, " Lo this is he,Which that mine uncle swereth he mote dedde,But I on him have mercie and pite:And with that thought, for pure ashamed she,Gan in her hedde to pull, and that as fast,While he and all the people forth by past.And gan to cast, and rollen up and doun Within her thought his excellent prowesse,And his estate, and also his renoun,His witte, his shape, and eke his gentilnesse,But most her favour was, for his distresseWas all for her, and thought it were a routh,To slaen soche one, if that he meant trouth.""Now might some envious jangle thus,"This was a sodain love, how might it be,That she so lightly loved Troilus?Right for the first sight: ye, parde? 'Now whoso saied so, mote he never the:For every thing a ginning hath it nedeEr all be wrought, withouten any drede.For I saie nat that she so sodainly Yafe him her love, but that she gan encline To liken him tho, and I have told you why:And after that, his manhode, and his pine,Made that love within her gan to mine:For which by processe, and by good service He wanne her love, and in no sodain wise.And all so blisfull Venus wele araiedSatte in her seventh house of Heven tho,Disposed wele, and with aspectes payed,To helpe sely Troilus of his wo:And sothe to sayne, she n'as nat all a foe To Troilus, in his natyvyte,God wote that wele the sooner spede he.Now let us stente of Troilus a throw,That rideth forth, and let us tourne fastUnto Creseide, that heng her hedde full low,There as she satte alone, and gan to cast Whereon she would appoint her at the last,If it so were her eme ne would cesse,For Troilus upon her for to presse.And lorde so she gan in her thought argueIn this matter, of which I have you told,And what to doen best were, and what eschue,That plited she full oft in many fold:Now was hir herte warme, now was it cold.And what she thought, somwhat shall I write,As mine authour listeth for t'endite.She thought first, that Troilus person She knew by sight and eke his gentelnesse:And thus she said, " All were it nought to doenTo grant him love, yet for his worthinesse,It were honor with plaie, and with gladnesse,In honeste with soch a lorde to deale,For mine estate, and also for his heale."Eke well wote I, my kinges sonne is he,And sith he hath to see me soch delite,If I would utterliche his sight flie,Paraventure he might have me in dispite,Through which I might stond in wors plite:Now were I wise, me hate to purchase Without nede, there I may stande in grace?" In every thing, I wot there lieth measure:For though a man forbid dronkennesse,He nought forbiddeth that every creature Be drinkelesse for alway, as I gesse:Eke, sithe I wot for me is his distresse,I ne ought not for that thing him dispise,Sith it is so, he meaneth in good wise."And eke I know, of long time agoneHis thewes good, and that he n'is not nice,No vauntour saine men, certain he is none,To wise is he to doen so great a vice:Ne als I nill him never so cherice,That he shall make avaunt by just cause:He shall me never binde in soche a clause."Now set a case, the hardest is ywis,Men might demen that he loveth me:What dishonour were it unto me this?Maie iche hem let of that? why naie parde:I know also, and alway heare and se,Men loven women all this toune about,Be they the wers? Why naie withouten dout." I thinke eke how, he worthie is to have Of all this noble toune the thriftiest,That woman is, if she her honour save:For out and out he is the worthiest,282 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. II. V. 740-865Save only Hector, which that is the best,And yet his life lieth all now in my cure,But soche is love, and eke mine aventure."Ne me to love, a wonder is it nought:For well wote I my self, so God me spede,All woll I that no man wist of this thought,I am one the fairest out of dredeAnd goodliest, who so that taketh hede:And so men saine in all the toune of Troie,What wonder is though he of me have joie?" I am mine owne woman well at ease,I thanke it God, as after mine estate,Right yong, and stond untied in lustie lease,Withouten jelousie, and such debate:Shall no husbonde saine to me checke mate,For either they be full of jelousie,Or maisterfull, or loven novelrie." What shall I doen? to what fine live I thus?Shall I not love, in case if that me lest?What pardieux I am not religious:And though that I mine herte set at rest Upon this knight, that is the worthiest,And kepe alway mine honor, and my name,By all right it may doe me no shame."But right as whan the Sunne shineth bright In March, that chaungeth oft time his face,And that a cloud is put with winde to flight,Which oversprat the Sunne, as for a space,A cloudy thought gan through her soul pace,That overspradde her bright thoughtes all,So that for feare almost she gan to fall.That thought was this: Alas sith I am free,Should I now love, and put in jeopardie My sikernesse, and thrallen libertie?Alas, how durst I thinken that folie?May I not well in other folke aspie Hir dredfull joie, hir constreint, and hir pain:Ther loveth none, that she ne hath why to plain."For love is yet the moste stormie life,Right of himself, that ever was begonne:For ever some mistrust, or nice strife,There is in love, some cloud over the Sunne:Thereto we wretched women nothing conneWhan us is wo, but wepe and sit and thinke,Our wretch is this, our owne wo to drinke.Also wicked tongues been ay so prestTo speake us harme: eke men ben so untrue,That right anon as cessed is hir lest,So cesseth love, and forth to love a newe:But harm ydoe is doen, who so it rue:For though these men for love hem first to rende,Full sharp beginning breaketh oft at ende."Howoft time may men both rede and seen,The treason, that to woman hath be doe?To what fine is soche love, I can not seen,Or where becometh it, whan it is go,There is no wight that wote, I trowe so,Wher it becometh, lo, no wight on it sp*rneth;That erst was nothing, into naught turneth."How busie (if I love) eke must I beTo pleasen hem, that jangle of love, and demen,And coyen hem, that thei saie no harm of me:For though there be no cause, yet hem sem*nAl be for harme, that folke hir frendes quemen:And who maie stoppen every wicked tong?Or soune of belles, while that they been rong? "And after that her thought gan for to clereAnd saied, " He which that nothing undertakethNothing acheveth, be him loth or dere; 'And with another thought her herte quakethThan slepeth hope, and after drede awaketh,Now hote, now cold, but thus bitwixen twey She rist her up, and went hir for to pley.Adoune the staire anon right tho she went Into her gardine, with her neces three,And up and doun, they maden many a went Flexippe and she, Tarbe, and Antigone,To plaien, that to joie was to see,And other of her women a great routHer followeth in the gardaine all about.This yerde was large, and railed al the alies And shadowed wel, with blosomy bowes grene,And benched newe, and sonded all the waies In which she walketh arme in arme betwene,Till at the last Antigone the shene Gan on a Troian song to singen clere,That it an Heven was her voice to here.She saied, " O Love, to whom I have, and shallBeen humble subject, true in mine entent As I best can, to you, lorde, yeve iche all For evermore mine hertes lust to rent:For never yet thy grace to no wight sent So blisfull cause as me, my life to ledeIn all joie and suretie, out of drede."The blisfull god, hath me so well besetIn love ywis, that all that beareth life Imaginen ne could how to be bet,For, lorde, withouten jelousie or strife I love one, which that moste is ententifeTo serven well, unwerily or unfained,That ever was, and lest with harme distained,"As he that is the well of worthinesse,Of trouth ground, mirrour of goodlihedde,Of wit Apollo, stone of sikernesse,Of vertue roote, of luste finder and hedde,Through whiche is all sorrowe fro me dedde:Ywis I love him best, so doeth he me,Now good thrift have he, where so ever he be."Whom should I thanken but you, god of love,Of all this blisse, in which to bathe I ginne.And thanked be ye, lorde, for that I love,This is the right life that I am inne,To flemen all maner vice and sinne:This doeth me so to vertue for to entende That daie by daie I in my will amende." And who that saieth that for to love is vice,Or thraldome, though he fele it in distresse,He either is envious, or right nice,Or is unmightie for his shreudnesse,To loven, for soch maner folke I gesse Diffamen Love, as nothing of him know They speaken, but they bent never his bowe."What is the Sunne worse of his kind right,Though that a man, for feblenesse of his eyen Maie not endure on it to se for bright?Or love the worst, that wretches on it crien?B. II . v. 866-991 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.283No wele is worth, that may no sorowe drien:And forthy, who that hath an hedde of verre Fro cast of stones ware him in the werre."But I with all mine herte and all my might,As I have saied, woll love unto my last My owne dere herte and all mine owne knight,In whiche mine herte growen is so fast And his in me, that it shall ever last:All dredde I first love him to begin,Now wote I well there is no perill in."And of her song right with that word she stent,And therewithall, " Now nece" (quod Creseide)"Who made this song now with so good entent?"Antigone answerde anon and saide," Madame ywis the goodliest maide Of great estate in all the toune of TroieAnd led her life in most honour and joie.""Forsothe so semeth it by her song,"Quod tho Creseide, and gan therewith to sike,And saied: " Lorde, is there soche blisse emong These lovers, as they can faire endite:'"Ye, wisse," quod fresh Antigone the white,"For all the folke that have or been on live Ne con well the blisse of love discrive."But wene ye that every wretche woteThe parfite blisse of love? why naie ywis:They wenen all be love, if one be hote:Do waie do waie, they wote nothing of this.Men mote asken of sainctes, if it isAnd did his herte into her brest to gon,Of which she nought agrose, ne nothing smart,And forth he flieth, with herte left for herte.Now let her slepe, and we our tales holde Of Troilus, that is to paleis ridden,Fro the scarmishe of which I you tolde,And in his chamber sate, and hath abidden,Till two or three of his messengers yedenFor Pandarus, and soughten him full fast,Till they him found, and brought him at the last.This Pandarus came leaping in at ones,And saied thus, " Who hath been well ybeteTo day with swerdes, and slong stones,But Troilus, that hath caught him an hete? "And gan to jape, and saied, " Lord ye swete,But rise and let us soupe, and go to reste,"And he answerde him, " Do we as thee leste . "With all the haste goodly as they might,They sped hem fro the souper, and to bedde,And every wight out at the doore him dight,And whider him list, upon his waie him sped:But Troilus thought that his herte bledde For wo, till that he heard some tiding,And saied, " Frende, shall I now wepe or sing? "(Quod Pandarus) " Be still and let me slepe,And doe on thy hoode, thine nedes spedde be,And chose if thou wolt sing, daunce, or lepe,At short wordes thou shalt trowe all by me,Sir, my nece woll doen well by thee,Ought faire in Heven, and why for they can tell, And love thee best, by God and by trothe,And aske fendes, if it be foule in Hell. "Creseide unto the purpose naught answerde,"But saied, " Ywis it woll be night as fast,"But every worde, which that she of her herde,She gan to printen in her herte fast,And aie gan love her lasse for to agastThan it did erst, and sinken in her herte,That she waxe somewhat able to convarte.The daies honour, and the Heavens eye,The nightes foe, all this clepe I thee Sonne,Gan westren fast, and dounward for to wrie,As he that had his daies course yronne,And white thinges woxen al dimme and donne For lacke of light, and sterres for to apere,That she and all her folke in went yfere.So whan it liked her to gon to rest,And voided weren they that voiden ought,She saied, that to slepen well her leste:Her women sone till her bedde her brought:Whan al was hust, than lay she still and thoughtOf all this thing the maner and the wise,Rehearce it needeth not, for ye been wise.A nightingale upon a cedre grene Under the chamber wall, there as she laie,Full loude song ayen the Mone shene Paraventure, in his birdes wise, a laie Of love, that made her herte freshe and gaie,That herkened she so long in good entent,Till at the last the dedde sleepe her hent.And as she slept, anon right tho her met,How that an egle fethered white as bone,Under her brest his longe clawes yset,And out her herte he rent, and that anon,But lacke of pursute marre it in thy slothe."For thus ferforth I have thy werk begon,Fro daie to daie, till this daie by the morow,Hir love of frendship have I to thee won,And therfore hath she laid her faith to borow,Algate a foote is hameled of thy sorow; "What should I lenger sermon of it holde,As ye have heard before, all he him tolde.But right as floures through the cold of night Yclosed, stoupen in hir stalkes lowe,Redressen hem ayen the Sunne bright,And spreaden in hir kinde course by rowe,Right so gan tho his eyen up to throwe This Troilus, and saied: " O Venus dere,Thy might, thy grace, yheried be it here."And to Pandarus he held up both his honds,And saied, " Lorde all thine be that I have,For I am hole, and broken been my bonds,A thousand Troies, who so that me yave Eche after other, God so wis me save,Ne might me so gladen, lo mine herte It spredeth so for joye it woll to starte."But lorde how shall I doen? how shal I liven,Whan shall I next my dere herte se?How shall this longe time away be driven?Till that thou be ayen at her fro me,Thou maist answere, abide, abide That hangeth by the necke, sothe to saine,In great disease abideth for the paine. "but he"All easily now, for the love of Marte,"(Quod Pandarus) " for every thing hath time,So long abide, till that the night departe,For also siker as thou liest here by me,284 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. II. V. 992-1117And God toforne, I woll be there at prime,And for thy werke somewhat, as I shall say,Or on some other wight this charge lay."For parde, God wot, I have ever yet Ben ready thee to serve, and this night Have I not fained, but emforthe my wit Doen all thy lust, and shal with al my might:Doe now as I shall saine, and fare aright:And if thou n'ilte, wite all thy selfe the care,On me is nought along thine evill fare."I wote well, that thou wiser art than IA thousand fold: but if I were as thou,God helpe me so, as I would utterly Right of mine owne honde write her now A letter, in which I would her tellen howI farde amisse, and her beseech of routh:Now help thy self, and leave it for no slouth."And I my selfe shall therewith to her gone,And whan thou wost that I am with her thereWorthe thou upon a courser right anone,Ye hardely, and that right in thy best gere,And ride forth by the place, as naught ne were,And thou shalt find us (if I may) sitting At some window, into the street looking."And if thee list, then mayest thou us salve,And upon me make thou thy countenaunce,But by thy life beware, and fast eschue To tarien ought, God shild us fro mischaunce:Ride forth thy way, and hold thy governaunce,And we shall speake of thee somewhat I trowWhan thou art gone, to doe thine eares glow.Touching thy letter, thou art wise inough,I wot thou n'ilte it deigneliche endite,As make it with these argumentes tough,Ne scriveinishe or craftely thou it write,Beblotte it with thy teares eke alite,And if thou write a goodly word all soft,Though it be good, rehearse it not too oft."For though the best harpour upon live Would on the best souned jolly harpe That ever was, with all his fingers five Touch aye o string, or aye o warble harpe,Where his nailes pointed never so sharpe,It should make every wight to dull,To heare his glee, and of his strokes full ."Ne jombre eke no discordaunt thing yfere,As thus, to usen tearmes of phisicke,In loves tearmes hold of thy matere The forme alway, and doe that it be like,For if a painter would paint a pike With asses feet, and headed as an ape,It cordeth not, so were it but a jape. "This counsaile liked well unto Troilus,But as a dredefull lover he saied this:"Alas my dere brother Pandarus,I am ashamed for to write ywis,Least of mine innocence I saied amis,Or that she n'olde it for dispite receive,Than were I dead, there might it nothing weive."To that Pandare answerde, " If thee lest,Do that I say, and let me therewith gone,For by that Lord that formed east and west,I hope of it to bring answere anoneRight of her hond, and if that thou n'ilte none,Let be, and sorrie mote he been his live,Ayenst thy lust that helpeth thee to thrive. "(Quod Troilus) " Depardieux iche assent,Sith that thee list, I woll arise and write,And blisfull God pray iche with good entent The voiage and the letter I shall endite,So speed it, and thou Minerva the white,Yeve thou me witte, my letter to devise: "And set him doun, and wrote right in this wise.First he gan her his right ladie call,His hertes life, his lust, his sorowes leche,His blisse, and eche these other tearmes all,That in such case ye lovers all seche,And in full humble wise, as in his speche,He gan him recommaund unto her grace,To tell all how, it asketh mokell space.And after this full lowly he her praied To be nought wroth, though he of his follieSo hardie was to her to write, and saiedThat love it made, or eles must he die,And pitously gan mercie for to crie:And after that he saied, and lied full loud,Himselfe was little worth, and lasse he coud.And that she would have his conning excused,That little was, and eke he dradde her so,And his unworthinesse aye he accused:And after that than gan he tell his wo,But that was endlesse withouten ho:And said, he would in trouth alway him hold,And redde it over, and gan the letter fold.And with his salte teares gan he batheThe rubie in his signet, and it sette Upon the wexe deliverliche and rathe,Therewith a thousand times, er he lette,He kiste tho the letter that he shetteAnd sayd, " Letter, a blisfull destine Thee shapen is, my ladie shall thee see,"This Pandare tooke the letter, and betimeA morrow to his neecis pallaice stert,And fast he swore, that it was passed prime:And gan to jape, and sayd, " Ywis my herte So fresh it is, although it sore smert,I may not sleepe never a Mayes morrow,I have a jollie woe, a lustie sorrow. "Creseide whan that she her uncle heard,With dreadfull herte, and desirous to heare,The cause of his comming, thus answeard,"Nowbyyour faith, mineuncle" (quod she) " deare,What manner windes guideth you now here?Tell us your jolly woe, and your penaunce,How farre forth be ye put in loves daunce. ""By God " (quod he) " I hop alway behinde,"And to laugh, it thought her herte brest,(Quod Pandarus) " Looke alway that ye findeGame in mine hood: but herkeneth if you lest,There is right now come into the toun a gest,A Greeke espie, and telleth newe thinges,For which I come to tell you new tidinges.وو " Into the garden go we, and ye shall heareAll privily of this a long sermoun:With that they wenten arm in arm yfere,Into the gardin fro the chamber doun.B. 11. V. 1118-1243 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 285And whan he was so farre, that the sounOf that he spake, no man heren might,He sayd her thus, and out the letter plight."Lo, he that is all hooly yours free,Him recommaundeth lowly to your grace,And sent you this letter here by me,Aviseth you on it, whan ye han space,And of some goodly answeare you purchace,Or helpe me God so, plainely for to saine,He may not longe liven for his paine.Full dredefully tho gan she stonde still,And tooke it not, but all her humble chere Gan for to chaunge, and sayd, " Scripe nor bill,For love of God, that toucheth such matere Ne bring me none: and also, uncle dere,To mine estate have more regard I prayThan to his lust, what should I more say."And looketh now if this be reasonable,And letteth not for favour ne for slouthTo sain a sooth, now is it covenableTo mine estate, by God and by my trouth To take it, or to have of him routh,In harming of my selfe or in repreve:Beare it ayen, for him that ye on leve."This Pandarus gan on her for to stare,And sayd, " Now is this the greatest wonder That ever I saw, let be this nice fare,To death mote I smiten be with thunder,If for the citie which that stondeth yonder,Would I a letter unto you bring or take,To harm of you: what list you thus it make."But thus ye faren well nigh all and some,That he that most desireth you to serve,Of him ye retch least where he become,And whether that he live, or else sterve:But for all that, that ever I may deserve,Refuse it not " (quod he) and hent her fast,And in her bosome the letter doune he thrast.And said her, " Now cast it away anon That folk may seen, and gauren on us twey."(Quod she) " I can abide till they be gon❞ And gan to smile, and said him, " Eme I pray Such answere as you list your selfe purvey:For truely I woll no letter write: "<< No, than woll I " ( quod he) " so ye endite."Therewith she lough, and said " Go we dine,"And he gan at himselfe japen fast,And sayd, " Nece, I have so great a pine For love, that everich other day I fast,"And gan his best japes forth to cast,And made her for to laugh at his follie,That she for laughter wende for to die.And whan that she was comen into the hall,"Now eme "" (quod she) " we woll go dine anon,"And gan some of her women to her call,And streight into her chamber gan she gone,But of her businesse this was one,Amonges other thinges, out of drede,Full prively this letter for to rede.Avised word by word in every line,Ere he was ware, she tooke him by the hood,And said " Ye were caught ere that ye wist,"" I vouchsafe," (quod he) " do what you list. "Tho weshen they, and set hem doun and ete,And after noone fall slightly Pandarus Gan draw him to the window nye the strete,And said, " Nece, who hath araied thusThe yonder house, that stant aforeyene us? ""Which house?" (quod she) and gan for to behold,And knew it well, and whose it was him told.And fellen forth in speech of thinges smale,And saten in the window both twey:Whan Pandarus saw time unto his tale,And saw well that her folke were all awey:" Now nece mine, tell on (quod he) " I prey,How liketh you the letter that ye wot,Can he thereon, for by my trouth I n'ot."Therewith all rosy hewed tho woxe she,And gan to hum, and said, " So I trowe, "Aquite him well for Gods love" (quod he)My selfe to medes woll the letter sowe,"And held his hondes up, and sat on knowe,"Now good nece, be it never so lite,6666Yeve me the labour, it to sowe and plite. ""Ye, for I can so writen " (quod she) "tho,And eke I n'ot what I should to him say:"66 Nay nece " (quod Pandare) " say not so,Yet at the least, thonketh him I prayOf his good will: O, doth him not to dey,Now for the love of me my nece dere,Refuseth not at this time my praiere. "" Depardieux " (quod she) " God leve all be wele,God helpe me so, this is the first letterThat ever I wrote, ye all or any dele,"And into a closet for to avise her better,She went alone, and gan her herte unfetterOut of disdaines prison, but a lite,And set her doune, and gan a letter write.Of which to tell in short is mine entent Theffect, as ferre as I can understond:She thonked him, of all that he well ment,Towardes her, but holden him in hond She n'olde not, ne make her selven bondIn love, but as his suster him to please,She would aye faine to done his herte an ease.She shette it, and to Pandare into goneThere as he sat, and looked into strete,And doune she set her by him on a stone Of jasper, upon a quisshen of gold ybete,And said, " As wisely helpe me God the grete,I never did a thing with more paine,Than write this, to which ye me restraine."And tooke it him: he thonked hir, and seide," God wot of thing full often lothe begonne Commeth end good and nece mine Creseide,That ye to him of hard now ben ywonne,Ought he be glad, by God and yonder sonne:For why, men saith impressiones light Full lightly ben aye readie to the flight."But ye han plaied the tiraunt all too long,And found no lacke, she thought he coud his good, And hard was it your herte for to grave,And up it put, and went her in to dine,And Pandarus, that in a studie stood,Now stint, that ye no lenger on it hong,All woulden ye the forme of daunger save,286 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. II. V. 1244-1369But hasteth you to done him joye have:For trusteth well, too long ydone hardnesse Causeth dispite full often for distresse. "And right as they declared this matere,Lo Troilus, right at the stretes endCame riding with his tenth somme yfere All softely, and thiderward gan bend There as they sate, as was his way to wend To paleis ward, and Pandare him aspide,And said, " Nece, ysee who commeth here ride.""O flie not in, he seeth us I suppose,Least he may thinken that ye him eschue. ""Nay, nay" (quod she) and woxe as red as rose,With that he gan her humbly salue With dredefull chere, and oft his hewes mue,And up his looke debonairely he cast,And becked on Pandare, and forth by past.God wot if he sat on his horse aright,Or goodly was beseene that ilke day,God wot where he were like a manly knight,What should I dretche, or tell of his array:Creseide , which that all those thinges sey ,To tell in short, her liked all yfere,His person, his aray, his looke, his chere.His goodly manner, and his gentillesse,So well, that never sith that she was borne,Ne had she suche routh of his distresse,And how so, she hath hard ben here beforne,To God hope I, she hath now caught a thorn,She shall nat pull it out this next wike,God send her mo such thornes on to pike.Pandare, which that stood her faste by,Felt iron hot, and he began to smite,And said, " Nece, I pray you heartely,Tell me that I shall asken you alite,Awoman that were of his death to witeWithouten his gilt, but for her lack of routh,Were it well done?" (quod she) " Nayby my trouth.""God helpe me so" (quod he) " ye say me sooth,Ye feelen well your selfe that I nought lie,Lo, yonde he rideth:" (quod she)" Ye so he dooth:""Well" (quod Pandare) " as I have told you thrie,Let be your nice shame, and your follie,And speake with him in easing of his herte,Let nicete nat do you bothe smert."But thereon was to heaven and to done,Considering all thing, it may nat be,And why? for shame, and it were eke too soone,To graunten him so great a liberte:For plainly her entent, as (said she)Was for to love him unwist, if she might,And guerdon him with nothing but with sight.But Pandare thought, it shall nat be so,If that I may, this nice opinion Shall nat ben holden fully yeares two.What should I make of this a long sermon?He must assent on that conclusion,As for the time, and whan that it was eve,And all was well, he rose and tooke his leve.And on his way fast homeward he spedde,And right for joy he felt his herte daunce,And Troilus he found alone abedde,That lay, as done these lovers in a traunce,Betwixen hope and derke desperaunce,But Pandare, right at his incomming,He song, as who saith, " Lo, somewhat I bring."And said, " Who is in his bedde so soone Yburied thus? " "It am I friend: " (quod he)"Who, Troilus? nay, help me so the Moone"(Quod Pandarus) " thou shalt up rise and see A charme that was sent right now to thee,The which can healen thee of thine accesse,If thou do forthwith all thy businesse.""Ye, through the might of God: " (quod Troilus)And Pandarus gan him the letter take,And said, " Parde God hath holpen us,Have here a light, and look on all these blake."But often gan the herte glad and quake Of Troilus, while he it gan to rede,So as the wordes yave him hope or drede.But finally he tooke all for the best That she him wrote, for somewhat he beheld,On which he thought he might his herte rest,All covered she the wordes under sheld,Thus to the more worthy part he held,That what for hope, and Pandarus behest,His greate wo foryede he at the lest.But as we may all day our selven see,Through wood or cole kindleth the more fire,Right so encrease of hope, of what it be,Therewith full oft encreaseth eke desire,Or as an oke commeth of a little spire,So through this letter, which that she him sent,Encreasen gan desire of which he brent.Wherfore I say alway, that day and night This Troilus gan to desiren more Than he did erst through hope, and did his mightTo presen on, as by Pandarus lore,And writen to her of his sorowes soreFro day to day, he let it nought refreide,That by Pandare he somewhat wrot or seide.And did also his other observaunces,That till a lover longeth in this caas,And after as his dice turned on chaunces,So was he either glad, or said alas,And held after his gestes aye his paas,And after such answeres as he had,So were his daies sorry either glad.But to Pandare alway was his recours,And pitously gan aye on him to plaine,And him besought of rede, and some socours,And Pandarus, that saw his wood paine,Wext well nigh ' dead for routh, sooth to saine,And busily with all his herte cast,Some of his wo to sleen, and that as fast.And said, " Lord and friend, and brother dere,God wot that thy disease doth me wo,But wolt thou stinten all this wofull chere,And by my trouth, ere it be daies two,And God toforne, yet shall I shape it so,That thou shalt come into a certaine place,There as thou maist thy self praien her of grace."And certainly I n'ot if thou it wost,But they that ben expert in love, it say,It is one of these thinges forthereth most,A man to have a leiser for to pray,B. II. v. 1370-1495 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 287And siker place, his wo for to bewray,For in good herte it mote some routh impress To heare and see the guiltless in distresse." Peraventure thinkest thou, though it be So,That Kind would her done for to begin,To have a manner routh upon my wo,Saith Daunger nay, thou shalt me never win:So ruleth her hertes ghost within,That though she bende, yet she stont on rote,What in effect is this unto my bote." Think here ayen, whan that the sturdy oke On which men hacketh ofte for the nones,Received hath the happy falling stroke,The great swight doth it come all at ones,As done these great rocks or these miln stones,For swifter course cometh thing that is of wight Whan it discendeth, than done thinges light." But rede that boweth doun for every blast,Full lightly cesse wind, it woll arise,But so n'ill not an oke, whan it is cast,It needeth me nought longe thee forvise,Men shall rejoysen of a great emprise,Atchieved well, and stant withouten dout,All have men ben the lenger thereabout.22"But, Troilus, now tell me if thee lestA thing, which that I shall asken thee,Which is thy brother, that thou lovest best,As in thy very hertes privite?"Ywis my brother Deiphebus tho " (quod he. )"Now " (quod Pandare) " ere houres twise twelve,He shall the ease, unwist of it himselve."Now let me alone, and worken as I may,"(Quod he) and to Deiphebus went he tho,Which had his lord, and great friend ben aye,Save Troilus no man he loved so:To tellen in short withouten words mo(Quod Pandarus) " I pray you that ye be Friend to a cause, which that toucheth me. ""Yes parde " (quod Deiphebus) " wel thou wotestAll that ever I may, and God tofore,All n'ere it but for the man I love most,My brother Troilus; but say wherefore It is, for sith the day that I was bore,I n'as, ne never mo to ben I thinke,Ayenst a thing that might thee forthinke. "Pandare gan him thank, and to him seide,"Lo sir, I have a lady in this toun That is my nece, and called is Creseide,Which some men would done oppressioun,And wrongfully have her possessioun,Wherefore I of your lordship you beseech To ben our friend, withouten more speech."Deiphebus him answerd: " O, is nat thisThat thou speakest of to me thus straungly,Creseide my friend? " He said him " Yes."" Than needeth " ( quod Deiphebus) “ hardely No more of this to speke, for trusteth well that IWoll be her champion with spore and yerde,I ne raught nat though all her foes it herde."But tel me how, for thou wost this matere,I might best availen, now lette see? "(Quod Pandarus) " If ye my lord so dere Woulden as now do this honour to me,To praien her to morrow, lo that she Came unto you, her plaints to devise,Her adversaries would of it agrise." And if I more durst praien as now,And chargen you to have so great travaile,To have some of your brethren here with you,That mighten to her cause bet availe,Than wote I well she might never faile For to ben holpen, what at your instaunce,What with her other friendes governaunce. "

Deiphebus, which that comen was of kind To all honour and bounty to consent,Answerd, " It shall be done and I can find Yet greater helpe to this mine entent:What woldest thou saine, if for Heleine I sentTo speake of this? I trow it be the best,For she may leden Paris as her lest."Of Hector, which that is my lord my brother,It needeth nat to praien him friend to be,For I have heard him o time and eke otherSpeaken of Creseide such honour, that heMay saine no bet, such hap to him hath she,It needeth nat his helpes more to crave,He shall be such, right as we woll him have."Speake thou thy selfe also to Troilus On my behalfe, and pray him with us dine. "" Sir all this shall be done " (quod Pandarus)And tooke his leave, and never gan to fine,But to his neces house as streight as lineHe came, and found her fro the meat arise,And set him doun, and spake right in this wise:He said, " O very God, so have I ronne,Lo nece mine, see ye nat how I swete?I n'ot where ye the more thanke me conne:Be ye not ware how false Poliphete Is now about eftsoones for to plete,And bring on you advocacies new? "" I, no " (quod she) and chaunged all her hew."What, is he more about me to dretcheAnd done me wrong, what shall I done, alas,Yet of himselfe nothing would I retche,N'ere it for Antenor and Eneas,That ben his friends in such manner caas:But for the love of God mine uncle dere,No force of that, let him have all yfere,"Withouten that, I have ynough for us.""Nay " (quod Pandare) " it shall nothing be so,For I have been right now at Deiphebus,At Hector, and mine other lordes mo,And shortly maked each of hem his fo,That by my thrift he shall it never win,For aught he can, whan so that he begin. "And as they casten what was best to done,Deiphebus of his owne courtesie,Came her to pray, in his proper persone,To hold him on the morrow companieAt dinner, which she n'olde not denie,But goodly gan to his prayer obey,He thonked her, and went upon his wey.Whan this was done, this Pandare anone,To tell in short, forth he gan to wend To Troilus, as still as any stone,And all this thing he told him word and end,288 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. II. V. 1496-1621And how that he Deiphebus gan to blend,And said him, " Now is time of that ye conne To bere thee well to morow, and all is wonne." Now speke, now pray, now pitously complain,Let nat for nice shame, for drede or slouth,Sometime a man mote tell his owne pain,Beleeve it, and she woll have on thee routh,Thou shalt ben saved by thy faith in trouth,But well wot I, thou now art in a drede,And what it is, I lay that I can arede."Thou thinkest now, ' How should I don al this,For by my cheres mosten folke espie,That for her love is that I fare amis,Yet had I lever unwist for sorrow die: 'Now thinke nat so, for thou hast great follie,For I right now have founden a manere Of sleight, for to coveren all thy chere." Thou shalt gone overnight, and that bilive,Unto Deiphebus house, as thee to play,Thy maladie away the bet to drive,For which thou seemeth sicke, sooth to say,Soone after that, in thy bed thee lay,And say thou maist no lenger up endure,And lie right there, and bide thine aventure." Say that thy fever is wont thee for to take The same time, and last till a morow,And let see now how well thou canst it make:For parde sicke is he that is in sorrow.Go now farwell, and Venus here to borow,I hope and thou this purpose hold ferme,Thy grace she shall fully there conferme. "(Quod Troilus) " Ywis thou all needlesse Counsailest me, that sickeliche I me faine,For I am sicke in earnest doubtlesse,So that well nigh I sterve for the paine: "(Quod Pandarus) " Thou shalt the better plaine,And hast the lesse need to counterfete,For him demeth men hot, that seeth him swete." Lo, hold thee at thy triste close, and IShall well the deere unto the bow drive: "Therewith he tooke his leave all softly,And Troilus to his paleis went blive,So glad ne was he never in all his live,And to Pandarus rede gan all assent,And to Deiphebus hous at night he went.What nedeth it you to tellen all the chere That Deiphebus unto his brother made,Or his axis, or his sickeliche manere,How men gone him with clothes for to lade,Whan he was laid, and how men would him glade:But all for nought, he held forth aye the wise,That ye han heard Pandare ere this devise.But certaine is, ere Troilus him leide,Deiphebus had praied him over night To ben a friend, and helping to Creseide:God wot that he graunted anon right To ben her full friend, with all his might:But such a need was it to praien him thenne,As for to bidden a wood man to renne.The morow came, and nighen gan the time Of mealtide, that the faire queene Heleine Shope her to ben an houre after the prime With Deiphebus, to whom she n'olde faine,But as his suster, homely sooth to saine She came to dinner in her plaine entent,But God and Pandare wist all what this ment.Came eke Creseide all innocent of this,Antigone her nece, and Tarbe also,But flie we now prolixitie best is,For love of God, and let us fast goRight to theffect, withouten tales mo,Why all this folke assembled in this place,And let us of all hir salvinges pace.Great honour did hem Deiphebus certaine,And fedde hem well, with all that might like,But evermo alas, was his refraine:"My good brother Troilus the sike,Lithe yet," and therewithall he gan to sike And after that he pained him to gladeHem as he might, and chere good he made.Complained eke Heleine of his sicknesseSo faithfully, that it pitie was to here,And every wight gan wexen for axes A leche anon, and said, " In this manere Men curen folke, this charme I wol thee lere,"But there sate one, all list her nat to teche,That thought, yet best could I ben his leche.After complaint him gonnen they to preise,As folk don yet whan some wight hath begon To preise a man, and with preise him reise A thousand fold yet higher than the Sonne,He is, he can, that few other lordes conne,And Pandarus of that they would afferme,He nought forgate hir praising to conferme.Herd all this thing fair Creseide well enough,And every word gan for to notifie,For which with sober chere her herte lough,For who is that ne would her glorifie,To mowen such a knight done live or die?But all passe I, least ye too long ydwell,But for o fine is all that ever I tell.The time came, fro dinner for to rise,And as hem ought, arisen everychone,And gane a while of this and that devise,But Pandarus brake all this speech anone,And said to Deiphebus, " Woll ye gone,If your will be, as erst I you preide,To speaken of the nedes of Creseide?"Heleine, which that by the hond her held,Tooke first the tale, and said, "Go we blive,"And goodly on Creseide she beheld,And said, " Joves let him never thriveThat doth you harm, and reve him sone of live,And yeve me sorrow, but he shall it rue,If that I may, and all folke be true. ""Tell thou thy nieces case " (quod DeiphebusTo Pandarus) " for thou canst best it tell."" My lordes and my ladies, it stant thus,What should I lenger " (quod he) " do you dwell? ”He rong hem out a proces like a bellUpon her foe, that hight Poliphete,So hainous, that men might on it spete.Answerd of this ech worse of hem than other,And Poliphete they gonnen thus to warien,And honged be such one, were he my brother,And so he shall, for it ne may nought varien,B. IT. V. 1622-1747 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 289What should I lenger in this tale tarien,Plaineliche all at ones they her hightenTo ben her friend in all that ever they mighten.Spake then Heleine, and said, " Pandarus,Wot aught my lord my brother of this mater,I meane Hector, or wote it Troilus! "He said, " Ye, but woll ye me now here,Me thinketh thus, sith that Troilus is here,It were good, if that ye would assent,She told him her selfe all this ere she went."For he wol have the more hir grefe at herte,Because lo, that she a lady is,And by your will, I woll but in right start,And do you wete, and that anone ywis,If that he sleepe, or woll aught here of this: "And in he lept, and said him in his ere,"God have thy soul, for brought have I thy bere."To smilen of this gan tho Troilus,And Pandarus without reckoning,Out went anon to Heleine and Deiphebus,And said hem, " So there be no tarying Ne more prease, he woll well that ye bring Creseide my lady, that is now here,And as he may enduren, he woll her here." But well ye wote, the chamber is but lite,And few folke may lightly make it warme,Now looketh ye, for I woll have no wite To bring in prease, that might done him harme,Or him diseasen, for my better arme:Yet were it bette she bid till oft soonis,Now looke ye that knowen what to don is."I say for me best is, as I can know,That no wight in ne wende, but ye twey,But it were I, for I cannot in a throw Rehearse her case, unlike that she can sey,And after this she may him ones preyTo ben good lord in short, and take her leve,This may not mokell of his ease him reve."And eke for she is straunge, he woll forbere His ease, which that him dare nat for you,Eke other thing, that toucheth nat to her,He woll it tell, I wote it well right now,That secret is, and for the townes prow:And they that knew nothing of his entent,Without more, to Troilus in they went.Heleine in all her goodly softe wise Gan him salue, and womanly to play,And saied, " Ywis, ye mote algate arise:Now faire brother be all hole I pray,"And gan her arme right over his shoulder lay,And him with all her wit to recomfort,As she best could, she gan him to disport.So after this (quod she) " We you beseke My dere brother Deiphebus and I,For love of God, and so doeth Pandare eke,To been good lord and friend right hertely Unto Creseide, which that certainlyReceived wrong, as wot well here Pandare,That can her case well bet than I declare."This Pandarus gan new his tong affile,And all her case rehearse, and that anone,Whan it was saied, soone after in a while,(Quod Troilus) " As soone as I was gone,I wol right faine with all my might ben one,Have God my trouth, her cause to susteine. ""Nowgood thrift haveye" (quod Heleinthe queen. )(Quod Pandarus) " And it your will be,That she may take her leave ere that she go.""O eles God forbid it tho" (quod he)" If that she vouchsafe for to do so:"And with that word (quod Troilus) " ye twoDeiphebus, and my suster lefe and dere,To you have I to speake of a matere,"To been avised by your rede the better,"And found (as hap was) at his bedes hedde The copie of a treatise, and a letter That Hector had him sent, to asken redeIf such a man was worthy to ben dede,Wote I naught who, but in a grisly wise He prayed hem anone on it avise.Deiphebus gan this letter for to unfold In earnest great, so did Heleine the queene,And roming outward, fast it gonne behold Dounward a steire, into an herbor greene:This ilke thing they redden hem betwene,And largely the mountenaunce of an houre They gonne on it to reden and to poure.Now let hem rede, and tourne we anoneTo Pandarus, that gan full soft prie That all was well, and out he gan to goneInto the great chamber, and that in hie,And saied, " God save all this companie:Come nece mine, my lady queene HeleineAbideth you, and eke my lordes tweine."Rise, take with you your nece Antigone,Or whom you list, or no force hardely,The lasse prease the bet, come forth with me,And looke that ye thonked humbly Hem all three, and whan ye may goodlyYour time ysee, taketh of hem your leave,Least we too long his restes him bireave. "All innocent of Pandarus entent(Quod tho Creseide) " Go we uncle dere,"And arme in arme, inward with him she went,Avising well her wordes and her chere,And Pandarus in earnestfull manere,Saied, " All folke for Godes love I pray,Stinteth right here, and softely you play."Aviseth you what folke ben here within,And in what plite one is, God him amend,And inward thou full softely begin,Nece I conjure, and highly you defend On his halfe, which that soule us all send,And in the vertue of corounes twaineSlea nat this man, that hath for you this paine."Fie on the devill, thinke which one he is,And in what plite he lieth, come off anone,Think all such taried tide but lost it n'is,That woll ye both saine, whan ye been one:Secondly, there yet divineth none Upon you two, come off now if ye conne,While folke is blent, lo, all the time is wonne." In titering and pursuite, and delaies The folke divine, at wegging of a stre,And though ye would han after merry daies,Than dare ye nat, and why? For she and she U290 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. II. V. 1748-1757Spake such a word, thus looked he and he:Least time be lost, I dare not with you deale,Come off therfore, and bringeth him to heale."But now to you, ye lovers that ben here,Was Troilus nat in a cankedort,That lay, and might the wispring of hem here,And thoght " O lord, right now renneth my sortFully to die, or have anone comforte,"And was the first time he should her prayOf love, O mightie God, what shall he say!EXPLICIT LIBER SECUNDUS.PROEME.B. III. V. 1105.O BLISFULL light, of which the bemes clereAdorneth all the third heaven faire,O sonnes lefe, O Joves doughter dere,Pleasaunce of love, O goodly debonaire,In gentle hertes aye ready to repaire,O very cause of heale and of gladnesse,Yheried be thy might and thy goodnesse.In Heaven and Hell, in earth, and salt see,Is felt thy might, if that I well discerne,As man, and beast, fish , herbe, and grene tree,They fele in times with vapour eterne,God loveth, and to love woll naught werne,And in this world no lives creature,Withouten love is worth, or may endure.Ye Joves first, to thilke affectes glade Through which that thinges liven all and be,Commenden, and amorous hem made On mortall thing, and as you list aye ye Yeve hem in love, ease, or adversite:And in a thousand formes doune hem sentFor love in earth, and whom you list he hent.Ye fiers Mars appeasen of his ire,And as you list, ye maken hertes digne:Algates hem that ye woll set a fire,They dreden shame, and vices they resigne,Ye doen him curteis be, fresh, and benigne,And high or low, after a wight entendeth The joies that he hath, your might it sendeth.Ye holden reigne and house in unitie,Ye soothfast cause of friendship ben also Ye knowen all thilke covered qualitieOf thinges, which that folke wondren at so,Whan they can nat construe how it may go,She loveth him, or why he loveth here,As why this fish, and nat that commeth to were.Ye folke a law have set in universe,And this know I by hem that lovers be,That who so striveth with you hath the werse:Now ladie bright, for thy benignite,At reverence of hem that serven thee,Whose clerke I am, so teacheth me devise,Some joy of that is felt in thy servise.Yea, in my naked herte sentement In hilde, and do me shew of thy sweetnesse Caliope, thy voice be now present,For nowis need, seest thou nat my distresse,How I mote tell anon right the gladnesse Of Troilus, to Venus herying,To the which who nede hath, God him bring.INCIPIT LIBER TERTIUS.LAY all this meane while this TroilusRecording his lesson in this manere,"Mafey," thought he, " thus woll I say, and thus,Thus woll I plaine unto my lady dere,That word is good, and this shall be my This n'ill I nat foryetten in no wise,"God leve him werken as he can devise.chereAnd lord so that his herte gan to quappe,Hearing her come, and short for to sike,And Pandarus that ledde her by the lappe,Came nere, and gan in at the curtein pike,And saied, " God doe bote on all that are sike,See who is here you comen to visite,Lo, here is she that is your death to wite. "Therewith it seemed as he wept almost,"A, a" (quod Troilus so routhfully)"Whether me be wo, O mighty god thou wost,Who is all there, I see nat truely:" Sir," (quod Creseide) " it is Pandare and I,"" Ye sweet herte alas, I may nat rise""To kneele, and do you honour in some wise."And dressed him upward, and she right tho Gan both her hondes soft upon him ley,"O for the love of God doe ye not soTo me," (quod she) " eye what is this to sey?Sir comen am I to you for causes twey,First you to thonke, and of your lordship eke Continuaunce I would you beseke."This Troilus that heard his ladie prayOf lordship, him wox neither quick ne dedde,Ne might o word for shame to it say,Although men shoulden smiten off his hedde,But Lord so he wox sodaineliche redde:And sir, his lesson that he wende conne To praien her, is through his wit yronne.Creseide all this aspied well ynough,For she was wise, and loved him never the lasse,All nere he in all apert, or made it tough,Or was too bold to sing a foole a masse,But whan his shame gan somwhat to passeHis reasons, as I may my rimes hold,I woll you tell, as teachen bookes old.In chaunged voice, right for his very drede,Which voice eke quoke, and thereto his manere Goodly abasht, and now his hewes rede,Now pale, unto Creseide his ladie dere,With looke doun cast, and humble iyolden chere,Lo, the alderfirst word that him astart,Was twice, " Mercy, mercy, O my sweet herte."And stint a while, and whan he might out bring,The next word was, " God wote for I haveAs faithfully as I have had konning,Ben yours all, God so my soule do save,And shall, till that I wofull might be grave,And though I dare ne can unto you plaine,Ywis I suffer not the lasse paine.B. III. V. 106-231 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.291"Thus much as now, ah, womanliche wife,I may out bring, and if this you displease,That shall I wreke upon mine owne lifeRight soone I trow, and do your herte an ease,If with my death your herte may appease:But sens that ye han heard me somewhat sey,Now retch I never how soone that I dey."Therewith his manly sorrow to behold,It might have made an herte of stone to rew,And Pandare wept as he to water would,And poked ever his nece new and new,And saied, " Wo begon been hertes true,For love of God, make of this thing an end,Or slea us both at ones, ere that ye wend. "" I, what " (quod she) " by God and by mytrouth I n'ot nat what ye wilne that I sey:"Ey, what " (quod he) " that ye have onhim routh For Goddes love, and doeth him nat to dey: ""Now than thus " (quod she) " I woll him prey,To tell me the fine of his entent,Yet wist I never well what that he ment.""What that I mean, O my sweet herte dere "(Quod Troilus) " O goodly fresh and free,That with the streames of your eyen so clere Ye shoulden sometime friendly on me see,And than agreen that I may ben hee Withouten braunch of vice, on any wise,In trouth alway to do you my servise," As to my lady right, and cheefe resort,With all my witte and all my diligence,And to have right as you list comfort,Under your yerde egall to mine offence,As death, if that I breake your defence,And that ye digne me so much honour,Me to commaunden aught in any hour." And I to ben your very humble, true,Secret, and in my paines patient,And ever to desiren freshly newTo serven, and to ben aye like diligent,And with good herte all hooly your talent Receiven well, how sore that me smart,Lo this meane I, O mine owne sweet herte."(Quod Pandarus) " Lo, here an hard request,And reasonable, a lady for to werne:Now nece mine, by Natall Joves feest,Were I a God, ye should sterve as yerne,That heren wel this man wol nothing yerne,But your honour, and seene him almost sterve,And ben so loth to suffer him you to serve."With that she gan her eyen on him cast Full easily, and full debonairelyAvising her, and hied not too fast,With never a word, but saied him softely,"Mine honour safe, I woll well truely,And in such forme, as I can now devise,Receiven him fully to my servise."Beseeching him for Goddes love, that he Would in honour of trouth and gentillesse,As I well meane, eke meanen well to me:And mine honour with wit and businesseAye kepe, and if I may doen him gladnesse From henceforth ywis I n'ill not faine:Now beth all hole, no lenger ye ne plaine."But nathelesse, this warne I you " (quod she)"A kinges sonne although ye be ywis,Ye shall no more have soverainteOf me in love, than right in that case is,Ne n'ill forbeare if that ye doen amis To wrath you, and while that ye me serve,Cherishen you, right after that ye deserve."And shortly, dere herte and all my knight,Beth glad, and draweth you to lustinesse,And I shall truely, withall my full might You bitter tournen all to sweetnesse,If I be she that may doe you gladnesse,For every wo ye shall recover a blisse,"And him in armes tooke, and gan him kisse.Fell Pandarus on knees, and up his eyenTo Heaven threw, and held his hondes hie:"Immortall God "(quod he) " that maiest not dien,Cupide I meane, of this maiest glorifie,And Venus, thou maiest maken melodie Withouten hond, me seemeth that in toune,For this miracle iche here eche bell soune." But ho, no more now of this mattere,For why? This folke woll comen up anone,That have the letter redde, lo, I hem here,But I conjure thee Creseide, and one And two, thou Troilus whan thou maist gone That at mine house ye hen at my warning,For I full well shall shapen your comming."And easeth there your hertes right ynough,And let see which of you shall beare the bellTo speak of love aright," and therwith he lough,"For there have I a leiser for to tell: "(Quod Troilus) " how long shall I here dwell Erethis bedoen?" (quod he)" Whanthoumaiest rise This thing shall be right as you list devise."With that Heleine and also DeiphebusTho comen upward right at the staires end,And lord so tho gan gronen Troilus,His mother and his suster for to blend:(Quod Pandarus) " It time is that we wend,Take nece mine your leave at hem all three,And let hem speak, and commeth forth with me. 'She tooke her leave at hem full thriftely,As she well could, and they her reverence Unto the full didden hartely,And wonder well speaken in her absence Of her, in praising of her excellence,Her governaunce, her wit, and her manere Commendeden, that it joy was to here.Now let her wend unto her owne place,And tourne we unto Troilus againe,That gan full lightly of the letter pace,That Deiphebus had in the garden seine,And of Heleine and him he would feineDelivered ben, and saied, that him lestTo slepe, and after tales have a rest.Heleine him kist, and tooke her leave blive,Deiphebus eke, and home went every wight,And Pandarus as fast as he may drive To Troilus tho came, as line right,And on a paillet, all that glad night By Troilus he lay, with merry chere To tale, and well was hem they were yfere.U 2292 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. III. v. 232-357Whan every wight was voided but they two,And all the dores weren fast yshet,To tell in short, withouten words mo,This Pandarus, without any let Up rose, and on his beddes side him set,And gan to speaken in a sober wiseTo Troilus, as I shall you devise." Mine alderlevest lord, and brother dere,God wot, and thou, that it sate me so sore,Whan I thee saw so languishing to here,For love of which thy wo woxe alway more,That I with all my might, and all my lore,Have ever sithen doen my businesse To bring thee to joye out of distresse."And have it brought to such plite as thou wostSo that through me thou stondest now in way To faren well, I say it for no bost,And wost thou why, but shame it is to say,For thee have I begon a gamen play,Which that I never doen shall eft for other,All tho he were a thousand fold my brother." That is to say,for thee am I becomen,Betwixen game and earnest such a meane,As maken women unto men to comen,All say I nat, thou wost well what I meane,For thee have I my nece, of vices cleane,So fully made thy gentillesse trist,That all shall ben right as thy selfe list."But God, that all woteth, take I to witnesse,That never I this for covetise wrought,But only for to abredge that distresse,For which welnie thou didest, as me thought:But good brother do now as thee ought,For Godes love, and kepe her out of blame,Sins thou art wise, and save alway her name."For well thou wost, the name as yet of herEmongs the people as (who saith ) halowed is.For that man is unbore I dare well swere,That ever wist that she did amis,But wo is me, that I that cause all this,May thinken that she is my nece dere,And I hir eme, and traitour eke yfere." And wer it wist, that I through mine engineHad in mine nece yput this fantasieTo doen thy lust, and hooly to be thine:Why all the world would upon it crie,And say, that I the worste trecherie Did in this case, that ever was begon,And she fordone, and thou right nought ywon."Wherefore ere I woll further gone or paas,Yet eft I thee beseech, and fully say,That privete go with us in this caas,That is to saine, that thou us never wray,And be not wroth, though I thee ofte pray,To holden secree such an high mattere,For skilfull is, thou wost well, my praiere."And thinke what wo there hath betid ere thisFor making of avauntes, as men rede,And what mischaunce in this world yet isFro day to day, right for that wicked dede,For which these wise clerkes that ben dedeHave ever this proverbed to us young,That the first vertue is to kepe the toung." And nere it that I wilne as now abredgeDiffusion of speech, I could almost A thousand old stories thee alledgeOf women lost, through false and fooles bost,Proverbes canst thy selfe enow, and wost Ayenst that vice for to been a blabbe,All saied men sooth, as often as they gabbe."O tongue alas, so often here beforneHast thou made many a lady bright of hew,Saied " Welaway the day that I was borne,"And many a maidens sorrow for to new,And for the more part all is untrew That men of yelpe, and it were brought to preve,Of kind, none avauntour is to leve."Avauntour and a lier, all is one,As thus I pose a woman graunt me Her love, and saieth that other woll she none,And I am sworne to holden it secree,And after I tell it two or three,Ywis I am a vauntour at the lest,And lie eke, for I breake my behest."Now looke than if they be not to blame,Such maner folk, what shall I clepe hem, what,That hem avaunt of women, and by name,That yet behight hem never this ne that,Ne know hem no more than mine old hat,No wonder is, so God me sende hele,Though women dreden with us men to dele." I say not this for no of mistrust of you,Ne for no wise men, but for fooles nice,And for the harme that in the world is now,As well for follie oft , as for mallice,For well wote I, in wise folke that vice No woman dredeth, if she be well avised,For wise been by fooles harme chastised."But now to purpose, leve brother dere,Have all this thing that I have saied in mind,And keep thee close, and be now of good chere For all thy daies thou shalt me true find,I shall thy processe set in such a kind,And God toforne, that it shall thee suffise,For it shall be right as thou wolt devise." For well I wote, thou meanest well parde,Therefore I dare this fully undertake,Thou wost eke what thy lady graunted thee,And day is set the charters to make,Have now good night, I may no lenger wake,And bid for me, sith thou art now in blisse,That God me sende death, or some lisse."Who might tellen halfe the joy or feste Which that the soule of Troilus tho felt,Hearing theffect of Pandarus beheste:His old wo, that made his herte to swelt,Gan tho for joy wasten, and to melt,And all the richesse of his sighes sore At ones fled, he felt of hem no more.But right so as these holtes and these hayis That han in winter dead ben and dry,Revesten him in grene, whan that May is,Whan every lusty beste listeth to pley,Right in that selfe wise, sooth for to sey,Woxe suddainly his herte full of joy,That gladder was there never man in Troy.B. III. v. 358-483 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 293And gan his looke on Pandarus up cast Full soberly, and friendly on to see,And saied, " Friend, in Aprill the last,As well thou wost, if it remember thee,How nigh the death for wo thou founde me,And how thou diddest all thy businesse To know of me the cause of my distresse."Thou wost how long I it forbare to sayTo thee, that art the man that I best trist,And perill none was it to thee to bewray,That wist I well: but tell me if thee list,Sith I so loth was that thy selfe it wist,How durst I mo tellen of this matere?That quake now, and no wight may us here."But nathelesse, by that God I thee swere,That as him list may all the world governe,And if I lye, Achilles with his spere Mine herte cleave, all were my life eterne,As I am mortall, if I late or yerneWould it bewray, or durst or should conne,For all the good that God made under sonne." That rather die I would, and determine As thinketh me now, stocked in prison,In wretchednesse, in filth, and in vermine,Captive to cruell king Agamemnon:And this in all the temples of this toun,Upon the Godes all, I woll thee swere To morow day, if that thee liketh here."And that thou hast so much ydoen for me,That I ne may it nevermore deserve,This know I well, all might I now for thee A thousand times on a morow sterve,I can no more, but that I woll thee serve Right as thy slave, whether so thou wend,For evermore, unto my lives end."But here with all mine herte I thee beseech,That never in me thou deme such folly As I shall saine: me thought by thy speech,That this which thou me dost for companie,I should wenen it were a baudrie,I am not wood, all if I leude be,It is not so, that wote I well parde."But he that goeth for gold, or for richesse,On such messages, call him what ye list,And this that thou dost, call it gentlenesse,Compassion, and fellowship, and trist,Depart it so, for wide where is wist How that there is diversitie requiredBetwixen thinges like, as I have lered."And that thou know I thinke not ne wene,That this service a shame be or jape,I have my faire sister Polexene,Cassandre, Helein, or any of the frape,Be she never so faire, or well yshape,Tell me whiche thou wilt of everychoneTo have for thine, and let me than alone."But sith that thou hast done me this service,My life to save, and for none hope of mede:So for the love of God, this great emprisePerforme it out, now is the most nedeFor high and low, withouten any drede,I woll alway thine hestes all kepe,Have now good night, and let us both slepe."Thus held hem ech of other well apaied,That all the world ne might it bet amend,And on the morrow when they were araied,Ech to his owne needs gan to entend:But Troilus, though as the fire he brend,For sharpe desire of hope, and of pleasaunce,He not forgate his good governaunce.But in himself, with manhood gan restrain Ech rakell deed, and ech unbridled chere,That all that liven soothe for to saine,Ne should have wist by word or by manereWhat that he ment, as touching this matere,From every wight, as ferre as is the cloud,He was so wise, and well dissimulen coud.And all the while which that I now devise,This was his life, with all his full might:By day he was in Martes high servise,That is to saine, in armes as a knight,And for the more part all the long night,He lay and thought how that he might serve His lady best, her thanke for to deserve,N'ill I not sweare, although he lay soft,That in his thought n'as somwhat diseased,Ne that he tourned on his pillowes oft,And would of that him missed have ben eased,But in such case men be nat alway pleased,For naught I wote, no more than was he,That can I deeme of possibilite.But certaine is, to purpose for to go,That in this while, as written is in geste,He saw his lady sometime, and also She with him spake, whan that she durst and leste,And by hir both avise, as was the best,Appointeden full warely in this need,So as they durst, how they would proceed,But it was spoken in so short a wise,In such awaite alway, and in such feare,Least any wight divinen or devise Would of hem two, or to it lay an eare,That all this world so lefe to hem ne were,As that Cupide would hem his grace send,To maken of her speech right an end.But thilke little that they spake or wrought,His wise ghost tooke aye of all such hede,It seemed her he wiste what she thought,Withouten word, so that it was no nedeTo bid him aught to doen, or aught forbede,For which she thought that love, all come it late,Of all joy had opened her the yate.And shortly of this processe for to pace,So well his werke and wordes he beset,That he so full stood in his ladies grace,That twenty thousand times ere she let,She thonked God she ever with him met,So could he him governe in such servise,That all the world ne might it bet devise.For she found him so discreet in all,So secret, and of such obeisaunce,That well she felt he was to her a wallOf steel, and shield of every displeasaunce,That to been in his good governaunce,So wise he was, she was no more afered,I meane as ferre as aught ben requered.294 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. III. v. 484-609And Pandarus to quicke alway the fire,Was ever ylike prest and diligent,To ease his friend was set all his desire,He shone aye on, he to and fro was sent,He letters bare, whan Troilus was absent,That never man, as in his friendes nede,Ne bare him bet than he, withouten drede.But now peraventure some man waiten wouldThat every word, or sond, look, or chereOf Troilus, that I rehearcen should,In all this while, unto his lady dere,I trow it were a long thing for to here,Or of what wight that stant in such disjoint His wordes all, or every looke to point.Forsooth I have not herd it done ere this,In story none, ne no man here I wene,And though I would, I could not ywis,For there was some epistle hem betwene,That would (as saith mine autor) wel contene Nie half this boke, of which him list not write,How should I than a line of it endite?But to the great effect, than say I thus,That stonden in concord and in quieteThis ilke two, Creseide and Troilus,As I have told, and in this time swete,Save onely often might they not mete,Ne leisure have, hir speeches to fulfell,That it befell right as I shall you tell,That Pandarus, that ever did his might,Right for the fine that I shall speake of here,As for to bringen to his house some night His faire nece, and Troilus yfere,Where as at leiser all this high matereTouching hir love were at the full up bound,Had out of doubt a time to it found.For he with great deliberation Had every thing that thereto might availe Forne cast, and put in execution,And nether left for cost ne for travaile,Come if hem liste, hem should nothing faile,And for to ben in aught aspied there,That wist he well an impossible were.Dredelesse it clere was in the windOf every pie, and every let game,Now all is well, for all the world is blindIn this matter, both fremed and tame,This timber is all ready up to frame,Us lacketh naught, but that we weten would A certaine houre, in which she comen should.And Troilus, that all this purveyaunceKnewat the full, and waited on it aye,And hereupon eke made great ordinaunce,And found his cause, and therwith his arraye,If that he were missed night or day,They thought there while he was about this servise,That he was gone to done his sacrifice,And must at such a temple alone wake,Answered of Apollo for to be,And first to sene the holy laurer quake,Er that Apollo spake out of the tree,To tellen him next whan Greeks should flie,And forthy let him no man, God forbede,But pray Apollo helpe in this nede.Now is there litell more for to done,But Pandare up, and shortly for to saine,Right sone upon the chaunging of the Mone,Whan lightlesse is the world a night or twaine,And that the welkin shope him for to raine,He streight a morrow unto his nece went,Ye have well herde the fine of his entent.Whan he was comen, he gan anon to play,As he was wont, and of himselfe to jape,And finally he swore, and gan her say,By this and that, she should him not escape,No lenger done him after her to gape:But certainly, she must, by her leve,Come soupen in his house with him at eve.At which she lough, and gan her first excuse,And said: " It raineth: lo , how should I gone,""Let be," (quod he) ❝ne stonde not thus to muse,This mote be don, ye shal come there anone,"So at the last, hereof they fell at one:Or eles fast he swore her in her eere,He nolde never comen there she were.Sone after this, she to him gan rowne,And asked him if Troilus were there,He swore her nay, for he was out of towne:And said, " Nece, I suppose that he were there,You durst never thereof have the more fere?For rather than men might him there aspie,Me were lever a thousand folde to die."Naught list mine auctour fully to declare,What that she thought, whan as he said so,That Troilus was out of towne yfare,And if he said thereof soth or no,But that withouten awaite with him to go,She graunted him, sith he her that besought,And as his nece obeyed as her ought.But nathelesse, yet gan she him besech,(Although with him to gone it was no fere)For to beware of gofisshe peoples spech,That dremen thinges, which that never were,And wel avise him whom he brought there:And said him, " Eme, sens I must on you trist,Loke al be wel, and do now as you list. "He swore her this by stockes and by stones,And by the Goddes that in Heven dwell,Or eles were him lever soule and bones,With Pluto king, as depe ben in Hell As Tantalus: what should I more tell?When al was well, he rose and toke his leve,And she to souper came whan it was eve.With a certaine number of her own men,And with her faire nece Antigone,And other of her women nine or ten,But who was glad now, who, as trowe yee?But Troilus, that stode and might it see Throughout a litel window in a stewe,Ther he beshet, sith midnight, was in mewe,Unwist of every wight, but of Pandare.But to the point, now whan that she was come,With al joy, and al her frendes in fare,Here eme anon in armes hath her nome,And than to the souper al and some,Whan as time was, full softe they hem set,God wot there was no deinte ferre to fet.B. III. V. 610-735 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 295And after souper gonnen they to rise,At ease well, with herte full fresh and glade,And wel was him that coude best deviseTo liken her, or that her laughen made,He songe, she plaide, he told a tale of Wade:But at the last, as every thing hath end,She toke her leave, and nedes would thence wend.But O Fortune, executrice of wierdes,O influences of these hevens hie,Soth is, that under God ye ben our hierdes,Though to us beestes ben the causes wrie:This mene I now, for she gan homeward hie;But execute was all beside hir leve,At the goddes wil, for which she must bleve.The bente Mone with her hornes all pale,Saturnus and Jove, in Cancro joyned were,That such a raine from Heven gan availe,That every maner woman that was there,Had of that smoky raine a very feere:At which Pandare tho lough, and said thenne," Now were it time a lady to go henne."But good nece, if I might ever please You any thing, than pray I you," ( quod he)"To don mine herte as now so great an ease,As for to dwell here al this night with me,For why this is your owne house parde:For by my trouth, I say it nat in game,To wende as now, it were to me a shame."Creseide, which that could as much good As halfe a world, toke hede of his praire,And sens it rained, and al was in a flode,She thought, " As good chepe may I dwel here And graunt it gladly with a frendes chere,And have a thonk, as grutch and than abide,For home to go it may nat well betide. ""I wol," (quod she) " mine uncle liefe and dere,Sens that you list, it skill is to be so,I am right glad with you to dwellen here,I said but agame that I would go.""Ywis graunt mercy nece," (quod he) " tho:Were it agame or no, sothe to tell,Now am I glad, sens that you list to dwel."Thus al is wel, but tho began arightThe newe joy, and al the fest againe,But Pandarus, if goodly had he might,He would have hied her to bedde full faine,And said, " O Lord, this is an huge raine,This were a wether for to sleepen in,And that I rede us soone to begin."And nece, wote ye where I woll you lay,For that we shul not liggen ferre a sonder,And for ye neither shullen, dare I say,Here noise of raine, ne yet of thonder?By God right in my closet yonder,And I wol in that utter house alone,Ben wardain of your women everichone." And in this middle chambre that ye se,Shal your women slepen, wel and soft,And there I said, shal your selven be:And if ye liggen wel to night, come oft,And careth not what wether is aloft.The wine anone, and whan so you lest,Go we to slepe, I trowe it be the best."There n'is no more, but hereafter soneThey voide, dronke, and travers draw anone,Gan every wight that hath nought to done More in the place, out of the chambre gone,And ever more so stereliche it rone,And blewe therwith so wonderliche loude,That wel nigh no man heren other coude.Tho Pandarus her eme, right as him oughtWith women, such as were her most about,Ful glad unto her beddes side her brought,And toke his leave, and gan ful lowe lout,And said, " Here at this closet dore without,Right overtwhart, your women liggen all,That whom ye list of hem, ye may sone call .Lo, whan that she was in the closet laid,And al her women forth by ordinaunce,A bedde weren, there as I have said,There n'as no more to skippen nor to praunce,But boden go to bedde with mischaunce,If any wight stering were any where,And let hem slepen, that abedde were.But Pandarus, that wel couth eche adele,The old daunce, and every point therin,Whanthat he saw that all thing was wele,He thought he wold upon his werke begin:And gan the stewe dore al soft unpin,As still as a stone, without lenger let,By Troilus adoun right he him set.And shortly to the point right for to gone,Of al this werke he told him worde and end,And said, " Make thee redy right anone,For thou shalt into Heven blisse wend.""Now blisfull Venus, thou me grace send,"(Quod Troilus) " for never yet no dede,Had I er now, ne halfendele the drede."(Quod Pandarus) " Ne drede thee never a dele,For it shal be right as thou wolt desire,So thrive I, this night shall I make it wele,Or casten all the gruel in the fire.""Yet blisful Venus this night thou me enspire,"(Quod Troilus) " as wis as I the serve,And ever bet and bet shall till I sterve."And if I had, O Venus, ful of mirth,Aspectes badde of Mars, or of Saturne,Or thou combuste, or let were in my birth,Thy father pray, al thilke harme disturne Of grace, and that I glad ayen may turne:For love of him thou lovedst in the shawe,I mean Adon, that with the bore was slawe."Jove eke, for the love of faire Europe,The which in forme of a bulle away thou fet:Now help, O Mars, thou with thy blody cope For love of Cipria, thou me naught ne let:O Phebus, think when Daphne her selven shet Under the barke, and laurer wore for drede,Yet for her love, O help now at this nede."Mercurie, for the love of her eke,For which Pallas was with Aglauros wroth,Now helpe, and eke Diane I the beseke,That this viage be nat to the loth:O fatall sustren, which or any clothMe shapen was, my destine me sponne,So helpeth to this werke that is begonne."296 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. III. v. 736-861(Quod Pandarus) " Thou wretched mouses herte,Art thou agast so that she will the bite?Whydo on this furred cloke on thy sherte,And folow me, for I wol have the wite:But bide, and let me gon before alite,"And with that he gan undone a trappe,And Troilus he brought in by the lappe.The sterne winde so loude gan for to rout That no wight other noise might here,And they that laien at the dore without,Ful sikerly they slepten al yfere:And Pandarus, with ful sobre chere,Goth to the dore anon withouten lette,There as they lay, and softly it shette.And as he came ayen privelyHis nece awoke, and asketh, " Who goeth there?"" My owne dere nece," (quod he) " it am I,Ne wondreth not, ne have of it no fere."And nere he came, and said her in her eere:"No worde for love of God I you besech,Let no wight arise, and here of our spech.""What, which way be ye comen? benedicite,"(Quod she) " and how unwiste of hem all?""Here at this secrete trap dore," (quod he)(Quod tho Creseide) " Let me some wight call:"Eigh, God forbid that it should so fall,"(Quod Pandarus) " that ye such foly wrought,They might demen thing they never er thought.66"It is nat good a sleping hound to wake,Ne yeve a wight a cause for to devine,Your women slepen al, I undertake,So that for hem the house men might mine,And slepen wollen till the Sunne shine,And whan my tale is brought to an end,Unwist right as I came, so wol I wende." Now nece mine, ye shul well understonde,"(Quod he) " so as ye women demen all,That for to hold in love a man in honde,And him her lefe and dere herte to call,And maken him an howne above to call:I mene, as love an other in this mene while,She doth her selfe a shame, and him a gile." Now whereby that I tel you al this,Ye wote your selfe, as wel as any wight,How that your love al fully graunted is To Troilus, the worthiest wight One of the world, and therto trouth yplight,That but it were on him alone, ye n'oldHim never falsen, while ye liven should."Now stonte it thus, that sith I fro you went,This Troilus, right platly for to seine,Is through a gutter by a privy went,Into my chambre come in al this reine:Unwist of every maner wight certaine,Save of my selfe, as wisely have I joy,And by the faith I owe to Priam of Troy."And he is come in such paine and distresse,That but if he be al fully wood by this,He sodainly mote fal into woodnesse,But if God helpe: and cause why is this?He saith him tolde is of a frende of his,How that ye should loven one, that hight Horast,For sorow of which this night shal be his last. "Creseide, which that al this wonder herde,Gan sodainly about her herte cold,And with a sighe she sorowfully answerd,"Alas, I wende who so ever tales told,My dere herte woulden me nat have hold So lightly faulse: alas conceites wrong,What harm they done, for now live I to long." Horaste alas, and falsen Troilus,I know him not, God helpe me so," (quod she)" Alas, what wicked spirite told him thus,Now certes, eme, to morrow and I him se,I shal therof as full excusen me,As ever did woman, if him like,'And with that word she gan ful sore sike."O God," (quod she) " so worldly selinesse Which clerkes callen false felicite,Ymedled is with many bitternesse,Ful anguishous, than is, God wote," (quod she)" Condicion of veine prosperite,For either joyes comen nat yfere,Or eles no wight hath hem alway here."O brotil wele of mannes joy unstable,With what wight so thou be, or thou who play,Either he wote, that thou joy art mutable,Or wote it nat, it mote ben one of tway:Now if he wot it nat, how may he say,That he hath very joy and silinesse,That is of ignorance aie in derkenesse?"Now if he wote that joy is transitory,As every joy of worldly thing mote flee,Than every time he that hath in memory,The drede of lesing, maketh him that he May in no parfite sikernesse be:And if to lese his joy, he set a mite,Than semeth it, that joy is worth ful lite."Wherfore I wol define in this matere,That truely for aught I can espie,There is no very wele in this world here.But O thou wicked serpent Jalousie,Thou misbeleved, and envious folie,Why hast thou Troilus made to me untrist,That never yet agilte, that I wist? "29 (Quod Pandarus) " Thus fallen is this caas.'"Whyuncle mine," ( quod she) " who told him this,And why doth my dere herte thus, alas?""Ye wote, ye nece mine, " (quod he) " what it is,I hope al shal we wel, that is amis,For ye may quenche al this, if that you lest,And doeth right so, I hold it for the best. ""So shal I do to morrow, ywis," (quod she)"And God toforne, so that it shall suffice: ""To morow alas, that were faire," (quod he)"Nay, nay, it may nat stonden in this wise:For nece mine, this writen clerkes wise,That peril is with dretching in drawe,Nay soche abodes ben nat worth an hawe."Nece, all thing hath time I dare avow,For whan a chambre a fire is or an hall,Well more nede is, it sodainly rescow,Than to disputen and aske amonges all,Howthe candle in the strawe is fall:Ah benedicite, for al among that fare,The harme is done, and farwel feldefare.B. 111. v. 862-987 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 297" And nece mine, ne take it nat a grefe,If that ye suffre him al night in this wo,God helpe me so, ye had him never lefe,That dare I sain, now there is but we two,But wel I wote that ye wol nat so do,Ye ben to wise to done so great folie,To put his life al night in jeopardie. ""Had I him never lefe? By God I wene,Ye had never thing so lefe," (quod she. )"Nowby mythrifte, " (quod he) " that shall be sene,For sith ye make this ensample of me,If iche al night would him in sorow se,For al the treasour in the toune of Troie,I bidde God, I never mote have joie,"Now loke than, if ye that ben his love,Should put his life al night in jeopardie,For thing of nought: now by that God above Nat onely this delay cometh of folie,But of malice, if that I should nat lie:What, platly and ye suffre him in distresse,Ye neither bounte done ne gentilnesse. "(Quod tho Creseide) " Woll ye done o thing,And ye therwith shal stinte al his disease,Have here and bere to him this blew ring,For there is nothing might him better plese,Save I my selfe, ne more his herte apese,And say, my dere herte, that his sorow,Is causelesse, that shal he sene to morow."A ring," (quod he) " ye hasel wodes shaken,Ye nece mine, that ring must have a stone,That might deed men alive all maken,And such a ring trowe I that yee have none:Discrecion out of your heed is gone,29That fele I now," (quod he) " and that is routh:O time ylost, wel maiest thou cursen slouth."Wote ye not wel that noble and hie corage Ne soroweth nat, ne stinteth eke for lite,But if a foole were in a jelous rage,I n'old setten at his sorow a mite,But feste him with a fewe wordes all white,Another day whan that I might him find;But this thing stant al in another kind."This is so gentle and so tender of herte,That with his death he wol his sorrows wreke,For trust it well, how sore that him smart,He woll to you no jealous wordes speke,And forthy nece, er that his herte breke,So speke your selfe to him of this matere,For with a worde ye may his herte stere."Now have I told what peril he is in,And is coming unwist is to every wight,Ne parde harme may there be none, ne sin,I wol my self be with you all this night,Ye know eke how it is your owne knight,And that by right, ye must upon him triste,And I al prest to fetch him whan you liste."This accident so pitous was to here,And eke so like a sothe, at prime face,And Troilus her knight, to her so dere,His prive comming, and the siker place,That though she did him as than a grace,Considred all thinges as they now stood,No wonder is, sens he did al for good.Creseide answerde, " As wisely God at rest My soule bring, as me is for him wo,And, eme, ywis, faine would I don the best,If that I grace had for to do so,But whether that ye dwell, or for him go,am, till God me better minde send,At dulcarnon, right at my wittes end."(Quod Pandarus) " Ye, nece, wol ye here,Dulcarnon is called fleming of wretches,It semeth herd, for wretches wol nought lere,For very slouth, or other wilfull tetches,This is said byhem that be not worth two fetches,But ye ben wise, and that ye han on hond,N'is neither harde, ne skilfull to withstond.""Than, eme," (quod she) " doeth here as you list,But ere he come, I wol up first arise,And for the love of God, sens all my tristIs on you two, and ye beth bothe wise,So werketh now, in so discrete a wise,That I honour may have and he plesaunce,For I am here, al in your governaunce.""That is well said," (quod he) " my nece dere,There good thrifte on that wise gentill herte,But liggeth still, and taketh him right here,It nedeth nat no ferther for him start,And eche of you easeth other sorowes smart,For love of God, and Venus I the hery,For sone hope I, that we shall ben mery. "This Troilus full sone on knees him sette,Full sobrely, right by her beddes heed,And in his beste wise his lady grette:But lord so she woxe sodainliche reed,Ne though men should smiten of her heed,She could not o word a right out bring,So sodainly for his sodaine coming.""But Pandarus, that so wel coulde feleIn every thing, to play anon began,And said, " Nece se how this lord gan knele:How for your trouth, se this gentil man:And with that worde, he for a quishen ran,And saied, " Kneleth now while that thou lest,There God your hertes bring sone at rest. ”Can I naught sain, for she bad him nat rise,If sorow it put out of remembraunce,Or eles that she toke it in the wiseOf duetie, as for his observaunce,But well find I, she did him this pleasaunce,That she him kist, although she siked sore,And bad him sit adoun withouten more.(Quod Pandarus) " Now woll ye well begin,Now doth him sitte downe, good nece dereUpon your beddes side, al there within,That ech of you the bet may other here,"And with that worde he drew him to the fiere,And toke a light, and founde his countenaunce,As for to loke upon an old romaunce.Creseide that was Troilus lady right,And clere stode in a ground of sikernesse,All thought she her servant and her knight Ne should none untrouth in her gesse:That nathelesse, considered his distresse,And that love is in cause of such folie,Thus to him spake she of his jelousie.298 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. III. V. 988-1113" Lo, herte mine, as would the excellence Of love, ayenst the which that no man may,Ne ought eke goodly maken resistence,And eke bicause I felte wel and say,Your great trouth, and service every day:And that your herte al mine was, soth to saine,This drove me for to rewe upon your paine."And your goodnes have I founden alway yet,Of which, my dere herte, and al my knight,I thanke it you, as ferre as I have wit,Al can I nat as much as it were right,And I emforth my conning and my might Have, and aie shal, how sore that ye smert,Ben to you trew and hole with all mine herte."And dredelesse that shal be founden at preve,But, herte mine, what al this is to sain Shall well be told, so that ye nought you greveThough I to you right on your self complain,For there with meane I finally the pain,That halte your herte and mine in heavinesse,Fully to slaine, and every wrong redresse."My good mine, not I, for why ne how That jelousie alas, that wicked wivere,Thus causelesse is cropen into you,The harme of which I would faine delivere:Alas, that he all hole or of him some slivere Should have his refute in so digne a place,That Jove, him sone out of your herte race."But O thou, O auctour of nature,Is this an honour to thy dignite,That folke ungilty suffren here injure,And who that gilty is, al quite goeth he?O were it lefull for to plaine of the,That undeserved sufferest jalousie,O, that I would upon thee plaine and crie." Eke al my wo is this, that folke now usen To saine right thus: ye jalousie is love,And would a bushel of venim al excusen,For that a grane of love is on it shove,But that wote high Jove that sit above,If it be liker love, hate, or grame,And after that it ought beare his name." But certaine is, some maner jalousieIs excusable, more than some ywis,As whan cause is , and some such fantasieWith pite so well expressed is,That it unneth doeth or saith amis,But goodly drinketh up al his distresse,And that excuse I for the gentilnesse." And some so full of fury is, and despite,That it surmounteth his repression,But, herte mine, ye be not in that plite,That thonke I God, for which your passion,I will nat call it but illusionOf haboundance of love, and besie cure,That doth your herte this disease endure."Of whiche I am sory, but not wrothe,But for my devoir and your hertes rest,Whan so you list, by ordal or by othe,By sorte, or in what wise so you lest,For love of God, let preve it for the best,And if that I be gilty, do me die,Alas, what might I more done or seie."With that a few bright teeres new,Out of her eyen fel, and thus she seid," Now God thou wost, in thought ne dede untrewTo Troilus was never yet Creseid,"With that her heed doun in the bed she leid ,And with the shete it wrigh, and sighed sore,And held her pece, nat a word spake she more.But now help God, to quench al this sorow,So hope I that he shall, for he best may,For I have sene of a full misty morow,Folowen ful oft a mery somers day,And after winter foloweth grene May,Men sene all day, and reden eke in stories,That after sharpe shoures ben victories.This Troilus, whan he her wordes herde,Have ye no care, him list nat to slepe,For it thought him no strokes of a yerde To here or see Creseide his lady wepe,But well he felt about his herte crepe,For every teare which that Creseide astert,The crampe of death, to straine him by the herte,And in his minde he gan the time accurseThat he came there, and that he was borne,For now is wicke tourned into worse,And all that labour he hath doen beforne,He wende it lost, he thought he nas but lorne," O Pandarus," thought he, " alas, thy wile,Serveth of nought, so welaway the while."And therwithall he hing adoun his hedde,And fell on knees, and sorowfully he sight,What might he sain? he felt he n'as but dedde,For wroth was she that should his sorows light:But nathelesse, whan that he speaken might,Than said he thus, " God wote that of this game,Whan all is wist, than am I not to blame. "Therwith the sorow of his herte shet,That from his eyen fell there nat a tere,And every spirite his vigour in knet,So they astonied or oppressed were:The feling of sorrow, or of his fere,Or aught els, fledde were out of toune,A doune he fell all sodainly in swoune.This was no little sorrow for to se,But all was husht, and Pandare up as fast,"O nece, peace, or we be lost " (quod he. )Bethe nat agast, but certain at last,For this or that, he into bedde him cast,And saied, " O thefe, is this a mannes herte!"And off he rent all to his bare sherte.And saied " Nece, but an ye helpe us now,Alas, your owne Troilus is forlorne. "" Ywis so would I, and I wist how,Full fain " (quod she) " alas, that I was borne. ""Ye, nece, woll ye pullen out the thorneThat sticketh in his herte? " (quod Pandare)" Say all foryeve, and stint is all this fare.""Ye, that to me " ( quod she) "full lever were Than all the good the Sunne about goeth;"And therwithall she swore him in his eare,"Ywis my dere herte I am not wrothe,Have here my trouth, and many other othe,Now speake to me, for it am I Creseide:"But all for naught, yet might he nat abreide.B. III. V. 1114-1239 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 299Therwith his poulce, and paums of his hondesThey gan to frote, and wete his temples twain,And to deliver him fro bitter bondes,She oft him kist, and shortly for to sain,Him to rewaken she did all her pain,And at the last he gan his breath to drawe,And of his swough sone after that adawe.And gan bet minde, and reason to him take,But wonder sore he was abashed ywis,And with a sigh whan he gan bet awake He saied, " O mercy God, what thing is this? "66 Why do ye with your selven thus amis?"(Quod tho Creseide) " is this a mans game,What Troilus, woll ye do thus for shame?"And therwithal her arm over him she laied,And all foryave, and oftime him kest.He thonked her, and to her spake and saied As fell to purpose, for his hertes rest,And she to that answerde him as her lest,And with her goodly wordes him disportShe gan and oft his sorowes to comfort.(Quod Pandarus) " for ought I can aspien,This light nor I ne serven here of naught,Light is nat good for sike folkes eyen,But for the love of God, sens ye been broughtIn this good plite, let now none hevy thought Been hanged in the hertes of you twey,And bare the candle to the chimney."Soone after this, though it no nede were,Whan she soche othes as her list deviseHad of hem take, her thought tho no fere,Ne cause eke none, to bid him thens rise:Yet lesse thing than othes may suffice,In many a case, for every wight I gesse,That loveth well, meaneth but gentilnesse.But in effect she would wete anon,Of what man, and eke where, and also whyHe jalous was, sens there was cause non:And eke the signe that he toke it by,She bade him that to tell her busily,Or eles certain she bare him on honde,That this was doen of malice her to fonde.Withouten more, shortly for to sainHe must obey unto his ladies hest,And for the lasse harme he must somwhat fain,He saied her, whan she was at soche a fest,She might on him have loked at the lest,Not I nat what, all dere ynough a rishe,As he that nedes must a cause out fish.And she answerde, " Swete, all were it so What harme was that, sens I non evill meane?For by that God that bought us bothe two,In all maner thing is mine entent cleane:Soch arguments ne be nat worth a beane:Woll ye the childist jalous counterfete,Now were it worthy that ye were ybete. "Tho Troilus gan sorowfully to sike Lest she be wroth, him thought his herte deide,And saied, " Alas, upon my sorowes sike ,Have mercy, O swete herte mine Creseide:And if that in tho wordes that I seide,Be any wrong, I woll no more trespace,Doeth what you list, I am all in your grace."And she answerde, " Of gilt misericorde,That is to saine, that I foryeve all this,And evermore on this night you recorde,And bethe well ware ye do no more amis:""Nay,dere herte mine, nomore" (quod he) "ywis. ""And now" (quod she) " that I have you do smart,Foryeve it to me, mine owne swete herte."This Troilus with blisse of that surprised,Put all in Goddes hand, as he that mentNothing but well, and sodainly avised He her in his armes fast to him hent:And Pandarus, with a full good entent,Laied him to slepe, and saied, " If ye be wise,Sweveneth not now, lest more folke arise. "What might or may the sely larke say,Whan that the sparhauke hath him in his fote,I can no more, but of these ilke tway,(To whom this tale sugre be or sote)Though I tary a yeere, sometime I mote,After mine aucthour tellen hir gladnesse,As well as I have told hir hevinesse.Creseide, which that felt her thus ytake,(As writen clerkes in hir bokes old)Right as an aspen lefe she gan to quake,Whan she him felt her in his armes fold:But Troilus all hole of cares cold,Gan thanken tho the blisfull goddes seven,Through sondry pains to bring folk to Heven.This Troilus in armes gan her straine,And saied " Swete, as ever mote I gone,Now be ye caught, here is but we twaine,Now yeldeth you, for other boote is none:"To that Creseide answerde thus anone," Ne had I er now, my swete herte dere,Been yolde ywis, I were now not here."O soth is saied, that healed for to be As of a fever, or other great sicknesse,Men must drinken, as we often se,Full bitter drinke: and for to have gladnessem*n drinken of pain, and great distresse:I meane it here by, as for this aventure,That through a pain hath founden al his cure.And now swetnesse semeth far more swete,That bitternesse assaied was biforne,For out of wo in blisse now they flete,Non soch they felten sens they were borne,Now is this bet, than both two be lorne:For love of God, take every woman hede,To werken thus, if it come to the nede.Creseide all quite from every drede and tene,As she that just cause had him to trist,Made him soche feast, it joy was to sene,Whan she his trouth and clene entent wist:And as about a tree with many a twist Bitrent and writhe the swete wodbinde,Can eche of hem in armes other winde.And as the newe abashed nightingale,That stinteth first, whan she beginneth sing,Whan that she heareth any heerdes tale,Or in the hedges any wight stearing,And after siker doeth her voice outring:Right so Creseide, whan that her drede stent,Opened her herte, and told him her entent.300 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. III. v. 1240-1365And right as he that seeth his death yshapen,And dien mote, in aught that he may gesse,And sodainly rescuous doeth hem escapen,And from his death is brought in sikernesse:For all this world, in soche present gladnesse,Was Troilus, and hath his lady swete:With worse hap God let us never mete.Her armes smal, her streight backe and soft,Her sides long, fleshy, smooth, and white,He gan to stroke, and good thrift had full oft,Her snowisse throte, her brestes round and lite:Thus in this Heaven he gan him to delite,And therwithall a thousand times her kist,That what to doen for joy unneth he wist.Than saied he thus, " O Love, O Charite,Thy mother eke, Citheria the swete,That after thy selfe, next heried be she Venus I meane, the well willy planete:And next that, Imeneus I thee grete,For never man was to you goddes hold,As I, which ye have brought fro cares cold."Benigne Love, thou holy bond of thingen,Who so woll grace, and list thee not honouren,Lo, his desire woll fly withouten wingen,For n'oldest thou of bounte hem socourenThat serven best, and most alway labouren,Yet were all lost, that dare I well sain certes,But if thy grace passed our desertes."And for thou me, that lest thonke coud deserve Of them that nombred been unto thy grace,Hast holpen, there I likely was to sterve,And me bestowed in so high a place,That thilke boundes may no blisse surpace,I can no more, but laude and reverenceBe to thy bounte and thine excellence. "And therwithall Crescide anon he kist,Of whiche certain she felt no disease,And thus saied he, " Now would God I wist,Mine herte swete, how I you best might please:What man " (quod he) " was ever thus at ease,As I? On which the fairest, and the bestThat ever I seie, deineth her to rest."Here may men seen that mercy passeth right,The experience of that is felt in me,That am unworthy to so swete a wight,But herte mine, of your benignite So thinke, that though I unworthy be,Yet mote I nede amenden in some wise,Right through the vertue of your hie service."And for the love of God, my lady dere,Sith he hath wrought me for I shal you serve,As thus I meane: woll ye be my fere,To do me live, if that you list, or sterve:So teacheth me, how that I may deserve,Your thonk, so that I through mine ignoraunce,Ne doe nothing that you be displeasaunce." For certes, freshe and womanliche wife,This dare I say, that trouth and diligence,That shall ye finden in me all my life,Ne I woll not certain breaken your defence,And if I doe, present or in absence,For love of God, let slea me with the dede,If that it like unto your womanhede. "" Ywis " (quod she) " mine owne hertes lust,My ground of ease, and al mine herte dere,Graunt mercy, for on that is all my trust:But let us fall away fro this matere,For it suffiseth, this that said is here,And at o worde, without repentaunce,Welcome my knight, my peace, my suffisaunce."Of hir delite or joies, one of the leastWere impossible to my wit to say,But judgeth ye that have been at the feastOf soche gladnesse, if that him list play:I can no more but thus, these ilke tway,That night betwixen drede and sikernesse,Felten in love the greate worthinesse.O blisfull night, of hem so long isought,How blithe unto hem bothe two thou were?Why ne had I soch feast with my soule ybought?Ye, or but the least joy that was there?Away thou foule daunger and thou fere,And let him in this Heaven blisse dwell,That is so high, that all ne can I tell.But soth is, though I cannot tellen all,As can mine aucthour of his excellence,Yet have I saied, and God toforne shall,In every thing all hooly his sentence:And if that I, at loves reverence,Have any worde in eched for the best,Doeth therwithall right as your selven lest.For my wordes here, and every part,I speake hem all under correctionOf you that feling have in loves art,And put it all in your discrecion,To encrease or make diminicionOf my language, and that I you beseech,But now to purpose of my rather speech,These ilke two that ben in armes laft,So lothe to hem a sonder gon it were,That eche from other wenden been biraft,Or eles lo, this was her moste fere,That all this thing but nice dreames were,For which full oft eche of hem saied, " O swete,Clepe I you thus, or els doe I it mete. "And lord so he gan goodly on her se,That never his loke ne blent from her face,And saied, " O my dere herte, may it be That it be soth, that ye beene in this place?""Ye herte mine, God thanke I of his grace."(Quod tho Creseide) and therwithall him kist,That where her spirite was, for joy she n'ist.This Troilus full often her eyen twoGan for to kisse, and saied: " O eyen clere,It weren ye that wrought me soche wo,Ye humble nettes of my lady dere:Tho there be mercy written in your chere,God wote the text full harde is for to find,How coud ye withouten bonde me bind? "Therwith he gan her fast in armes take,And well an hundred times gan he sike,Not such sorrowfull sighes as men make For wo, or eles whan that folke be sike:But easie sighes, soche as been to like,That shewed his affection within,Of soche maner sighes could he not blin.B. III. v. 1366-1491 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 301Sone after this, they spake of sondry thingsAs fell to purpose of this aventure,And plaiyng enterchaungeden hir rings,Of which I can not tellen no scripture,But well I wot, a broche of gold and azure,In which a rubbie set was like an herte,Creseide him yave, and stacke it on his sherte.Lord, trowe ye that a coveitous wretch,That blameth love, and halte of it dispite ,That of tho pens that he can muckre and ketchEver yet yave to him soche delite,As is in love, in o poinct in some plite:Nay doubtelesse, for al so God me save So parfite joie may no nigard have.They woll say yes, but lord so they lie,Tho busie wretches full of wo and drede,That callen love a woodnesse of follie,But it shall fall hem, as I shall you rede:They shal forgon the white and eke the rede,And live in wo, there God yeve hem mischaunce,And every lover in his trouth avaunce.As would God tho wretches that despise Service of love had eares also long As had Mida, full of covetise,And thereto dronken had as hotte and strongAs Cresus did, for his affectes wronge To teachen hem, that they been in the vice,And lovers not, although they hold hem nice.These ilke two, of whom that I you say,Whan that hir hertes well assured were,Tho gonnen they to speake and to play,And eke rehearcen how, whan, and whereThey knewe first, and every wo or fereThat passed was, but all such heavinesse,I thonke it God, was tourned to gladnesse.And evermore, whan that hem fell to speake Of any thing of soche a time agone,With kissing all that tale should breake,And fallen into a new joy anone,And didden all hir might, sens they were one For to recoveren blisse, and been at ease,And praised wo with joyes counterpaise.Reason woll not that I speake of slepe,For it accordeth not to my mattere,God wote they toke of it full little kepe,But lest this night that was to hem so dere Ne should in vaine escape in no manere,It was biset in joy and businesse,Of all that souneth unto gentilnesse.But whan the co*ck, commune astrologer,Gan on his brest to beate, and after crowe,And Lucifer, the daies messanger,Gan to rise, and out his beames throwe,And estward rose, to him that could it know,Fortuna maior, than anone CreseideWith herte sore, to Troilus thus seide:"Mine hertes life, my trust, all my pleasaunce,That I was borne alas, that me is wo,That day of us mote make disceveraunce,For time it is to rise, and hence go,Or eles I am lost for ever mo:O night alas, why n'ilt thou over us hove,As long as whan Alcmena lay by Jove."O blacke night, as folke in boke rede,That shapen art by God, this world to hide At certain times, with thy derke wede,That under that men might in rest abide,Wel oughten beasts to plain, and folke to chide That there as day with labor would us brest That thou thus flieth , and deinest us not rest." Thou doest alas, to shortly thine office,Thou rakle night, there God maker of kinde,Thee for thine hast, and thine unkind vice,So fast aie to our hemisperie binde,That nevermore under the ground thou wind,For now for thou so highest out of Troie,Have I forgone thus hastely my joie."This Troilus, that with tho wordes felt,As thought him tho, for pitous distresseThe bloodie teares from his herte melt,As he that yet never soche hevinesse,Assaied had, out of so great gladnesse,Gan therewithall Creseide his lady dereIn armes strain, and hold in lovely manere."O cruell day, accuser of the joy That night and love have stole, and fast ywrien,Accursed be thy coming into Troie,For every bowre hath one of thy bright eyen:Envious day, what list thee so to spien,What hast thou lost , why seekest thou this place?There God thy light so quench for his grace."Alas, what have these lovers thee agilt?Dispitous day, thine be the paine of Hell,For many a lover hast thou slain, and wilt,Thy poring in woll no where let hem dwell:What profrest thou thy light here for to sell?Go sell it hem that smale seales grave,We woll thee not, us nedeth no day have. "And eke the sonne Titan gan he chide,And said, " O foole, well may men thee dispise,That hast all night the dawning by thy side,And sufferest her so sone up fro thee rise,For to disease us lovers in this wise:What hold your bed there, thou and thy morow,I bid God so yeve you bothe sorow."Therwith ful sore he sighed, and thus he seide" My lady right, and of my weale or wo The well and roote, O goodly mine Creseide,And shall I rise alas, and shall I so?Now fele I that mine herte mote a two;And how should I my life an houre save,Sens that with you is all the life I have?"What shall I doen? For certes I n'ot howNe whan alas, I shall the time see That in this plite I may been eft with you,And of my life God wote how shall that be,Sens that desire right now so biteth me,That I am dedde anon, but I retourne,How should I long alas, fro you sojourne?" But nathelesse, mine owne lady bright,Were it so that I wist utterly,That your humble servaunt and your knight Were in your herte yset so fermely,As ye in mine: the which truely Me leaver were than these worlds twaine,Yet should I bet enduren all my paine."302 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. III. V. 1492-1617To that Creseide answerde right anon,And with a sigh she saied, " O herte dere,The game ywis so ferforth now is gon,The first shal Phebus fallen from the sphere,And everiche egle been the dovves fere,And every rocke out of his place sterte,Er Troilus go out of Creseides herte." Ye been so depe within mine herte grave,That tho I would it turn out of my thought,As wisely veray God my soule save,To dien in the pain, I could nought:And for the love of God, that us hath wrought,Let in your brain none other fantasie So crepen, that it cause me to die." And that ye me would have as fast in mind,As I have you, that would I you beseche:And if I wist sothly that to find God might not apoint my joies to ech.But herte mine, withouten more spech,Bethe to me true, or else were it routh,For I am thine, by God and by my trouth."Bethe glad forthy, and live in sikernesse,Thus saied I never er this, ne shall to mo,And if to you it were a great gladnesse,To tourne ayen sone after that ye go,As faine would I as ye, it were so,As wisely God mine herte bring to reste: "And him in armes toke, and ofte keste.Ayenst his will, sithe it mote nedes bee,This Troilus up rose and fast him cled,And in his armes toke his ladie free,An hundred times, and on his way him sped,And with soche wordes, as his herte bled,He saied: " Fare well my dere herte swete,That God us graunt sound and sone to mete."To which no word for sorow she answerd,So sore gan his parting her distrain,And Troilus unto his paleis ferd,As wo begon as she was soth to sain,So hard him wrong of sharp desire the pain,For to been efte there he was in pleasaunce,That it may never out of his remembraunce,Retourned to his roiall paleis sone,He soft unto his bedde gan for to sinkeTo slepe long, as he was wont to doen,But all for naught, he may well ligge and winke,But slepe may there none in his herte sinke,Thinking how she, for whom desire him brend,Athousand folde was worth more than he wend.And in his thought, gan up and doun to wind Her wordes all , and every countenaunce,And fermely impressen in his mind The lest pointe that to him was pleasaunce,And verely of thilke remembraunce,Desire al newe him brende, and lust to brede ,Gan more than erst, and yet toke he none hede.Creseide also, right in the same wise,Of Troilus gan in her herte shet His worthinesse, his lust, his dedes wise,His gentilnesse, and how she with him met;Thonking love, he so well her beset,Desiring oft to have her herte dere,In soche a place as she durst make him chere.Pandare a morow, which that commen was Unto his nece, gan her faire to grete,And saied, " All this night so rained it alas,That all my drede is , that ye, nece swete,Have little leiser had to slepe and mete:Al this night "(quod he) “ hath rain so do me wake,That some of us I trowe hir heddes ake,"And nere he came and said, " How stant it nowThis merie morow, nece, how can ye fare?"Creseide answerde, " Never the bet for you,Foxe that ye been, God yeve your herte care,God helpe me so, ye caused all this fare,Trowe I," (quod she) " for all your wordes white,O who so seeth you, knoweth you full lite. "With that she gan her face for to wrie,With the shete, and woxe for shame all redde,And Pandarus gan under for to prie,And saied " Nece, if that I shall been dedde,Have here a sword, and smiteth of my hedde: "With that his arme all sodainly he thrist Under her necke, and at the last her kist.I passe all that, which chargeth naught to say,What, God foryave his death, and she also Foryave and with her uncle gan to play,For other cause was there none than so:But of this thing right to the effect to go,Whan time was, home to her house she went,And Pandarus hath fully his entent.Now tourne we ayen to Troilus,That restelesse full long a bedde lay,And prively sent after Pandarus,To him to come in all the hast he may,He come anon, not ones saied he nay,And Troilus full soberly he grete,And doune upon the beddes side him sete.This Troilus with all thaffectiounOf friendly love, that herte may devise,To Pandarus on his knees fill adoun:And er that he would of the place arise,He gan him thanken on his beste wise,An hundred time he gan the time blesse,That he was born, to bring him fro distresse.He said, " O frend of friends, the alderbest That ever was, the sothe for to tell,Thou hast in Heaven ybrought my soul at rest,Fro Phlegeton the firie flood ofHell,That though I might a thousand times sellUpon a day my life in thy service,It might not a mote in that suffice."The Sonne, which that all the world may se,Sawe never yet, my life that dare I leie,So joly, faire, and goodly, as is she Whose I am all, and shall till that I deie,And that I thus am hers, dare I seie,That thanked be the high worthinesse Of love, and eke thy kinde businesse." Thus hast thou me no little thing iyeve,For why to thee obliged be for aie,My life, and why? for through thine helpe I live,Or els dedde had I been ago many a day:"And with that worde doun in his bed he lay,And Pandarus full soberly him herde,Till all was said, and than he him answerde.B. III. v. 1618-1743 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 303"My dere frende, if I have doen for thee,In any case, God wote it is me lefe,And am as glad as man may of it be,God helpe me so, but take now not agrife,That I shall saine, beware of this mischiefe,That ther as now thou broght art to thy blis ,That thou thy selfe ne cause it not to mis."For of fortunes sharpe adversite,The worst kind of infortune is this,A man that hath been in prosperite,And it remember, whan it passed is.Thou art wise inough, forthy, doe not amis,Be not to rakell, though thou sit warme,For if thou be, certain it woll thee harme."Thou art at ease, and hold thee well therin,For al so sure as redde is every fire,As great a crafte is to kepe well as win,Bridle alway well thy speach and thy desire,For worldly joy holdeth not by a wire,That preveth well, it brest alday so ofte,Forthy neede is to werken with it softe. "(Quod Troilus) " I hope, and God to forne,My dere frende, that I shall so me bere,That in my gift there shall nothing been lorne,Ne I nill not rakle, as for to greven here;It needeth not this matter often tere,For wistest thou mine herte wel Pandare,God wote of this thou wouldest lite care.'Tho gan he tell him of his glad night,And whereof first his herte dradde, and how,And saied " Frende, as I am true knight,And by that faith I owe to God and you,I had it never halfe so hote as now,And aie the more that desire me bitethTo love her best, the more it me deliteth." I n'ot my selfe not wisely, what it is,But nowe I feele a new qualite,Ye all another than I did er this:"Pandare answerd and saied thus, " that he That ones may in Heaven blisse be,He feeleth other waies dare I lay,Than thilke time he first heard of it say."This is a worde for all, that Troilus Was never ful to speke of this matere,And for to praisen unto Pandarus The bounte of his right lady dere,And Pandarus to thanke, and maken chere,This tale was aie span newe to begin,Til that the tale departed hem a twinne.Soone after this, for that fortune it would,Ycomen was the blisfull time swete,That Troilus was warned, that he should,There he was erst, Creseide his lady mete:For which he felt his herte in joy flete,And faithfully gan all the goodes hery,And let see now, if that he can be mery,And holden was the forme, and al the giseOf her comming, and of his also,As it was erst, which nedeth nought devise,But plainly to theffect right for to go:In joy and surete Pandarus hem two Abedde brought, whan hem both lest,And thus they ben in quiet and in rest.Naught nedeth it to you sith they ben met To aske at me, if that they blithe were,For if it erst was well, tho was it bet A thousand folde, this nedeth not enquere:Ago was every sorow and every fere,And both ywis they had, and so they wend,As much joy as herte may comprehend.This n'is na litel thing of for to sey,This passeth every wit for to devise,For eche of hem gan others lust obey,Felicite, which that these clerkes wise Commenden so, ne may no here suffise,This joy ne may not ywritten be with inke,This passeth al that herte may bethinke.But cruel day, so welaway the stound,Gan for to aproche, as they by signes knew,For which hem thought felen dethes wound,So wo was hem, that chaungen gan hir hew And day they gonnen to dispise al new,Calling it traitour, envious and worse,And bitterly the daies light they corse.(Quod Troilus) " Alas, now am I ware That Pirous, and tho swifte stedes thre,Which that drawen forth the Sunnes chare,Han gon some by pathe in dispite of me,And maketh it so sone day to be,And for the Sunne him hasten thus to rise,Ne shall I never don him sacrifice."But nedes day departe hem must sone,And whan hir speech done was, and hir chere,They twin anon, as they were wont to done,And setten time of meting eft yfere:And many a night they wrought in this manere:And thus fortune a time ladde in joieCreseide, and eke this kinges son of Troie.In suffisaunce, in blisse, and in singings,This Troilus gan all his life to lede,He spendeth, justeth, and maketh feestings,He geveth freely oft, and chaungeth wede,He helde about him alway out of drede A world of folke, as come him well of kind,The freshest and the best he coulde find.That such a voice was of him, and a steven,Throughout the world, of honour and largesse,That it up ronge unto the yate of Heven,And as in love he was in such gladnesse,That in his herte he demed, as I gesse,That there n'is lover in this world at ease,So wel as he, and thus gan love him please.The goodlihede or beaute, which the kind,In any other lady had ysette,Can not the mountenaunce of a gnat unbind,About his herte , of al Creseides nette:He was so narow ymasked, and yknette,That is undon in any maner side,That n'il nat ben, for ought that may betide.And by the hond full ofte he would take This Pandarus, and into gardin lede,And such a feest, and such a processe make Him of Creseide, and of her womanhede,And of her beaute, that withouten drede,It was an Heven his wordes for to here,And than he woulde sing in this manere:304 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. III. v. 1744-1820"Love, that of erth and sea hath governaunce,Love, that his heestes hath in Heven hie,Love, that with an holsome aliaunce,Halte people joyned, as him list hem gie,Love, that knitteth law and companie,And couples doth in vertue for to dwell,Binde this accord, that I have told and tell ."That, thatthe world with faith, which that is stable,Diverseth so his staundes according,That elements that bethe discordable,Holden a bonde, perpetually during,That Phebus mote his rosy day forth bring,And that the Mone hath lordship over the nights,Al this doeth Love, aie heried be his mights."That, that the sea, that greedy is to flowen,Constraineth to a certaine ende soHis floodes, that so fiercely they ne growenTo drenchen earth and all for evermo,And if that Love aught let his bridle go,All that now loveth asunder should lepe,And lost were all, that Love halt now to hepe."So would to God, that authour is of kind,That with his bond, Love of his vertue list To searchen hertes all, and fast bind,That from his bond no wight the wey out wist,And hertes cold, hem would I that hem twist,To maken hem love, and that list hem aie rewOn hertes sore, and keep hem that ben trew."In all needes for the townes werreHe was, and aye the first in armes dight,And certainely, but if that bookes erre,Save Hector, most ydradde of any wight,And this encrease of hardinesse and might Come him of love, his ladies thanke to win,That altered his spirit so within.In time of truce on hauking would he ride,Or els hunt bore, beare, or lioun,The small beastes let he gon beside,And whan that he come riding into the toun,Full oft his lady from her window doun,As fresh as faucon, comen out of mue,Full redely was him goodly to salue.And most of love and vertue was his speech,And in dispite had all wretchednesse,And doubtlesse no need was him beseech To honouren hem that had worthinesse,And easen hem that weren in distresse,And glad was he, if any wight well ferde That lover was, whan he it wist or herde.For sooth to saine, he lost held every wight,But if he were in Loves high servise,I meane folke that aught it ben of right,And over all this, so well could he devise Of sentement, and in so uncouth wise All his array, that every lover thought,That al was wel, what so he said or wrought.And though that he be come of blood roiall,Him list of pride at no wight for to chace,Benigne he was to ech in generall,For which he gate him thank in every place:Thus wolde Love, yheried by his grace,That pride, and ire, envie, and avarice,He gan to flie, and every other vice.Thou lady bright, the doughter of Diane,Thy blind and winged son eke dan Cupide,Ye sustren nine eke, that by Helicone In hill Pernaso, listen for to abide,That ye thus ferre han deined me to gide,I can no more, but sens that ye woll wend,Ye heried ben for aye withouten end.Through you have I said fully in my song Theffect and joy of Troilus servise,All be that there was some disease among,As mine authour listeth to devise,My thirde booke now end I in this wise,And Troilus in lust and in quiete,Is with Creseide his owne herte swete.EXPLICIT LIBER TERTIUS.PROEME.B. IV. v. 1-39BUT all too little , welaway the whileLasteth such joy, ythonked bee Fortune,That seemeth truest, whan she woll begile,And can to fooles her songe entune,That she hem hent, that blent, traitor commune:And whan a wight is from her whele ythrow,Than laugheth she, and maketh him the mowe.From Troilus she gan her bright face Away to writhe, and tooke of him none hede,And cast him clene out of his ladies grace,And on her whele she set up Diomede,For which mine herte right now ginneth blede,And now my pen alas, with which I write,Quaketh for drede of that I must endite.For how Creseide Troilus forsooke,Or at the least, how that she was unkind,Mote henceforth ben matter of my booke,As writen folk through which it is in mind,Alas, that they should ever cause findTo speake her harme, and if they on her lie,Ywis hemselfe should have the villanie.O ye Herines, nightes doughters three,That endelesse complaine ever in paine,Megera, Alecto, and eke Tesiphonee,Thou cruell Mars eke, father of Quirine,This ilke fourth booke helpe me to fine,So that the loos, and love, and life yfere Of Troilus be fully shewed here.INCIPIT LIBER QUARTUS.LIGGING in host, as I have said ere this,The Greekes strong, about Troy toun,Befell, that whan that Phebus shining is Upon the breast of Hercules Lion,That Hector, with many a bold baron,Cast on a day with Greekes for to fight,As he was wont, to greve hem what he might.Not I how long or short it was bitweneThis purpose, and that day they fighten ment,But on a day well armed bright and shene,Hector and many a worship knight out wentB. IV. V. 40-165 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 305With speare in honde, and big bowes bent,And in the berde withouten lenger lette,Hir fomen in the field anone hem mette.The longe day with speares sharpe yground,With arrows, dartes, swerds, and maces fell,They fight, and bringen horse and man to ground And with hir axes out the braines quell,But in the last shoure, sooth to tell,The folke of Troy hem selven so misleden,That with the worse at night home they fleden.At whiche day was taken Anthenor,Maugre Polimidas, or Monesteo,Xantippe, Sarpedon, and Palestinor,Polite, or eke the Troyan dan Rupheo,And other lasse folke, as Phebuseo,So that for harm that day the folk of Troy Dreden to lese a great part of hir joy.Of Priamus was yeve at Grekes request A time of truce, and tho they gonnen trete Hir prisoners to chaungen most and lest,And for the surplus yeven sommes grete,This thing anon was couth in every strete,Both in th'assiege, in toune, and every where,And with the first it came to Calcas ere.Whan Calcas knew this tretise should holdIn consistorie among the Greekes sooneHe gan in thringe, forth with lordes old,And set him there as he was wont to done,And with a chaunged face hem bade a boone For love of God, to done that reverence,To stinten noise, and yeve him audience.Than said he thus, " Lo, lordes mine I wasTroyan, as it is knowen out of drede,And if that you remember, I am Calcas,That alderfirst yave comfort to your nede,And tolde well howe that you should spede,For dredelesse through you shall in a stound Ben Troy ybrent, and beaten doun to ground."And in what forme, or in what manner wiseThis toun to shend, and all your lust atcheve,Ye have ere this well herde me devise:This know ye my lordes, as I leve,And for the Greekes weren me so leve,I came my selfe in my proper personeTo teach in this how you was best to done."Having unto my treasour, ne my rent,Right no regard in respect of your ease,Thus all my good I left, and to you went,Wening in this you lordes for to please,But all that losse ne doth me no disease,I vouchsafe, as wisely have I joy,For you to lese all that I have in Troy."Save of a doughter that I left, alas,Sleeping at home, whan out of Troy I stert,O sterne, O cruell father that I was,How might I have in that so hard an herte?Alas, that I ne had brought her in my shert,For sorow of which I wol nat live to morow,But if ye lordes rew upon my sorow."For because that I saw no time ere nowHer to deliver, iche holden have my pees,But now or never, if that it like you,may her have right now doubtlees:O helpe and grace, among all this prees,Rew on this old caitife in distresse,Sith I through you have all this hevinesse."Ye have now caught, and fettred in prison Troyans enow, and if your willes be,My child with one may have redemption,Now for the love of God, and of bounte,One of so fele alas, so yefe him me:What need were it this praier for to werne,Sith ye shull have both folk and toun as yerne."On perill of my life I shall nat lie,Apollo hath me told full faithfully,I have eke found by astronomie,By sort, and by augurie truely,And dare well say the time is fast by,That fire and flambe on all the toun shall sprede,And thus shall Troy turne to ashen dede."For certaine, Phebus and Neptunus both,That makeden the walles of the toun,Ben with the folke of Troy alway so wroth,That they woll bring it to confusioun Right in despite of king Laomedoun,Because he nolde paien hem hir hire,The toune of Troy shall ben set on fire . "Telling his tale alway this olde grey,Humble in his speech and looking eke,The salte teares from his eyen twey,Full faste ronnen doune by either cheke,So long he gan of succour hem beseke,That for to heale him of his sorowes sore,They gave him Antenor withouten more.But who was glad enough, but Calcas tho,And of this thing full soone his nedes leide On hem that shoulden for the treatise go And hem for Antenor full ofte preide,To bringen home king Thoas and Creseide,And whan Priam his safegarde sent,Th'embassadours to Troy streight they went.The cause I told of hir comming, the old Priam the king, full soone in generall,Let here upon his parliment hold,Of which th'effect rehearsen you I shall:Th'embassadours ben answerde for finall,The eschaunge of prisoners, and all this nede Hem liketh well, and forth in they procede.This Troilus was present in the place,When asked was for Antenor Creseide,For which full sone chaungen gan his face,As he that with tho wordes well nigh deide,But nathelesse he no word to it seide,Lest men should his affection espie,With mannes herte he gan his sorowes drie.And full of anguish and of gresly drede,Abode what other lords would to it sey,And if they would graunt, as God forbede,Th'eschange of her, than thought he thinges twey:First, how to save her honour, and what weyHe might best th'eschaunge of her withstond,Full fast he cast how all this might stond.Love him made all prest to done her bide,And rather dien than she should go,But Reason said him on that other side,Withouten assent of her do nat so, 66X306 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. IV. V. 166-291Lest for thy werke she would be thy fo,And saine, that through thy medling is yblow Your brother love, there it was not erst know. "For which he gan deliberen for the best,And though the lordes would that she went,He would let hem graunt what hem lest,And tell his lady first what that they ment,And whan that she had said him her entent,Thereafter would he worken also blive,Tho all the world ayen it wolde strive.Hector, which that well the Greekes herd,For Antenor how they would have Creseide,Gan it withstond, and soberly answerd:" Sirs, she n'is no prisoner," (he seide)" I n'ot on you who that this charge leide,But on my part, ye may eftsoones hem tell,We usen here no women for to sell. "The noise of people up stert than atones,As brimme as blase of straw yset on fire,For infortune it would for the nones,They shoulden hir confusion desire: [enspire"Hector," (quod they) " what ghost may youThis woman thus to shild, and done us lese Dan Antenore, a wrong way now ye chese." That is so wise, and eke so bold baroun,And we have need of folke, as men may see,He is one of the greatest of this toun:O Hector, lette, thy fantasies bee,O king Priam," ( quod they ) " thus segge wee,That all our voice is to forgone Creseide,"And to deliver Antenor they preide.O Juvenall lord, true is thy sentence,That little wenen folke what is to yerne,That they ne finden in hir desire offence,For cloud of errour ne lette hem discerne What best is, and lo, here ensample as yerne:These folke desiren now deliveranceOf Antenor, that brought hem to mischaunce.For he was after traitour to the tounOf Troy alas, they quitte him out to rathe,O nice world, so thy discretioun,Creseide, which that never did hem scathe,Shall now no lenger in her blisse bathe,But Antenor, he shall come home to toun,And she shall out, thus said heere and houn.For which delibered was by parliment,For Antenor to yeelden out Creseide,And it pronounced by the president,Though that Hector nay full oft praid,And finally, what wight that it withsaid,It was for naught, it must ben, and should,For substaunce of the parliment it would.Departed out of the parliment echone,This Troilus, without wordes mo,Unto his chamber spedde him fast alone,But if it were a man of his or two,The which he bad out faste for to go,Because he would slepen, as he said,And hastely upon his bedde him laid.And as in winter, leaves ben biraft Ech after other, till trees be bare,So that there n'is but barke and branch ylaft,Lithe Troilus, biraft of ech welfare,Ybounden in the blacke barke of care,Disposed wode out of his witte to breide,So sore him sate the chaunging of Creseide.He rist him up, and every dore he shette,And window eke, and tho this sorrowfull manUpon his beddes side doune him sette,Full like a dead image, pale and wan,And in his breast the heaped wo beganOut brust, and he to worken in this wise In his woodnesse, as I shall you devise.Right as the wilde bull beginneth spring Now here, now there, idarted to the herte,And of his death roreth, in complaining,Right so gan he about the chamber stert,Smiting his breast aye with his fistes smert,His head to the wall, his body to the ground,Full oft he swapt, himselven to confound.His eyen two for pity of his herte Out stremeden as swift as welles twey,The highe sobbes of his sorrowes smert His speech him reft, unnethes might he sey," O death alas, why n'ilt thou do me dey?Accursed be that day which that nature Shope me to ben a lives creature. "But after whan the fury and all the rage Which that his heart twist, and fast threst,By length of time somewhat gan assuage,Upon his bed he laid him doun to rest,But tho begon his teares more out to brest,That wonder is the body may suffiseTo halfe this wo, which that I you devise.Than said he thus: " Fortune alas, the while What have I done? what have I thee agilt?How mightest thou for routhe me begile?Is there no grace and shall I thus be spilt?Shall thus Creseide away for that thou wilt?Alas, how mightest thou in thine herte find To ben to me thus cruell and unkind?" Have I thee nat honoured all mylive,As thou well wotest, above the Gods all?Why wilt thou me fro joy thus deprive?O Troilus, what may men now thee call,But wretch of wretches, out of honour fall Into misery, in which I woll bewaile Creseide alas, till that the breath me faile."Alas, Fortune, if that my life injoy Displeased had unto thy foule envie,Why ne haddest thou my father king of Troy Biraft the life, or done my brethren die,Or slaine my selfe, that thus complaine and crie?I combre world, that may of nothing serve,But ever dye, and never fully sterve."If that Creseide alone were me laft,Naught raught I whider thou woldest me stere,And her alas, than hast thou me byraft:But evermore, lo, this is thy manere,To reve a wight that most is to him dere,To preve in that thy gierfull violence:Thus am lost, there helpeth no defence."O very Lord, O Love, O God alas,That knowest best mine herte and al my thought,What shal my sorowfull life done in this caas,If I forgo that I so dere have bought,B. IV. V. 292-417 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 307Sens ye Creseide and me have fully brought Into your grace, and both our hertes sealed,How may ye suffer alas, it be repealed?"What I may done, I shal while I may dure On live, in turment and in cruell paine,This infortune, or this disaventure,Alone as I was borne I woll complaine,Ne never woll I seene it shine or raine,But end I woll as Edippe in derkenesse My sorrowfull life, and dien in distresse."O wery ghost, that errest to and fro,Why nilt thou flien out of the wofullest Body, that ever might on grounde go?O soule, lurking in this wofull neste,Fly forthout mine herte, and let it breste,And follow alway Creseide thy lady dere,Thy right place is now no lenger here."O wofull eien two, sens your disportWas all to seene Creseides eyen bright,What shall ye done, but for my discomfort Stoden for naught, and wepen out your sight,Sens she is queint, that wont was you to light,In veine from this forth have I eyen tweyYformed, sens your vertue is awey."O my Creseide, O lady soveraine Of this wofull soule that thus crieth,Who shall now yeven comfort to thy paine?Alas, no wight, but whan mine herte dieth,Myspirit, which that so unto you hieth,Receive in gree, for that shall aye you serve,Forthy no force is, though the body sterve."O ye lovers, that high upon the whele Ben sette of Fortune in good aventure,God lene that ye finded aye love of stele,And long mote your life in joy endure,But whan ye comen by my sepulture,Remembreth that your fellow resteth there,For I loved eke, though I unworthy were."O old unholsome and mislived man,Calcas I meane, alas, what eiled theeTo ben a Greek, sens thou art borne Trojan?O Calcas, which that wolt my bane be,In cursed time was thou borne for me,As would blissfull Jove for his joy,That I thee had where I would in Troy."A thousand sighes hotter than the glede,Out of his breast, each after other went,Medled with plaint new, his wo to fede,For which his wofull teares never stent,And shortly so his sorowes him to rent,And woxe so mate, that joy or pennaunce He feeleth none, but lieth in a traunce.Pandare, which that in the parliment Had heard what every lord and burgess seid,And how full graunted was by one assent,For Antenor to yelden out Creseid:Gan well nigh wood out of his wit to breid,So that for wo he niste what he ment,But in a rage to Troilus he went.A certaine knight, that for the time kept The chamber dore, undid it him anone,And Pandare, that full tenderly wept,Into the derke chamber as still as stone,Toward the bedde gan softly to gone,So confuse, that he n'ist what to say,For very wo, his wit was nigh away.And with chere and looking all to torne,For sorow of this, and with his armes folden,He stood this wofull Troilus beforne,And on his pitous face he gan beholden,But so oft gan his herte colden,Seeing his friend in wo, whose heavinesseHis herte slough, as thought him for distresse.This wofull wight, this Troilus that felt His friend Pandare ycomen him to see,Gan as the snow ayenst the Sunne melt,For which this wofull Pandare of pite Gan for to weepe as tenderly as he:And speechlesse thus ben these ilke twey,That neither might for sorow o word sey.But at the last, this wofull Troilus,Nigh dead for smert, gan bresten out to rore,And with a sorrowfull noise he said thusAmong his sobbes and his sighes sore,"Lo, Pandare I am dead withouten more,Hast thou not heard at parliament," he seide,"For Antenor how lost is my Creseide?"This Pandare full dead and pale of hew,Full pitously answerde, and said, " Yes,As wisely were it false as it is trew,That I have heard, and wote all how it is,O mercy God, who would have trowed this,Who would have wend, that in so little a throwFortune our joy would have overthrow."For in this world there is no creature,As to my dome, that ever saw ruine Straunger than this, through case or aventure,But who may all eschue or all devine,Such is this world, forthy I thus define:Ne trust no wight to find in Fortune Aye property, her yeftes ben commune."But tell me this, why thou art now so mad To sorrowen thus, why list thou in this wise,Sens thy desire all holy hast thou had,So that by right it ought inough suffise,But I that never felt in my serviseAfriendly chere or looking of an eie,Let me thus wepe and wailen till I die."And over al this, as thou wel wost thy selve,This toune is full of ladies all about,And to my dome, fairer than such twelveAs ever she was, shal I finden in some rout,Ye one or twey, withouten any dout:Forthy be glade mine owne dere brother,If she be lost, we shall recover another."What God forbid alway that ech pleasaunceIn o thing were, and in none other wight,If one can sing, another can well daunce,If this be goodly, she is glad and light,And this is faire, and that can good aright,Ech for his vertue holden is for dere,Both heroner and faucon for rivere."And eke as writ Zansis, that was full wise,The new love out chaseth oft the old:And upon new case lieth new avise,Thinke eke thy selfe to saven art thou hold,x 2308 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. IV. V. 418-543Such fire by processe shall of kind cold,For sens it is but casuell pleasaunce,Some case shall put it out of remembraunce." For also sure as day commeth after night,The newe love, labour or other wo,Or eles selde seeing of a wight,Done old affections all overgo,And for thy part, thou shalt have one oftho To abredge with thy bitter paines smart,Absence of her shall drive her out of herte."These wordes saied he for the nones allTo helpe his friend, least he for sorow deide,For doubtlesse to doen his wo to fall,He raught nat what unthrift that he seide:But Troilus that nigh for sorrow deide,Tooke little hede of all that ever he ment, 'One eare it heard, at the other out it went.But at the last he answerd, and said, " Friend,This lechcraft, or healed thus to be,Were well fitting, if that I were a fiend,To traien a wight, that true is unto me,I pray God let this counsaile never ythe,But doe me rather sterve anon right here,Ere thus I doen, as thou me wouldest lere."She that I serve ywis, what so thou sey,To whom mine herte enhabite is by right,Shall have me holy hers, till that I dey,For Pandarus, sens I have trouth her hight,I woll nat ben untrue for no wight,But as her man I woll aye live and sterve,And never none other creature serve." And there thou saiest thou shalt as fair findAs she, let be, make no comparison,To creature yformed here by kind,O leve Pandare, in conclusion,I woll nat been of thine opinionTouching all this, for which I thee beseech,So hold thy peace, thou sleest me with thy speech."Thou biddest me I should love anotherAll freshly new, and let Creseide go,It lithe nat in my power, leve brother,And though I might, yet would I nat do so,But canst thou plaien raket to and fro,Nettle in dock out, now this, now that, Pandare?Now foule fall her for thy wo that care." Thou farest eke by me Pandarus,As he, that whan a wight is wo bigon,He commeth to him apace, and saith right thus,'Thinke not on smart, and thou shalt feele none,'Thou maiest me first transmewen in a stone,And reve me my passions all,Or thou so lightly doe my wo to fall."The death may well out of my brest depart The life, so long may this sorow mine:But fro my soule shall Creseides dartOut nevermore, but doune with Proserpine Whan I am dead, I woll won in pine,And there I woll eternally complainMy wo, and how that twinned be we twain." Thou hast here made an argument full fine,How that it should lasse paine beCreseide to forgone, for she was mine,And lived in ease and in felicite:Why gabbest thou, that saidest unto me,That him is wors that is fro wele ithrow,Than he had erst none of that wele know?"But tel me now, sen that thee thinketh so light To chaungen so in love aye to and fro,Why hast thou nat doen busily thy mightTo chaungen her, that doth thee all thy wo?Why nilt thou let her fro thine herte go?Why nilt thou love another lady swete,That may thine herte setten in quiete?"If thou hast had in love aye yet mischance,And canst it not out of thine herte drive,I that lived in lust and in pleasanceWith her, as much as creature on live,How would I that foryet, and that so blive?O where hast thou ben hid so long in mew,Thou canst so well and formeliche argew." Nay God wot, naught worth is al thy rede,For which, for what that ever may befall,Withouten wordes mo I woll ben dede:O Death, that ender art of sorrowes all ,Come now, sens I so oft after thee call,For sely is that death, sooth for to saine,That oft ycleped, commeth and endeth paine."Well wote I, while my life was in quiete,Ere thou me slue, I would have yeven hire,But now thy comming is to me so swete,That in this world I nothing so desire:O Death, sens with this sorow I am a fire,Thou either do me anone in teares drench,Or with thy cold stroke mine herte quench."Sens that thou slaiest so fele in sundry wiseAyenst hir will, unpraied day and night,Doe me at my request this servise,Deliver now the world, so doest thou right,Of me that am the wofullest wight That ever was, for time is that I sterve,Sens in this world of right naught do I serve. "This Troilus in teares gan distill As licour out of allambike full fast,And Pandarus gan hold his tongue still,And to the ground his eyen downe he cast,But nathelesse, thus thought he at last ,"What parde, rather than my fellow dey,Yet shall I somewhat more unto him sey."And said, " Friend, sens thou hast such distresse,And sens thee list mine argumentes blame,Why n'ilt thy selven helpe doen redresse,And with thy manhood letten all this game,Go ravish her, ne canst thou not for shame?And either let her out of toune fare,Or hold her still, and leave thy nice fare.."Art thou in Troy, and hast non hardiment To take a wight, whiche that loveth thee,And would her selven been of thine assent,Now is nat this a nice vanite?Rise up anon, and let this weeping be,And sith thou art a man, for in this hour I woll been dead, or she shall ben our. "To this answerde him Troilus full soft,And saied, " Ywis, my leve brother dere ,All this have I my selfe yet thought full oft,And more thing than thou devisest here,B. IV. V. 544-669 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 309But why this thing is laft, thou shalt wel here,And whan thou hast me yeven audience,Thereafter mayst thou tell all thy sentence.First, sin thou wost this toun hath al this werreFor ravishing of women so by might,It should not been suffred me to erre,As it stont now, ne done so great unright,I should have also blame of every wight,My fathers graunt if that I so withstood,Sens she is chaunged for the tounes good."I have eke thought, so it were her assent,To aske her of my father of his grace,Than thinke I, this were her accusem*nt,Sens well I wot I may her nat purchace,For sens my father in so high a place As parliment, hath her eschaunge ensealed,He n'ill for me his letter be repealed."Yet drede I most her herte to perturbe With violence, if I doe such a game,For if I would it openly disturbe,It must be disclaunder to her name,And me were lever die than her diffame,As n'old God, but I should have Her honour, lever than my life to save."Thus am I lost, for aught that I can see,For certaine is that I am her knight,I must her honour lever have than meIn every case, as lover ought of right,Thus am I with desire and reason twight:Desire for to disturben her me redeth,And reason n'ill not, so mine herte dredeth. "Thus weeping, that he could never cease,He said, " Alas, how shall I wretche fare,For well fele I alway my love encrease,And hope is lasse and lasse Pandare,Encreasen eke the causes of my care,So welaway, why n'ill mine herte brest,For as in love there is but little rest."Pandare answerde, " Friend thou mayst for me Done as thee list, but had I it so hote,And thine estate, she should go with me,Tho all this toun cried on this thing by note,I n'old set at all that noise a grote,For whan men have cried, than wol they roun,Eke wonder last but nine deies never in toun."Devine not in reason aye so deepe,Ne curtesly, but helpe thy selfe anone,Bet is that other than thy selven wepe,And namely, sens ye two ben al one,Rise up, for by mine head she shall not gone,And rather ben in blame a little yfound,Than sterve here as a gnat withouten wound."It is no shame unto you, ne no vice,Her to withholden, that ye loveth most,Peraventure she might hold thee for nice,To letten her go thus unto the Grekes hoste,Think eke Fortune, as well thy selven woste,Helpeth hardie man unto his emprise,And weiveth wretches for hir cowardise."And though thy lady would alite her greve,Thou shalt thy self thy peace hereafter make,But as to me certaine I cannot leve,That she would it as now for evill take,Why should than for feare thine herte quake,Thinke how Paris hath, that is thy brother,A love, and why shal thou not have another?"And Troilus, o thing I dare thee swer,That if Creseide, which that is thy lefe,Now loveth thee, as well as thou dost her,God helpe me so, she nill not take a grefe,Though thou do bote anon in this mischefe,And if she wilneth fro thee for to passe,Than is she false, so love her well the lasse."Forthy, take herte, and think right as a knight,Through love is broken alday every law,Kith now somwhat thy courage and thy might,Have mercie on thy selfe for any awe,Let not this wretched wo thine herte gnawe,But manly set the world on sixe and seven,And if thou die a martir, go to Heaven."I woll my selfe ben with thee at this dede,Though I and all my kin upon a stound,Should in a strete, as dogs, liggen dede,Through girt with many a bloodie wound,In every case I woll a friend be found,And if thee listeth here sterven as a wretch,Adieu, the devill speede him that retch."This Troilus gan with tho wordes quicken,And saied, " Friend, graunt mercie, I assent,But certainly, thou mayst nat so me pricken,Ne paine none ne may me so torment,That for no case it is not mine entent,At shorte wordes, though I dien should,To ravishen her, but if her selfe it would. ""Why, so mean I" (quod Pandarus) " al this day But tell me than, hast thou her well assaid,That sorowestthus?" and he answerde him " Nay.""Wherof art thou" (quod Pandare) " than dismaid,That noste not that she woll ben evill apaid To ravishen her, sens thou hast not ben there,But if that Jove told it in thine eare?"Forthy, rise up as naught ne were, anone,And wash thy face, and to the king thou wend,Or he may wondren whider thou art gone,Thou must with wisdome him and other blend,Or upon case he may after thee sendOr thou beware, and shortly brother dere Be glad, and let me werke in this mattere."For I shall shape it so, that sikerly Thou shalt this night somtime in some manereCome speaken with thy ladie prively,And by her wordes eke, as by her chere,Thou shalt full soone aperceive and well here Of her entent, and in this case the best,And fare now well, for in this point I rest. "The swifte fame, whiche that fals thingesEquall reporteth, like the thinges true,Was throghout Troy yfled, with prest winges,Fro man to man, and made his tale all new,How Calcas doughter with her bright hew,At parliment without words more,Ygraunted was in chaunge of Antenore.The whiche tale anon right as Creseide Had heard, she, which that of her father rought (As in this case) right naught, ne whan he deide,Full busily to Jupiter besoughtTROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. IV. V. 670-795310Yeve him mischance, that this tretis brought:But shortly, least these tales sooth were, She durst at no wight asken it for fere.As she that had her herte and all her mindOn Troylus yset so wonder fast, That al this world ne might her love unbind,Ne Troylus out of her herte cast, She would been his while that her life may last, And she thus brenneth both in love and drede, So that she n'ist what was best to rede.But as men seene in toune, and all about, That women usen hir friends to visite, So to Creseide of women came a rout, For pitous joy, and wenden her delite, And with hir tales dere ynough a mite, These women, which that in the citie dwell, They set hem doune, and sayd as I shall tell.(Quod, first that one) " I amglad truely, Because of you, that shall your father see,"Another sayd, " Ywis, so am not I , For all too little hath she with us be: " (Quod tho the third) " I hope ywis that she Shall bringen us the peace on every side, That whan she goth , almighty God her gide."Tho wordes and tho womannish thinges She herd hem right as thogh she thence were: For God it wote, her herte on other thing is,Although the body sat emong hem there, Her advertence is alway els where, For Troilus full fast her soule sought, Withouten word, on him alway she thought.These women that thus wenden her to please,About naught gan all hir tales spend, Such vanitie ne can done her none ease, As she that all this meane while brendOf other passion than they wend, So that she felt almost her herte dieFor wo, and werie of that companie.For which might she no lenger restraineHer teares, they gan so up to well,That gave signes of her bitter paine, In which her spirit was, and must dwell, Remembring her from Heaven unto which HellShe fallen was, sens she forgo the sightOf Troilus, and sorrowfully she sight.And thilke fooles, sitting her about,Wende that she wept and sighed sore, Because that she should out of the routDeparten, and never play with hem more,And they that had knowen her of yore, See her so wepe, and thoght it was kindnesse,And ech of hem wept eke for her distresse.And busily they gonnen hir to comforten On thing God wot, on which she litle thoght,And with hir tales wenden her disporten,And to be glad they ofte her besought, But such an ease therwith they her wrought, Right as a man is eased for to fele, For ache of head, to clawen him on his hele.But after all this nice vanitie, They took hir leve, and home they wenten all,Creseide full of sorrowfull pitie, Into her chamber up went out of the hall,And on her bedde she gan for dead to fall,In purpose never thence for to rise,And thus she wrought, as I shall you devise.Hir ownded hair, that sonnish was of hew, She rent, and eke her fingers long and smale She wrong full oft, and bad God on her rew, And with the death to do bote on her bale,Her hewe whylom bright, that tho was pale, Bare witnesse of her wo, and her constreint; And thus she spake, sobbing in her compleint."Alas," (quod she) " out of this regioun, I wofull wretch and infortuned wight, And borne in cursed constellatioun,Mote gon, and thus departen fro my knight, Wo worth alas, that ilke daies light, On which I saw him first with eyen twaine, That causeth me, and I him all this paine."Therwith the teares from her eyen two Doune fell , as shoure in April swithe, Her white breast she bet, and for the wo, After the death she cried a thousand sithe,Sens he that wont her wo was for to lithe,She mote forgone, for which disaventure She held her selfe a forlost creature.She said, " How shall he done and I also How should I live , if that I from him twin?O dere herte eke that I love so, Who shall that sorow slaen, that ye ben in? O Calcas, father, thine be all this sin: O mother mine, that cleped wert Argive, Wo worth that day that thou me bare on live."To what fine should I live and sorowen thus? How should a fish withouten water dure? What is Creseide worth from Troilus?How should a plant or lives creature Live withouten his kind noriture?For which full oft a by word here I sey,That rootlesse mote greene soone dey."I shal done thus, sens neither sword ne dartDare I none handle, for the cruelte, That ilke day that I fro you depart, If sorow of that n'ill nat my bane be, Than shall no meat ne drinke come in me, Till I my soule out of my brest unsheath, And thus my selven woll I done to death."And Troilus my clothes everychone Shull blacke ben, in tokening , herte swete,That I am as out of this world agone,That wont was you to set in quiete,And of mine order aye till death me mete,The observaunce ever in your absence, Shall sorrow ben complaint and abstinence."Mine herte and eke the woful ghost therein Bequeath I with your spirit to complaine Eternally, for they shall never twin, For though in yearth twinned be we twaine,Yet in the field of pitie , out of paine, That hight Elisos, shall we ben yfere, As Orpheus and Erudice his fere."Thus, herte mine, for Antenor alas,I soone shall be chaunged, as I wene, But how shull ye done in this sorowfull caas, How shall your tender herte this sustene?B. IV. V. 796-921 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 311But herte mine, foryet this sorow and tene,And me also, for soothly for to sey,So ye well fare, I retche not to dey. "How might it ever redde ben or ysong The plaint that she made in her distresse,I n'ot, but as for me my little tong If I discriven would her heavinesse,It should make her sorrow seeme lesseThan that it was, and childishly deface Her high complaint, and therefore I it pace.Pandare, which that sent from TroilusWas unto Creseide, as ye have heard devise,That for the best it was recorded thus,And he full glad to done him that servise,Unto Creseide in a full secret wise,There as she lay in tourment and in rage,Came her to tell all holy his message.And fond that she her selven gan to greteFull pitously, for with her salte teres,Her breast and face ybathed was full wete,Her mightie tresses of her sonnish heresUnbroiden, hangen all about her eares,Which yave him very signe of mattire Of death, which that her herte gan desire.Whan she him saw, she gan for sorrow anon Her tearie face atwixt her armes hide,For which this Pandare is so wo bigon,That in the hous he might unneth abide,As he that felt sorrow on every side,For if Creseide had erst complained sore,Tho gan she plaine a thousand times more.And in her aspre plaint, thus she seide:"Pandare, first of joies more than two Was cause, causing unto me Creseide,That now transmued ben in cruell wo,Whether shall I say to you welcome or no?That alderfirst me brought unto servise Of love alas, that endeth in such wise."Endeth than love in wo? Ye or men lieth ,And all worldly blisse, as thinketh me,The end of blisse aye sorrow it occupieth,And who troweth not that it so be,Let him upon me wofull wretche see,That my selfe hate, and aye my birth curse,Feeling alway, fro wicke I go to worse."Who so me seeth, he seeth sorow all atonis,Paine, tourment, plaint, wo and distresse,Out of my wofull body harme there none is,As langour, anguish, cruell bitternesse,Annoy, smart, drede, furie, and eke sicknesse,I trow ywis from Heaven teares raine,For pitie of my aspre and cruell paine.""And thou my suster, full of discomfort,"(Quod Pandarus) " what thinkest thou to do?Why ne hast thou to thy selven some resport?Why wilt thou thus thy selfe alas fordo?Leave all this werke, and take now heed to That I shall saine, and herken of good entent This message, that by me Troilus you sent. "Tourned her tho Creseide a wo making,So great, that it a death was for to see," Alas, " (quod she) " what wordes may ye bring,What woll my dere herte saine to mee,Which that I drede nevermore to see,Woll he have plaint or teares ere I wend?I have ynough, if he thereafter send. "She was right such to seene in her visage,As is that wight that men on beare bind,Her face like of Paradis the image,Was all ychaunged in another kind,The play, the laughter men were wont to find On hir, and eke her joyes everichone Ben fled, and thus lieth Creseide alone.About her eyen two, a purpre ringBitrent, in soothfast tokening of her paine,That to behold it was a deadly thing,For which Pandare might nat restraine The teares from his eyen for to raine,But nathelesse as he best might he seide From Troilus these wordes to Creseide." Lo, nece, I trow ye han heard all howThe king with other lordes for the best,Hath made eschaunge of Antenor and you,That cause is of this sorow and this unrest,But how this case doth Troilus molest,This may none yearthly mannes tongue say,For very wo, his wit is all away."For which we have so sorowed, he and I ,That into little it had us both slawe,But through my counsaile this day finally,He somewhat is fro weeping withdrawe,And seemeth me that he desireth faweWith you to ben all night for to devise Remedie of this, if there were any wise." This short and plain, theffect of my message,As ferforth as my wit can comprehend,For ye that ben of tourment in such rage,May to no long prologue as now entend.And hereupon ye may answer him send,And for the love of God my nece dere,So leave this wo, or Troilus be here.""Great is my wo," (quod she) and sighed sore,As she that feeleth deadly sharpe distresse,But yet to me his sorrow is mokell more,That love him bet than he himselfe I gesse,Alas, for me hath he such hevinesse,Can he for me so pitously complaine,Ywis this sorow doubleth all my paine."Grevous to me God wot is for to twin,"(Quod she) " but yet it harder is to me,To seene that sorrow which that he is in,For well wot I, it woll my bane be,And die I woll in certaine tho " (quod she:) "But bid him come, er deth that thus me threteth,Drive out the ghost which in mine herte beteth. "These wordes said, she on her armes twoFell gruffe, and gan to weepen pitously:(Quod Pandarus ) " Alas, why doe ye so?Sens ye well wote the time is fast by That he shall come, arise up hastely,That he you nat biwopen thus ne find,But ye woll have him wode out of his mind."For wist he that ye farde in this manere,He would himselfe slea: and if I wendTo have this fare, he should not come here,For all the good that Priam may dispend:312 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. IV. V. 922-1047For to what fine he would anon pretend,That know I well, and forthy yet I sey,So leave this sorow, or plainly he woll dey."And shapeth you his sorow for to abredge,And nat encrease, lefe nece swete,Beth rather to him cause of plat than edge,And with some wisdome ye his sorrowes bete:What helpeth it to weepen full a strete,Or though ye both in salt teares dreint?Bet is a time of cure aye than of pleint." I meane thus, whan I him hither bring,Sens ye be wise, and both of one assent,So shapeth how to distourbe your going,Or come ayen soone after ye be went,Women ben wise, in short avisem*nt,And let seene how your wit shall availe,And what that I may helpe, it shall not faile. ""Go," (quod Creseide) " and, uncle, truely I shall done all my might me to restraine From weeping in his sight, and busily Him for to glad, I shall done all my paine,And in my herte seeken every vaine,If to his sore there may ben founden salve,It shall nat lacke certaine on mine halve. "Goth Pandarus, and Troilus he sought,Till in a temple he found him all alone,As he that of his life no lenger rought,But to the pitous goddes everichone,Full tenderly he praid, and made his mone,To done him soone out of the world to pace,For well he thoght there was none other grace.And shortly all the soothe for to sey,He was so fallen in dispaire that day,That utterly he shope him for to dey,For right thus was his argument alway,He saied he nas but lorne, welaway,"For all that commeth, commeth by necessitie,Thus to ben lorne, it is my destinie."For certainly, this wote I well," he said,"That foresight of devine purveiaunceHad seen alway me to forgone Creseide,Sens God seethe every thing out of doutanceAnd hem disposeth through his ordinance,In his merites soothly for to be,As they shull comen by predestine."But nathelesse, alas, whom shall I leve,For there ben greate clerkes many one,That destinie, through argumentes preve,And some saine, that nedely there is none,But that free choice is yeven us everychone:O welaway, so sligh arn clerkes old,That I n'ot whose opinion I may hold."For some men sain, that God seeth all beforne,Ne God may nat deceived ben parde,Than mote it fallen, though men had it sworn,That purveiaunce hath seene beforne to be,Wherefore I say, that from eterne if he Hath wist beforn our thought eke as our dede,We have no free choice, as these clerkes rede." For other thought, nor other deed also,Might never been, but such as purveyaunce,Which may nat been deceived never mo,Hath feled biforne, withouten ignoraunce,For if there might ben a variaunce To writhen out fro Goddes purveying,There nere no prescience of thing comming."But it were rather an opinionUncertaine, and no stedfast foreseeing,And certes that were an abusion,That God should have no perfite clere weting More than we men that have doutous wening,But such an errour upon God to gesse,Were false, and foule, and wicked cursednesse." Eke this is an opinion of some,That have hir top ful high and smooth yshore,They saine right thus, that thing is nat to come,For that the prescience hath seene before That it shall come, but they sain that therfore That it shall come, therefore the purveyaunceWote it beforne withouten ignoraunce." And in this manner this necessiteRetourneth in his part contrary againe,For needfully behoveth it nat to be,That thilke thinges fallen in certaine That ben purveied, but needfully as they saine Behoveth it that thinges which that fall,That they in certaine ben purveyed all."I meane as though I laboured me in this,To inquire which thing cause of which thing be,As whether that the prescience of God is The certaine cause of the necessiteOf thinges that to comen be parde,Or if necessitie of thing comming,Be cause certaine of the purveying."But now ne enforce I me not in shewing,How the order of the causes stant, but well wot IThat it behoveth, that the befalling Of thinges wiste before certainly,Be necessarie, all seeme it not thereby,That prescience put falling necessaire To thing to come, all fall it foule or faire."For if there sit a man yond on a see,Than by necessitie behoveth it,That certes thine opinion sooth be,That wenest or conjectest that he sit,And further over, now ayenward yet,Lo right so is it on the part contrarie,As thus, now hearken, for I woll nat tarie." I say, that if the opinion of thee Be sooth for that he sit, than say I this,That he mote sitten by necessitie,And thus necessitie in either is,For in him nede of sitting is ywis,And in the nede of sooth, and thus forsoth There mote necessitie ben in you both."But thou maist saine the man sit nat therfore,That thine opinion of his sitting sooth is,But rather for the man sate there before,Therefore is thine opinion sooth ywis,And I say though the cause of sooth of thisCommeth of his sitting, yet necessitee Is enterchaunged both in him and in thee."Thus in the same wise out of doutaunce,I may well maken, as it seemeth me,My reasoning of Goddes purveyaunce,And of the thinges that to comen be,B. IV. V. 1048-1173 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 313By whiche reason men may well ysee,That thilke thinges that in earth yfall,That by necessitie they comen all ."For although that forthing shall come ywis Therefore is it purveyed certainely,Nat that it commeth, for it purveyed is,Yet nathelesse behoveth it needfully,That thing to come be purveyed truly,Or else thinges that purveyed be,That they betiden by necessite."And this suffiseth right ynough certaine,For to destroy our free choise everydell,But now is this abusion to saine,That falling of the thinges temporell,Is cause of the goddes prescience eternell;Now truely that is a false sentence,That thing to com shuld cause his prescience."What might I wene, and I had such a thought?But that God purveieth thing that is to come,For that it is to come, and else nought:So might I wene, that thinges all and some,That whylome ben befall and overcome,Ben cause of thilke soveraine purveyaunce,That forwote all, withouten ignoraunce."And over all this, yet say I more thereto,That right as whan I wote there is a thing,Ywis that thing mote needfully be so,Eke right so, whan I wot a thing comming,So mote it come; and thus they befallingOf thinges that ben wist before the tide,They mowe not ben eschewed on no side."Than said he thus, " Almighty Jove in trone,That wotest of all this thing the soothfastnesse,Rew on my sorrow and do me dien sone,Or bring Creseide and me fro this distresse. "And while he was in all this heavinesse,Disputing with himselfe in this matere,Came Pandare in, and said as ye may here."O mighty God " (quod Pandarus) " in trone,Eigh, who saw ever a wise man faren so?Why Troilus, what thinkest thou to done?Hast thou such lust to ben thine owne fo?What, parde, yet is nat Creseide ago,Why list thee so thy selfe fordone for drede,That in thine head thine eyen sem*n dede."Hast thou nat lived many a yere beforneWithouten her, and farde full well at ease?Art thou for her and for none other borne.Hath Kind thee wrought al only her to please?Let be and thinke right thus in thy disease,That in the dice right as ther fallen chaunces,Right so in love there come and gon plesaunces." And yet this is a wonder most of all ,Why thou thus sorowest, sith thou wost nat yetTouching her going, how that it shall fall,Ne if she can her selfe distourben it,Thou hast nat yet assaied all her wit;A man may all betime his necke bede Whan it shall off, and sorowen at the nede."Forthy, take hede of all that I shall say,I have with her yspoke, and long ybe,So as accorded was betwixe us twey,And evermore me thinketh thus, that sheHath somewhat in her hertes privite,Wherewith she can, if I shall aright rede,Disturbe all this, of which thou art in drede."For which my counsell is, whan it is night,Thou to her go, and make of this an end,And blisfull Juno, through her great might,Shall ( as I hope) her grace unto us send,Mine herte seith certaine she shall nat wend,And forthy, put thine herte awhile in rest,And hold thy purpose, for it is the best. "This Troilus answerde, and sighed sore,"Thou saist right well, and I will do right so,"And what him list, he said unto him more,And whan that it was time for to go,Full prively himselfe withouten mo Unto her came, as he was wont to done,And how they wrought, I shall you tell soone.Sooth is, that whan they gonne first to mete,So gan the paine hir hertes for to twist,That neither of hem other mighte grete,But hem in armes tooke, and after kist,The lasse wofull of hem bothe nistWhere that he was, ne might o word outbring,As I said erst, for wo and for sobbing.The wofull teares that they leten fall,As bitter weren out of teares kindFor paine, as is ligne aloes, or gall,So bitter teares wept not as I find The wofull Mirra, through the barke and rind,That in this world there n'is so hard an herte,That n'olde have rewed on her paines smart.But whan hir wofull wery ghostes twaine Returned ben, there as hem ought to dwell,And that somewhat to weken gan the paineBy length of plaint, and ebben gan the well Of hir teares, and the herte unswell,With broken voice, al horse for shright, Creseid To Troilus these ilke wordes seid." O Jove, I die, and mercy thee besech,Helpe Troilus: " and therewithal her face Upon his brest she laid, and lost her spech,Her wofull spirite from his proper place Right with the worde away in point to pace,And thus she lith, with hewes pale and grene,That whilom fresh and fairest was to sene.This Troilus that on her gan behold,Cleping her name, and she lay as for deed,Withouten answere, and felt her limmes cold,Her eien throwen upward to her heed:This sorowful man can now non other rede,But oft time her colde mouth he kist,Where him was wo, God and himself it wist.He riseth him up, and long straite he her leide,For signe of life, for aught he can or may,Can he none finde, in nothing of Creseide,For which his song full oft is " Welaway:"But whan he saw that spechlesse she lay,With sorowful voice, and herte of blisse al bare,He said, how she was fro this world yfare.So after that he long had her complained,His hondes wrong, and said that was to sey,And with his teeres salt her breast berained,He gan tho teeres wipen off full drey,314 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. IV. V. 1174-1299""And pitously gan for the soule prey,And said, " Lord, that set art in thy throne,Rewe eke on me, for I shall folow her sone.'She colde was, and without sentement,For ought he wote, for brethe felte he none,And this was him a preignant argument,That she was forth out of this world agone:And whan he saw there was non other wonne,He gan her limmes dresse, in such manere,As men don hem that shall ben laide on bere.And after this, with sterne and cruel herte,His swerde anon out of his sheth he twight,Him selfe to sleen, how sore that him smart,So that his soule, her soule folowen might,There as the dome of Minos would it dight,Sith love and cruel fortune it ne would,That in this world he lenger liven should.Than said he thus, fulfilde of high disdaine,"O cruel Jove, and thou Fortune adverse,This is all and some, that falsly have ye slaine Creseide, and sith ye may do me ne werse,Fie on your might and werkes so diverse,Thus cowardly ye shull me never winne,There shall no deth me fro my lady twinne."For I this world, sith ye have slain her thus,Woll let, and folow her spirite low or hie,Shal never lover saine that Troilus,Dare nat for feare with his lady die,For certaine I woll beare her companie,But sithe ye wol nat suffre us liven here,Yet suffreth that our soules ben ifere." And thou citie, in which I live in wo,And thou Priam, and brethren al ifere,And thou my mother, farewell, for I go,And Attropos make redy thou my bere:And thou Creseide, O swete herte dere,Receive now my spirite," would he sey With swerde at herte, all redy for to dey.But as God would, of swough she abraide,And gan to sighe, and Troilus she cride,And he answerde, " Lady mine Creseide,Live ye yet?" and let his swerde doun glide:"Ye herte mine, that thanked be Cupide,"(Quod she) and therewithal she sore sight,And he beganto glade her as he might.Toke her in armes two and kist her oft,And her to glad, he did al his entent,For which her gost, that flikered'aie a loft,Into her wofull herte ayen it went:But at the last, as that her eye glentAside, anon she gan his sworde aspie,As it lay bare, and gan for feare crie.And asked him why he had it out draw,And Troilus anon the cause her told,And how himself therwith he wold have slain,For which Creseide upon him gan behold,And gan him in her armes faste fold,And said, " O mercy God, lo, which a dede,Alas, how nigh we weren bothe dede."Than if I nadde spoken, as grace was,Yewould have slain your selfe anon?" (quod she. )"Ye doutlesse:" and she answerde, " Alas,For by that ilke lorde that made me,I n'olde a furlong way on live have be,After your deth, to have ben crouned quene Of al the londe the Sunne on shineth shene." But with this selve sword, which that here isMy selfe I would have slain " (quod she) " tho:But ho, for we have right inough of this,And let us rise and straite to bedde go:And there let us speken of our wo,For by that morter, which that I see brenne,Know I ful well, that day is nat farre henne. "Whan they wer in hir bed in armes fold,Naught was it like tho nightes here beforne,For pitously each other gan behold,As they that hadden al hir blisse ylorne,Bewailing aie the day that they were borne,Til at the last, this sorowful wight Creseide,To Troilus these ilke wordes seide." Lo, herte mine, wel wote ye this" (quod she)" That if a wight alway his wo complaine,And seketh nat how holpen for to be,It n'is but folie, and encreace of paine:And sens that here assembled be we twaine,To finde bote of wo that we ben in,It were time al sone to begin." I am a woman, as ful wel ye wotte,And as I am avised sodainly,So wol I tel you, while it is hotte,Me thinketh thus, that neyther ye nor I,Ought halfe this wo to maken skilfully,For there is art inough for to redresse,That yet is misse, and sleen is hevinesse."Soth is, the wo the whiche we ben inne,For aught I wote, for nothing eles is,But for the cause that we should twinne,Considred al, there n'is no more amis:And what is than a remedy unto this?But that we shape us sone for to mete,This al and some, my dere herte swete."Now that I shall wel bringen it aboutTo comen ayen, sone after that I go,Thereof am I no maner thing in dout,For dredelesse, within a weke or two I shal ben here: and that it may be so,By all right, and in wordes few,I shal you wel an heape of waies shew ." For which I woll nat maken long sermon,For time ylost may not recovered be,But I will go to my conclusion,And to the best, in aught that I can see:And for the love of God foryeve it me,If I speake aught ayenst your hertes rest,For truely I speake it for the best."Making alway a protestation,That nowe these wordes which I shal say,N'is but to shewe you my mocion,To find unto our helpe the beste way,And take it no otherwise I pray,For in effect, what so ye me commaund,That wol I done, for that is no demaund."Now herkeneth this, ye have wel understondMy going graunted is by parliment,So ferforth that it may not ben withstond,For al this world, as by my judgement:B. IV. V. 1300-1425 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 315And sithe there helpeth none avisem*nt,To letten it, lette it passe out of mind,And let us shape a better way to find."The sothe is , the twinning of us twaine,Wol us disease, and cruelly anoie:But him behoveth sometime have a paine,That serveth love, if that he woll have joie:And sith I shall no farther out of TroieThan I may ride ayen on halfe a morow,It ought lasse causen us for to sorow." So as I shal nat so ben hid in mew,That day by day, mine owne herte dere,Sens well ye wote that it is now a trew,Ye shal ful wel al mine estate here:And er that truce is done, I shal ben here,Than have ye bothe Antenor ywonne,And me also, bethe glad now if ye conne."And thinke right thus, Creseide is now agon,But what, she shal come hastely ayen,And whan alas? by God, lo , right anon Er daies ten, this dare I safely saine,And than at erste, shal we be so faine,So as we shal togithers ever dwell,That all this world ne might our blisse tell." I see that oft time, there as we ben now That for the best, our counsaile for to hide,Ye speke nat with me, nor I with you In fourtenight, ne see you go ne ride:May ye nat ten daies than abide,For mine honour, in such aventure?Ywis ye mowe, or eles lite endure."Ye know eke how that all my kin is here,But if that onely it my father be,And eke mine other thinges al yfere,And namely my dere herte ye,Whom that I n'olde leaven for to see,For all this world, as wide as it hath space,Or eles see I never Joves face."Why trowe ye my father in this wise Coveiteth so to see me, but for drede,Lest in this toune that folkes me dispise,Bicause of him, for his unhappy dede?What wote my father what life that I lede,For if he wist in Troie how well I fare,Us neded for my wending nat to care."Ye see, that every day eke more and more,Men treate of peace, and it supposed is,That men the quene Heleine shall restore,And Grekes us restore that is mis:Though there ne were comfort none but this,That men purposen peace on every side,Ye may the better at ease of herte abide."For if that it be peace, mine herte dere,The nature of the peace mote nedes drive,That men must entrecomune yfere,And to and fro eke ride and gone as blive,Al day as thicke as been flien from an hive,And every wight have liberty to bleve,Where as him list, the bet withouten leve."And tho so be that peace there may bene none,Yet hither, though ther never peace ne were,I must come, for whider should I gone,Or how mischaunce should I dwell thereAmong tho men of armes ever in fere,For which, as wisely God my soule rede,I can nat sene wherof ye should drede."Have here another way, if it so be That all this thing ne may you not suffice,My father, as he knowen well parde,Is olde, and eke full of covetise,And I right now have founden al the gise,Withouten nette, wherwith I shal him hent,And herkeneth now, if that ye woll assent."Lo, Troilus, men saine, that ful hard it is The wolfe ful, and the wedder hole to have,This is to saine, that men full oft ywis,Mote spenden parte, the remnant for to save:For aie with gold, men may the herte grave,Of him that set is upon covetise,And how I meane, I shal it you devise."The moveable, which that I have in this toun,Unto my father shall I take, and say,That right for trust, and for salvatioun,It sent is from a frende of his or tway,The whiche frendes fervently him pray,To sende after more and that in hie,While that this toun stant thus in jeopardie."And that shall be of gold an huge quantite,Thus shal I sain, but lest folke it aspide,This may be sent by no wight but by me:I shal eke shewen him, if peace betide,What frendes that I have on every side,Toward the court, to don the wrathe pace,Of Priamus, and do him stonde in grace." So what for o thing and for other, swete,I shall him so enchaunten with my sawes,That right in Heven his soule is , shal he mete,For all Apollo, or his clerkes lawes,Or calculing, availeth not three hawes:Desire of gold shall so his soule blend,That as me list, I shall well make an end."And if he would aught by his sorte it preve,If that I lie, in certaine I shall fondTo disturben him, and plucke him by the sleve,Making his sorte and bearen him on hond,He hath nat well the goddes understond,For goddes speke in amphibologies,And for o sothe, they tellen twenty lies."Eke drede fond first goddes, I suppose,Thus shall I saine, and that his coward herte,Made him amis the goddes text to glose,Whan he for ferde out of Delphos stert:And but I make him sone to convert,And done my rede, within a day or twey,I wol to you oblige me to dey."And truely, as written wel I find,That al this thing was said of good entent,And that her herte trewe was and kindTowardes him, and spake right as she ment,And that she starfe for wo nigh whan she went,And was in purpose ever to be trewe,Thus writen they that of her werkes knew.This Troilus, with herte and eeres sprad,Herde all this thing devised to and fro,And verily it seemed that he hadThe selve witte, but yet to let her go316 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. IV. V. 1426-1551His herte misyave him evermo,But finally he gan his herte wrest,To trusten her, and toke it for the best.For which the great fury of his penaunce,Wasqueint with hope, and therewith hem betwene Began for joye the amorous daunce,And as the birdes, whan the Sunne shene,Deliten in hir songe, in leves greene,Right so the wordes, that they spake yfere,Deliten hem, and made hir hertes chere.But nathelesse, the wending of Creseide,For all this world may nat out of his mind,For which full oft he pitously her preide,That of her heste he might her trewe find:And said her, " Certes if ye be kind,And but ye come at daie set, in Troie,Ne shal I never have heale, honor, ne joie."For al so sothe as Sunne uprist to morow,And God so wisely thou me woful wretch To reste bring, out ofthis cruel sorow,I wol my selven slee, if that ye dretch:But of my death though little be to retch,Yet er that ye me causen so to smart,Dwel rather here, my owne swete herte."For truely mine owne lady dere,The sleightes yet, that I have herd you stere,Ful shapely ben to fallen all yfere,For thus men saith, that one thinketh the bere,But al another thinketh the ledere,Your sire is wise, and said is out of drede,Men may the wise out renne, and not out rede." It is full harde to halten unespiedBefore a crepil, for he can the craft,Your father is in sleight as Argus eied,For al be it that his movable is him biraft,His olde sleight is yet so with him laft,Ye shal nat blende him for your womanhede Ne faine aright, and that is all my drede."I n'ot if peace shal evermo betide,But peace or no, for ernest ne for game,I wote sith Calcas on the Grekes side Hath ones ben, and lost so foule his name,Ne dare no more come here ayen for shame,For which that we, for ought I can espie,To trusten on, n'is but a fantasie."Ye shal eke seen your father shall you glose,To ben a wife, and as he can well prech,He shal some Greke so preise and wel alose,That ravishen he shal you with his spech:Or do you done by force, as he shall tech,And Troilus on whom ye n'il have routh,Shall causelesse so sterven in his trouth." And over al this your father shall dispise Us al, and saine this cite is but lorne,And that th'assege never shall arise,For why the Grekes have it al sworne,Til we ben slaine, and doune our walles torne,And thus he shall you with his wordes fere,That aie drede I, that ye wol bleven there."Ye shall eke sene so many a lusty knight,Among the Grekes ful of worthinesse,And ech of hem, with herte, wit and mightTo pleasen you, done al his businesse,That ye shull dullen of the rudenesse Of sely Troians, but if routheRemorde you, or vertue of your trouthe."And this to me so grevouse is to thinke,That fro my brest it wol my soule rende,Ne dredelesse, in me there may nat sinke O good opinion, if that ye wende,For why? your fathers sleight woll us shende,And if ye gone, as I have tolde you yore,So thinke I nam but deed, withouten more." For which with humble, true and pitous herte A thousand times mercy I you pray,So reweth on mind aspre paines smart,And doth somwhat, as that I shall you say:And let us steale away betwixt us tway,And thinke that foly is, whan a man may cheseFor accident, his substaunce for to lese."I meane thus, that sens we mowe or day Wel steale away, and ben togither so,What wit were it to putten in assay,(In case ye shoulden to your father go)If that ye mighten come ayen or no:Thus meane I, that were a great follie To put that sikernesse in jeopardie."And vulgarly to speken of substaunce,Of treasour may we both with us lede,Ynough to live in honour and pleasaunce,Til unto time that we shall ben dede,And thus we may eschewen all this drede,For every other waie ye can record,Mine herte ywis may therewith nat acord."And hardely ne dredeth no poverte,For I have kin and frendes eles where,That though we comen in our bare sherte,Us should never lacke golde ne geere,But ben honoured while we dwelten there,And go we anone, for as in mine entent,This is the best, if that ye woll assent."Creseide with a sigh, right in this wiseAnswerde, " Ywis, my dere herte trew,Ye may well steale away, as ye devise,And finden such unthrifty waies new:But afterward full sore it woll us rew,And helpe me God so at my most nede,As causelesse ye suffren al this drede."For thilke day that I for cherishing,Or drede of father, or for any other wight,Or for estate, delite, or for wedding,Be false to you, my Troilus, my knight,Saturnus doughter Juno, through her might,As wood as Achamante do me dwellEternally with Stix in the pit of Hell." And this on every God celestiall I swere it you and eke on eche goddesse,On every nimphe, and deite infernall,On satiry and fauny more and lesse,That halve goddes ben of wildernesse,And Attropos my threde of life to brest,If I be false, now trowe me if you lest."And thou Simois, that, as an arowe, clereThrough Troy rennest, aie dounward to the see,Be witnesse of this word, that saied is here,That thilke day that I untrewe beB. IV. V. 1552-1677 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 317To Troilus, mine owne herte fre,That thou return backwarde to thy well,And I with body and soule sinke to Hell."But that ye speake away thus for to go,And letten all your frendes, God forbede,For any woman that ye shoulden so,And namely, sens Troy hath now such nede Of helpe, and eke of o thing taketh hede,If this were wist, my life lay in ballaunce,And your honor, God shild us fro mischaunce."And if so be that peace hereafter be take,As all day happeth after angre game,Why lord the sorow and wo ye wolden make,That ye ne durst come ayen for shame,And ere that ye jeoparden so your name,Beth nat too hasty in this hotte fare,For hasty man ne wanteth never care."What trowe ye the people eke all about Would ofit say it is full light to arede,They woulden say, and swere it out of dout,That love ne drave you nat to done this dede But lust voluptuous, and coward drede,Thus were all lost ywis, mine herte dere Your honour, whiche that now shineth clere." And also thinketh on mine honeste,That floureth yet, how foul I should it shend,And with what filth it spotted shulde be,If in this forme I should with you wend,Ne though I lived unto the worldes end,My name should I never ayenward win,Thus were I lost, and that were routh and sin."And forthy, slee with reason all this hete,Men sain, the suffraunt overcommeth parde,Eke whoso woll have lefe, he lefe mote lete,Thus maketh vertue of necessiteBy patience, and thinke that lord is heOf fortune aye, that naught woll of her retch,And she ne daunteth no wight but a wretch."And trusteth this, that certes, herte swete,Or Phebus suster, Lucina the shene,The Lion passe out of this Aritee,I woll been here, withouten any wene,I meane, as helpe me Juno, Heavens quene,The tenth day, but if that death me assaile I woll you seene, withouten any faile."" And now so this be sooth, " (quod Troilus)"I shall well suffer unto the tenth day,Sens that I see that nede it mote ben thus,But for the love of God, if be it may,So let us stealen prively away:For ever in one, as for to live in rest,Mine herte saieth that it woll be the best. ""O mercy God, what life is this?" (quod she)" Alas, ye slea me thus for very tene,I see well now that ye mistrusten me,For by your wordes it is well ysene:Now for the love of Cinthia the shene,Mistrust me nat thus causelesse for routh,Sens to be true I have you plight my trouth."And thinketh well, that sometime it is witTo spend a time, a time for to win,Ne parde lorne am I nat fro you yet,Though that we ben a day or two atwin:Drive out tho fantasies you within,And trusteth me, and leaveth eke your sorow,Or here my trouth, I wol nat live til morow."For if ye wist how sore it doth me smart,Ye would cesse of this, for God thou wost The pure spirit weepeth in mine herte To seen you weepen, which that I love most,And that I mote gone unto the Greekes host,Ye, nere it that I wist a remedy To com ayen, right here I wolde dy."But certes I am not so nice a wight,That I ne can imaginen a wayTo come ayen that day that I have hight,For who may holden a thing that woll away,My father naught, for all his queint play,And by my thrift, my wending out of Troy Another day shall tourne us all to joy."Forthy, with all mine herte I you beseke,If that you list done aught for my prayere,And for the love which that I love you eke,That ere I departe fro you here,That of so good a comfort and a chere I may you seen, that ye may bring at restMy herte, whiche is at point to brest."And over all this I pray you," (quod she tho)"My owne hertes soothfast suffisaunce,Sith I am thine all hole withouten mo,That while that I am absent, no pleasaunceOf other, do me fro your remembraunce:For I am ever agast, for why? men rede,That love is thing aye full of busie drede."For in this world there liveth lady none,If that ye were untrue, as God defend,That so betrayed were, or wo begon,As I, that all trouthe in you entend:And doubtlesse, if that iche other wend,I nere but dead, and ere ye cause find,For Goddes love, so beth ye nat unkind."To this answered Troilus and seide,"Now God to whom there n'is no cause ywrie,Me glad, as wis I never unto Creseide,Sith thilke day I saw her first with eye,Was false, ne never shall till that I die,At short wordes, well ye may me leve,I can no more, it shall be found at preve. ""Graunt mercy, good herte mine, ywis" (quod she)" And blisful Venus let me never sterve,Er I may stonde of pleasaunce in degre,To quite him well, that so well can deserve:And while that God my wit will me conserve I shall so done, so true I have you found,That aie honour to meward shall rebound." For trusteth well, that your estate royall,Ne vain delite, nor onely worthinesse Of you in werre or turnay marciall,Ne pompe, array, nobley, or eke richesse:Ne made me to rue on your distresse,But moral vertue, grounded upon trouth,That was the cause I first had on you routh."Eke gentle herte, and manhood that ye had,And that ye had (as me thought) in dispite Every thing that sowned in to bad,As rudenesse, and peoplish appetite318 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. IV . V. 1678-1701And that your reason bridled your delite,This made aboven every creature,That I was yours, and shall while I may dure."Andthis may length of yeres nat fordo,Ne remuablest fortune deface,But Jupiter, that of his might may do The sorowfull to be glad, so yeve us grace,Er nightes tenne to meten in this place,So that it may your herte and mine suffise,And fareth now well, for time is that ye rise. "And after that they long yplained had,And oft ikist, and straite in armes fold,The day gan rise, and Troilus him clad,And rufully his lady gan behold:As he that felt deathes cares cold,And to her grace he gan him recommaund,Where he was wo, this hold I no demaund.For mannes hedde imaginen ne can,Ne entendement consider, ne tongue tellThe cruell paines of this sorowfull man,That passen every torment doune in Hell:For whan he sawe that she ne might dwell,Which that his soule out his herte rent,Withouten more, out of the chamber he went.EXPLICIT LIBER QUARTUS.INCIPIT LIBER QUINTUS.B. V. v. 1-95APPROCHEN gan the fatall destine,That Joves hath in disposicioun,And to you angry Parcas sustren thre,Committeth to done execucioun,For which Creseide must out of the toun,And Troilus shall dwell forth in pine,Till Lachesis his threde no lenger twine.The golden tressed Phebus high on loft,Thrise had all with his beames clereThe snowes molte, and Zephirus as oftIbrought ayen the tender leaves grene:Sens that the sonne of Eccuba the queneBegan to love her first, for whom his sorrow Was all, that she departe should a morow.Full redy was at prime Diomede,Creseide unto the Grekes hoste to lede,For sorow of which, she felt her herte blede,As she that n'iste what was best to rede:And truely, as men in bokes rede,Men wiste never woman have the care,Ne was so lothe out of a toune to fare.This Troilus withouten rede or lore,As man that hath his joies eke forlore,Was waiting on his lady evermore,As she that was sothfast croppe and more,Of all his lust or joyes here tofore:But Troilus, now farwell all thy joie,For shalt thou never seen her eft in Troie.Soth is, that while he bode in this manere,He gan his wo full manly for to hide,That well unneth it seen was in his chere,But at the yate there she should out ride,With certain folke he hoved her to abide,So wo bigon, all would he not him plain,That on his horse unneth he sate for pain.For ire he quoke, so gan his herte gnaw,Whan Diomede on horse gan him dight,And sayd unto himselfe this ilke saw," Alas," (quod he) " thus foule a wretchednesse Why suffre I it? Why n'ill I it redresse?Were it nat bet at ones for to die,Than evermore in langour thus to crie?"Why n'ill I make at ones rich and poore,To have inough to done er that she go?Whyn'ill I bring all Troie upon a roore?Why n'ill I slaen this Diomede also?Why n'ill I rather with a man or two,Steale her away? Why woll I this endure?Why n'ill I helpen to mine owne cure? "But why he n'olde done so fell a deede,That shall I sain, and why him list it spare,He had in herte alway a maner drede,Lest that Creseide, in rumour of this fare,Should have ben slain, lo, this was al his care,And eles certain, as I sayed yore,He had it done withouten wordes more.Creseide whan she redy was to ride,Full sorowfully she sighed, and sayd “ Alas,”But forth she mote, for aught that may betide,And forth she rideth full sorowfully apaas:Ther is no other remedy in this caas:What wonder is, though that her sore smartWhan she forgoeth her owne swete herte?This Troilus in gise of curtesie,With hauke on hond, and with an huge routOf knightes, rode and did her companie,Passing all the valey ferre without,And ferther would have ridden out of doubt,Full faine, and wo was him to gone so sone,But tourne he must, and it was eke to done.And right with that was Antenor ycome,Out of the Grekes hoste, and every wightWas of him glad, and sayd he was welcome,And Troilus, al nere his herte light,He pained him, with all his full might Him to with hold of weping at least,And Antenor he kist, and made feast.And therewithal he must his leave take,And cast his eye upon her pitously,And nere he rode, his cause for to make,To take her by the honde al soberly:And Lorde so she gan wepen tenderly,And he full soft and slighly gan her seie,"Now hold your day, and doe me not to deie. "With that his courser tourned he about,With face pale, and unto Diomede No worde he spake, ne none of all his rout,Of which the sonne of Tideus toke hede,As he that kouthe more than the crede,In soche a craft, and by the rein her hent,And Troilus to Troie homewardes went.This Diomede, that lad her by the bridell,Whan that he saw the folke of Troy away,Thought, " All my labor shall not been on idell,If that I may, for somewhat shall say:B. V. v. 96-221 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 319For at the worst, it short maie our way,I have heard say eke, times twise twelve,He is a foole that woll foryete him selve. "But nathelesse, this thought he well inough That " certainly I am about naught,If that I speake of love, or make it to tough,For doubtlesse, if she have in her thought,Him that I gesse, he may not been ybroughtSo sone away, but I shall find a meane,That she nat yet wete shall what I meane. "This Diomede, as he that could his good,Whan this was done, gan fallen forth in spech Of this and that, and aske why she stood In soch disease, and gan her eke besech That if that he encreasen might or ech With any thing her ease, that she should Commaunde it him, and said he done it would.For truely he swore her as a knight,That ther n'as thing, with which he might her plese That he nolde done his pain, and al his might To done it, for to done her herte an ease:And prayed her she would her sorrow appease,And sayd, " Ywis we Greekes can have joy To honouren you, as well as folke of Troy.'He said eke thus, " I wot you thinketh strange,No wonder is, for it is to you new,Th'acquaintance of these Trojans to change For folke of Grece, that ye never knew:But would never God, but if as true,AGreeke ye should emong us all find,As any Trojan is, and eke as kind." And bicause I swore you right now,To ben your frende, and helpir to my might,And for that more acquaintaunce eke of you Have I had, than an other straunger wight:So fro this forth, I pray you day and night,Commaundeth me, how sore that me smart,To done all that may like unto your herte." And that ye me wold, as your brother treat,And taketh not my frendship in dispite,And though your sorowes been for thinges gret,Not I nat why, but out of more respite,Mine herte hath for to amend it great delite,And if I may your harmes nat redresse,I am right sory for your heavinesse."For though ye Trojans with us Greekes wroth Have many a day been, alway yet parde,O god of love, in sothe we serven bothe:And for the love of God my lady free,Whom so ye hate, as beth not wroth with me,For truely there can no wight you serve,That half so loth your wrathe would deserve."And n'ere it that we been so nere the tentOf Calcas, which that seen us bothe may,I would of this you tell all mine entent,But this ensealed till an other day:Yeve me your honde, I am and shall be aie,God helpe me so, while that my life may dure,Your owne, aboven every creature." Thus said I never er now to woman borne,For God mine herte as wisely glad so,I loved never woman here beforne,As paramours, ne never shall no mo:And for the love of God be not my fo,All can I not to you, my lady dere,Complain a right, for I am yet to lere."And wondreth nought, mine owne lady bright,Though that I speake of love to you thus blive,For I have heard or this of many a wight,Hath loved thing he never saw his live:Eke I am not of power for to striveAyenst the god of love, but him obay I woll alway, and mercy I you pray."There beeth so worthy knightes in this place,And ye so faire, that everiche of hem all Woll pain him to stonden in your grace,But might to me so faire a grace fallThat ye me for your servaunt would call,So lowly, ne so truely you serve,N'ill none of hem, as I shall till I sterve. "Creseide unto that purpose lite answerde,As she that was with sorow oppressed so,That in effect she naught his tales herde,But here and there, now here a word or two:Her thought her sorowfull herte brest a two,For whan she gan her father ferre espie,Well nigh doune of her hors she gan to sie.But nathelesse she thonketh Diomede,Of all his travaile and his good chere,And that him list his frendship to her bede,And she accepteth it in good manere,And woll do fain that is him lefe and dere,And trusten him she would, and well she might,As saied she, and from her hors she alight.Her father hath her in his armes nome,And twenty times he kist his doughter swete,And saied: " O dere doughter mine, welcome,"She said eke, she was fain with him to mete:And stode forth muet, milde, and mansuete,But here I leave her with her father dwell,And forth I woll of Troilus you tell.To Troy is come this wofull Troilus,In sorowe aboven all sorowes smert,With felon loke, and face dispitous,Tho sodainly doune from his hors he stert,And through his paleis with swolne herte,To chamber he went, of nothing toke he hede Ne none to him dare speke o worde for drede.And there his sorowes that he spared had,He yave an issue large, and death he cride,And in his throwes, frenetike and mad He curseth Juno, Apollo, and eke Cupide,He curseth Bachus, Ceres, and Cipride,His birth, himselfe, his fate, and eke nature,And save his ladie, every creature.To bed he goth, and waileth there and turneth,In furie, as doth he Ixion in Hell,And in this wise he nigh till day sojourneth,But tho began his herte alite unswell,Through teares, which that gonnen up to wel,And pitiously he cried upon Creseide,And to him self right thus he spake and seide."Where is mine owne lady lefe and dere?Where is her white brest, where is it, where?Where been her armes, and her eyen clere That yesterday this time with me were?320 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. V. v. 222-347Now may I wepe alone many a teare,And graspeaboutI may, but in this placeSave a pilow, I find naughtto embrace."How shal I doen? whan shal she come againe?I n'ot alas, why let I her to go?As would God I had as tho be slain:O herte mine Creseide, O swete fo,O lady mine, that I love and no mo,To whom for ever more mine herte I vowe,See how I die, ye n'ill me not rescowe."Who seeth you now, my right lodesterre?Who sitteth right now in your presence?Who can comforten now your hertes werre?Now I am gon, whom yeve ye audience?Who speaketh for me right now in my absence?Alas, no wight, and that is all my care,For well wote I, as evill as I ye fare." How should I thus ten daies full endure,Whan I the firste night have all this tene?How shall she eke sorowfull creature,For tendernesse, how shall she this sustene,Soche wo for me? o pitous, pale, and grene,Shall been your freshe womanly face,For langour, er ye tourne unto this place. ”And whan he fell in any slombringes,Anon begin he shoulde for to grone,And dreamen of the dreadfullest thinges That might been: as mete he were aloneIn place horrible, making aie his mone,Or meten that he was emonges all His enemies, and in hir hondes fall.And therewithall his bodie should start,And with the start all sodainly awake,And soche a tremour fele about his herte,That of the feare his bodie should quake:And therwithall he should a noise make,And seme as though he should fall depe,From high alofe, and than he would wepe,And rewen on himselfe so pitously,That wonder was to here his fantasie.An other time he should mightelyComfort himselfe, and sain it was folie,So causelesse, soche drede for to drie,And eft begin his aspre sorowes new,That every man might on his paines rew.Who could tell all, or fully discrive His wo, his plaint, his langour, and his pine?Nat all the men that han or been on live,Thou readermaystthy self full well devine,Thatsoche a wo my wit can not define,On idell for to write it shouldI swinke,Whanthat my wit is werieit to thinke.On Heaven yet the sterres weren seenAlthough full pale ywoxen was the Mone,And whiten gan the orisont shene,All eastward, as it was wont to done,And Phebus with his rosie carte sone,Gan after that to dresse him up to fare,Whan Troilus hath sent after Pandare.This Pandare, that of all the day beforne Ne might him comen this Troilus to se,Although he on his hedde it had sworne,For with the king Priam alday was he,So that it lay nat in his liberte,No where to gon, but on the morow he went To Troilus, whan that he for him sent.For in his herte he could well devine,That Troilus al night for sorow woke,And that he would tell him of his pine,This knew he well inough without boke:For which to chamber streight the way he toke,And Troilus tho soberly he grette,And on the bedde full sone he gan him sette."My Pandarus," (quod Troilus) " the sorow Which that I drie, I may not long endure,I trowe I shall not liven till to morow,For which I would alwaies on aventureTo thee devisen of my sepoultureThe forme, and of my movable thou dispoen Right as thee semeth best is for to doen."But of the fire and flambe funerall,In which my body brennen shall to glede,And of the feast and plaies palestrall,At my vigile, I pray thee take good hede That that be well: and offer Mars my stede,My sword, mine helme and leve brother dere,My shelde to Pallas yeve, that shineth clere."The poudre in which min herte ybrend shal turn That pray I thee thou take, and it conserveIn a vessell that men clepeth an urneOf gold, and to my lady that I serve,For love of whom thus pitously I sterve,So yeve it her, and doe me this pleasaunce,To praien her to kepe it for a remembraunce."For well I fele by my maladie,And by my dreames, now and yore ago,All certainly, that I mote nedes die:The oule eke, which that hight Ascaphilo,Hath after me shright, all these nightes two,And god Mercurie, now of me wofull wretch The soule guide, and whan thee list it fetch."Pandare answerde and saied, " Troilus,My dere frende, as I have told thee yore,That it is follie for to sorowen thus,And causelesse, for which I can no more:But who so woll not trowen rede ne lore,I can not seen in him no remedie,But let him worchen with his fantasie."But, Troilus, I pray thee tell me now,If that thou trowe er this that any wight,Hath loved paramours as well as thou,Ye, God wot, and fro many a worthy knight Hath his ladie gon a fourtenight,And he nat yet made halvendele the fare,What nede is the to maken all this care?"Sens day by day thou maist thy selven see That from his love, or eles from his wifeA man mote twinnen of necessitie ,Ye though he love her as his owne life:Yet nill he with himself thus maken strife,For well thou wost, my leve brother dere,That alway frendes may not been yfere."How done this folke, that seen hir loves wedded By frendes might, as it betideth full oft,And seen hem in hir spouses bedde ybedded?God wote they take it wisely faire and soft:B. V. v. 348-473 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 321For why, good hope halt up hir herte aloft,And for they can a time of sorow endure,As time hem hurteth, a time doth hem cure."So shouldest thou endure, and letten slideThe time, and fonde to been glad and light,Ten dayes n'is not so long to abide,And sens she to comen thee hath behight,She n'ill her hest breaken for no wight,For drede thee not, that she n'ill finde wayTo come ayen, my life that durst I lay."Thy swevenes eke, and all such fantasieDrive out, and let hem faren to mischaunce,For they procede of thy melancolie,That doth thee fele in slepe all this penaunce:A straw for all swevenes signifiaunce,God helpe me so, I count hem not a bean,There wot no man aright what dremes mean."For priestes of the temple tellen this,That dreames been the revelacionsOf Goddes, and als well they tel ywis,That they been infernalles illusions And leches saine, that of complections Proceden they of fast, or glotonie,Who wot in sothe thus what they signifie?" Eke other saine, that through impressions,As if a wight bath fast a thing in mind,That thereof cometh soche avisions:And other sain, as they in bokes find,That after times of the yere by kind,Men dreme, and that theffect goth by the Mone,But leve no dreme, for it is nat to done.Wel worth of dreames aie these old wives,And truly eke, augurie of these foules,For feare of which, men wenen lese hir lives,As ravens qualm, or schriching ofthese oules:To trowen on it, bothe false and foule is,Alas, alas, that so noble a creature As is a man, should drede such ordure." For which with al mine herte I thee beseche,Unto thy self, that all this thou foryeve,And rise now up, withouten more speche,And let us cast how forth may best be driven The time, and eke how freshly we may liven,Whan she cometh, the which shall be right sone,God helpe me so, the best is thus to done." Rise, let us speake of lustie life in Troy That we have lad, and forth the time drive,And eke of time coming us rejoy,That bringen shall our blisse now to blive,And langour of these twise daies five We shall therewith so foryet or oppresse,That well unneth it done shall us duresse." This toune is full of lordes al about,And truce lasten all this meane while,Go we plaien us in some lustie rout,To Sarpedon, not hennes but a mile,And thus thou shalt the time well beguile,And drive it forth unto that blisfull morow,That thou her see, that cause is of thy sorow." Now rise, my dere brother Troilus,For certes it non honour is to theeTo wepe, and in thy bedde to rouken thus,For truely of o thing trust to me,If thou thus ligge, a day, two or three,The folke woll wene, that thou for cowardise,Thee fainest sick, and that thou darst not rise."This Troilus answerde: " O brother dere,This folke know that have ysuffred pain,That though he wepe, and make sorowful chereThat feeleth harme and smart in every vain,No wonder is and though I ever plainOr alway wepe, I am nothing to blame,Sens that I have lost the cause of all my game."But sens of fine force I mote arise,I shall arise, as sone as ever I may,And God, to whom mine herte I sacrifice,So send us hastely the tenthe day:For was there never foule so faine of May As I shall ben, whan that she cometh in Troie,That cause is of my tourment and my joie."But whider is thy rede," ( quod Troilus)" That we may play us best in all this toun?""By God my counsaile is," (quod Pandarus)"To ride and play us with king Sarpedoun. "So long of this they speaken up and down,Till Troilus gan at the last assent To rise, and forth to Sarpedon they went.This Sarpedon, as he that honourable Was ever his live, and full of hie prowesse,With all that might yserved been on table,That deintie was, all coste it great richesse,He fedde hem day by day, that such noblesse As saiden both the most and eke the least,Was never er that day wiste at any feast.Nor in this world there is none instrument,Delicious, through winde, or touche on corde,As ferre as any wight hath ever ywent,That tonge tell, or herte may recorde,But at that feast, it was well heard recorde:Ne of ladies eke so faire a companie,On daunce er tho, was never yseen with eye.But what availeth this to Troilus,That for his sorrow, nothing of it rought,But ever in one, as herte pitous,Full busily Creseide his lady sought:On her was ever al that his herte thought,Now this, now that, so fast imagining,That glad ywis can him no feasting.These ladies eke, that at this feast been,Sens that he saw his lady was away,It was his sorow upon hem for to seen,Or for to heare on instrumentes play:For she that of his herte hath the kay,Was absent, lo, this was his fantasie That no wight shulde maken melodie.Nor there nas houre in al the day or night,Whan he was ther as no man might him here,That he ne sayd, " O lovesome lady bright,How have ye faren sins that ye were there?Welcome ywis mine owne lady dere. "But welaway, all this n'as but a mase,Fortune his hove entended bet to glase.The letters eke, that she of olde time Had him ysent, he would alone rede An hundred sith, atwixt noone and prime,Refiguring her shape, and her womanhede,Y322 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. V. V. 474-599Within his herte, and every worde and dedeThat passed was, and thus he drove to an end,The fourth day, and saied he wol wend.And said, " Leve brother Pandarus,Intendest thou that we shall here bleve,Til Sarpedon woll forth conveyen us,Yet were it fairer that we toke our leve:For Goddes love, let us now sone at eve Our leave take, and homeward let us turne,For trewely I nill nat thus sojourne. "Pandare answerde, " Be we comen hitherTo fetchen fire, and rennen home againe?God helpe me so, I can nat tellen whitherWe might gone, if I shall sothly saine:There any wight is of us more faine Than Sarpedon, and if we hence hieThus sodainly, I hold it vilanie."Whan that we saiden we would bleveWith him a weke, and now thus sodainly The fourth day to take of him our leve,He would wondren on it trewly:Let us holden forth our purpose fermely,And sens that ye behighten him to abide,Hold forward now, and after let us ride. 'This Pandarus, with all pine and wo Made him to dwell, and at the wekes end,Of Sarpedon they toke hir leave tho,And on hir way they speden hem to wend:(Quod Troilus) " Now Lorde me grace send,That I may find at mine home comming,Creseide comen," and therwith gan he sing."Ye haselwode," thought this Pandare,And to himselfe ful softly he seide,"God wotte refroiden may this hotte fare,Er Calcas sende Troilus Creseide: "But nathelesse he japed thus and seide,And swore ywis, his herte him wel behight,She wolde come as sone as ever she might.Whan they unto the paleis were ycomen,Of Troilus, they doun of horse alight,And to the chambre hir way have they nomen,And unto time that it gan to night,They speken of Creseide the lady bright,And after this, whan hem bothe lest,They spede hem fro the supper unto rest.On morow as sone as day began to clere,This Troilus gan of his slepe to abreide,And to Pandarus, his own brother dere,"For love of God," full pitously he seide:"As go we seene the paleis of Creseide,For sens we yet may have no more feest,So let us seine her paleis at the leest."And therewithall his meine for to blende,A cause he fonde in toune for to go,And to Creseides house they gan wende,But Lorde, this sely Troilus was wo,Him thought his sorowful herte brast atwo,For when he saw her doores sparred all,Well nigh for sorow adoun he gan to fall.Therwith whan he was ware, and gan beholdHow shet was every window of the place,As frost him thought his herte gan to cold,For which with changed deedly pale face,Withouten worde, he forth by gan to pace,And as God would, he gan so faste ride,That no wight of his countenance aspide.Than said he thus: " O paleis desolate,O house of houses, whilom best yhight,O paleis empty and disconsolate,O thou lanterne, of which queint is the light,O paleis whilom day, that now art night,Wel oughtest thou to fall, and I to die,Sens she is went, that wont was us to gie."O paleis whilom crowne of houses all,Enlumined with Sunne of alle blisse,O ring, of which the rubie is out fall,O cause of wo, that cause hast ben of blisse:Yet sens I may no bet, fain would I kisseThy colde doores, durst I for this rout,And farewel shrine of which the saint is out."Therwith he cast on Pandarus his eie,With changed face, and pitous to behold,And whan he might his time aright aspie,Aie as he rode, to Pandarus he toldHis new sorow, and eke his joyes old,So pitously, and with so deed an hew,That every wight might on his sorow rew.Fro thence-forth he rideth up and doune,And every thing came him to remembraunce,As he rode forth by the places of the toune,In which he whilom had all his pleasaunce:"Lo, yonder saw I mine owne lady daunce,And in that temple with her eien clere,Me caught first my right lady dere." And yonder have I herde full lustelyMy dere herte laugh, and yonder playSaw I her ones eke ful blisfully,And yonder ones to me gan she sayNow good sweete love me well I pray,'And yonde so goodly gan she me behold,That to the death mine herte is to her hold."And at the corner in the yonder house,Herde I mine alderlevest lady dere,So womanly, with voice melodiouse,Singen so wel, so goodly and so clere,That in my soule yet me thinketh I here The blisful sowne, and in that yonder placeMy lady first me toke unto her grace.”Than thought he thus, " O blisful lord Cupide,Whan I the processe have in memory,How thou me hast weried on every side,Men might a booke make of it like a story:What nede is thee to seeke on me victory,Sens I am thine, and holy at thy will,What joy hast thou thine owne folke to spill?" Wel hast thou, lord, ywroke on me thine ire ,Thou mighty god, and dredful for to greve,Now mercy, lord, thou wost wel I desireThy grace most, of all lustes leve,And live and die I wol in thy beleve,For which I ne aske in guerdon but a boone,That thou Creseide ayen me sende soone."Distraine her herte as faste to returne,As thou doest mine to longen her to see,Than wote I wel that she n'il nat sojourne:Now blisful lord, so cruel thou ne beB. V. V. 600-725 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 323Unto the blood of Troy, I praie thee,As Juno was unto the blode Thebane,For which the folke of Thebes caught hir bane."And after this he to the yates went,There as Creseide out rode, a full good paas,And up and doun there made he many a went,And to him selfe ful oft he said, " Alas,Fro hence rode my blisse and my solas,As would blisful God now for his joie,I might her sene ayen come to Troie."And to the yonder hil I gan her guide,Alas, and there I toke of her my leve,And yonde I saw her to her father ride,For sorow of which mine herte shal to cleve:And hither home I come whan it was eve,And here I dwell, out cast from all joie,And shal, til I may sene her eft in Troie. "And of him selfe imagined he oft,To ben defaited, pale, and woxen lesse Than he was wont, and that men saiden soft,"What may it be? who can the sothe gesse,Why Troilus hath al this hevinesse? "And al this n'as but his melancholie,That he had of him selfe such fantasie.Another time imagined he would,That every wight that went by the wey,Had of him routh, and that they saine should,"I am right sory, Troilus wol dey: "And thus he drove a day yet forth or twey,As ye have herde, such life gan he lede,As he that stode betwixen hope and drede.For which him liked in his songes shewe Thencheson of his wo, as he best might,And made a songe, of wordes but a fewe,Somwhat his wofull herte for to light:And whan he was from every mannes sight,With softe voice, he of his lady dere,That absent was, gan sing as ye may here."O sterre, of which I lost have all the light,With herte sore, wel ought I to bewaile,That ever derke in turment, night by night Toward my deth, with winde I stere and saile:For which the tenth night, if that I faile,The guiding of thy bemes bright an houre,My ship and me Caribdes wol devoure."This song whan he thus songen had sone,He fel ayen into his sighes old,And every night, as was he wont to done,He stode the bright Moone to behold:And al his sorow he to the Moone told,And said, " Ywis whan thou art horned new,I shal be glad, if al the world be trew."I saw thine hornes old eke by that morow,Whan hence rode my right lady dere,That cause is of my turment and my sorow,For whiche, O bright Lucina the clere,For love of God ren fast about thy sphere,For whan thine hornes newe ginnen spring,Than shall she come that may my blisse bring."The day is more, and lenger every nightThan they ben wont to be, him thought tho,And that the Sunne went his course unright,By lenger way than it was wont to go,And said, " Ywis, I drede me evermo The Sunnes sonne Pheton be on live,And that his fathers cart amisse he drive."Upon the walles fast eke would he walke,And on the Greekes host he would see,And to himselfe right thus he would talke:"Lo, yonder is mine owne lady free,Or else yonder, there the tents bee,And thence commeth this aire that is so soote,That in my soule I fele it doth me boote." And hardily, this wind that more and more Thus stoundmeale encreaseth in my face,Is of my ladies deepe sighes sore,I preve it thus, for in none other space Of all this toune, save only in this place,Feele I no wind, that souneth so like paine,It saith, Alas, why twined be we twaine." "6This longe time he driveth forth right thus,Till fully passed was the ninthe night,And aye beside him was this Pandarus,That busily did all his full mightHim to comfort, and make his herte light,Yeving him hope alway the tenth morow,That she shal comen, and stinten all his sorow.Upon that other side eke was Creseide,With women few among the Grekes strong,For which full oft a day, " Alas," she seide,"That I was borne, well may mine herte long After my death, for now live I too long Alas, and I ne may it not amend,For now is worse than ever yet I wend."My father n'ill for nothing doe me grace To gone ayen, for aught I can him queme,And if so be that I my terme pace,My Troilus shall in his herte deme That I am false, and so it may well seme,Thus shall I have unthonke on every side,That I was borne so welaway the tide."And if that I me put in jeopardie,To steale away by night, and it befall That I be caught, I shall be hold aspie,Or else lo, this drede I most of all,If in the honds of some wretch I fall,I n'am but lost, all be mine herte trew:Now mightie God, thou on my sorow rew."Full pale ywoxen was her bright face,Her limmes leane, as she that all the day Stode whan she durst, and loked on the place There she was borne, and dwelt had aye,And all the night weeping alas, she lay,And thus dispeired out of all cure She lad her life, this wofull creature.Full oft a day she sighed eke for distresse,And in her selfe she went aye purtrayingOf Troilus the great worthinesse,And all his goodly wordes recording,Sens first that day her love began to spring,And thus she set her wofull herte afire,Through remembrance of that she gan desire.In all this world there n'is so cruell herte,That her had heard complainen in her sorow,That n'old have wepten for her paines smart,So tenderly she wept, both eve and morow,Y 2324 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. V. V. 726-851Her needed no teares, for to borow,And this was yet the worst of all her paine,Ther was no wight, to whom she durste plain.Full rewfully she looked upon Troy,Beheld the toures high, and eke the hallis,"Alas," (quod she) " the pleasaunce and the joy,The which that now all turned into gall is,Have I had ofte within yonder wallis.O Troilus, what doest thou now? " she seide," Lord, whether thou yet thinke upon Creseide." Alas, that I ne had ytrowed on your lore,And went with you, as ye me redde ere this,Than had I now not sighed halfe so sore:Who might have said, that I had done amisTo steale away with such one as he is?But all too late commeth the lectuarie,Whan men the corse unto the grave carie."Too late is now to speke of that matere,Prudence, alas, one of thine eyen three Me lacked alway, ere that I came here:For on time passed well remembred mee,And present time eke could I well see,But future time, ere I was in the snare,Could I not seene, that causeth now my care."But nathelesse, betide what betide,I shall to morow at night, by east or west,Out of this hoast steale, on some side,And gone with Troilus, where as him lest,This purpose woll I hold, and this is the best,No force of wicked tongues jonglerie,For ever on love have wretches had envie." For who so woll of every word take hede,Or rule hem by every wightes wit,Ne shall he never thriven out of drede,For that that some men blamen ever yet,Lo, other manner folke commenden it,And as for me, for all such variaunce,Felicitie clepe I my suffisaunce."For which, withouten any wordes mo,To Troy I woll, as for conclusioun. "But God it wote, ere fully moneths two,She was full ferre fro that ententioun,For bothe Troilus and Troie tounShall knotlesse throughout her herte slide,For she woll take a purpose for to abide.This Diomede, of whom I you tell gan,Goth now within himselfe aye arguing,With all the sleight and all that ever he canHowhe may best with shortest tarying,Into his nette Creseides herte bring,To this entent he couthe never fine,To fishen her, he laid out hooke and line.But nathelesse, well in his herte he thought,That she nas nat without a love in Troy,For never sithen he her thence brought,Ne couth he seene her laugh, or maken joy,He n'is how best her herte for t'acoie,But for t'assay, he said nought it ne greveth,For he that naught assaieth, naught atcheveth.Yet saied he to himselfe upon a night,"Now am I nat a foole, that wote well howHer wo is, for love of another wight,And hereupon to gone assay her now,I may well wete, it n'ill nat ben my prow,For wise folke in bookes it expresse,Men shall nat wowe a wight in hevinesse."But who so might winnen such a floure Fro him, for whom she mourneth night and day,He might saine he were a conquerour:And right anone, as he that bold was aye,Thought in his herte, hap how hap may,All should I dye, I woll her herte seech,I shall no more lesen but my speech. "This Diomede, as bookes us declare,Was in his nedes prest and courageous,With sterne voice, and mighty limmes square,Hardy, testife, strong, and chevalrous Of deedes like his father Tideus,And some men saine he was of tonge large,And heire he was of Calcidony and Arge.Creseide meane was of her stature,Thereto of shape, of face, and eke of chere,There might ben no fairer creature,And ofte time this was her manere,To gone ytressed with her haires clereDowne by her colere, at her backe behind,Which with a threde of gold she would bind.And save her browes joyneden yfere,There nas no lacke, in aught I can espien,But for to speaken of her eyen clere,Lo, truely they written that her seien,That Paradis stood formed in her eien,And with her riche beauty evermore Strove love in her, aie which of hem was more.She sobre was, eke simple, and wise withall,The best ynorished eke that might bee,And goodly of her speech in generall,Charitable, estately, lusty, and free,Ne nevermore, ne lacked her pitee,Tender hearted, sliding of corage,But truely I can nat tell her age.And Troilus well woxen was in hight,And complete formed by proportioun,So well that Kind it naught amenden might,Young, fresh, strong, and hardy as lioun,Trew as steele, in ech conditioun,One of the best enteched creature,That is or shall, while that the world may dure .And certainely, in story as it is fond,That Troilus was never unto no wightAs in his time, in no degree second,In daring do that longeth to a knight,All might a giaunt passen him of might,His herte aye with the first and with the best,Stood peregall to dare done what him lest .But for to tellen forth of Diomede,It fell, that after on the tenthe day,Sens that Creseide out of the city yede,This Diomede, as fresh as braunch in May,Came to the tente there as Calcas lay,And fained him with Calcas have to done,But what he ment, I shall you tellen sone.Creseide at shorte wordes for to tell,Welcommed him, and downe him by her sette,And he was ethe ynough to maken dwell,And after this, withouten longe lette,B. V. v. 852-977 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 325The spices and the wine men forth hem fette,And forth they speke of this and that yfere,As friendes done, of which some shall ye here.He gan first fallen of the warre in speech Betwixen hem and the folke of Troy toun,And of th'assiege he gan eke her beseech,To tellen him what was her opinioun:Fro that demaund he so discendeth doun,To asken her, if that her straunge thoughtThe Greekes gise, and werkes that they wrought?And why her father tarieth so long To wedden her unto some worthy wight?Creseide that was in her paines strong,For love of Troilus her owne knight,So ferforth as she cunning had or might,Answerde him tho, but as of his entent,It seemed nat she wiste what he ment.But nathelesse, this ilke Diomede Gan on himselfe assure, and thus he seide:" If I aright have taken on you hede,Methinketh thus, O lady mine Creseide,That sens I first hond, on your bridle leide,Whan I out came of Troy by the morrow,Ne might I never seene you but in sorrow." I can nat saine what may the cause be,But if for love of some Trojan it were,The which right sore would a thinken me,That ye for any wight that dwelleth there,Shoulden spill a quarter of a tere,Or pitously your selven so begile,For dredelesse it is nat worth the while."The folke of Troy, as who saith all and some,In prison ben, as ye your selven see,Fro thence shall nat one on live come,For all the gold atwixen sunne and see,Trusteth well, and understondeth mee,There shall nat one to mercy gone on live,All were he lord of worldes twise five."Such wrech on hem for fetching of Heleine There shall be take, ere that we hence wend,That Maunes, which that goddes ben of peine,Shall ben agast that Grekes wol hem shend,And men shall drede unto the worldes end From henceforth to ravishen any queene,So cruell shall our wreche on hem be seene." And but if Calcas lede us with ambages,That is to saine, with double wordes slie,Such as men clepen a word with two visages,Ye shall well knowen that I nat ne lie,And all this thing right sene it with your eie,And that anon, ye nill nat trow how soone,Now taketh hede, for it is for to doone."What wene ye your wise father would Have yeven Antenor for you anone,If he ne wiste that the city should Destroied ben? why nay so mote I gone,He knew full well there shall nat scapen oneThat Troian is, and for the greate fereHe durste nat that ye dwelt lenger there."What woll ye more, O lovesome lady dere?Let Troy and Troians fro your herte passe,Drive out that bitter hope, and make good chere,And clepe ayen the beautie of your face,That ye with salte teares so deface,For Troy is brought in such a jeopardie,That it to save is now no remedie." And thinketh well, ye shall in Grekes find A more perfite love, ere it be night,Than any Troian is, and more kind,And bet to serven you woll done his might,And if ye vouchsafe my lady bright,I woll ben he, to serven you my selve,Ye lever than be lord of Greces twelve. "And with that word he gan to waxen reed,And in his speech a little while he quoke,And cast aside a little with his heed,And stint a while, and afterward he woke,And soberly on her he threw his loke,And said, " I am, albeit to you no joy,As gentill a man as any wight in Troy."For if my father Tideus " (he seide)" Ylived had, I had been ere this,Of Calcidonie and Arge a king, Creseide,And so hope I that I shall be ywis:But he was slaine alas, the more harme is,Unhappily at Thebes all to rathe,Polimite, and many a man to scathe."But herte mine, sithe that I am your man,And ben the first, of whom I seche grace,To serve you as heartely as I can,And ever shall, while I to live have space,So that, ere I depart out of this place,Ye woll me graunte, that I may to morow At better leiser tell you of my sorow."What shuld I tell his wordes that he seide?He spake ynough for o day at the mest It preveth well he spake so, that Creseide Graunted on the morrow at his requestFor to speake with him at the least,So that he n'olde speake of such matere,And thus she to him said, as ye mowe here.As she that had her herte on TroilusSo fast, that there may it none arace,And straungely she spake, and saied thus:"O Diomede, I love that ilke place There was I borne, and Joves of thy grace Deliver it soone of all that doth it care,God for thy might so leve it well to fare." That Grekes wold hir wrath on Troie wrekeIf that they might, I know it well ywis,But it shall naught befallen as ye speke,And God toforne, and farther over this,I wote my father wise and ready is,And that he me hath bought, as ye me told,So dere am I the more unto him hold."That Greekes ben of high conditioun,I wote eke well, but certaine men shall find As worthie folke within Troie toun,As conning, as perfite, and as kinde,As ben betwixte Orcades and Inde,And that ye coulde well your lady serve I trow eke well, her thonke for to deserve." But as to speake of love, ywis " (she seide)"I had a lord, to whom I wedded was,His whose mine herte was all till he deide,And other love, as helpe me now Pallas,+326 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. V. v. 978-1103There in mine herte n'is, ne never was,And that ye ben of noble and high kinrede,I have well herde it tellen out of drede."And that doth me to have so great a wonder,That ye woll scornen any woman so,Eke God wote, love and I ben fer asonder,I am disposed bet, so mote I go,Unto my death plaine and make wo;What I shall after done, I can not say,But truely as yet me list nat play."Mine herte is now in tribulatioun,And ye in armes busie day by day,Hereafter whan ye wonen have the toun,Paraventure than, so it happen may,That whan I see that I never ere sey,Than woll I werke that I never ere wrought,This word to you ynough suffisen ought."To morow eke wol I speken with you faine,So that ye touchen naught of this matere,And whan you list, ye may come here againe,And ere ye gone, thus much I say you here,As helpe me Pallas, with her haires clere,If that I should of any Greeke have routh,It shulde be your selven by my trouth."I say nat therefore that I woll you love,Ne say nat nay, but in conclusioun,I meane well by God that sit above: "And therewithall she cast her eien doun,And gan to sigh, and said, " Troilus and Troy toun Yet bidde I God, in quiet and in rest I may you seene, or do mine herte brest. "But in effect, and shortly for to say,This Diomede all freshly new againe Gan preasen on, and fast her mercy pray,And after this, the soothe for to saine,Her glove he toke, of which he was full faine,And finally, whan it was woxen eve,And all was well, he rose and tooke his leve.The bright Venus folowed and aie taught The way there brode Phebus doune alight,And Cithera her chare horse over raught,To whirle out of the Lion, if she might,And Signifer his candles sheweth bright,Whan that Creseide unto her bed went,Within her fathers faire bright tent.Retourning in her soule aye up and doun The wordes of this suddaine Diomede,His great estate, and perill of the toun,And that she was alone, and had nedeOf friendes help, and thus began to brede The cause why, the soothe for to tell,She tooke fully purpose for to dwell.The morow came, and ghostly for to speke,This Diomede is come unto Creseide,And shortly, least that ye my tale breke,So well he for himselfe spake and seide,That all her sighes sore doune he leide,And finally, the soothe for to saine,He refte her the great of all her paine.And after this, the story telleth us,That she him yave the faire bay stede,The which she ones wan of Troilus,And eke a brooch (and that was little nede)That Troilus' was, she yave this Diomede,And eke the bet from sorow him to releve,She made him weare a pencell of her sleve.I find eke in stories elsewhere,Whan through the body hurt was Diomede Of Troilus, tho wept she many a tere,Whan that she saw his wide woundes blede,And that she tooke to kepen him good hede,And for to healen him of his smart,Men saine, I n'ot, that she yave him her herte.But truely the storie telleth us,There made never woman more woThan she, whan that she falsed Troilus,She said " Alas, for now is clene agoMy name in trouth of love for evermo,For I have falsed one the gentillestThat ever was, and one the worthiest."Alas, of me unto the worldes end Shall neither ben ywritten or ysongNo good worde, for these bokes woll me shend:Yrolled shall I been on many a tong,Throughout the world my bell shall be rong,And women most woll hate me of all,Alas, that such a caas me should fall."They woll saine, in as much as in me is,I have hem done dishonour welaway,All be I not the first that did amis,What helpeth that, to done my blame away,But sens I see there is no better way,And that too late is now for me to rue,To Diomede I woll algate be true." But Troilus, sens I no better may,And sens that thus departen ye and I,Yet pray I God so yeve you right good day,As for the gentillest knight truely That ever I saw, to serven faithfully,And best can aye his ladies honour kepe,"And with that word she brast anon to wepe."And certes, you ne haten shall I never,And friendes love, that shall ye have of me,And my good word, all should I liven ever,And truely I would right sorrie be,For to seene you in adversite,And guiltlesse I wot well I you leave,And all shall passe, and thus take I my leave."But truely how long it was bitwene,That she forsoke him for this Diomede,There is none authour telleth it I wene,Take every man now to his bookes hede,He shall no terme finden, out of drede,For though that he began to wowe her sone,Ere he her wan, yet was there more to done.Ne me ne list this selie woman chideFerther than the storie woll devise,Her name alas, is published so wide,That for her gilt it ought ynough suffise,And if I might excuse her in any wise,For she so sorrie was for her untrouth,Ywis I would excuse her yet for routh.This Troilus, as I before have told,Thus driveth forth, as wel as he hath might,But ofte was his herte hote and cold,And namely that ilke ninthe night,B. V. v. 1104-1229 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 327Which on the morrow she had him behight To come ayen, God wote full little restHad he that night, nothing to slepe him lest.Tho laurer crowned Phebus, with his heat Gan in his course aie upward as he went,To warmen of the east sea the waves wete,And Circes doughter song, with fresh entent,Whan Troilus his Pandare after sent,And on the walles of the towne they pleide,To looke, if they can seene ought of Creseide.Till it was noone, they stooden for to see Who that there came, and every maner wightThat came fro ferre, they saiden it was shee,Till that they coulden knowen him aright:Now was his herte dull, now was it light,And thus bejaped stooden for to stare About naught, this Troilus and Pandare.To Pandarus this Troilus tho seide" For aught I wot, before noone sikerly,Into this toune ne cometh not here Creseide,She hath ynough to doen hardely To winnen from her father, so trow I,Her olde father woll yet make her dine Ere that she go, God yeve his herte pine."Pandarus answerd, " It may well been certain And forthy let us dine, I thee beseech,And after noone than maist thou come again: "And home they go, without more speech,And comen ayen, but long may they seech,Ere that they finde that they after gape,Fortune hem bothe thinketh for to jape.(Quod Troilus) " I see well now that she Is taried with her old father so,That ere she come, it woll nigh even be.Come forth, I woll unto the yate go,These porters ben unkonning evermo,And I woll done hem holden up the yate,As naught ne were, although she come late. "The day goth fast, and after that came eve,And yet came nat to Troilus Creseide,He looketh forth by hedge, by tree, bygreve,And ferre his head over the wall he leide,And at the last he tourned him and seide," By God I wote her meaning now Pandare,Almost ywis all newe was my care."Now doubtelesse this lady can her good,I wote she commeth riding prively,I commend her wisedome by mine hood,She woll nat maken people nicelyGaure on her whan she commeth, but softelyBy night into the toune she thinketh ride,And, dere brother, thinke nat long to abide,"We have naught else for to done ywis,And Pandarus, now wilt thou trowen me,Have here my trouth, I see her, yon she is,Heave up thine eyen man, mayst thou nat see?"Pandare answerde, " Nay, so mote I the,Al wrong by God, what saist thou man, wher art,That I see yonde afarre, n'is but a cart."" Alas, thou sayst right sooth," (quod Troilus)" But hardely it is not all for nought,That in mine herte I now rejoyce thus,It is ayenst some good, I have a thought,Not I nat how, but sens that I was wrought,Ne felt I such a comfort dare I say,She cometh to night, my life that durst I lay."Pandarus answerde, " It may be well ynough,"And held with him of all that ever he saied,But in his herte he thought, and soft he lough,And to himselfe full soberly he saied," From hasell wood, there jolly Robin plaied,Shall come all that thou abidest here,Ye, farwell all the snow of ferne yere."The wardein of the yates gan to call The folk, which that without the yates were,And bad hem driven in hir beastes all,Or all the night they must bleven there,And ferre within the night, with many a tere,This Troilus gan homeward for to ride,For well he seeth it helpeth nat to abide.But nathelesse, he gladded him in this,He thought he misacompted had his day,And saied, " I understand have all amis,For thilke night I laste Creseide sey,She sayd, ' I shall ben here, if that I may,Ere that the Moone, () dere herte swete,The Lion passe out of this Ariete. '"For which she may yet hold all her behest,"And on the morrow unto the yate he went,And up and doune, by west and eke by eastUpon the walles made he many a went,But all for naught, his hope alway him blent,For which at night, in sorow and sighe sore,He went him home, withouten any more.This hope all cleane out of his herte fled,He ne hath whereon now lenger for to hong,But for the paine him thought his herte bled,So were his throwes sharp, and wonder strong,For whan he saw that she abode so long,He n'ist what he judgen of it might,Sens she hath broken that she him behight.The thirde, fourth, fifte, and sixt day After tho dayes tenne, of which I told,Betwixen hope and drede his herte lay,Yet somewhat trusting on her hestes old,But whan he saw she n'olde her terme hold,He can now seene none other remedie,But for to shape him soone for to die.Therwith the wicked spirit, God us blesse,Which that men clepen woode jealousie,Gan in him crepe, in all this hevinesse,For which because he would soone die,He ne eat ne dronke for his melancholie,And eke from every company he fled,This was the life that all this time he led.•He so defaite was, that no manner man,Unneth he might knowen there he went,So was he leane, and thereto pale and wan,And feeble, that he walketh by potent,And with his ire he thus himselfe shent:But who so asked him whereof him smart,He sayd, his harme was all about his herte.Priam full oft, and eke his mother dere,His bretherne and his sustren gan him frain Whyhe so sorrowfull was in all his chere,And what thing was the cause of all his pain;328 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. V. v. 1230-1353But all for naught, he n'olde his cause plain,But sayd, he felt a grievous maladie About his herte, and faine he would die.So on a day he laid him down to slepe,And so befell, that in slepe him thought,That in a forrest fast he walked to wepeFor love of her that him these paines wrought,And up and doune as he that forrest sought,He met he saw a bore, with tuskes great,That slept ayenst the bright Sunnes heat.And by this bore, fast in her armes fold Lay kissing aye his lady bright Creseide,For sorrow of which, whan he it gan behold,And for dispite, out of his slepe he breide,And loude he cried on Pandarus, and seide,"O Pandarus, now know I crop and root,I n'am but dead, there n'is none other boot."My lady bright Creseide hath me betraied,In whom I trusted most of any wight,She elsewhere hath now her herte apaied,The blisfull goddes, through hir greate might,Have in my dreame yshewed it full right,Thus in my dreame Creseide have I behold,"And all this thing to Pandarus he told." O my Creseide, alas, what subtelte?What newe lust? what beauty? what science?What wrath of juste cause have ye to me?What guilt of me? what fell experience Hath me rafte, alas, thine advertence?O trust, O faith, O depe assuraunce,Who hath me raft Creseide, all my pleasaunce?"Alas, why let I you from hence go?For which well nigh out of my wit I breide,Who shall now trow on any othes mo?God wote I wend, O lady bright Creseide,That every word was gospell that ye seide,But who may bet beguile, if him list,Than he on whom men wenen best to trist?"What shall I done, my Pandarus, alas?I fele now so sharpe a newe paine,Sens that there is no remedy in this caas,That bet were it I with mine hondes twaineMy selven slow than alway thus to plaine,For through the death my wo shuld have an end,There every day with life my self I shend."Pandare answerde and said, " Alas the while That I was borne, have I nat saied er this,That dreames many a manner man beguile?And why? For folke expounden hem amis:How darest thou saine that false thy lady is,For any dreame, right for thine own drede,Let be this thought, thou canst no dreames rede."Peraventure there thou dremest of this bore,It may so be that it may signifie Her father, which that old is and eke hore,Ayen the sunne lieth on point to die,And she for sorow ginneth wepe and crie,And kisseth him, there he lieth on the ground,Thus shuldest thou thy dreme aright expound.""How might I then doen " ( quod Troilus)"To know of this, yea were never so lite? ""Now sayst thou wisely," (quod this Pandarus)My rede is this, sens thou canst well endite,66That hastily a letter thou her write,Through which thou shalt well bringen about To know a sooth of that thou art in dout." And see now why: for this dare I well sain,That if so is, that she untrue be,I cannot trowen that she woll write again,And if she write, thou shalt full sone ysee,As whether she hath any liberte To come ayen, or els in some clauseIf she be let, she woll assigne a cause."Thou hast not written to her sens she went,Nor she to thee, and this I durst lay,There may such cause ben in her entent,That hardly thou wolt thy selven say,That her abode the best is for you tway:Now write her than, and thou shalt fele sone A sooth of all, there is no more to done. "Accorded ben to this conclusioun,And that anon, these ilke lords two,And hastely sate Troilus adoun,And rolleth in his herte too and fro,How he may best descriven her his wo,And to Creseide his owne lady dere,He wrote right thus, and said as ye may here.THE COPIE OF THE LETTER."RIGHT fresh flour, whose I have ben and shall,Withouten part of elsewhere servise,With herte, body, life , lust, thought, and all,I wofull wight in every humble wise That tong can tell, or herte may devise,As oft as matter occupieth place,Me recommaund unto your noble grace."Liketh it you to weten, sweete herte,well know, how long time agonThat ye me left in aspre paines smart,Whan that ye went, of which yet bote non Have I non had, but ever worse bigon,Fro day to day am I, and so mote dwell,While it you list, of wele and wo my well.As ye"For which to you, with dredefull herte trew,I write (as he that sorow driveth to write)My wo, that every houre encreaseth new,Complaining as I dare, or can endite,And that defaced is, that may ye wite,The teares, which that from mine eyen rain,That wulden speke, if that they durst, and plain."You first beseech I , that your eyen clereTo looke on this defouled ye nat hold:And over all this, that ye, my lady dere,Woll vouchsafe this letter to behold,And by the cause eke of my cares cold,That slaeth my wit, if aught amis me start,Foryeve it me, mine owne sweet herte." If any servaunt durst or ought of rightUpon his lady pitously complaine,Than wene I that I ought be that wight,Considred this, that ye these moneths twaine Have taried, there ye saiden sooth to saine,But tenne daies ye nolde in hoste sojourne,But in two moneths yet ye not retourne." But for as much as me mote nedes likeAll that you list, I dare nat plaine more,B. V. v. 1354-1477 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 329But humbly, with sorowfull sighes sike,You right I mine unrestie sorowes sore,Fro day to day, desiring evermore To knowen fully, if your will it were,How ye have fared and don while ye be there."Whose welfare and heale eke God encreaseIn honour such, that upward in degreeIt grow alway, so that it never cease,Right as your herte aye can, my lady free,Devise, I pray to God so mote it be,And graunt it, that you soone upon me rew,As wisely as in all I am to you trew."And if you liketh knowen of the fareOf me, whose wo ther may no wight discrive,I can no more, but chest of every care,At writing of this letter I was on live,All redy out my wofull ghost to drive,Which I delay, and hold him yet in hond,Upon the sight of matter of your sond."Mine eyen two, in vaine with which I see,Of sorowfull teres salt arn woxen wellis,My song in plaint of mine adversite,My good in harm, mine ease eke woxen Hell is,My joy in wo, I can sey now nought ellis,But tourned is, for which my life I warie,Everyjoy or ease in his contrarie."Which with you coming home ayen to TroyYe may redresse, and more a thousand sithe,Than ever I had encreasen in me joy,For was there never herte yet so blithe To save his life, as I shall ben as switheAs I you see, and though no manner routh Can meven you, yet thinketh on your trouth." And if so be my gilt hath death deserved,Or if you list no more upon me see,In guerdon yet of that I have you served,Beseech I you, mine owne lady free,That hereupon ye woulden write me For love of God, my right lodesterre,That death may make an end of al my werre." If other cause aught doth you for to dwell,That with your letter ye may me recomfort,For though to me your absence is an Hell,With patience I woll my wo comfort,And with your letter of hope I woll disport:Now writeth, swete, and let me thus nat plaine,With hope or deathe delivereth me fro paine."Ywis, mine owne dere herte trew,I wote that whan ye next upon me see,So lost have I mine heale and eke mine hew,Creseide shall not conne knowen me,Ywis, mine hertes day, my lady free,So thursteth aye mine herte to behold Your beautie, that unneth my life I hold." I say no more, all have I for to sey Το you well more than I tell may,But whether that ye do me live or dey,Yet pray I God so yeve you right good day,And fareth well, goodly faire fresh May,As ye that life or death me may commaund,And to your trouth aye I me recommaund."With heale such, that but ye yeven meThe same heale, I shall none heale have,In you lieth, whan you list that it so be,The day in which me clothen shall my grave,And in you my life, in you might for to save Me fro disease of all my paines smart,And fare now well, mine owne sweet herte." Le vostre T."This letter forth was sent unto Creseide,Of which her answere in effect was this,Full pitously she wrote ayen, and seide,That all so soone as she might ywis,She would come, and amend all that was amis,And finally, she wrote and saied than,She would come, ye, but she nist whan.But in her letter made she such feasts,That wonder was, and swore she loved him best,Of which he found but bottomlesse bihests.But Troilus thou mayst now east and westPipe in an ivie leafe, if that thee lest:Thusgoththe world, God shilde us fro mischaunce,And every wight that meaneth trouth avaunce.Encreasen gan the wo fro day to nightOf Troilus, for tarying of Creseide,And lessen gan his hope and eke his might,For which all doun he in his bedde him leide,He ne eat, dronke, ne slept, ne worde seide,Imagining aye that she was unkind,For which wel nigh he wext out of his mind.This dreme, of which I told have eke beforne,May never come out of his remembraunce,He thought aye well he had his lady lorne,And that Joves, of his purveyaunce,Him shewed had in sleepe the signifiaunceOf her untrouth, and his disaventure,And that the bore was shewed him in figure.For which he for Sibilie his suster sent, 1 That called was Cassandre eke all about,And all his dreame he told her ere he stent,And her besought assoilen him the dout Of the strong bore, with tuskes stout,And finally, within a little stound,Cassandre him gan thus his dreme expound.She gan first smile, and said, " O brother dere,If thou a sooth of this desirest to know,Thou must a fewe of old stories here,To purpose how that fortune overthrowHath lordes old, through which within a throw Thou shalt this bore know, and of what kind He comen is, as men in bookes find."Diane, which that wroth was and in ire,For Greekes n'olde done her sacrifice,Ne incens upon her altar set on fire,She for that Greekes gon her so dispise,Wrake her in a wonder cruell wise,For with a bore as great as oxe in stall,She made up frete her corne and vines all."To slee the bore was all the country raised,Emong whiche there came this bore to se A maid, one of this world the best ypraised,And Meleager, lord of that countre:He loved so this freshe maiden free,That with his manhood, ere he would stent,This bore he slough, and her the hed he seut.330 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. V. V. 1478-1604"Of whiche, as olde bookes tellen us,There rose a conteke and a great envie,And of this lord discended TideusBy line, or els old bookes lie:But how this Meleager gan to dieThrough his mother, woll I you not tell,For all too long it were for to dwell. "She told eke how Tideus, ere she stent,Unto the strong citie of Thebes(To claimen kingdome of the citie) went For his fellawe dan Polimites,Of which the brother dan EthioclesFull wrongfully of Thebes held the strength.This told she by processe all by length.She told eke how Hemonides astart,Whan Tideus slough fiftie knightes stout,She told eke all the prophesies by herte,And how that seven kinges with hir rout Besiegeden the citie all about,And of the holy serpent, and the well,And of the furies all she gan him tell.Associat profugus Tideus primo Polynicem,Tidea ligatum docet insidiasque secundo,Tertius Hæmoniden canit, et vatem latitantem,Quartus habet reges ineuntes prælia septem,Lemniadumfuriæ quinto narrantur et anguis,Archemori bustum sexto ludique sequuntur.Dat Thebis vatem Graiorum septimus umbris,Octavo cecidit Tideus, spes, vita Pelasgum,Hippomedon nono moritur cum Parthenopeo,Fulmine percussus decimo Capeneus superatur,Undecimo perimunt sese per vulnera fratres,Argivumflentem, narrat duodenus et ignem.Of Archinories burying, and the plaies,And how Amphiorax fill through the ground,How Tideus was slaine, lord of Argeis,And how Hippomedon in a little stound Was dreint, and dead Parthenope of wound,And also how Campaneus the proud With thunder dint was slaine, that cried loud.She gan eke tell him how that either brother Ethiocles and Polinices alsoAt a scarmishe eche of hem slouth other,And of Argives weeping and her mo,And how the toun was brent she told eke tho,And tho discended doun from gestes oldTo Diomede, and thus she spake and told."This ilke bore betokeneth Diomede,Tideus son, that doun descended isFro Meleager, that made the bore to blede,And thy lady, where so she be ywis,This Diomede her herte hath, and she is his:Weep if thou wolt or leave, for out of dout This Diomede is in, and thou art out."[ceresse," Thou sayst not sooth," (quod he) " thou sor- With all thy false ghost of prophecie,Thou wenest been a great devineresse,Now seest thou nat this foole of fantasie,Painen her on ladies for to lie,Away," (quod he) " there Joves yeve the sorow,That shalt be fals peraventure yet to morow."As well thou mightest lien on good Alceste,That was of creatures ( but men lie)That ever weren, kindest, and the best,For whan her husbond was in jeopardieTo die himselfe, but if she would die,She chese for him to die, and gon to Hell,And starfe anon, as us the bookes tell. "Cassandre goeth, and he with cruell herte Foryate his wo, for anger of his speech,And fro his bedde all suddainly he start,As though a hole him had ymade a leech,And day by day he gan require and seech A sooth of this, with all his full cure,And thus he driveth forth his aventure.Fortune which that permutationOf all things hath, as it is her committed,Through purveyaunce and disposition Of high Jove, as reignes shall ben flitted Fro folk to folk, or whan they shal ben smitted,Gan pull away the feathers bright of TroyFro day to day till they ben bare of joy.Emong all this, the fine of the jeopardie Of Hector gan approchen wonder blive,The fate would his soule should unbodie,And shapen had a meane it out to drive,Ayenst which fate him helpeth not to strive,But on a day to fighten gan he wend,At which alas, he caught his lives end.For which me thinketh every manner wightThat haunteth armes, ought to bewaile The death of him that was so noble a knight:For as he drough a king by th'aventaile Unware of this, Achilles through the maile And through the bodie gan him for to rive,And thus the worthy knight was reft of live.For whom, as old bookes tellen us,Was made such wo, that tong it may nat tell,And namely, the sorow of Troilus,That next him was of worthinesse the well,And in this wo gan Troilus to dwell,That what for sorow, love, and for unrest,Full oft a day he bad his herte brest.But nathelesse, tho he gon him dispaire,And drede aye that his lady was untrue,Yet aye on her his herte gan repaire,And as these lovers done, he sought aye newTo get ayen Creseide bright of hew,And in his herte he went her excusing,That Calcas caused all her tarying.And oft time he was in purpose great,Himselven like a pilgrime to disguise,To seene her, but he may not counterfeat,To ben unknowen of folke that weren wise,Ne find excuse aright that may suffise,If he among the Grekes knowen were,For which he wept full oft many a tere.To her he wrote yet oft time all new,Full pitously, he left it nat for slouth,Beseeching her, sens that he was true,That she woll come ayen, and hold her trouth,For which Creseide upon a day for routh,I take it so, touching all this matere,Wrote him ayen, and said as ye may here."Cupides sonne, ensample of goodlihede,O swerde of knighthood, sours of gentilnesse,How might a wight in turment and in drede,B. V. V. 1605-1729 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 331And healelesse, you send as get gladnesse,I hertelesse, I sicke, I in distresse,Sens ye with me, nor I with you may deale,You neither send I herte may nor heale.“Your letters full the paper all iplainted,Conceived hath mine hertes pite,I have eke seene with teares all depainted,Your letter, and how that ye requiren meTo come ayen, which yet ne may not be,But why, least that this letter founden were,No mention ne make I now for fere."Grevous to me (God wote) is your unrest,Your hast, and that the Goddes ordinaunceIt seemeth nat ye take it for the best,Nor other thing n'is in your remembraunce,As thinketh me, but only your pleasaunce,But beth not wroth, and that I you beseech,For that I tary is all for wicked speech."For I have heard well more than I wendTouching us two, how thinges have ystond,Which I shall with dissimuling amend,And beth nat wroth, I have eke understond,How ye ne do but holden me in hond,But now no force, I can nat in you gesse,But all trouth and all gentilnesse."Come I woll, but yet in such disjoint I stond as now, that what yere or what dayThat this shall be, that can I nat appoint,But in effect I pray you as I may Of your good word, and of your friendship aye,For truly while that my life may dure,As for a friend ye may in me assure."Yet pray I you, no evill ye ne take That it is short which that I to you write,I dare nat there I am well letters make,Ne never yet ne could I well endite,Eke great effect, men write in place lite,Th'entent is all, and nat the letters space,And fareth well, God have you in his grace."La vostre C."This Troilus thought this letter all straungeWhan he it saw, and sorowfully he sight,Him thought it like a kalends of eschaunge,But finally he full ne trowen might,That she ne would him holden that she hight,For with ful evell will list him to leve,That loveth well in such case, though him greve.But nathelesse, men saine that at the last,For any thing, men shall the soothe see,And such a case betide, and that as fast,That Troilus well understood that sheN'as nat so kind as that her ought to be,And finally, he wote now out of dout,That all is lost that he hath ben about.Stood on a day in his melancholy This Troilus, and in suspectioun Of her, for whom he wend to dye,And so befell, that throughout Troie toun,As was the guise, yborne was up and doun A manner cote armoure, as saith the story,Beforne Deiphebe, insigne of his victory.The whiche cote, as telleth Lollius,Deiphebe it hath rent fro DiomedeThe same day, and whan this TroilusIt saw, he gan to taken of it hede,Avising of the length and of the brede,And all the werke, but as he gan behold,Full sodainly his herte gan to cold.As he that on the coler found withinA brooch, that he Creseide yave at morow That she from Troy must nedes twin,In remembraunce of him, and of his sorow,And she him laid ayen her faith to borow,To keepe it aye: but now full well he wist,His lady nas no longer on to trist.He goth him home, and gan full soone send For Pandarus, and all this newe chaunce,And of this broch, he told him word and end,Complaining of her hertes variaunce,His longe love, his trouth, and his pennaunce,And after Death, without words more,Full fast he cried, his rest him to restore.Than spake he thus, " O lady mine Creseide,Where is your faith, and where is your behest?Where is your love, where is your trouth" he seide," Of Diomede have ye now all the fest?Alas, I would have trowed at the least,That sens ye n'olde in trouthe to me stond,That ye thus n'olde have holden me in hond."Who shall now trowen on any othes mo?Alas, I never would have wend ere this,That ye, Creseide, could have chaunged so,Ne but I had agilt, and done amis;So cruell wend I nat your herte ywis,To slee me thus, alas, your name of trouth Is now fordone, and that is all my routh."Was there none other broche you list lete,To feast with your new love," (quod he)"But thilke broche that I with teres wete You yave, as for a remembraunce of me?None other cause alas, ne had ye,But for dispite, and eke for that ye mentAll utterly to shewen your entent.Through which I see, that clene out ofyour mindYe have me cast, and I ne can nor may For all this world within mine herte find,To unloven you a quarter of a day:In cursed time I borne was, welaway,That you that done me all this wo endure,Yet love I best of any creature."Now God" (quod he) " me sende yet the grace,That I may meten with this Diomede,And truely, if I had might and space,Yet shall I make I hope his sides blede:Now God" (quod he) "that oughtest taken hede To forthren trouth, and wronges to punice,Why n'ilt thou don a vengeance of this vice."O Pandarus, that in dremes for to tristMe blamed hast, and wont art oft upbreide,Now mayst thou seen thy self, if that thee list,How trew is now thy nece, bright Creseide:In sundry formes ( God it wote)" he seide,"The gods shewen both joy and tene In slepe, and by my dreme it is now sene."And certainely, withouten more speech,From henceforth, as ferforth as I may,332 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. B. V. v. 1730-1855Mine owne death in armes woll I seech,I retche nat how soone be the day,But truely Creseide, sweet May,Whom I have with all my might iserved,That ye thus done, I have it nat deserved . "This Pandarus, that all these thinges herd,And wiste well he said a sooth of this,He nat a word ayen to him answerd,For sorie of his friends sorrow he is,And shame for his nece hath done amis,And stant astonied of these causes twey,As still as stone, o word ne could he sey.But at the last, thus he spake and seide,"My brother dere, I may do thee no more,What should I saine, I hate ywis Creseide,And God it wote, I woll hate her evermore:And that thou me besoughtest done of yore,Having unto mine honour ne my rest Right no regard, I did all that thee lest." If I did aught that might liken thee,It is me lefe, and of this treason now,God wote that it a sorrow is to me,And dredelesse, for hertes ease of you,Right faine I would amend it, wist I how:And fro this world, Almighty God, I prayDeliver her soone, I can no more say."Great was the sorow and plaint of Troilus,But forth her course fortune aye gan hold,Creseide loveth the sonne of Tideus,And Troilus mote wepe in cares cold,Such is this world, who so it can behold,In eche estate is little hertes rest,God leve us to take it for the best.In many cruell battaile out of drede,Of Troilus, this ilke noble knight,(As men may in these old bookes rede)Was seen his knighthood and his great might,And dredelesse his ire day and night Full cruelly the Grekes aye abought,And alway most this Diomede, he sought.And oft time ( I finde) that they mette With bloody strokes, and with wordes great,Assaying how hir speares were whette,And God it wote, with many a cruell heat Gan Troilus upon his helme to beat,But nathelesse, fortune it naught ne would Of others hond that either dien should.And if I had ytaken for to write The armes of this ilke worthy man,Than would I of his battailes endite,And for that I to writen first beganOf his love, I have said as I can His worthy deedes, who so list hem here,Rede Dares, he can tell hem all yfere.Beseeching every lady bright of hew,And every gentill woman, what she be,Albeit that Creseide was untrew,That for that gilt ye be nat wroth with me,Ye may her gilt in other bookes see,And gladder I would write, if you lest,Penelopes trouth, and good Alceste.Ne say I nat this all onelyfor thesem*n,But mostfor womenthat betraiedbeThrough false folk, God yeve hem sorow, amen,That with hir great wit and subtilte Betraien you and this meveth me To speake, and in effect you all I prayBeth ware of men, and hearkeneth what I say.Go, little booke, go, my little tragedie,There God my maker yet ere that I die,So send me might to make some comedie:But little booke, make thou none envie,But subject ben unto all poesie,And kisse the steps whereas thou seest pace Of Vergil, Ovid, Homer, Lucan, and Stace.And for there is so great diversite In English, and in writing of our tong,So pray I to God, that none miswrite thee,Nethe misse-metre, for defaut of tong:And redde where so thou be, or eles song,That thou be understond, God I beseech,But yet to purpose of my rather speech.The wrath (as I began you for to sey)Of Troilus, the Greekes boughten dere,For thousandes his hondes maden dey,As he that was withouten any pere,Save in his time Hector, as I can here,But welaway, save onely Goddes will ,Dispitously him slough the fierce Achill.And whan that he was slain in this manere,His light ghoste full blisfully is went Up to the hollownesse of the seventh sphere,In his place leting everiche element,And there he saw with full avisem*ntThe erratike sterres, herkening armonie,With sownes full of Heavens melodie.And doun from thence, fast he gan aviseThis little spot of earth, that with the see Enbraced is, and fully gan despiseThis wretched world, and held all vanite To respect of the plaine felicite That is in Heaven above and at the last,There he was slaine, his looking doun he cast.And in himselfe he lough, right at the wo Of hem that wepten for his death so fast,And dampned all our werkes that followeth so The blinde lust, whiche that may nat last,And shoulden all our herte on Heaven cast,And forth he went, shortely for to tell,There as Mercurie sorted him to dwell.Such fine hath lo, this Troilus for love,Such fine hath all his great worthinesse,Such fine hath his estate royall above,Such fine his lust, such fine hath his noblesse,Such fine hath false worldes brotelnesse,And thus began his loving ofCreseide,As I have told, and in this wise he deide.Oyoung fresh folkes, he or she,In which that love up groweth with your age,Repaireth home from worldly vanite,And of your hertes up casteth the visage To thilke God, that after his imageYou made, and thinketh all n'is but a faire,This world that passeth sone, as floures faire.And loveth him the which that right for loveUpon a crosse our soules for to bey,B. V. v. 1856-1881 TROILUS AND CRESEIDE. 333First starfe and rose, and sit in Heven above,For he n'ill falsen no wight dare I sey,That wol his herte all holy on him ley,And sens he best to love is and most meeke,What needeth fained loves for to seeke.Lo, here of painems cursed olde rites,Lo, here what all hir goddes may availe,Lo, here this wretched worldes appetites,Lo, here the fine and guerdon for travaile,Of Jove, Apollo, of Mars, and such raskaile,Lo, here the forme of olde clerkes speech In poetrie, if ye hir bookes seech.O morall Gower, this booke I directTo thee, and to the philosophicall Strode,To vouchsafe there need is, to correct,Of your benignities and zeales good,And to the soothfast Christ that starfe on rood,With all mine herte of mercy ever I pray,And to the Lord aright, thus I speake and say,Thou one, two, and three, eterne on live,That raignest aie in thre, two, and one,Uncirc*mscript, and all maist circ*mscrive,Us from visible and invisible foneDefend, and to thy mercy everichone,So make us, Jesus, to thy mercy digne,For love of maide, and mother thine benigne.THUS ENDETH THE FIFTH AND LAST BOOKE OF TROILUS.THE COURT OF LOVE.This booke is an imitation of the Romaunt of the Rose, shewing that all are subject to love, what impediments soever to the contrary: containing also those twentie statutes which are to be observed in the Court of Love.v. 1-70WITH temerous herte, and trembling hand of drede, But my entent, and all my busie cureOf cunning naked, bare of eloquence,Unto the floure of porte in womanhedeI write, as he that none intelligence Of metres hath, ne floures of sentence:Saufe that me list my writing to convey,In that I can to please her high nobley.The blosomes fresh of Tullius gardein sotePresent they not, my matter for to born:Poemes of Virgil taken here no rote,Ne craft of Galfride may not here sojourn:'Why n'am I cunning? O well may I mourn For lacke of science, that I cannot writeUnto the princes of my life aright.No tearmes digne unto her excellence,So is she sprong of noble stirpe and high;A world of honour and of reverence There is in her, this will I testifie:Caliope, thou suster wise and slie,And thou Minerva, guide me with thy grace,That language rude my matter not deface.Thy suger droppes sweet of Helicon Distill in me, thou gentle Muse, I pray,And thee Melpomene, I call anone,Of ignoraunce the mist to chase away:And give me grace so for to write and say,That she my lady of her worthinesse Accept in gree this little short treatesse,That is entituled thus, The Court of Love:And ye that ben metriciens me excuse,I you beseech for Venus sake above,For what I mean in this, ye need not muse:And if so be my lady it refuseFor lacke of ornate speech, I would be wo,That I presume to her to writen so.Is for to write this treatesse as I can,Unto my lady, stable, true, and sure,Faithfull and kind, sith first that she beganMe to accept in service as her man:To her be all the pleasure of this book,That whan her like she may it rede and look.WHAN I was young, at eighteene yeare of age,Lusty and light, desirous of pleasaunce,Approching on full sadde and ripe courage,Love arted me to do my observaunce To his estate, and done him obeisaunce,Commaunding me the Court of Love to see,Alite beside the mount of Citharee.There Citherea goddesse was and quene,Honoured highly for her majeste,And eke her sonne, the mighty god I wene,Cupide the blind, that for his dignitee A thousand lovers worship on their knee;There was I bid in paine of death to pere,By Mercury the winged messengere.So than I went by strange and fer countrees,Enquiring aye what coast had to it drew The Court of Love; and thiderward as bees,At last I see the people gan pursue;And me thought some wight was there that knew Where that the court was holden ferre or nie,And after them full fast I gan me hie.66Anone as I them overtooke I said,"Haile friends, whither purpose ye to wend?"Forsooth," (quod one) that answered liche a maid,"To Loves Court now go we gentle friend. ""Where is that place," (quod Ï) " myfellowhend?"" At Citheron, sir," said he, " withoute dout,The king of love, and all his noble rout334 THE COURT OF LOVE. v. 71-196" Dwelleth within a castle rially."So than apace I journed forth among,And as he said, so fond I there truly;For I beheld the toures high and strong,And high pinacles, large of hight and long,With plate of gold bespred on every side,And precious stones, the stone werke for to hide.No saphire in Inde, no rubie rich of price,There lacked than, nor emeraud so grene,Bales Turkes, ne thing to my device,That may the castle maken for to shene:All was as bright as sterres in winter bene,And Phebus shone to make his peace ageine,For trespas done to high estates tweine,Venus and Mars, the god and goddesse clere,Whan he them found in armes cheined fast;Venus was than full sad of herte and chere,But Phebus' beams streight as is the mast,Upon the castle ginneth he to cast,To please the lady, princes of that place,In signe he looketh after Loves grace.For there n'is god in Heaven or Hell ywis,But he hath ben right soget unto Love;Jove, Pluto, or whatsoever he is,Ne creature in yearth, or yet above;Of these the revers may no wight approve.But furthermore, the castle to descrie,Yet saw I never none so large and hie;For unto Heaven it stretcheth, I suppose,Within and out depeinted wonderly,With many a thousand daisies rede as rose,And white also, this saw I verely:But who tho daisies might do signifie,Can I not tell, safe that the quenes floure,Alceste it was that kept there her sojoure;Which under Venus lady was and quene,And Admete king and soveraine of that place,To whom obeied the ladies good ninetene,With many a thousand other bright of face:And yong men fele came forth with lusty pace,And aged eke, their homage to dispose,But what they were I coud not well disclose.Yet nere and nere forth in I gan me dress Into an hall of noble apparaile,With arras spred, and cloth of gold I gesse,And other silke of esier availe:Under the cloth of their estate, sauns faile,The king and quene there sat as I beheld;It passed joy of Helise the field.There saints have their comming and resort,To seene the king so rially beseine In purple clad, and eke the quene in sort,And on their heads saw I crownes twaine,With stones fret, so that it was no paine,Withouten meat and drink, to stand and seeThe kinges honour and the rialtee.And for to treat of states with the king,That ben of councel cheef, and with the quene;The king had Danger nere to him standing,The quene of love, Disdain, and that was sene:For by the faith I shall to God, I wene,Was never straunger none in her degree,Than was the quene in casting of her eye.And as I stood perceiving her apart,And eke the beames shining of her eyen,Me thought they weren shapen lich a dart,Sharpe and persing, and smal and streight of line;And all her haire it shone as gold so fine,Dishivil crispe, downe hanging at her backe A yard in length: and soothly than I spake."O bright regina, who made thee so faire?Who made thy colour vermelet and white?Wher wonneth that god, how far above the aire?Great was his craft, and great was his delite.Now marvell I nothing that ye do hightThe quene of love, and occupie the place Of Cithare: now sweet lady thy grace."In mewet spake I so, that nought astart By no condition word, that might be hard;But in my inward thought I gan advert,And oft I said " My wit is dull and hard: "For with her beauty thus, God wot, I ferde As doth the man yravished with sight,Whan I beheld her cristall eyen so bright;No respect having what was best to doone,Till right anone beholding here and there,I spied a friend of mine, and that full soone,Agentlewoman, was the chamberereUnto the quene, that hote as ye shall here,Philobone, that loved all her life:Whan she me sey, she led me forth as blife;And me demanded how and in what wiseI thither come, and what my errand was?"To seen the court " ( quod I ) " and all the guise,And eke to sue for pardon and for grace,And mercy aske for all my great trespace,That I none erst come to the Court of Love:Foryeve me this, ye goddes all above.""That is well said," (quod Philobone) " indede:But were ye not assomoned to appereBy Mercurius, for that is all my drede? ""Yes gentill feire," (quod I) " now am I here;Ye yet what tho though that be true my dere? "" Of your free will ye should have come unsent;For ye did not, I deme ye will be shent:"For ye that reigne in youth and lustinesse,Pampired with ease, and jalous in your age,Your duty is, as ferre as I can gesse,To Loves Court to dressen your viage,As soone as nature maketh you so sage,That ye may know a woman from a swan,Or whan your foot is growen halfe a span."But sith that ye by wilfull negligence'This eighteene year hath kept your self at large,The greater is your trespas and offence,And in your neck you mote bere all the charge:For better were ye ben withouten barge Amidde the sea in tempest and in raine,Than biden here, receiving wo and paine"That ordained is for such as them absentFro Loves Court by yeres long and fele.I ley my life ye shall full soone repent,For Love will rive your colour, lust, and hele;Eke ye must bait on many an heavy mele;No force ywis: I stirred you long agoneTo draw to court" ( quod) little Philobone.v. 197-322 THE COURT OF LOVE. 335"Ye shall well see how rough and angry faceThe king of love will shew, whan ye him se:By mine advise kneel down and ask him grace,Eschewing perill and adversite,For well I wote, it woll none other be;Comfort is none, ne counsell to your ease,Why will ye than the king of love displease?""O mercy God," (quod iche) " I me repent,Caitife and wretch in herte, in will, and thought,And after this shall be mine hole ententTo serve and please, how dere that love be bought:Yet sith I have mine own pennance ysought,With humble sprite shall I it receive,Though that the king of love my life bereive." And though that fervent loves qualiteIn me did never worch truly, yet IWith all obeisaunce and humilite,And benigne herte shall serve him till I die:And he that lord of might is great and hie,Right as him list me chastice and correct,And punish me with trespace thus infect. "These words said, she caught me by the lap,And led me forth in till a temple round,Both large and wide and as my blessed hap And good aventure was, right soone I found A tabernacle raised from the ground,Where Venus sat, and Cupide by her side:Yet halfe for drede I can my visage hide;Yet eft againe, I looked and beheld,Seeing full sundry people in the place,And mistere folke, and some that might not weld Their limmes wele, me thought a wonder case:The temple shone with windows all of glass,Bright as the day with many a fair image;And there I see the fresh queen of Cartage,Dido, that brent her beauty for the love Of false Æneas; and the waimentingOf her, Annelida, true as turtle dove To Arcite fals; and there was in peintingOf many a prince, and many a doughty king,Whose martirdom was shewed about the wals,And how that fele for love had suffred fals.But sore I was abashed and astoniedOf all tho folke that there were in that tide,And than I askeden where they had wonned:" In divers courts " (quod she) " here beside."In sundry clothing mantill wise full wide They were arraied, and did their sacrifiseUnto the god and goddesse in their guise."And women eke: for, truly, there is none Exception made, ne never was ne may;This court is ope and free for everichone,The king of love he will not say them nay:He taketh all in poore or rich array,That meekely sewe unto his excellence With all their herte and all their reverence."And walking thus about with Philobone I see where come a messengere in hieStreight from the king, which let command anone,Throughout the court to make an ho and cry:"All new come folke abide, and wote ye why?The kings lust is for to seene you sone:Come nere let see, his will mote need be done."Than gan I me present tofore the king,Trembling for fere with visage pale of hew,And many a lover with me was kneeling,Abashed sore, till unto the time they knew The sentence yeve of his entent full trew:And at the last, the king hath me behold With sterne visage, and seid, " What doth this old"Thus ferre ystope in yeres come so late Unto the court? " " Forsooth, my liege, " (quod I)" An hundred time I have ben at the gate Afore this time, yet coud I never espieOf mine acqueintaunce any in mine eie,And shamefastnesse away me gan to chace;But now I me submit unto your grace."" Well, all is pardoned, with condition,That thou be true from henceforth to thy might,And serven Love in thine entention;Sweare this, and than, as ferre as it is right,Thou shalt have grace here in thy quenes sight."" Yes, by the faith I owe to your croun, I swere,Though Death therefore me thirlith with his spere. "And whan the king had seene us everychone,He let commaund an officer in hieTo take our faith, and shew us, one by one,The statutes of the court full busily:Anon the booke was laid before their eie,To rede and see what thing we must observe In Loves Court, till that we die and sterve.AND for that I was lettred, there I red The statutes hole of Loves Court and hall:The first statute that on the booke was spred,Was to be true in thought and deedes allUnto the king of love, the lord riall,And to the quene, as faithfull and as kind,As I could think with herte, will, and mind."Lo, yonder folke" ( quod she) " that kneele in blew, The second statute, secretly to kepe They weare the colour aye and ever shall,In signe they were and ever will be trewWithouten chaunge; and soothly yonder all That ben in black, and mourning cry and call Unto the gods, for their loves bene,Som sick, som dede, som all to sharp and kene. ""Yea, than" (quod I ) " what done these priests here,Nonnes and hermites, freres, and all tho,That sit in white, in russet, and in grene?""Forsooth " (quod she) "they wailen of their wo. ""O mercy lord, may they so come and go Freely to court and have such liberty? "66 Yea, men of each condition and degre;Councell of love, not blowing every whereAll that I know, and let it sinke and flete;It may not sowne in every wights ere;Exiling slaunder aye for drede and fere,And to my lady which I love and serve,Be true and kind her grace for to deserve.The third statute was clerely writ also,Withouten chaunge to live and die the same,None other love to take for wele ne wo,For blind delite, for ernest, nor for game;Without repent for laughing or for grame,To bidden still in full perseveraunce:All this was hole the kings ordinaunce.336 THE COURT OF LOVE. v. 323-448The fourth statute, to purchase ever to here,And stirren folke to love, and beten fire On Venus auter, here about and there,And preach to them of love and hote desire,And tell how love will quiten well their hire:This must be kept, and loth me to displease:If love be wroth, passe: for thereby is ease.The fifth statute, not to be daungerous,If that a thought would reve me of my slepe;Nor of a sight to be over squemous;And so verely this statute was to kepe,To turne and wallow in my bed and wepe,Whan that my lady of her cruelty Would from her herte exilen all pity.The sixt statute, it was for me to use Alone to wander, void of company,And on my ladies beauty for to muse,And to thinke it no force to live or die,And eft againe to thinke the remedie,Howto her grace I might anone attaine,And tell my wo unto my soveraine.The seventh statute, was to be patient,Whether my lady joyfull were or wroth,For words glad or heavy, diligent,Wheder that she me helden lefe or loth:And hereupon I put was to mine oth,Her for to serve, and lowly to obey,In shewing her my chere, ye, twenty sithe aday.The eighth statute, to my remembraunce,Was to speaken and pray my lady dere,With hourely labour and great entendaunce,Me for to love with all her herte entere,And me desire, and make me joyfull chere,Right as she is surmounting every faire,Of beauty well and gentle debonaire.The ninth statute, with letters writ of gold,This was the sentence, how that I, and all,Should ever dread to be to overboldHer to displease; and truely, so I shall,But ben content for thinge that mayfall,And meekely take her chastisem*nt and yerd,And to offend her ever ben aferd.The tenth statute, was egally to discerne Betwene the lady and thine ability,And thinke thy selfe art never like to yerne,Byright, her mercy nor her equity,But of her grace and womanly pity;For though thy selfe be noble in thy strene,A thousand fold more noble is thy quene,Thy lives lady and thy soveraine,That hath thine herte all hole in governaunce;Thou mayst no wise it taken to disdaine To put thee humbly at her ordinaunce,And give her free the reine of her plesaunce,For liberty is thing that women looke,And truly els the matter is a crooke.The eleventh statute, thy signs for to knowWith eye and finger, and with smiles soft,And low to couch, and alway for to show,For drede of spies, for to winken oft,And secretly to bring up a sigh aloft;But still beware of overmuch resort,For that paraventure spileth all thy sport.The twelfth statute remember to observe:For all the paine thou hast for love and wo,All is too lite her mercy to deserve,Thou musten think, wherever thou ride or go:And mortall woundes suffer thou also,All for her sake, and thinke it well besetteUpon thy love, for it may not be bette.The thirteenth statute, whilome is to thinkeWhat thing may best thy lady like and please,And in thine hertes bottome let it sinke;Some thing devise, and take for it thine ease,And send it her, that may her herte appease;Some herte, or ring, or letter, or device,Or precious stone, but spare not for no price.The fourteenth statute eke thou shalt assay,Formely to keepe the most part of thy life:Wish that thy lady in thine armes lay,And nightlydreme, thou hast thynights hertes wife,Sweetly in armes, straining her as blife;And whan thou seest it is but fantasie,See that thou sing not over merely,For too much joy hath oft a wofull end:It longeth eke this statute for to hold,To deme thy lady ever more thy friend,And thinke thy selfe in no wise a co*kold.In every thing she doth but as she should:Construe the best, beleeve no tales new,For many a lye is told, that seemeth full trew.But thinke that she, so bounteous and faire,Coud not be false; imagine this algate:And think that tonges wicked would her appaire,Sclandering her name and worshipfull estate,And lovers true to setten at debate:And though thou seest a faut right at thine eye,Excuse it blive, and glose it pretily.The fifteenth statute, use to swere and stare,And counterfeit a lesing hardely,To save thy ladies honour every where,And put thy selfe for her to fight boldely:Say she is good, vertuous, and ghostly,Clere of entent, and herte, yea, thought and will,And argue not for reason ne for skill,Againe thy ladies pleasure ne entent;For love will not be countrepleted indede:Say as she saith, than shalt thou not be shent,The crow is white, ye truly so I rede:And aye what thing that she thee will forbede,Eschew all that, and give her soveraintee,Her appetite followe in all degree.The sixteenth statute keepe it if thou may:Seven sithe at night thy lady for to please,And seven at midnight, seven at morrow day,And drinke a caudle earely for thine ease.Do this and keep thine head from all disease,And win the garland here of lovers all,That ever came in court, or ever shall.Full few, think I, this statute hold and keep:But truely, this my reason giveth me fele,That some lovers should rather fall asleepe,Than take on hand to please so oft and wele.There lay none oth to this statute adele,But keep who might, as gave him his corage;Now get this garland lusty folke of age:v. 449-574 THE COURT OF LOVE. 337Now win who may ye lusty folke of youth,This garland fresh of floures red and white,Purple and blew, and colours fell uncouth,And I shall croune him king of all delite.In all the court there was not to my sight,A lover true, that he ne was adrede Whan he expresse hath heard the statute rede.The seventeenth statute, whan age approcheth on,And lust is laid, and all the fire is queint,As freshly than thou shalt begin to fonne And dote in love, and all her image paintIn thy remembraunce, till thou begin to faint,As in the first season thine herte began:And her desire, though thou ne may ne canPerforme thy living actuell and lust,Register this in thine remembraunce:Eke whan thou maist not keep thy thing from rust,Yet speake and talke of pleasaunt daliaunce,For that shall make thine herte rejoice and daunce;And whan thou maist no more the game assay,The statute bid thee pray for them that may.The eighteenth statute, holy to commend To please thy lady, is that thou eschewWith slu*ttishnesse thy selfe for to offend;Be jollife, fresh, and fete, with thinges new,Courtly with manner, this is all thy due;Gentill of port, and loving cleanlinesse,This is the thing, that liketh thy maistresse.And not to wander liche a dulled asse,Ragged and torne, disguised in array,Ribaud in speech, or out of measure passe,Thy bound exceeding; thinke on this alway;For women been of tender hertes aye,And lightly set their pleasure in a place,Whan they misthinke, they lightly let it passe.The nineteenth statute, meat and drinke forgete:Ech other day, see that thou fast for love,For in the court they live withouten mete,Save such as cometh from Venus all above,They take none hede, in pain of great reprove,Of meat and drinke, for that is all in vaine,Onely they live by sight of their soveraine.The twentieth statute, last of everichone,Enroll it in thyne hertes privitee;To wring and waile, to turne, and sigh and grone,Whan that thy lady absent is from thee,And eke renew the words all that sheBetween you twain hath said, and all the chere That thee hath made, thy lives lady dere.And see thine herte in quiet, ne in rest Sojourne, till time thou seene thy lady eft;But where she wonne, by south, or east, or west,With all thy force, now see it be not left;Be diligent, till time thy life be raft,In that thou mayest, thy lady for to see:This statute was of old antiquitee.An officer of high authority,Cleped Rigour, made us to swere anone:He n'as corrupt with partiality,Favour, prayer, ne gold that clerely shone;" Ye shall" (quod he) " now sweren here echone,Yong and old, to kepe, in that they may,The statutes truly, all after this day."O God, thought I, hard is to make this othe,But to my power shall I them observe:In all this world n'as matter halfe so lothe,To sweare for all for though my body sterve,I have no might them hole to observe.But herken now the case how it befell,After my oth was made, the troth to tell .I tourned leaves, looking on this booke,Where other statutes were of women shene,And right forthwith Rigour on me gan looke Full angerly, and sayed unto the queene I traitour was, and charged me let been;" There may no man" (quod he) " the statute know That long to women, hie degree ne low."In secret wise they kepten been full close;They soune echone to liberty, my friend,Pleasaunt they be, and to their owne purpose;There wote no wight of them, but God and fiend,Ne naught shall wite, unto the worlds end.The queen hath yeve me charge in pain to die Never to rede ne seene them with mine eie."For men shall not so nere of counsaile beneWith womanhood, ne knowen of her guise,Ne what they think, ne of their wit thengine;I me report to Salomon the wise,And mighty Sampson, which beguiled thrise With Dalida was, he wote that in a throw,There may no man statute of women know."For it peraventure, may right so befall,That they be bound by nature to deceive,And spinne, and weep, and sugre strew on gall ,The herte of man to ravish and to reive,And whet their tongue as sharpe as swerde or gleve;It may betide, this is their ordinance,So must they lowly doen their observaunce."And keepe the statute yeven them of kind,Of such as love hath yeve hem in their life.Men may not wete why turneth every wind,Nor waxen wise, nor been inquisitife To know secret of maid, widow, or wife,For they their statutes have to them reserved,And never man to know them hath deserved."Nowdresse you forth, the god oflove you guide,"(Quod Rigour than) " and seek the temple brightOf Cithera, goddesse here beside,Beseech her by influence and mightOf all her vertue, you to teach aright,How for to serve your ladies, and to pleaseYe that been sped, and set your herte in ease." And ye that ben unpurveyed, pray her eke Comfort you soone with grace and destiny,That ye may set your herte there ye may like,In such a place, that it to love may be Honour and worship, and felicity To you for aye, now goeth by one assent. ""Graunt mercy, sir," (quod we) and forth we wentDevoutly, soft and easie pace, to see Venus the goddesse image all of gold:And there we found a thousand on their knee,Some fresh and faire, some deadly to behold,In sundry mantils new and some were old;Some painted were with flames red as fire,Outward, to show their inward hote desire.Z338 THE COURT OF LOVE. v. 575-700With dolefull chere, ful fell in their complaint,Cried " Lady Venus, rew upon our sore!Receive our bils, with teares all bedreint!We may not weepe, there is no more in store,But wo and pain us fretteth more and more:Thou blisseful planet, lovers sterre so shene,Have routh on us, that sigh and carefull bene!"And punish, lady, grevously we pray,The false untrue with counterfeit pleasaunce,That made their oth, be true to live or dey,With chere assured, and with countenaunce;And falsely now they footen loves daunce,Barraine of routh, untrue of that they saied,Now that their lust and pleasure is alaied."Yet eft againe, a thousand million Rejoycing love, leading their life in blisse,They sayd " Venus, redresse of all division,Goddesse eternell, thy name yhired is:By loves bond is knit all thing ywis,Beast unto beast, the yearth to water wan,Bird unto bird, and woman unto man."This is the life of joy that we ben in,Resembling life of heavenly paradise,Love is exiler aye of vice and sinne,Love maketh hertes lusty to deviseHonour and grace, have they in every wise,That been to loves law obedient;Love maketh folke benigne and diligent,"Aye stering them to drede vice and shame:In their degree, it maketh them honourable,And sweet it is of love to beare the name,So that his love be faithfull, true and stable:Love pruneth him, to sem*n amiable,Love hath no faute, there it is exercised,But sole with them that have all love dispised."Honour to thee, celestiall and clere,Goddesse of love, and to thy celsitude!That yevest us light so fer doun from thy spere,Piercing our hertes with thy pulcritude;Comparison none of similitudeMay to thy grace be made in no degree,That hast us set with love in unitie."Great cause have we to praise thy name and thee,For thorough thee we live in joy and blisse.Blessed be thou, most soveraine to see!Thy holy court of gladnesse may not misse;A thousand sithe we may rejoice in this,That we ben thine with herte and all yfere,Enflamed with thy grace and heavenly fere."Musing of tho that spaken in this wise,I me bethought in my remembraunce Mine orizon right goodly to devise,And pleasantly with hertes obeisaunce,Beseech the goddesse voiden my grevaunce,For I loved eke, saufe that I wist not where,Yet downe I set and said as ye shall here.•" Fairest of all that ever were or bee,Licour and light to pensife creature,Mine hole affiaunce, and my lady free,My goddesse bright, my fortune and my ure,I yeve and yeeld my herte to thee full sure,Humbly beseeching, lady, of thy grace,Me to bestow now in some blessed place."And here I vow me, faithful, true, and kind,Without offence of mutabilitie,Humbly to serve, while I have wit and mind,Mine hole affiaunce, and my lady free,In thilke place, there ye me signe to be:And sith this thing of new is yeve me ayeTo love and serve, needly must I obey."Be merciable with thy fire of grace,And fix mine herte there beauty is and routh:For hote I love, determine in no place,Saufe onely this, by God and by my trouthTroubled I was, with slumber, slepe, and slouth This other night, and in a visiounI see a woman romen up and doun,"Of meane stature, and semely to behold,Lustie and fresh, demure of countenaunce,Yong and well shape, with hair shone as gold,With eyen as cristal, ferced with pleasaunce,And she gan stirre mine herte a lite to daunce:But suddainly she vanish gan right there,Thus I may say, I love and wote not where." For what she is, ne her dwelling I n'ot,And yet I fele that love distreineth me;Might iche her know, her would I faine, God wot,Serve and obey with all benignitie,And, if that other be my destinie,So that no wise I shall her never see,Than graunt me her that best may liken me."With glad rejoyce to live in parfite hele,Devoid of wrath, repent or variaunce:And able me to doe that may be wele Unto my lady, with hertes hie pleasaunce:And mighty goddes through thy purveiaunceMy wit, my thoght, my lust and love so guide,That to thine honor I may me provide"To set mine herte in place there I may like,And gladly serve with all affection:Great is the paine which at mine herte doth sticke,Till I be sped by thine election;Helpe, lady goddesse! that possession I might of her have that in all my life I clepen shall my quene, and hertes wife."And in the Court of Love to dwell for ayeMy will it is, and done thee sacrifice:Daily with Diane eke to fight and fraye,And holden werre, as might will me suffice:That goddesse chast I keepen in no wise To serve; a figge for all her chastity,Her law is for religiousity."And thus gan finish prayer, laud, and preise,Which that I yove to Venus on my knee,And in mine herte to ponder and to peise,I gave anone her image fresh beautie:"Heile to that figure sweet, and heile to thee Cupide," (quod I) and rose and yede my wey,And in the temple as I yede, I seyA shrine surmounting all in stones rich,Of which the force was pleasaunce to mine ey,With diamond or saphire, never liche I have none seene, ne wrought so wonderly:So whan I met with Philobone in hie,I gan demaund, who is this sepulture?"Forsooth" (quod she) " a tender creaturev. 701-826 THE COURT OF LOVE. 339" Is shrined there, and Pity is her name;She saw an egle wreke him on a flie,And pluck his wing, and eke him in his game,And tender herte of that hath made her die:Eke she would weep and mourn right pitously To seene a lover suffer great distresse;In all the court n'as none, as I do gesse,"That coud a lover halfe so well availe,Ne of his wo the torment or the rageAsken, for he was sure withouten faile,That of his greef she coud the heat assuage.In steed of Pity, speedeth hote courage The matters all of court, now she is dead,I me report in this to womanhead."Forweil, and weep, and cry, and speak, and pray,Women would not have pity on thy plaint,Ne by that mean, to ease thine herte convay,But thee receiven for their owne talent:And say that Pity causeth thee in consent Of reuth to take thy service and thy paine,In that thou maist, to please thy soveraine."But this is counsaile, keepe it secretly,"(Quod she) " I n'old for all the world about,The queene of love it wist, and wite ye why?For if by methis matter springen out,In court no lenger should I out of doutDwellen, but shame in all my life endry,Now keepe it close" (quod she) " this hardely."Well all is well, now shall ye seen" she said," The fairest lady under Sunne that is:Come on with me, demean you lich a maid,With shamefast drede, for ye shall speak ywis With her that is the mirrour joy and blisse:But somewhat strange and sad of her demean She is; beware your countenaunce be seen,"Nor over light, ne rechelesse, ne too bold,Ne malapert, ne renning with your tong,For she will you obeisen and behold,And you demand why ye were hence so long Out of this court, without resort among:And Rosiall her name is hote aright,Whose herte as yet is yeven to no wight."And ye also been, as I understond,With love but light avanced, by your word,Might ye by hap your freedom maken bond,And fall in grace with her, and wele accord,Well might ye thank the god of love and lord,For she that ye saw in your dreame appere,To love such one, what are ye than the nere?"Yet wote ye what, as my remembraunceMe yeveth now, ye faine where that ye say,That ye with love had never acquaintaunce,Save in your dream right late this other day:Why yes parde, my life that durst I lay,That ye were caught upon an heath, whan ISaw you complain, and sigh full pitously."Within an herber, and a gardein faire Where flowers grow and herbes vertuous,Of which the savour swete was and the aire,There were your self full hote and amorous:Ywis ye been too nice and daungerous,I would ye now repent, and love some new.""Nay by my trouth, " I said " I never knew"The goodly wight, whose I shall be for aye:Guide me the lord, that love hath made and me."But forth we went into a chamber gay,There was Rosiall, womanly to see,Whose streames sotell piercing of her eye,Mine herte gan thrill for beauty in the stound,"Alas," (quod I) " who hath me yeve this wound?"And than I drede to speake, till at the last I grete the lady reverently and wele,Whan that my sigh was gone and overpast;Than doun on knees ful humbly gan I knele,Beseeching her my fervent wo to kele,For there I tooke full purpose in my mindUnto her grace my painfull herte to bind.For if I shall all fully her discrive,Her head was round, by compasse of nature,Here haire as gold, she passed all on live,And lilly forehed had this creature,With liveliche browes, flaw of colour pure,Betwene the which was meane disceveraunceFrom every brow, to shew a due distaunce.Her nose directed streight, and even as line,With forme and shape thereto convenient,In which the goddes milk white path doth shine,And eke her eyen ben bright and orient,As is the smaragde, unto my judgement,Or yet these sterres Heavenly small and bright,Her visage is of lovely rede and white.Her mouth is short, and sh*t in little space,Flaming somedeale, not over redde I mean,With pregnant lips, and thick to kisse percase,For lippes thinne not fat, but ever lene,They serve of naught, they be not worth a bean,For if the basse been full there is delite,Maximian truly thus doth he write.But to my purpose, I say white as snow Been all her teeth, and in order they stondOf one stature, and eke her breath I trow Surmounteth all odours that ever I foundIn sweetnesse, and her body, face, and hond Been sharpely slender, so that from the head Unto the foot, all is but womanhead.I hold my peace, of other thinges hidde Here shall my soule and not my tong bewray,But how she was arraied, if ye me bidde,That shall I well discover you and say;A bend of gold and silke, full fresh and gay,With her intresse, broudered full wele,Right smoothly kept and shining everydele.About her necke a flower of fresh devise,With rubies set, that lusty were to sene,And she in goun was light and summer wise,Shapen full wele, the colour was of grene,With aureat sent about her sides clene,With divers stones precious and rich,Thus was she rayed, yet saw I never her lich.For if that Jove had but this lady seine,Tho Calixto ne yet AlcmeniaThey never hadden in his armes leine,Ne he had loved the faire Europa,Ye, ne yet Dane ne Antiopa,For all their beauty stood in Rosiall,She seemed lich a thing celestiall.Z?340 THE COURT OF LOVE. v. 827-952In bounty, favour, port, and seemelinesse,Pleasaunt of figure, mirrour of delite,Gracious to seene, and root of all gentilnesse,With angell visage, lusty redde and white:There was not lack, saufe daunger had alite This goodly fresh in rule and governance,And somdele strange she was for her pleasaunce.And truly sone I took my leave and went,Whan she had me enquired what I was,For more and more impressen gan the dent Of Loves dart while I beheld her face,And eft againe I come to seeken grace,And up I put my bill with sentence clere,That followeth after, rede and ye shall here."O ye fresh, of beauty the root,That nature hath formed so wele and madePrinces and quene, and ye that may do boot Of all my languor with your words glad,Ye wounded me, ye made me wo bestad;Of grace redresse my mortall greefe, as ye Of all my harme the very causer be."Now am I caught, and unware suddainlyWith persaunt streames of your eye so clere,Subject to been and serven you mekely,And all your man, ywis my lady dere,Abiding grace, of which I you requere,That mercilesse ye cause me not to sterve,But guerdon me liche as I may deserve." For by my troth, all the days of my breathI am and will be your in will and herte,Patient and meeke, for you to suffer deathIf it require, now rue upon my smart,And this I swere, I never shall out start From Loves Court for none adversitie,So ye would rue on my distresse and me."My desteny, my fate, and houre I blisse That have me set to been obedientOnely to you, the floure of all ywis;I trust to Venus never to repent,For ever redy, glad and diligent Ye shall me find in service to your grace,Till death my life out of my body race."Humble unto your excellence so digne,Enforcing aye my wits and deliteTo serve and please with glad herte and benigne,And been as Troylus Troyes knight,Or Antonie for Cleopatre bright,And never you me thinkes to renay,This shall I keepe unto mine ending day."Enprint my speech in your memoriallSadly my princes, salve of all my sore,And think, that for I would becommen thrall,And been your owne, as I have sayd before,Ye must of pity cherish more and moreYour man, and tender after his desert,And give him courage for to been expert." For where that one hath set his herte on fire,And findeth neither refute ne pleasaunce,Ne word of comfort, death will quite his hire,Alas, that there is none allegeaunce Of all their wo, alas, the great grevaunce To love unloved, but ye, my lady dere,In other wise may governe this matere. ""Truly gramercy friend of your good will,And of your profer in your humble wise,But for your service, take and keep it still,And where ye say, I ought you well to cherise,And of your greefe the remedy devise,I know not why: I n'am acquainted well With you, ne wot not sothly where ye dwell. "" In art of love I write, and songes make,That may be song in honour of the king And quene of love, and than I undertake,He that is sadde shall than full merry sing,And daungerous not ben in every thing;Beseech I you but seene my will and rede,And let your answere put me out of drede.""What is your name? rehearse it here I pray,Of whence and where, of what condition That ye been of; let see, come off and say;Faine would I know your disposition;Ye have put on your old entention,But what ye mean to serve me I ne wote,Saufe that ye say ye love me wonder hote. ""Myname, alasmyherte, whymakes thou straunge?Philogenet I calld am fer and nere,Of Cambridge clerk, that never think to chaunge Fro you that with your hevenly stremes clere Ravish mine herte and ghost, and all infere,Since at the first I write my bill for grace,Me thinke I see some mercy in your face."And what I mene, by gods that all hath wrought,My bill now maketh finall mention,That ye been lady in my inward thought Of all mine herte withouten offencion,That I best love, and sith I begonTo draw to court, lo, than what might I say,I yeeld me here unto your nobley."And if that I offend, or wilfullyBy pomp of herte your precept disobay,Or done again your will unskilfully,Or greven you for earnest or for play,Correct ye me right sharply than I pray,As it is seene unto your womanhede,And rew on me, or els I n'am but dede. "" Nay, God forbede to feffe you so with grace,And for a word of sugred eloquence,To have compassion in so little space,Than were it time that some of us were hens,Ye shall not find in me such insolence:Eye what is this, may ye not suffre sight?How may ye looke upon the candle light,"That clerer is and hotter than mine eie?And yet ye sayd the beames perse and frete,How shall ye than the candle light endrie?For well wote ye, that hath the sharper hete;And there ye bid me you correct and bete,If ye offend, nay, that may not be done,There come but few that speden here so sone."Withdraw your eie, withdraw from presens eke:Hurt not your selfe, through foly with a look,I would be sorry so to make you sicke,A woman should beware eke whom she took:Ye beth a clerke, go serchen well my book,If any women ben so light to winne;Nay, bide a while; tho ye were all my kinne,v. 953-1076 THE COURT OF LOVE. 341"So sone ye may not win mine herte in truth;The guise of court will seen your steadfastnesse,And as you done to have upon you reuth,Your owne desert, and lowly gentilnesse,That will reward you joy for heavinesse;And tho ye waxen pale, and grene, and dede,Ye must it use a while withouten drede,"And it accept and grutchen in no wise;But where as ye me heartely desire To lene to love, me thinke ye be not wise;Cease of your language, cease I you require,For he that hath this twenty yeare ben here May not obtaine, than marvaile I that ye Be now so bold of love to treat with me. "" Ah mercy herte, my lady and my love!My rightwise princesse and my lives guide!Now may I plaine to Venus all above,That ruthlesse ye me gave this wound so wide;What have I done? why may it not betide,That for my trouth I may received be?Alas than, your daunger and your cruelte!" In wofull houre I got was welaway,In woful houre fostred and yfedde,In wofull houre yborne, that I ne may;My supplication sweetly have I spedde,The frosty grave and cold must be my bedde,Without ye list your grace and mercy shewe,Death with his axe so fast on me doth hewe."So great disease and in so littell while,So littel joy that felte I never yet,And at my wo Fortune ginneth to smile,That never earst I felt so hard a fit:Confounden ben my spirites and my wit,Till that my lady take me to her cure,Which I love best of erthly creature."But that I like, that may I not come by,Of that I plain, that have I habondaunce,Sorrow and thought they sit me wonder nie,Me is withold that might be my pleasance:Yet turne againe my worldly suffisaunce,O lady bright, and saufe your faithfull true,And, or I die, yet ones upon me rewe!"With that I fell in sound and dede as stone,With colour slaine and wanne as asshe pale,And by the hand she caught me up anon,"Arise," (quod she) " whathave ye dronken dwale?Why slepen ye? it is no nightertale: ""Now mercy sweete,” ( quod I ) “ ywis affraied: ""What thing" (quod she) " hath made you so dismaied?"Now wote I well that ye a lover be,Your hew is witnesse in this thing," she said:" If ye were secret, ye might know," (quod she)"Curteis and kind, all this shuld be alaid:And now mine herte, al that I have missaid,I shall amend and set your herte in ease."" That word it is," ( quod I) " that doth me please. ""But this I charge, that ye the stents keepe,And breke them not for slouth nor ignoraunce."With that she gan to smile and laughen depe," Ywis," (quod I) " I will do your pleasaunce:The sixteenth statute doth me great grevaunce,But ye must that release or modifie."" I graunt," (quod she) " and so I will truly."And softly than her colour gan appere,As rose so red throughout her visage all,Wherefore me thinke it is according here,That she of right be cleped Rosiall:Thus have I won with wordes great and small Some goodly worde of her, that I love best,And trust she shall yet sette mine herte in rest."GOTH on," she said to Philobone, " and takeThis man with you, and lede him all about Within the court, and shewe him for my sake What lovers dwell within, and all the rout Of officers him shew, for he is out of doutAstraunger yet: "-"Come on," (quod Philobone)"Philogenet, with me now must ye gon. "And stalkyng soft with easie pace, I saw,About the kyng stonden all environ,Attendaunce, Diligence, and their felow Fortherer, Asperaunce, and many one,Dred to offend, there stood, and not alone,For there was eke the cruell adversair,The lovers foe that cleped is Dispair.Which unto me spake angrely and fell,And said, " My lady me disceive ne shall:Trowest thou," (quod she) " that all that she did tell,Is true? nay, nay, but under hony gall,Thy birth and hers they be nothing egall:Cast of thine herte for all her words white,For in good faith she loveth thee but a lite."And eke remembre thine habiliteMay not compare with her, this well thou wot: "Ye then came Hope and said, " My frend, let be,Beleve him not; Dispaire he ginneth dote:"" Alas," (quod I) " here is both cold and hote,The one me biddeth love, the toder nay;Thus wote I not what me is best to say."But well wote I, my lady graunted me Truly to be my woundes remedie,Her gentilness may not infected be With doublenesse, thus trust I till I die."So cast I to voide Dispaires company,And taken Hope to councel and to friend."Yea, keepthat well," ( quod Philobone) “ in mind.”And there beside within a bay window,Stod one in grene ful large of brede and length,His beard as black as fethers of the crow,His name was Lust, of wonder might and strength,And with Delite to argue there he think'th,For this was all his opinion,That love was sinne: and so he hath begonTo reason fast, and ledge auctoritie:"Nay," (quod Delite) " love is a vertue clere,And from the soule his progresse holdeth he:Blind apetite of lust doth often stere,And that is sinne: for reason lacketh there,For thou dost think thy neighbours wife to win:Yet thinke it well that love may not be sinne." For God and seint they love right verely,Void of all sinne and vice this know I well,Affection of flesh is sin truly,But verray love is vertue as I fele,For love may thy freill desire ackele:342 THE COURT OF LOVE. v. 1077-1201For verray love is love, withouten sinne: ""Nowstint," (quod Lust) " thou speketh not worth a pinne."And there I left them in their arguing,Roming ferther in the castell wide,And in a corner Lier stode talking,Of lesings fast, with Flatery there beside,He said that woman were attire of pride,And men were found of nature variaunt,And could be false and shewen beau semblaunt.Than Flatery bespake and said, " YwisSee so she goth on patens faire and fete,It doth right well: what prety man is this That rometh here? now truly drink ne meteNede I not have, mine herte for joy doth bete Him to behold, so is he goodly freshe:It semeth for love his herte is tender and neshe. "This is the court of lusty folke and glad,And well becommeth their abite and array,O why be some so sory and so sad,Complaining thus in blacke and white and gray?Freres they ben, and monkes in good fay:Alas, for routh great dole it is to seene,To see them thus bewaile and sory been.See how they cry and wring their handes white,For they so sone went to religion,And eke the nonnes with vayle and wimple plight,Their thought is, they ben in confusion:" Alas, " they sain, " we fain perfection In clothes wide, and lacke our libertie,But all the sinne mote on our frends be." For Venus wote, we wold as faine as ye,That bene attired here and welbesene,Desiren man and love in our degre,Ferm and faithful right as wold the quene:Our frends wicke in tender youth and grene,Ayenst our will made us religious,That is the cause we mourn and wailen thus. "Than said the monk and freres in the tide," Wel may we curse our abbes and our place,Our statutes sharpe to sing in copes wide,Chastely to keepe us out of loves grace,And never to fele comfort ne solace:Yet suffre we the heate of loves fire,And after that some other haply we desire." O Fortune cursed, why now and wherefore Hast thou," they said, " berafte us libertie,Sith nature yave us instrument in store,And appetite to love and lovers be?Why mote we suffer such adversite,Diane to serve, and Venus to refuse?Ful often sithe this matters doth us muse."We serve and honour sore ayenst our will,Of chastite the goddes and the queene,Us leefer were with Venus biden still,And have reward for love and soget beneUnto these women courtly, fresh, and shene;Fortune we curse thy wheele of variance,There we were well thou revest our plesance."Thus leave I them with voice of plaint and care,In raging wo crying full pitously,And as I yede full naked and full bare,Some I behold looking dispitously,On poverty that dedly cast their eye,And " Welaway," they cried, and were not faine,For they ne might their glad desire attaine.For lacke of richesse worldly and good,They banne and curse, and weep, and sain, " Alas,That poverty hath us hent that whilom stood At hertes ease, and free and in good case,But now we dare not shew our self in place,Ne us embold to dwell in company,There as our herte wold love right faithfully."And yet againward shriked every nonne,The pange of love so straineth them to crie:"Now wo the time," (quod they) " that we be boun This hatefull ordre nise will done us die,We sighe and sobbe, and bleden inwardly,Freting ourself with thought and hard complaint,That nie for love we waxen wood and faint. "And as I stood beholding here and there,I was ware of a sort full languishing,Savage and wild of loking and of chere,Their mantelles and their clothes ay tering,And oft they were of nature complaining,For they their members lacked, foot and hand,With visage wry, and blind I understand.They lacked shape and beauty to preferre Themself in love: and said that God and kind,Hath forged them to worshippen the sterre,Venus the bright, and leften all behind His other werkes clene and out of mind:" For other have their full shape and beauty,And we" (quod they) " been in deformity."And nie to them there was a companyThat have the susters warried and missaide,I meane the three of fatal destiny,That be our workers: sodenly abraide Out gan they cry as they had been affraide,"We curse," (quod they) " that ever hath nature,Yformed us this wofull life to endure."And there eke was Contrite and gan repent,Confessing hole the wound that Cithere Hath with the darte of hote desire him sent,And how that he to love must subject be;Than held he all his skornes vanity,And said that lovers held a blisful life,Yong men and old, and widow, maid and wife."Bereve me goddesse," (quod he) " of thy mightMy skornes all and skoffes, that I have No power for to moken any wight,That in thy service dwell: for I did rave:This know I well right now so god me save,And I shal be the chief post of thy faith,And love uphold, the revers who so saith. "Dissemble stode not ferre from him in troth,With party mantil party hode and hose,And said he had upon his lady routh,And thus he wound him in, and gan to glose Of his entent ful double I suppose,In all the world he said he loved her wele,But ay me thought he loved her nere a dele.Eke Shamfastnesse was there as I tooke hede,That blushed rede, and durst nat ben aknow She lover was, for thereof had she drede;She stode and hing her visage downe alow,v. 1202-1327 THE COURT OF LOVE. 343But such a sight it was to seene I trow,As of these roses rody on their stalke,There coud no wight her spy to speak or talk.In loves art so gan she to abashe,Ne durst not utter al her previty:Many a stripe and many a grevous lashe She gaven to them that wolden lovers be,And hindered sore the simple comonalty,That in no wise durst grace and mercy crave,For were not she they need but ask and have,Where if they now aprochen for to speke,Than Shamefastnesse returneth them again:They thinke, if we our secrets counsel breke,Our ladies wil have scorn on us certain,And peraventure thinken great disdain:Thus Shamefastnesse may bringen in Dispeire,Whan she is dede the toder will be heire.Come forth a Vaunter, now I ring thy bel,I spied him sone, to God I make a vowe,He loked blacke as fendes doth in Hell," The first," (quod he) " that ever I did wowe,Within a worde she come, I wotte not how,So that in armes was my lady free,And so hath ben a thousand mo than she." In England, Britain, Spain, and Picardy,Artois, and Fraunce, and up in hie Holand,In Burgoine, Naples, and Italy,Naverne, and Grece, and up in hethen lond Was never woman yet that wold withstond,To ben at [my] commaundement whan I wold,I lacked neither silver, coigne, ne gold." And there I met with this estate and that,And her I broched, her, and her I trow:Lo, there goeth one of mine, and wotte ye what?Yon fresh attired have I laid full low,And such one yonder eke right well I know:' I kept the statute whan we lay yfere,And yet yonsame hath made me right good chere."Thus hath a Vaunter blowen every where,Al that he knoweth, and more a thousand fold;His auncestry of kinne was to Liere,For first he maketh promise for to hold His ladies councel, and it not unfold,Wherfore the secret whan he doth unsh*tte,Than lieth he, that all the world may witte.For falsing so his promise and behest,I wounder sore he hath such fantasie,He lacketh wit I trow or is a beast,That can no bet himself with reason gie,By mine advise love shall be contrary To his availe, and him eke dishonour,So that in court he shall no more sojour."Take heed," ( quod she) this little Philobone,"Where Envy rocketh in the corner yond,And sitteth dirke, and ye shall see anone His leane body fading both face and hond,Himselfe he fretteth as I understond,Witnesse of Ovid methamorphosose,The lovers fo he is, I will not glose." For where a lover thinketh him promoteEnvy will grutch, repining at his wele,It swelleth sore about his hertes rote,That in no wise he cannot live in hele,And if the faithful to his lady stele,Envy will noise and ring it round about,And sey much worse than done is out of dout."And Privy Thought rejoysing of himselfe,Stood not ferre thence in abite marvellous,"Yon is," (thought I ) " some spirit or some elfe,His subtill image is so curious:How is," (quod I) " that he is shaded thus With yonder cloth, I n'ot of what colour?"And nere I went and gan to lere and pore;And framed him a question full hard,"What is," (quod I) " the thing thou lovest best,Or what is bote unto thy paines hard?Me thinke thou livest here in great unrest,Thou wandrest aye from south to east and west,And east to north as ferre as I can see,There is no place in court may holden thee."Whom followest thou, where is thy herte yset?But my demaund asoile I thee require.""Me thought," (quod he) " no creature may let Meto ben here, and where as I desire:For where as absence hath done out the fire,My mery thought it kindeleth yet againe,That bodely me thinke with my soveraine"I standandspeake, and laugh, andkisse, and halse;So that my thought comforteth me ful oft:I think god wote, though al the world be false,I will be true, I thinke also how soft My lady is in speach, and this on loft Bringeth min herte with joy and great gladnes,This privy thought alayeth mine heavines." And what I thinke or where to be, no man In all this Earth can tell ywis but I;And eke there n'is no swalow swift, ne swanSo wight of wing, ne half so yerne can flie;For I can bene and that right sodenly,In Heven, in Hell, in Paradise, and here,And with my lady whan I will desire."I am of counsell ferre and wide I wote,With lorde and lady, and their privite I wotte it all, and be it colde or hote,They shall not speake without licence of me,I mine in soch as seasonable be,For first the thing is thought within the hart,Ere any word out from the mouth astart."And with the word Thought bad farewel and yede:Eke forth went I to seene the courts guise,And at the doore came in, so God me spede,Twenty courteours of age and of assise Liche high, and brode, and as I me advise,The Golden Love, and Leden Love they hight,The tone was sad, the toder glad and light."Yes drawyour herte with all your force and might,To lustinesse and ben as ye have seid,And thinke that I no drope of favour hight,Ne never had unto your desire obeid,Till sodenly me thought me was affraied,To seene you waxe so dede of countenaunce,And Pite bade me done you some pleasaunce."Out of her shrine she rose from death to live,And in mine eare full prively she spake,' Doth not your servaunt hens away to drive,Rosial,' (quod she) and than mine herte it brake,344 THE COURT OF LOVE. v. 1328-1442For tenderiche: and where I found moch lacke,In your person, than I my selfe bethought,Andsaide, this is the man mine hearte hath sought.""Gramercy Pity, might I but suffise,To yeve due laude unto thy shrine of gold,God wotte I would: for sith that thou did riseFrom death to live for me, I am beholdTo thanken you a thousand times told,And eke my lady Rosial the shene,Which hath in comfort set mine herte ywene."And here I make mine protestacion,And depely swere as mine power to bene Faithful, devoide of variacion,And her forbeare in anger or in tene,And serviceable to my worldes quene,With al my reason and intelligence,To done her honour high and reverence. "I had not spoke so sone the worde, but she,My soveraine, did thanke me hertely,And said, " Abide, ye shall dwell still with me,Till season come of May, for than truly,The king of love and all his company,Shall hold his feste full rially and well,"And there I bode till that the season fell .ON May day whan the larke began to rise,To matens went the lusty nightingale,Within a temple shapen hauthorn wise,He might not slepe in all the nightertale,But" Domine labia," gan he cry and gale,"My lippes open lord of love I cry,And let my mouth thy preising now bewry."The egle sang " Venite bodies all,And let us joy to love that is our health,"And to the deske anon they gan to fall,And who came late he preesed in by stealth:Than sayd the faucon our own hertes wealth," Domine Dominus noster I wote,Ye be the God that done us brenne thus hote."" Cali enarrant," said the popingay,"Your might is told in Heaven and firmanent,"And than came in the gold- finch freshe and gay,And said this psalme with hertily glad intent "Domini est terra," this laten intent,The God of love hath yerth in governaunce:And than the wren gan skippen and to daunce."Jube Domino O lord of love, I prayCommaund me well this lesson for to rede,This legende is of all that woulden deyMartires for love, God yet the souls spede:And to thee Venus sing we out of drede,By influence of all thy vertue great,Besechyng thee to keepe us in our heat. "The second lesson robin redebrest sang,"Haile to the god and goddes of our lay,"And to the lectorne amorously he sprong," Haile now," (quod eke) " O fresh season of May,Our moneth glad that singen on the spray,Haile to the floures, rede, and white, and blewe,Which by their vertue maketh our lust new."The third lesson the turtil dove toke up,And thereat lough the mavis in a scorne,He said, " O God, as mote I dine or suppe,This folish dove will give us al an horne,There ben right here a thousand better borne,To rede this lesson, which as well as he,And eke as hote, can love in all degree."The turtil dove said, " Welcom, welcom May,Gladsom and light to lovers that ben trew:I thanke thee lord of love that doth purvey,For me to rede this lesson al of dewe,For in good soth of corage I pursue,To serve my make till death us must depart,"And than " Tu autem" sang he all apart."Te deum amoris" sang the throstel co*cke;Tuball himselfe the first musician,With key of armony coude not onlocke,So swete tewne as that the throstel can:"The lorde of love we praysen,"( quod he) than,And so done al the foules great and lite,"Honour we May, in fals lovers dispite.""Dominus regnavit," said the peco*cke there,"The lord of love that mighty prince ywis,He is received here and every where:Now Jubilate sing: "-"What meaneth this?"Said than the linet; " welcome lord of blisse: "Out sterte the owle with " Benedicite,""What meaneth all this mery fare?" (quod he. )" Laudate," sang the larke with voice ful shril,And eke the kight " O admirabile,This quere wil thorow mine ears pers and thril ,But what, welcome this May season ,"(quod he)"And honour to the lord of love mote be,That hath this feste so solempne and so hie, "" Amen," said al, and so said eke the pie.And forth the co*ckow gan procede anon,With" Benedictus" thanking God in hast,That in this May would visite them echon,And gladden them all while the feast shal last,And therewithal a laughter out he brast,"I thanke it God that I should end the song,And all the service which hath ben so long."Thus sang they all the service of the feste,And that was done right erly to my dome,And forth goth all the court both most and leste,To fetch the floures fresh, and braunch and blome,And namelyhauthorn brought both page and gromeWith fresh garlants party blew and white,And than rejoysen in their great delite.Eke ech at other threw the floures bright,The primerose, the violete, and the gold,So than as I beheld the royall sight,My lady gan me sodenly behold,And with a trewe love plited many a fold,She smote me through the very heart as blive,And Venus yet I thanke I am alive.EXPLICIT.THE COMPLAINT OF PITIE.HOW PITIE IS DEAD AND BURIED IN A GENTLE HERTE.PITIE that I have sought so yore agon With herte sore, and full of besie paine,That in this worlde was never wight so wo Without deathe, and if I shall not faine,My purpose was to Pitie to complaine Upon the cruelty and tyrannyOf Love, that for my trouth doth me dye.And that I by length of certaine yearesHad ever in one sought a time to speke,To Pitie ran I, all bespreint with teares,To prayen her on Cruelty me awreke;But or I might with any word out breake,Or tell her any of my paines smerte,I found her dead and buried in an herte.Adowne I fell, whan I saw the herse,Dead as a stone, while that swoone me last,But up I rose with colour full diverse,And pitously on her mine eyen I cast,And nearer the corse I gan preasen fast,And for the soule I shope me for to pray,I was but lorne, there was no more to say.Thus am I slaine, sith that Pitie is dead,Alas, the day that ever it should fall!What maner man dare now hold up his head?To whom shall now any sorrowful herte call?Now Cruelty hath cast to slee us all In idle hope, folke rechelesse of paine,Sith she is dead, to whom shall we complaine?But yet encreaseth me this wonder new,That no wight wote that she is dead but I,So many men as in her time her knew,And yet she deyde so suddainly,For I have sought her ever full busily,Sith I had first wit or mind,But she was dead, ere I could her find.About her herse there stooden lustily Withouten any mo, as thoughte me,Bounty, perfitely well armed and richely,And fresh Beaute, Lust, and Jolite,Assured-manner, Youth, and Honeste ,Wisedome, Estate, Drede, and Governaunce,Confedred both by bond and alliaunce.A complaint had I written in my honde,To have put to Pitie, as a bill,But I there all this company fonde,That rather would all my cause spill,Than do me helpe: I hold my plaint still For to those folke withouten faile,Without Pitie there may no bill avail.v. 1-98Than leave all vertues, save only Pitie,Keping the corse, as ye have heard me saine,Confedred by honde until Crueltie,And be assented whan I shall be slaine;And I have put my complainte up againe,For to my foes my bill I dare not shewe The effect, which saith thus in wordes fewe."Humblest of herte, highest of reverence,Benigne floure, croune of vertues all,Sheweth unto your royall excellence Your servaunt, if I durst me so call,His mortall harme in which he is yfall,And nought all only for his wofull fare,But for your renome, as he shall declare." It standeth thus, that contraire Crueltie Allied is ayenst your regaltie Under colour of womanly beautie,(For men should not know her tyrannie)With Bountie, Gentillesse, and Courtesie,And hath deprived you of your place,That is hie beautie, appertenaunt to your grace."For Kindly, by your heritage right Ye be annexed ever unto Bountie,And verely ye ought to doe your might To helpe Trouth in his adversitie:Ye be also the croune of beautie,And certes, if ye want in these twaine The world is lore, there is no more to saine."Eke what availeth manner and gentilesseWithout you, benigne creature?Shall Crueltie be your governeresse?Alas, what herte may it long endure?Wherefore, but ye rather take cure To breake that perilous alliaunce,Ye sleen hem that been in your obeysaunce."And further, if ye suffer this,Your renome is fordo in a throw,There shall no man wete what pitie is,Alas, that ever your renome is fall so low!Ye be also fro your heritage ythrow;But Crueltie, that occupieth your place,And we dispaired that seeken your grace."Have mercy on me, thou Herenus, queene,That you have sought so tenderly and sore;Let some streame of light on me be seene,That love and drede you ever lenger the more;For soothly to saine, I beare so sore,And though I be not conning for to plaine,For Goddes love have mercy on my paine!346 THE COMPLAINT OF PITIE. v. 99-11966 My paine is this, that nought so I desire,That have I not, ne nothing like thereto And ever setteth Desire mine herte on fire,Eke on that other side where that I go,What maner thing that may encrease my wo,That have I ready unsought every where,Me lacketh but my death, and then my bere."What nedeth to shew parcell of my paine?Sith every wo, that herte may bethinke,I suffer, and yet I dare not to you plaine,For well I wote, though I wake or winke,Ye recke not whether I flete or sinke;And nathelesse yet my trouth I shall susteine Unto my death, and that shall well be sene." This is to saine, I will be yours ever,Though ye me slee by Crueltie your fo,Algate my spirit shall never disceverFro your service, fro any paine or wo.Sith ye be yet dead, alas, that it is so!Thus for your death I maye wepe and plaine With herte sore, and full of busie paine. "EXPLICIT.OF QUEEN ANNELIDA AND FALSE ARCITE."O THOU fiers God of armes, Mars the rede,That in thy frosty countrey called Thrace,Within thy grisly temples full of drede,Honoured art as patrone of that place,With thee Bellona, Pallas full of grace,Be present, and my song continue and gie!At my beginning thus to thee I crie."For it full depe is sonken in my minde With pitous herte, in English to endite This old story, in Latine which I finde,Of queene Annelida and false Arcite,That elde, which all can frete and bite,(And it hath freten many a noble story, )Hath nigh devoured out of our memory.v. 1-83"Be favourable eke thou Polimnia,On Pernaso that hath thy sisters glade,By Elicon, not far from Cirsa,Singest with voice memorial in the shade,Under the laurer, which that may not fade,And do that I my ship to haven winne!First follow I Stace, and after him Corinne. "Jamque domos patrias Cithia post aspera gentis,Prælia laurigeo subeuntem Thesea curru,Lætifici plausus missusque ad sidera vulgi, &c.Whan Theseus with warres long and great,The aspre folke of Cithe had overcome,The laurer crowned in his chaire gold beat,Home to his country houses is ycome,For which the people blisful all and some,So criden, that to the sterres it went,And him to honouren did all hir entent.Before this duke in sign of victory,The trompes come, and in his baner large,The image of Mars, and in token of glory,Men might see of treasure many a charge,Many a bright helm, and many a spere and targe,Many a fresh knight, and many a blisful rout,On horse and on foot, in all the field about.Ipolita his wife, the hardy queeneOf Cithia, that he conquered had,With Emily her young suster shene,Faire in a chaire of gold he with him lad,That all the ground about her chair she sprad With brightness of beauty in her face,Fulfilled of largesse and of grace.With his triumph and laurer crowned thus,In all the floure of fortunes yeving,Let I this noble prince Theseus Toward Athenes in his way riding,And fonde I woll in shortly to bringThe slye way of that I gan to write,Of queene Annelida and false Arcite.Mars, that through his furious course of ire,The old wrath of Juno to fulfill,Hath set the peoples hertes both on fire Of Thebes and Grece, and everich other to kill With bloody speres, rested never still,But throng now here, now there, among hem both,That everich other slue, so were they wroth.For whan Amphiorax and Tideus,Ipomedon and Partinope also Were dedde, and slain proud Campaneus,And whan the wretched Thebans brethren twoWere slain, and king Adrastus home ygo,So desolate stood Thebes and so bare,That no wight could remedy his care.And whan the old Creon gan espyHow that the blood royal was brought adown,He held the citee by his tyranny,And did the gentils of that regioun To been his friends, and dwell in the toun,So what for love of him, and what for awe,The noble folke were to the towne ydrawe.Among all these, Annelida the queeneOf Ermony was in that towne dwelling,That fairer was than the Sonne sheene,Throughout the world so gan her name spring,That her to see had every wight liking,For as of trouth, is there none her liche Of all the women in this world riche.Yong was this queene, of twenty yere old,Of middle stature, and of soch fairnesse,That Nature had a joy her to behold,v. 84-206 OF QUEEN ANNELIDA AND FALSE ARCITE. 347And for to speaken of her stedfastnesse,She passed hath Penelope and Lucresse,And shortly if she may ben comprehended,In her might nothing been amended.This Theban knight eke sothe to sain,Was yong, therto withall a lusty knight,But he was double in love, and nothing plain,And subtill in that craft over any wight,And with his cunning wan this lady bright:For so ferforth he gan her trouth assure,That she him trusteth over any creature.What should I sain? she loveth Arcite soThat whan that he was absent any throw,Anone her thought her herte brast atwo,For in her sight to her he bare him low,So that she wende have all his herte yknow,But he was false, it n'as but fayned chere,As nedeth not soche crafte men to lere.But neverthelesse, full mikell businesse Had he, er that he might his lady winne,And swore he would dien for distresse,Or from his witte he said he would twinne:Alas, the while! for it was routh and sinne,That she upon his sorrowes would rue,But nothing thinketh the false as doth the true.Her fredome found Arcite in soch manere,That all was his that she hath, moch or lite,Ne to no creature made she cheer,Further than it liked to Arcite,There was no lack with which he might her wite,She was so ferforth yeven him to please,That all that liked him did her ease.There n'as to her no maner letter sent,That touched love, from any maner wight,That she ne shewed him, or it was brent,So plain she was, and did her full might,That she n'il hide nothing from her knight,Lest he of any untrouth her upbreyde;Without bode his herte she obeyd.And eke he made him jalous over her,That what that any man had to her sayd,Anon he would praien her to swere What was that word, or make him yvell apaid,Than wende she out of her wit have braid,But all was but sleight and flatterie,Without love he fained jelousie.And all this tooke she so debonairly,That all his will her thought it skilful thing,And ever the lenger she loved him tenderly,And did him honour as he were a king,Her herte was to him wedded with a ring,For so ferforth upon trouth is her entent,That where he goth her herte with him went.Whan she shal eat, on him is so her thought,That well unneth of meate toke she keepe,And whan she was to her rest brought,On him she thought alway till that she slepe,Whan he was absent, prively doth she wepe;Thus liveth faire Annelida the queene,For false Arcite, that did her all this tene,This false Arcite, of his newfanglenesse,For she to him so lowly was and trewe,Tooke lesse deintee for her stedfastnesse,And saw another lady proude and newe,And right anon he clad him in her hewe,Wote I not whether in white, reed, or grene,And falsed faire Annelida the queene.But neverthelesse, great wonder was it none Though he were false, for it is the kind of man,Sith Lamech was, that is so long agone,To be in love as false as ever he can,He was the first father that began To loven two, and was in bigamye.And he found tents first, but if men lye.This false Arcite, somewhat must he faine,Whan he was false, to coveren his tratourie,Right as an horse, that can both bite and plaine,For he bare her in honde of treacherie,And swore he coude her doublenesse espye,And all was falsenesse that she to him ment;Thus swore this thefe, and forth his way he wentAlas, what herte might endure it,For routhe or wo, her sorrow for to tell?Or what man hath the cunning or the wit,Or what man might within the chambre dwell,If I to him rehersen shall the HellThat suffreth fayre Annelida the queene,For false Arcite, that did her all this tene?She wepeth, waileth, and swouneth pitously,To ground deed she falleth as a stone Crampisheth her limmes crokedly,She speketh as her witte were all agone,Other colour than ashen hath she none,Ne none other word speketh she moch or lite,But " Mercy, cruell herte, mine Arcite."And thus endureth, til that she was so mateThat she ne hath foot, on which she may sustene,But forth languishing ever in this estate,Of which Arcite hath neyther routhe ne tene,His herte was elswhere newe and grene,That on her wo, ne deineth him not to think,Him recketh never whether she flete or sinke.This newe lady holdeth him so narowe,Up by the bridel, at the staves end,That every word he dred it as an arowe,Her daunger made him both bowe and bend,And as her luste, made him turne or wend,For she ne graunted him in her living,No grace, why that he hath to sing.But drove him forth, unneth list her know That he was servaunt unto her ladyship,But lest he were proude, she helde him lowe,Thus serveth he, without meate or sip,She sent him now to land, and now to ship,And for she yave him daunger all his fill,Therfore she had him at her owne will.Ensample of this, ye thrifty women all,Take hede of Annelida and false Arcite,That for her list him her dere herte call ,And was so meke, therefore he loved her lite,The kinde of mannes herte is to deliteOn thing that straunge is, al so God me save,For what they may not get, that wold they have.348 OF QUEEN ANNELIDA AND FALSE ARCITE. v. 207-330Now turne we to Annelida ayen,That pineth day by day in languishing,But whan she saw that her ne gate no geyn,Upon a day full sorrowfully wepying,She cast her for to make a complaining,And with her owne hand she gan it write,And sent it to her Theban knight Arcite.THE COMPLAINT OF ANNELIDA TO FALSE ARCITE."So thirled with the point of remembraunce,Theswerde of sorowe, whette with false pleasaunce,Mine herte bare of blisse, and black of hew That turned is to quaking all my daunce,My sewerty is a waped countenaunce,Sens it avayleth nought to ben trew:For who so trew is, it shall her rew,That serveth love, and doth her observaunceAlway to one, and chaungeth for no new." I wote my selfe as well as any wight,For I loved one, with all mine herte and mightMore than my self an hundred thousand sith,And called him my hertes life, my knight,And was all his, as ferre as it was right,And whan that he was glad, than was I blithe,And his disease was my death as swithe,And he ayen, his trouth hath me plight,For evermore hys lady me to kithe."Now is he false alas, and causeles,And of my wo he is so routhles,That with a worde him list not ones daine,To bring ayen my sorowfull herte in pees,For he is caught up in another lees;Right as him list, he laugheth at my paine,And I ne can mine herte not restraineFor to love him yet alway nevertheles,And of all this I n'ot to whom to plaine." And should I plaine, alas, the hard stounde,Unto my foe, that yave mine herte a wounde,And yet desireth that mine harme be more,Now certes ferther woll I never found,None other helpe, my sores for to sound,My desteny hath shaped so full yore,I woll none other medicine ne lore,I woll ben aye there I was ones bound,That I have said, be said for evermore." Alas, where is become your gentilnesse,Your words full of pleasaunce and humblenesse,Your observaunce in so lowe manere,Your awayting, and your besinesse,On methat ye called your maistresse,Your soveraine lady in this worlde here?Alas, is there neyther worde ne chere,Ye vouchsafe upon mine hevinesse?Alas, your love, I buy it all to dere."Now certes swete, though that ye Thus causelesse the cause be,Of my deedly adversite,Your manly reason ought it to respite,To slee your frende, and namely me,That never yet in no degre Offended you, as wisely he That all wote, of wo my soule quite."But for I was so playne, Arcite,In all my workes much and lite,And was so besie you to delite,Myne honour save, meke, kinde, and fre,Therefore ye put in me this wite:Alas, ye retche not a mite,Though that the swerde of sorow bite My wofull herte, through your cruelty." My sweet foe, why do ye so for shame,And thinke ye that furthered be your name,To love a newe, and ben untrew aye,And put you in slander now and blame,And do to me adversitie and grame,That love you most, God thou wost, alwaye?Yet turne ayen, and yet be playne some daye,And than shall this that now is mis, ben game,And all foryeve, while I lyve may." Lo, herte myne, al this is for to saine,As whether shall I pray or els plaine,Which is the way to done you to be trewe?For either mote I have you in my chaine,Or with the deth ye mote depart us twaine,There bethe none other meane wayes new,For God so wisely on my soule rewe,As verily ye slaine me with the paine,That mowe ye see unfained on mine hewe."For thus ferforth have I my deth sought,My selfe I murder with my privie thought,For sorow and routh of your unkindnesse,I wepe, I waile, I fast, all helpeth naught,I voide joy that is to speake of aught,I voide company, I flie gladnesse;Who may avaunt her better of hevinesse,Than I and to this plite have ye me brought,Without gilte, me needeth no witnesse."And should I pray, and weiven womanhede,Nay rather death, than do so foule a dede,And aske mercy and giltlesse, what nede?And if I plaine what life I lede,You recketh not, that know I out of drede,And if I unto you mine othes bede For mine excuse, a scorne shall be my mede,Your chere floureth, but it woll not sede,Full long agon I might have taken hede."For though I had you to morow agayne,I might as well hold Aprill from raine,As holde you to maken stedfast.Almighty God, of trouth the soverain,Where is that trouth of man, who hath it slayn?She that hem loveth, shall hem find as fast,As in a tempest is a rotten mast;Is that a tame beest, that is aye fayneTo renne away, whan he is lest agast?"Now mercy sweete, if I missay,Have I aught said out of the way,I n'ot, my witte is all away,I fare as doth the songe of chantepleure,For now I plaine, and now I play,I am so mased that I dey,Arcite hath borne away the keyOf all my world, and my good aventure." For in this world there is no creature,Walking in more discomfiture,Than I, ne more sorowe endure,v. 331-360 OF QUEEN ANNELIDA AND FALSE ARCITE. 349For if I sleepe a furlonge way or tway,Than thinketh me that your figure Before me stant clad in asure,Efte to profre a newe assure,For to ben trewe, and mercy me to pray."The long night, this wonder sight ydrie,That on the day for such affray I die,And of all this right naught ywis ye retche,Ne nevermore mine eyen two ben drye,And to your routh, and to your trouth I crie;But well away, to ferre been they to fetch!Thus holdeth me my desteny a wretch,But me to rede out of this drede or gie,Ne may my wit (so weake is it ) not stretch."Than end I thus, sith I may do no more,I yeve it up for now and evermore,For I shall never efte putten in balaunce My sikernesse, ne lerne of love the lore,But as the swan, I have herde say full yore,Ayenst his deth woll sing in his penaunce,So sing I here the destinie and chaunce,How that Arcite, Annelida so soreHath thrilled with the point of remembraunce."Whan that Annelida this wofull queene,Hath of her hand written in this wise,With face deed, betwixt pale and greene,She fell a swoune, and sithe she gan to rise,And unto Mars avoweth sacrifiseWithin the temple, with a sorowful chere,That shapen was, as ye may plainly here.EXPLICIT.THE ASSEMBLY OF FOULES.THE lyfe so short, the craft so long to lerne,Th'assay so hard, so sharpe the conquering,The dreadful joy alway that flit so yerne,All this mean I by Love, that my feeling Astonieth with his wonderful werkyng,So sore ywis, that whan I on him think,Naught wete I wel, whether I flete or sink.For all be that I know not Love in dede,Ne wot how that he quiteth folke hir hire,Yet happeth me full oft in bookes redeOf his myracles, and of his cruell ire,There rede I well, he woll be lorde and sire:I dare not say his strokes be sore,But God save such a lorde, I can no more.Of usage, what for lust and what for lore,On bookes rede I of, as I you told,Bnt wherfore speake I all this? naught yore Agon, it happed me to behold Upon a booke was ywritten with letters old,And thereupon a certain thing to lerne,The long day full fast I radde and yerne.For out of the old fieldes, as men saithe,Cometh al this new corne fro yere to yere,And out of old bookes, in good faithe,Cometh all this new science that men lere,But now to purpose, as of this mattere,To rede forth gan me so delite,That all that day me thought it but a lite.This booke of which I make mencion,Entitled was right thus, as I shall tell ,Tullius of the dreame of Scipion:Chapiters seven it had, of Heaven and Hell,And Earth, and soules that therein dwell,Of which as shortly as I can it treate,Of his sentence I woll you saine the greate.v. 1-70.First telleth it, whan Scipion was comeIn Affricke, how he meteth Massinisse,That him for joy, in armes hath ynome,Than telleth he hir speach and all the blisse,That was betwixt hem til the day gan misse,And how his auncester Affrikan so dere,Gan in his slepe that night til him appere.Than telleth it, that from a sterrie place,How Affrikan hath him Cartage shewed,And warned him before of all his grace,And said him, what man lered eyther lewde,That loveth common profite well ithewde,He should into a blissfull place wend,There as the joy is without any end.Than asked he, if folke that here been dedeHave life, and dwelling in another place?And Affrikan said Ye, without any drede,And how our present lives space Ment but a maner death, what way we trace,And rightfull folke, shull gon after they die To Heaven, and shewed him the Galaxie.Than shewed he him the little earth that here isTo regard of the Heavens quantite,And after shewed he hym the nine speris,And after that the melodie heard he,That commeth of thilke speres thrise three,That welles of musicke been and melodieIn this world here, and cause of armonie.Than said he him, sens Earth was so lite,And full of tourment, and of harde grace,That he ne should him in this world delite:Than told he him, in certain yeres space,That every sterre should come into his place,There it was first, and all should out of mind,That in this world is done of all mankind.350 THE ASSEMBLY OF FOULES. v. 71-196Than prayed him Scipion, to tell him all The way to come into that Heaven blisse,And he said: " First know thy selfe immortall,And loke aie besely that thou werche and wisse To common profite, and thou shalt not misse To come swiftly unto that place dere,That full of blisse is, and of soules clere ."And breakers of the law, soth to saine,And likerous folke, after that they been dede,Shall whirle about the world alway in paineTill many a world be passed out of drede,And than, foryeven all hir wicked dede,Than shullen they come to that blisfull place,To which to comen, God send thee grace. "The day gan failen, and the darke night That reveth beastes from hir businesse,Beraft me my booke for lacke of light,And to my bedde I gan me for to dresse,Fulfilled of thought and besie heavinesse,For both I had thyng, which that I n'old,And eke I ne had that thing that I wold.But finally my spirite at last,Forweary of my labour all that day,Tooke rest, that made me to slepe fast,And in my sleepe I mette, as that I say,How Affrikan, right in the selfe aray That Scipion him saw, before that tide,Was come, and stode right at my beds side.The wearie hunter sleeping in his bedde,The wood ayen his mind goeth anone,The judge dremeth how his plees be spedde,The carter dremeth how his cartes gone,The rich of gold, the knight fights with his fone,The sicke mette he drinketh of the tonne,The lover mette he hath his lady wonne.Can I not saine, if that the cause were For I had radde of Affrikan beforne,That made me to mete that he stood there,But thus said he: " Thou hast thee so well borneIn looking of mine old booke all to torne,Of which Macrobie raught not a lite,That some dele of thy labour would I quite."Citherea, thou blisful lady swete,That with thy fire brond dauntest whan thee lest,That madest me this sweven for to mete,Be thou my helpe in this, for thou maist best,As wisely as I seigh the north northwest,Whan I began my sweven for to write,So yeve me might to rime it and endite.This foresaid Affrikan me hent anone,And forthwith him to a gate brought,Right of a parke, walled with grene stone,And over the gate, with letters large ywrought,There were verse ywritten as me thoughtOn either halfe, of full great difference,Of which I shall you say the playne sentence:"Through me men gon into the blisful place Of hertes heale and dedly woundes cure,Through me men gon into the well of grace,There grene and lusty May shall ever endure,This is the way to all good aventure,Be glad thou reader, and thy sorow off cast,All open am I, passe in and spede thee fast.""Through me men gon " (than spake the other side)"Unto the mortall strokes of the speare,Of which Disdaine and Danger is the gide;There never tree shall fruit ne leaves beare,This streme you ledeth to the sorowful were,There as the fish in pryson is all dry,The eschewing is onely the remedy. "These verses of gold and asure ywritten weare,Of which I gan astonied to behold,For with that one encreased all my feare,And with that other gan my herte to bolde,That one me hette, that other did me colde,No wit had I for errour for to chese,To enter or flie, or me to save or lese.Right as betwene adamants two,Of even weight, a peece of yron setNe hath no might to move ne to ne fro,For what that one may hale that other let,So fared I, that I n'ist where me was betTo entre or leave, till Affrikan my gide,Me hent and shove in at the gates wide.And said, " It standeth written in thy face,Thine errour, though thou tell it not me,But dread thee not to come into this place,For this writing is nothing meant by thee,Ne by none, but he Love's servaunt bee,For thou of love hast lost thy tast of gesse,As sicke men hath, of swete and bitternesse."But natheles, although thou be dull,That thou canst not doe, yet mayst thou see,For many a man that may not stand a pull,Yet liketh it him at the wrestlyng for to be,And demeth yet, whether he doe bet, or he,And if thou haddest connyng for t'endite,I shall thee shew matter of to write."And with that my hand in his he toke anon,Of which I comfort caught, and went in fast,But Lord so I was glad, and well begon,For over all, where I mine eyen cast,Were trees clad with leaves, that aie shal last Eche in his kind, with colour fresh and grene,As emeraude, that joy it was to sene.The bilder oke, and eke the hardy asshe,The piller elme, the coffre unto caraine,The boxe pipe tree, holme to whippes lasshe,The sailing firre, the cipres death to plaine,The shooter ewe, the aspe for shaftes plaine,The olive of peace, and eke the dronken vine,The victor palme, the laurer too divine.A gardein saw I full of blosomed bowis,Upon a river in a grene mede,There as sweetnesse evermore inough is,With floures white, blewe, yelowe, and rede,And cold welle streames, nothing dede,That swommen full of smale fishes light,With finnes rede, and scales silver bright.On every bough the birdes heard I sing,With voice of angell in hir armonie,That busied hem hir birdes forth to bring,The little pretty conies to hir play gan hie,And further all about I gan espieThe dredeful roe, the buck, the hart, and hind,Squirrels, and beastes small of gentle kind.v. 197-322 THE ASSEMBLY OF FOULES. 351Of instruments of stringes in accordeHeard I so play a ravishing swetnesse,That God, that maker is of all and Lorde,Ne heard never better, as I gesse,Therewith a wind, unneth it might be lesse,Made in the leaves grene a noise soft Accordant to the foules song on loft.The aire of the place so attempre was,That never was ther grevance of hot ne cold,There was eke every holsome spice and gras,Ne no man may there waxe sicke ne old,Yet was there more joy o thousand fold,Than I can tell or ever could or might,There is ever clere day, and never night.Under a tree beside a well I seyCupide, our lorde, his arrowes forge and file,And at his feete his bowe already lay,And well his doughter tempred all the while The heddes in the well, with her wile She couched hem after, as they should serve Some to slee, and some to wound and carve.Tho was I ware of Pleasaunce anon right,And of Array, Lust, Beauty, and Curtesie,And of the Craft, that can and hath the might To don by force a wight to don folie:Disfigured was she, I will not lie,And by himselfe, under an oke I gesse,Sawe I Delite, that stood with Gentlenesse.Than saw I Beauty, with a nice attire,And Youth, full of game and jolitee,Foole- hardinesse, Flatterie, and Desire,Messagerie, Mede, and other three,Hir names shall not here be told for me;And upon pillers great of jasper long,I sawe a temple of brasse yfounded strong.And about the temple daunced alway Women inow, of which some there wereFaire of hemself, and some of hem were gay,In kirtils all disheveled went they there,That was their office ever, fro yere to yere;And on the temple, saw I white and faire,Of doves sitting many a thousand paire.And before the temple doore full soberly,Dame Peace sat, a curtaine in her honde,And her beside wonder discretly,Dame Pacience, sitting there I fonde,With face pale, upon an hill of sonde,And alther next, within and without,Behest and Arte, and of her folke a rout.Within the temple, of sighes hote as fire,I heard a swough that gan about ren,Which sighes were engendred with desire,That made every herte for to bren Of newe flambe, and well espied I then,That all the cause of sorowes that they drie Come of the bitter goddess Jalousie.The god Priapus saw I as I went Within the temple, in soverain place stond,In such array, as whan the asse him shentWith crie by night, and with sceptre in honde;Full busilie men gan assay and fonde,Upon his hedde to set of sondrie hewe,Garlandes full of freshe floures newe.And in a privie corner, in disport Found I Venus, and her porter Richesse,That was full noble and hautein of her port;Darke was that place, but after lightnesseI sawe a lite, unnethes it might be lesse,And on a bed of golde she lay to rest,Till that the hote Sonne gan to west.Her gilte heeres with a gold threde Ybound were, untressed as she lay,And naked from the brest unto the hede,Men might her see, and sothly for to saie,The remnaunt, covered well to my paie,Right with a little kerchefe of Valence,There was no thicker clothe of defence.The place gave a thousand savours soote,And Bacchus god of wine sate her beside,And Ceres next, that doeth of hunger boote,And as I said, amiddes lay Cupide,To whom on knees, the yonge folkes cride,To be their helpe, but thus I let her lie,And farther in her temple I gan espie.That in dispite of Diane the chaste,Full many a bowe ybroke hing on the wall,Of maidens, such as gone hir times waste In her service and painted over all,Of many a storie, of which I touch shallA fewe, as of Calixte, and Athalant,And many a maid, of which the name I want.Semyramus, Candace, and Hercules,Biblis, Dido, Tisbe, and Piramus,Tristram, Isoude, Paris, and Achilles,Helaine, Cleopatre, and Troilus,Sylla, and eke the mother of Romulus,All these were paynted on that other side,And all hir love, and in what plite they dide.Whan I was commen ayen into the place That I of spake, that was so soote and grene ,Forth walked I tho, my selven to solace,Tho was I ware, where there sate a quene,That as of light the sommer Sunne shene Passeth the sterre, right so over mesure,She fairer was than any creature.And in a launde, upon an hill of floures,Was set this noble goddesse Nature,Of branches were her halles and her bouresYwrought, after her craft and her mesure,Ne there n'as foul that cometh of engendrure,That there ne were prest in her presence,To take hir dome and yeve hir audience.For this was on sainct Valentines day,Whan every foule cometh to chese hir make,Of every kind that men thinke may,And that so huge a noise gan they make,That earth, sea, and tree, and every lake,So full was, that unneth there was spaceFor me to stand, so full was all the place.And right as Alain, in the Plaint of Kinde,Deviseth Nature of such araie and face,In suche aray men might her there finde.This noble empresse full of all grace,Bad every foule take hir owne place,As they were wont alway, fro yere to yere,On sainct Valentines day, standen there.352 THE ASSEMBLY OF FOULES. v. 323-448That is to say, the foules of ravine Were highest set, and than the foules smale,That eaten as that nature would encline,As worme or thing, of which I tell no tale,But water foule sat lowest in the dale,And foules that liveth by seed sat on the grene,And that so many, that wonder was to sene.There might men the royall egle find,That with his sharpe looke perseth the Son ,And other egles of a lower kind,Of which that clerkes well devisen con;There was the tyrant with his fethers don,And grene, I mean the goshauke that doth pine To birdes, for his outragious ravine.The gentle faucon, that with his fete distreinethThe kings hand, the hardy sperhauke eke,The quailes foe, the merlion that peineth Himself full oft the larke for to seke,There was the dove, with her eyen meke,The jelous swan, ayenst his deth that singeth,The oul eke, that of deth the bode bringeth.The crane, the geaunt, with his trompes soune,The thief the chough, and the chattring pie,The scorning jaye, the eles foe the heroune,The false lapwing, full of trecherie,The stare, that the counsaile can bewrie,The tame ruddocke, and the coward kite,The co*cke, that horiloge is of thorpes lite.The sparowe Venus' son, and the nightingale That clepeth forth the fresh leaves new,The swalowe, murdrer of the bees smale That maken honie of floures fresh of hew,The wedded turtell, with his herte true,The peco*cke, with his angel fethers bright,The fesaunt, scorner of the co*cke by night.The waker gose, the cuckowe ever unkind,The popingey, full of delicasy,The drake, stroier of his owne kind,The storke, wreker of aduoutry,The hote cormeraunt, ful of glotony,The ravin and the crowe, with her voice of care,The throstell olde, and the frostie feldefare.What should I say? of foules of every kind,That in this world have fethers and stature,Men might in that place assembled find,Before that noble goddess of Nature,And eche of them did his busie cure,Benignely to chese, or for to take By her accorde, his formell or his make.But to the point: Nature held on her hond,A formell egle, of shape the gentillest,That ever she among her workes fond,The most benigne, and eke the goodliest,In her was every vertue, at his rest So farforth, that Nature her selfe had blisse,To looke on her, and oft her beeke to kisse.Nature, the vicar of the almightie Lord,That hote, colde, hevie, light, moist, and drie,Hath knit, by even number of accord,In easie voice, began to speake and say,"Foules, take heed of my sentence I pray,And for your own ease, in furdring of your need,As fast as I may speak, I will me speed."Ye knowe wel, how on Saint Valentines day,By my statute, and through my governance,Ye do chese your makes, and after flie away With hem, as pricke you with pleasaunce,But nathelesse, as by rightfull ordinaunce,May I not let, for all this world to win,But he that most worthiest is shall begin."The tercell egle, as ye know full wele,The foule royall, above you all in degre,The wise and worthie, the secret true as stele,The which I have formed, as ye may see,In every parte as it best liketh mee,It nedeth not his shape you to devise,He shall first chese, and speken in his gise."And after him, by order shall ye chese,After your kind, everiche as you liketh ,And as your hap is, shall ye win or lese,But which of you that love most entriketh,God sende him her that sorest for him siketh:"And therewithall, the tercell gan she call,And said, " My sonne, the choise is to thee fall."But nathelesse, in this condicionMust be the choice of everiche that is here,That she agree to his election,Who so he be, that should been her fere,This is our usage alway, fro yere to yere,And who so may at this time have his grace,In blisfull time he came into this place. "With hed enclined, and with ful humble chere,This roial tercell spake, and taried nought,"Unto my soveraine lady, and not my fere,I chose and chese, with will, herte, and thought,The formell on your hand, so wel ywrought,Whose I am all , and ever will her serve,Doe what her luste, to doe me live or sterve."Besechyng her of mercy, and of grace,As she that is my ladie soveraine,Or let me die here present in this place,For certes long may I not live in paine,For in my herte is corven every vaine,Having regard onely to my trouth,My dere herte, have on my wo some routh."And if I be found to her untrue,Disobeisaunt, or wilfull negligent,Avauntour, or in processe love a newe,pray to you this be my judgement,That with these foules I be all to rent,That ilke day that she me ever find To her untrue, or in my gilte unkind."And sith that none loveth her so well as I,Although she never of love me behet,Than ought she be mine through her mercy,For other bonde can I none on her knet:For wele nor wo never shall I letTo serve her, how farre so that she wende,Say what you list, my tale is at an ende."Right as the fresh redde rose newe Against the sommer Sunne coloured is,Right so for shame all waxen gan the hewe Of this formell, whan she heard all this,Neither she answerde well, ne said amis,So sore abashed was she, till that NatureSaid, " Doughter drede you not, I you assure."v. 449-574 THE ASSEMBLY OF FOULES. 353Another tercell egle spake anon,Of lower kind, and said, " That should not be,I love her better than ye doe, by saint John,Or at the least, I love her as well as ye,And lenger have served her in my degree,And if she should have loved for long loving,To me alone had be the guerdoning."I dare eke say, if she me finde false,Unkind jangler, or rebell in any wise,Or jelous, doe me hang by the halse,And but I beare me in her servise As well as my wit can me suffise,Fro point to point, her honour for to save,Take she my life, and all the good I have."The third tercell egle answerde tho,"Now sirs, ye see the little leaser here,For every foule crieth out to be ago Forth with his make, or with his lady dere:And eke Nature her self ne will not hereFor tarying her, not half that I would sey,And but I speake, I must for sorrow dey."Of long service avaunt I me nothing,But as possible is me to die to day For wo, as he that hath be languishing This twenty winter, and wel it happen may,A man may serve better, and more to pay,In half a year, although it were no more,Than some man doth that hath served full yore." I ne say not this by me, for I ne can Do no service that may my lady please,But I dare say I am her trewest man,As to my dome, and fainest wolde her please:At short wordes, till that death me cease,I will be hers, whether I wake or winke,And trewe in all that herte may bethinke. "Of al my life, sith that day I was borne,So gentle plee in love or other thing,Ne herde never no man me beforne,Who so that had leiser and conningFor to rehearse their chere, and their speaking;And from the morrow gan this spech last,Till downward went the Sunne wonder fast.The noyse of foules for to be deliverd,So loude rang, " Have don and let us wend,"That well weend I, the wood had al to shiverd:"Come off," they cryd, " alas, ye will us shend,Whan shal your cursed pleding have an end?How should a judge either party leve,For ye or nay, without any preve?"The goos, the duck, and the cuckowe also,So cried " Keke, keke, Cuckow, Queke, queke, hie,"Through mine eares the noise went tho.The goos said than " Al this n'is worth a flie,But I can shape hereof a remedie,And will say my verdite, faire and swithe,For water foule, whoso be wroth or blithe.""And I for worm foule," said the fole cuckow," For I will of mine own authorite,For common spede, take on me the charge now,For to deliver us it is great charite.""Ye may abide a while, yet perde,"(Quod the turtel) " if it be your will,A wight may speak, it were as good be still ." I am a sede foule, one the unworthiest,That wote I well, and leest of conning,But better is that a wights tonge rest,Than entremete him of such doing Of which he neither rede can nor sing,And who so it doth, full foule himself acloyeth,For office uncommitted oft annoyeth."Nature, which that alway had an eare To murmure of the lewdenesse behind,With facond voice said, " Hold your tongues there,And I shall soone, I hope, a counsaile find,You for to deliver, and fro this noyse unbind:I charge of every flock ye shall one call,To say the verdite of you foules all."Assented were to this conclusion,The birdes all: and foules of ravineHave chosen first by plaine election,The tercelet of the faucon to defineAll hir sentence, and as him lust to termine,And to Nature him they did present,And she accepteth him with glad entent.The tercelet said than in this manere," Full hard it were to preve it by reason,Who loveth best this gentle formell here,For everich hath such replicatioun,That by skils may none be brought adoun,I cannot see that arguments availe,Than seemeth it there must be battaile.""All ready" (quod these eagle tercels tho:) " Nay sirs," (quod he) " if that I durst it say,Ye do me wrong, my tale is not ydo:For sirs, taketh nat a greefe I pray,It may not be as ye would, in this way,Ours is the voice , that have the charge in hand,And to the judges dome ye must stand."And, therefore, peace I say, as to my wit,Me would thinke, how that the worthiestOf knighthood, and lengest had used it,Most of estate, of blood the gentillest,Were fitting for her, if that her lest,And of these three, she wote her selfe I trow Which that he be, for it is light to know."The water foules have their heads laidTogider, and of short avisem*nt,Whan everiche had this verdite said,They said soothly all by one assent,How that the goos, with the facond gent,That so desireth to pronounce our nede,Shal tel her tale, and praid to God her spede.And for these water foules tho beganThe goose to speake, and in her cakeling She said, " Peace now, take keep every man,And herken which a reason I shall forth bring,My witte is sharpe, I love no tarrying,I say, I rede him, tho he were my brother,But she will love him, let him love another. ""Lo, here a parfite reason of a goose"(Quod the sperhauke) " never mote she the,Lo, such a thing it is to have a tongue lose:Now parde foole, yet were it better for theHave held thy peace than shewd thy nicete;It lieth nat in his wit, nor in his will,But sooth is said, a fole cannot be still. "A A354 THE ASSEMBLY OF FOULES. v. 575-694The laughter arose of gentill foules all,And right anone the seed foules chosen hadThe turtle true, and gan her to hem call,And prayed her to say the sooth sad Of this matter, and asked what she rad?And she answerd, that plainly her entent She would shew, and soothly what she ment."Nay, God forbede a lover should chaunge,"The turtle said (and wex for shame all red)" Though that his lady evermore be straunge,Yet let him serve her alway, till he be deed,Forsooth, I praise not the gooses reed,For tho she died, I would none other make,I will be hers, till that the death me take."" Well ybourded" (quod the duck) " by my hat,That men should love alway causelesse,Who can a reason find, or wit in that?Daunceth he merry that is mirthlesse?Who should recke of that is retchlesse?Ye queke yet," quod the duck, " full well and fair,There be mo sterres in the skie than a pair.""Now fie churle," quod the gentle tercelet,"Out of the dunghill came that word aright,Thou canst not see which thing is well beset,Thou farest by love as owles do by light,The day hem blindeth, full well they see by night,Thy kind is of so low wretchedness,That what love is thou canst not see nor gess."Tho gan the cuckow put him forth in preace,For foule that eateth worme, and said blive:"So I," quod he, " may have my make in peace,I retch not how long that ye strive,Let ech of hem be soleine all hir live,This is my rede, sens they may nat accord,This short lesson needeth not record.""Ye, have the glutton filde his paunch Than are we well," said the emerlon," Thou murdrer of the heysugge on the braunch That brought thee forth, thou ruful glutton,Live thou solein, wormes corruption,For no force is of lack of thy nature,Go, leude be thou while the world may dure. ""Nowpeace," quod Nature, " I commaunde here,For I have heard all your opinion,And in effect yet be we never the nere,But finally, this is my conclusion,That she her selfe shall have her electionOf whom her list, who so be wrothe or blithe,Him that she cheseth, he shall her have as swithe."For sith it may not here discussed be Who loveth her best, as said the tercelet,Than woll I done this favour to her, that sheShall have right him on whom her herte is set,And he her, that his herte hath on her knet;This judge I Nature, for I may not lie To none estate, I have none other eye." But as for counsaile for to chuse a make,If I were reason, than would ICounsaile you the royal tercell take,As said the tercelet full skilfully,As for the gentillest and most worthy,Which I have wroght so wel to my plesaunce That to you it ought ben a suffisaunce."With dredeful voice that formel her answerd,"My rightful lady, goddess of Nature,Sooth is, that I am ever under your yerd,As is everich other creature,And must be yours while my life may dure,And therefore graunt me my first boone,And mine entent you woll I say right soone.""I graunt it you," quod she, and right anone This formel eagle spake in this degree:66 Almighty quene, unto this year be doneI aske respite for to avisen mee,And after that to have my choice all free,This all and some that I would speak and sey,Ye get no more, although you do me dey." I woll not serven Venus ne Cupide,Forsooth as yet, by no maner way.”"Now sens it may none other ways betide "(Quod Nature) " here is no more to say.Than would I that these foules were away,Ech with his make, for tarying lenger here,"And said hem thus, as ye shall after here." To you speke I, ye tercelets," (quod Nature)" Beth of good herte, and serveth all three,A yeare is not so long to endure,And ech of you paine him in his degree,For to do well, for God wote quit is she Fro you this year, what after so befall,This entremes is dressed for you all."And whan this werk brought was to an end,To every foule Nature yave his make,By even accord, and on hir way they wend,And Lord the blisse and joy that they make,For ech of hem gan other in his wings take,And with hir neckes ech gan other winde,Thanking alway the noble goddess of kinde.But first were chosen foules for to sing,As yere by yere was alway hir usaunce,To sing a roundel at hir departing,To do Nature honour and pleasaunce;The note I trow maked was in Fraunce,The words were such as ye may here find,The next verse, as I now have in mind.Qui bien ayme tard oublye."Now welcome summer, with thy sunnes soft,That hast this winter weathers overshake,Saint Valentine, thou art full high on loft,Which drivest away the long nights blake;Thus singen smale foules for thy sake,Well have they cause for to gladen oft,Sens each of hem recovered hath his make,Full blisful may they sing whan they awake."And with the shouting whan hir song was do,That the foules made at hir flight away,I woke, and other bookes took me to To rede upon and yet I rede alway,I hope ywis to rede so some day,That I shall mete something for to fareThe bet, and thus to rede I nill not spare.EXPLICIT.THE COMPLAINT OF THE BLACK KNIGHT.THE HEAUIE COMPLAINT OF A KNIGHT, FOR THAT HE CANNOT WIN HIS LADIES GRACE.v. 1-98IN May, whan Flora the fresh lusty quene,The soile hath cladde in grene, red, and whight,And Phebus gan to shede his stremes shene Amidde the Bulle, with all the beames bright,And Lucifer to chace away the night,Ayen the morow our orizont hath take,To bid all lovers out of hir slepe awake.And hertes heavy for to recomfort From drerihed of heavy night sorowe,Nature bad hem rise and hem disport Ayen the goodly glad grey morowe,And Hope also, with saint Johan to borowe,Bad, in dispite of daunger and dispaire,For to take the holsome lusty aire.And with a sigh, I gan for to abreide Out of my slumber, and sodainly up starte,As he (alas) that nigh for sorow deide,My sicknesse sate aye so nie my herte;But for to finde succour of my smart,Or at the least some release of my peine,That me so sore halte in every veine.I rose anone, and thought I woulde gone Into the woode, to heare the birdes sing,Whan that the misty vapour was agone,And cleare and faire was the morning,The dewe also like silver in shiningUpon the leaves, as any baume swete,Till firy Titan with his persant heteHad dried up the lusty licour new Upon the herbes in the grene mede,And that the floures of many divers hew,Upon hir stalkes gon for to sprede,And for to splay out hir leves in brede Againe the Sunne, gold burned in his spere,That doune to hem cast his beames clere.And by a river forth I gan costay,Of water clere as birell or cristall ,Till at the last, I found a little wayToward a parke, enclosed with a wallIn compace rounde, and by a gate small Who so that would might freely goneInto this parke, walled with grene stone.And in I went to heare the birdes song,Which on the braunches, both in plaine and vale,So loud sang that all the wood rong,Like as it should shiver in peeces smaleAnd, as me thought, that the nightingaleWith so great might her voice gan out wrest,Right as her herte for love would brest.The soile was plaine, smoth, and wonder soft,All oversprad with tapettes that Nature Had made her selfe: covered eke aloftWith bowes greene the floures for to cure,That in hir beauty they may long endure From all assaut of Phebus fervent fere,Which in his sphere so hote shone and clere.The aire attempre, and the smothe wind Of Zepherus, among the blosomes white,So holsome was, and so nourishing by kind,That smale buddes and round blosomes liteIn maner gan of hir brethe delite,To yeve us hope there fruite shall takeAyenst autumne redy for to shake.I saw the Daphene closed under rinde,Greene laurer, and the holsome pine,The mirre also that wepeth ever of kinde,The cedres hie, upright as a line,The filbert eke, that lowe doth enclineHer bowes grene to the earth adoun,Unto her knight called Demophoun.There sawe I eke the freshe hauthorneIn white motley, that so swote doth smell,Ashe, firre, and oke, with many a yong acorn,And many a tree mo than I can tell,And me beforne I sawe a little well,That had his course, as I gan beholde,Under an hill, with quicke stremes colde.The gravel gold, the water pure as glasse,The bankes round the well environyng,And soft as velvet the yonge grasseThat thereupon lustely came springyng,The sute of trees about compassyng,Hir shadow cast, closing the well round,And all the herbes growing on the ground.The water holsome was, and so vertuous,Through might of herbes growing beside,Not like the welle where as NarcissusYslaine was, through vengeaunce of Cupide,Where so covertly he did hide The graine of death upon eche brinke,That death mote folow who that ever drinke.Ne like the pitte of the Pegace,Under Pernaso, where poets slept,Nor like the welle of pure chastite,Which that Diane with her nimphes kept Whan she naked into the water lepte,That slowe Acteon with her hondes fell,Onely for he came so nigh the well.AA 2356 THE COMPLAINT OF THE BLACK KNIGHT. v. 99-224But this welle that I here of rehearse,So holsome was, that it would aswageBollen hertes, and the venim pearceOf pensifehed with all the cruell rage,And overmore refresh the viage Of hem that were in any werinesse Of great labour, or fallen in distresse.And I that had through daunger and disdainSo drye a thurst, thought I would assay To taste a draught of this welle or twain,My bitter languor if it might alay,And on the banke anone doune I lay,And with mine hed unto the welle I raught,And of the water dranke I a good draught.Wherof me thought I was refreshed weleOf the brennyng that sate so nigh my herte,That, verily, anone I gan to feleAn huge parte released of my smart,And therewithall, anone, up I start,And thought I would walke and see more,Forth in the parke, and in the holtes hore.And through a laund as I yede apace,And gan about fast to behold,I found anone a delectable place,That was beset with trees young and old,Whose names here for me shall not be told,Amidde of which stood an herber greene,That benched was, with colours new and clene.This herber was full of floures gende,Into the which, as I beholde gan,Betwixt an hulfeere and a woodbende,As I was ware, I saw where lay a man In blacke, and white colour pale and wan,And wonder deadly also of his hewe,Of hurtes grene and fresh woundes new.And overmore, distrayned with sicknesse,Beside all this, he was full grevously,For upon him he had an hote accesse,That day by day him shooke full pitously,So that for constrayning of his malady And hertely wo, thus lying alone,It was a death for to hear him grone.Whereof astonied, my fote I gan withdraw,Greatly wondring what it might be,That he so lay, and had no felaw,Ne that I could no wight with him see,Whereof I had routhe and eke pite,And gan anone, so softly as I coude,Among the bushes prively me to shroude.I that I might in any wise aspy What was the cause of his deedly wo,Or why that he so pitously gan cry On his fortune, and on ure also,With all my might I laid an eare to,Every word to marke what he said,Out of his swough amonge as he abraid.But first, if I should make mencionOf his person, and plainely him discrive,He was in sothe, without excepcion,To speake of manhood, one the best on live;There may no man ayen trouth strive,For of his tyme, and of his age also,He proved was, there men shuld have ado,For one of the best therto of brede and length,So well ymade by good proporcion,If he had be in his deliver strength;But thought and sicknesse were occasion That he thus lay in lamentacion,Gruffe on the ground, in place desolate,Sole by himselfe, awhaped and amate.And for me seemeth that it is fittingHis wordes all to put in remembraunce,To me, that heard all his complaining,And all the ground of his wofull chaunce,If there withall I may you do pleasaunce,I woll to you, so as I can, anone,Lyke as he sayd, rehearce everichone.But who shall helpe me now to complain,Or who shall now my stile gie or lede?O Niobe, let now thy teares rain In to my penne! and helpe eke in nede,Thou, wofull Myrre! that felest my herte blede Of pitous wo, and mine hand eke quake,Whan that I write, for this mannes sake.For unto wo accordeth complayning,And dolefull chere unto heavinesse,To sorow also, sighing and weping,And pitous mourning unto drerinesse,And who that shall write of distresse,In party needeth to know feelingly Cause and roote of all soch malady.But I alas, that am of witte but dull,And have no knowing of such matere,For to discrive, and write at the full The wofull complaint, which that ye shall here,But even like as doth a skrivenere,That can no more what that he shall write,But as his maister beside doth endite;Right so fare I, that of no sentementSay right naught in conclusion,But as I herde whan I was present,This man complaine with a pitous soun,For, even like, without addicioun,Or disencrease, eyther more or lesse,For to rehearse anone I woll me dresse.And if that any now be in this place,That fele in love brenning of fervence,Or hindred were to his ladies graceWith false tonges, that with pestilence Slee trewe men that never did offenceIn worde nor deed, ne in hir entent,If any such be here now present,Let him of routh lay to audience,With doleful chere, and sobre countenaunce,To here this man, by full hye sentence,His mortall wo, and his perturbaunceComplayning, now lying in a traunce,With lookes upcast and rufull chere,Theffect of which was as ye shall here."The thought oppressed with inward sighs sore,The painful life, the body languishing,The woful ghost, the herte rent and tore,The pitous chere pale in complayning,The deedly face, like ashes in shining,The salte teares that from mine eyen fall,Percel declare ground of my paynes all .v. 225-350 THE COMPLAINT OF THE BLACK KNIGHT. 357"Whose herte is ground to blede in hevinesse,The thought receit of wo and of complaint,The brest is chest of dole and drerinesse,The body eke so feeble and so faint,With hote and colde mine accesse is so maint,That now I chiver for defaut of heat,And hote as glede now sodainly I sweat."Now hote as fire, now colde as ashes deed,Now hote for cold, now cold for heat againe,Now cold as yse, now as coles reed,For heate I brenne, and thus betwixe twaine,I possed am, and all forecast in paine,So that my heate plainly as I fele,Of greevous colde is cause every dele."This is the colde of inward hie disdain,Colde of dispite, and colde of cruell hate,This is the colde that ever doth his besie pain Ayenst trouth to fight and debate,This is the colde that the fire abateOf trewe meaning, alas, the harde while,This is the colde that woll me begile."For ever the better that in trouth I mentWith all my might faithfully to serve,With herte and all to be diligent,The lesse thanke, alas, I can deserve:Thus for my trouth danger doth me sterve,For one that should my death of mercy let,Hath made dispite new his swerde to whet"Against me, and his arowes to file To take vengeaunce of wilfull cruelte;And tonges false, through hir sleightly wile,Han gonne a werre that will not stinted be,And False Envie, Wrath and Enmite,Have conspired against all right and law,Of hir malice, that Trouth shall be slaw."And Malebouche gan first the tale tell ,To sclaunder Trouth of indignacion,And False-reporte so loude range the bell That Misbeleefe and False-suspectionHave Trouth brought to his dampnacion,So that, alas, wrongfully he dieth,And Falsenesse now his place occupieth."And entred is in to Trouthes londe,And hath thereof the full possession.O rightfull God, that first the trouth fonde,How may thou suffre soch oppression,That Falsheed should have jurisdictionIn Trouthes right to slee him giltles?In his fraunchise he may not live in pees;"Falsly accused, and of his fone forjudged,Without answere, while he was absent,He damned was, and may not be excused,For Cruelte sate in judgement Of hastinesse without advisem*nt,And badde Disdaine do execute anone,His judgement in presence of his fone.66 Attourney may none admitted been To excuse Trouth, ne a worde to speke,To Faith or othe the judge list not seen,There is no game, but he will be wreke:O Lord of trouth, to thee I call and clepe!How may thou see thus in thy presence,Without mercy murdred innocence?"Now God, that art of trouth soveraine,And seest how I lie for trouth bound,So sore knit in loves firie chaine,Even at the death through girte with manyawound,That likely are never for to sound,And for my trouth am dampned to the death,And not abide, but draw along the breath:"Consider and see in thine eternal right,How that mine herte professed whilom was,For to be trewe with all my full might,Onely to one the which now, alas,Of volunte, without any trespas,My accusours hath taken unto grace,And cherisheth hem my death to purchace."What meaneth this? what is this wonder ureOf purveyaunce if I shall it call,Of god of love, that false hem so assure,And trewe, alas, downe of the whele ben fall,And yet, in sothe, this is the worst of all,That Falshed wrongfully of Troth hath the name,AndTrouthayenward of Falshed beareththe blame." This blind chaunce, this stormy aventure,In love hath most his experience,For who that doth with trouth most his cure,Shall for his mede finde most offence,That serveth love with all his diligence:For who can faine under lowlyhede,Ne fayleth not to finde grace and spede."For I loved one, full long sith agone,With all mine herte, body, and full might,And to be deed my herte can not gone From his heste, but hold that he hath hight,Though I be banished out of her sight,And by her mouth dampned that I shall dey,Unto my hest yet I will ever obey." For ever sith that the world began,Who so liste looke, and in story rede,He shall aye find that the trewe man Was put abacke, whereas the falshede Yfurthered was: for Love taketh none hedeTo slee the trew, and hath of hem no charge,Where as the false goeth frely at hir large." I take record of Palamides,The trewe man, the noble worthy knight,That ever loved, and of his paine no relees,Notwithstanding his manhood and his might,Love unto him did full great unright,For aye the bet he did in chevalrie,The more he was hindred by envie."And aye the better he did in every place,Through his knighthood and busie payne,The ferder was he from his ladies grace,For to her mercy might he never attayne,And to his death he coud it not refrayneFor no daungere, but aye obey and serve,As he best coude, plainly till he sterve."What was the fine also of Hercules,For all his conquest and his worthinesse,That was of strength alone peerles,For like as bookes of him list expresse,He set pillers through his hie prowesse,Away at Gades, for to signifie,That no man might him passe in chevalrie:358 THE COMPLAINT OF THE BLACK KNIGHT. v. 351-476" The which pillers ferre beyond Inde,Be set of gold for a remembraunce:And for all that was he set behinde,With hem that love list feebly avaunce,For him set last upon a daunce Against whom helpe may no strife,For all his trouth he lost his life."Phebus also, for his pleasaunt light,Whan that he went here in earth lowe,Unto the herte with Venus sight Ywounded was through Cupides bowe,And yet his lady list him not to knowe,Though for her love his herte did blede,She let him go, and toke of him no hede."What shall I say of yonge Piramus?Of trewe Tristram, for all his hie renowne,Of Achilles, or of Antonius,Of Arcite, or of him Palemoune,What was the end of hir passioune,But after sorow death, and then hir grave?Lo, here the guerdon that these lovers have!"But false Jason with his doublenesse,That was untrewe at Colkos to Medee,And Theseus, roote of unkindnesse,And with these two eke the false Enee.Lo, thus the false aye in one degree,Had in love hir lust and all hir will,And, save falshood, there was none other skill."Of Thebes eke the false Arcite,And Demophon eke for his slouth,They had hir lust and all that might delite,For all hir falshood and great untrouth:Thus ever Love, alas, and that is routh,His false lieges forthereth what he may,And sleeth the trewe ungoodly, day by day."For trewe Adon was slaine with the bore,Amidde the forest in the grene shade,For Venus love he felt all the sore,But Vulcanus with her no mercy made,The foule chorle had many nights glade,Where Mars her knight and her man,To find mercy comfort none he can."Also the yonge fresh Ipomedes,So lustly free as of his corage,That for to serve with all his herte he chesAthalant, so faire of her visage,But Love, alas, quite him so his wageWith cruell daunger plainly at the last,That with the death guerdonlesse he past."Lo, here the fine of Loves service,Lo, how that Love can his servaunts quite,Lo, how he can his faithfull men dispise,To slee the trewe men, and false to respite!Lo, how he doth the swerde of sorow bite In hertes, soch as most his lust obey,To save the false and do the trewe dey."For faith nor othe, worde ne assuraunce,Trewe meaning, awaite, or businesse,Still porte, ne faithfull attendaunce,Manhood ne might in armes worthinesse,Pursute of worship nor hie prowesse,In straunge land riding ne travaile,Full litell or nought in love doth availe." Perill of death, nor in see ne land,Hunger ne thrust, sorow ne sicknesse,Ne great emprises for to take in hand,Sheding of blood, ne manfull hardinesse,Ne oft wounding at sautes by distresse,Nor in parting of life nor death also,All is for nought, Love taketh no heed thereto." But lesings with hir flatterie,Through hir falshede, and with hir doublenesse,With tales new, and many fained lie,By false semblaunt, and counterfeit humblesse,Under colour depaint with stedfastnesse,With fraud covered under a pitous face,Accept be now rathest unto grace:" And can himselfe now best magnifieWith fained port and presumption,They haunce hir cause with false surquedrie,Under meaning of double entention,To thinke one in hir opinion,And say another, to set himselfe aloft,And hinder trouth, as it is seene full oft."The which thing I buy now all too deare,Thanked be Venus and the god Cupide,As it is seene by mine oppressed cheare,And by his arrowes that sticken in my side,That save death I nothing abide,Fro day to day, alas, the hard while,Whan ever his dart that him list to file,"My wofull herte for to rive atwo,For faut of mercy and lacke of pite Of her that causeth all my paine and wo,And list not ones of grace for to seeUnto my trouth through her cruelte;And most of all I me complaine,That she hath joy to laugh at my paine;"And wilfully hath my death sworne,All guiltlesse, and wote no cause why,Save for the trouth that I had aforne To her alone to serve faithfully.O god of love, unto thee I cry,And to thy blind double deite,Of this great wrong I complaine me!"And unto thy stormy wilfull variaunce,Ymeint with change and great unstablenesse,Now up, now doun, so renning is thy chance,That thee to trust may be no sikernesse,I wite it nothing but thy doublenesse,And who that is an archer, and is blend,Marketh nothing, but shooteth by wend."And for that he hath no discretion,Without advise he let his arrow go,For lacke of sight, and also of reason,In his shooting it happeth ofte so,To hurt his friend rather than his fo,So doth this god with his sharpe flone,The trew sleeth, and letteth the false gone."And of his wounding this is the worst of all,Whan he hurt doeth to so cruell wretch,And maketh the sicke for to cry and call Unto his foe for to be his leche,And hard it is for a man to secheUpon the point of death in jeoperdie,Unto his foe to find a remedie..v. 477-602 THE COMPLAINT OF THE BLACK KNIGHT. 359" Thus fareth it now even by me,That to my foe that gave my herte a wound,Mote aske grace, mercy, and pite,And namely there where none may be found,For now my sore my leche will confound,And god of kind so hath set mine ure,My lives foe to have my wound in cure."Alas the while, now that I was borne,Or that I ever saw the bright Sonne!For now I see that full long aforne,Or I was borne, my desteny was sponneBy Parcas sisterne, to slee me if they conne,For they my death shopen or my shert,Only for trouth, I may it not astert."The mighty goddesse, also, of Nature,That under God hath the governaunceOf worldly things committed to her cure,Disposed have through her wise purveiance,To give my lady so much suffisaunce Of all vertues, and therewithall purvide To murder Trouth, hath take Danger to gide."For bounte, beaute, shape, and seemelihede,Prudence, wit, passingly fairenesse,Benigne port, glad chere, with lowlihede,Of womanhede right plenteous largenesse,Nature did in her fully empresse,Whan she her wrought, and alderlast Disdain,To hinder Trouth, she made her chamberlain."Whan Mistrust also, and False- suspection,With Misbeleve she made for to beCheefe of counsaile to this conclusion,For to exile Trouth, and eke Pite,Out of her court to make Mercy flee,So that dispite now holdeth forth her reigne,Through hasty bileve of tales that men feigne."And thus I am for my trouth, alas,Murdred and slain with words sharp and kene,Guiltlesse, God wote, of all trespas,And lie and blede upon this cold grene,Now mercy swete, mercy my lives quene,And to your grace of mercy yet I prey,In your service that your man may dey." But if so be that I shall die algate,And that I shall none other mercy have,Yet of my death let this been the date,That by your wil I was broght to my grave,Or hastely, if that you list me save,My sharpe wounds that ake so and blede,Of mercy charme, and also of womanhede." For other charme, plainly, is there none,But only mercy to helpe in this case,For though my wounds bleed ever in one,My life, my death, standeth in your grace,And though my guilt be nothing, alas,I aske mercy in all my best entent,Ready to die, if that ye assent."For there against shall I never strive In word ne werke, plainely I ne may,For lever I have than to be alive,To die soothly, and it be to her pay,Ye, though it be this same day,Or whan that ever her list to devise,Suffiseth me to die in your servise."And God, that knowestthe thought of every wight,Right as it is, in every thing thou maist see,Yet ere I die, with all my full might,Lowly I pray to graunt unto mee,That ye goodly, faire, fresh, and free,Which onely sle me for default of routh,Or that I die, ye may know my trouth." For that in sooth sufficeth me,And she it know in every circ*mstaunce,And after I am well paid that she,If that her list, of death to do vengeaunceUnto me, that am under her ligeaunce,It sit me not her doome to disobey,But at her lust wilfully to dey."Without grutching or rebellion In will or word, holy I assent,Or any manner contradiction,Fully to be at her commaundement,And, if I die, in my testamentMy herte I send, and my spirit also,What so ever she list with hem to do."And alderlast, to her womanhede,And to her mercy me I recommaund,That lie now here betwixe hope and drede,Abiding plainly what she list commaund,For utterly this n'is no demaund Welcome to me while me lasteth breath,Right at her choice, where it be life or death." In this matter more what might I saine,Sith in her hand, and in her will is all,But life and death, my joy, and all my paine,And finally my best hold I shall,Till my spirit by desteny fatall,Whan that her list fro my body wend,Have here my trouth, and thus I make an end. "And with that word he gan sigh as sore,Like as his herte rive would atwaine,And held his peace, and spake no word more,But for to see his wo and mortal paine,The teares gonne fro mine eyen raine Full pitously, for very inward routh,That I him saw so long wishing for trouth.And all this while my selfe I kepte close Among the bowes, and my selfe gonne hide,Till at the last the wofull man arose,And to a lodge went there beside,Where all the May his custome was t'abide,Sole to complaine of his paines kene,From yere to yere, under the bowes grene;And for bicause that it drew to the night,And that the Sunne his arke diurnalYpassed was, so that his persaunt light,His bright beams and his streams all Were in the waves of the water fall ,Under the bordure of our occian,His chaire of gold, his course so swiftly ran:And while the twilight and the rowes rede Of Phebus light were deaurate a lite ,A penne I tooke, and gan me fast spede The wofull plaint of this man to write,Word by word, as he did endite,Like as I heard, and coud hem tho report,I have here set, your hertes to disport.360 THE COMPLAINT OF THE BLACK KNIGHT. v. 603-681If ought be misse, lay the wite on me,For I am worthy for to beare the blame,If any thing misse reported be,To make this ditie for to seeme lame,Through mine unconning, but for to sain the same,Like as this manne his complaint did expresse,I aske mercy and forgivenesse.And as I wrote, me thought I saw aferre,Ferre in the west lustely appereEsperus the goodly bright sterre,So glad, so faire, so persaunt eke of chere,I mean Venus with her beames clere,That heavy hertes only to releve,Is wont of custome for to shew at eve.And I as fast fell adown on my knee,And even thus to her gan I to prey:"O lady Venus, so faire upon to see,Let not this man for his trouth dey!For that joy thou haddest whan thou ley With Mars thy knight, whan Vulcanus fond,And with a chaine unvisible you bond"Togider both tway in the same while,That all the court above celestiall,At your shame gan laugh and smile:Ah, faire lady, willy fond at all,Comfort to carefull, O goddesse immortall,Be helping now, and do thy diligence To let the streames of thine influence"Descend downe in forthering of the trouth,Namely of hem that lie in sorrow bound,Shew now thou might, and on hir wo have routh,Ere false daunger slee hem and confound:And specially let thy might be found For so to cover, what so that thou may,The true man that in the herber lay;"And all true forther for his sake,O glad sterre, O lady Venus mine,And cause his lady him to grace take,Her herte of stele to mercy so encline,Ere that thy bemes go up to decline,And ere that thou now go fro us adoun,For that love thou haddest to Adoun."And whan she was gone to her rest,I rose anone, and home to bed went,Forweary, me thought it for the best,Praying thus in all my best entent,That all trew, that be with daunger shent,With mercy may in release of hir paine,Recured be, ere May come efte againe.And for that I ne may no lenger wake,Farewell ye lovers all that be trew,Praying to God, and thus my leve I take,That ere the Sunne to morrow be risen new,And ere he have ayen rosen hew,That each of you may have such a grace,His owne lady in armes to embrace.I meane thus, in all honesty,Without more ye may togider speake What so ye list at good liberty,That each may to other hir herte breke,On jelousies onely to be wreke,That hath so long of his mallice and envy Werred trouth with his tiranny.LENVOYE.Princesse, pleaseth it to your benignitie This little ditie to have in mind,Of womanhede also for to see,Your man may your mercy find,And pity eke, that long hath be behind,Let him againe be provoked to grace,For by my trouth it is against kindFalse daunger to occupy his place.Go little quaire unto my lives queene And my very hertes soveraine,And be right glad for she shall thee seene,Such is thy grace, but I alas, in paine Am left behind, and n'ot to whom to plaine,For mercy, ruth, grace, and eke pite Exiled be, that I may not attaine Recure to find of mine adversite.EXPLICIT.CHAUCER'S A. B. C.CALLED LA PRIERE DE NOSTRE DAME.Chaucer's A. B. C. called La Priere de Nostre Dame: made, as some say, at the request of Blanch, duch*ess of Lancaster, as a praier for her private use, being a woman in her religion very devout.A. ALMIGHTY and all merciable queene,To whom all this world fleeth for succourTo have release of sinne, of sorrow, of tene,Glorious Virgine of all flouris flour!To thee I flee, confounded in errour,Helpe and releeve, almighty debonaire!Have mercy of mine perillous langour!Venquist me hath my cruell adversaire.B.Bounty so fixe hath in my herte his tent,That well I wote thou will my succour be,Thou canst not warn that with good entent,Axeth thine helpe, thine herte is aye so free:Thou art largesse of plaine felicite,Haven and refute of quiete and of rest;Lo, how that thevis seven chasen me!Helpe, lady bright, or that mine ship to brest!C.v. 1-80Comfort is none, but in you, lady dere,For lo, mine sinne and mine confusioun,Which ought not in thine presence for to apere,Han taken on me a greevous actioun,Of veray right and disperatioun,And, as by right, they mighten well sustene That I were worthy mine damnatioun,Nere mercy of you, blisfull quene!D.Dout is there none, queen of misericord,That thou n'art cause of grace and mercy here,God vouchedsafe through thee with us to accord:For certis, Christ is blisful modir dere,Were now the bow bent in swiche manere,As it was first of justice and of ire,The rightfull God would of no mercy here:But through thee han we grace as we desire.E.Ever hath mine hope of refute in thee be For here beforne full oft, in many a wise,Unto mercy hast thou received me,But mercy, lady, at the great assise,Whan we shall come before the high justise,So little frute shall than in me ben found,That but thou or that day correct me,Of very right mine werk will me confound.F.Flying, I flee for succour to thine tent,Me for to hide fro tempest full of drede,Beseking you, that ye you not absent,Though I be wicke: O help yet at this nede!All have I been a beast in wit and dede,Yet lady, thou mee close in with thine own grace!Thine enemy and mine, lady take hede,Unto mine death in point is me to chase.G.Gracious maid and modir, which that never Were bitter nor in earth nor in see,But full of sweetnesse and of mercy ever,Help, that mine fader be not wroth with me!Speake thou, for I ne dare him not see,So have I done in earth, alas the while,That certes but if thou mine succour be,To sinke eterne he will mine ghost exile.H.He vouchedesafe, tell him, as was his will,Become a man as for our alliaunce,And with his blood he wrote that blisfull billUpon the crosse, as generall acquitaunce To every penitent in full criaunce:And, therefore, lady bright, thou for us prey,Than shalt thou stent all his greevaunce,And maken our foe to failen of his prey.I.I wote well thou wilt been our succour,Thou art so full of bounty in certaine,For whan a soule falleth in errour,Thine pity goeth, and haleth him againe,Than maketh thou his peace with his soverain,And bringest him out of the crooked strete:Who so thee loveth shall not love in vaine,That shall he find, as he the life shall lete.K.Kalenderis enlumined been they,That in this world been lighted with thine name,And who so goeth with thee the right wey,Him that not drede in soule to been lame.Now, queen of comfort, sith thou art the same To whom I seech for my medicine,Let not mine fo no more mine wound entame,Mine hele into thine hond all I resine.362 CHAUCER'S A. B. C. v. 81-184L.Lady, thine sorrow can I not portrey Under that crosse, ne his grevous pennaunce:But for your bothis peine, I you prey,Let not our alder fo make his bostaunce,That he hath in his lestis with mischaunce,Convict that ye both han bought so dere:As I said erst, thou ground of substaunce,Continue on us thine pitous eyen clere!M.Moyses that saw the bosh of flambis rede Brenning, of which than never a sticke brend,Was sign of thine unwemmed maidenhede,Thou art the bosh, on which there can descendThe Holyghost, which that Moyses weend Had been on fire: and this was in figure.Now lady, from the fire us defend,Which that in Hell eternally shall dure!N.Noble princesse, that never haddest pere,Certes if any comfort in us bee,That commeth of thee, Christis moder dere,We han none other melody ne glee,Us to rejoyce in our adversite,Ne advocat none, that will and dare so prey For us, and that for as little hire as ye,That helpen for an Avemary or twey.0.O very light of eyen tho been blind,O very lust of labour and distresse,O treasorere of bounty to mankind,The whom God chese to moder for humblesse,From his ancelle he made thee maistresse Of Heaven and Earth, our bill up to bede,This world awaiteth ever on thine goodnes,For thou ne failedest never wight at nede.P.Purpose I have, sometime, for to enquereWherefore and why the Holyghost thee sought,Whan Gabrielis voice come to thine ere;He not to werre us swich a wonder wrought,But for to save us, that sithen bought:Than needeth us no weapon us to save,But onely there we did not as us ought,Do penitence, and mercy aske and have.Q.Queen of comfort, right whan I me bethink,That I agilt have both him and thee,And that mine soule is worthy for to sinke,Alas, I caitife, wheder shall I flee?Who shall unto thine sonne mine mean be?Who, but thine selfe, that art of pity well?Thou hast more routh on our adversitie,Than in this world might any tongue tell.R.Redresse me moder, and eke me chastise,For certainly my faders chastising Ne dare I not abiden in no wise,So hideous is his full reckening;Moder of whom our joy gan to spring,Be ye mine judge, and eke my soules leech!For ever in you is pity abounding,To each that of pity will you beseech.S.Sooth is, he ne graunteth no pity Without thee: for God of his goodnesseForgiveth none, but it like unto thee:He hath thee made vicaire and maistresseOf all this world, and eke governeresseOf Heaven and represseth his justiceAfter thine will; and, therefore, in witnesse He hath thee crowned in so royal wise.T.Temple devout, ther God chese his wonning,For which these misbeleeved deprived been,To you mine soule penitent I bring,Receive me, for I can no ferther fleen.With thornis venemous, Heaven queen,For which the erth accursed was ful sore,I am so wounded, as ye may well seene,That I am lost almost, it smert so sore.V.Virgine, that art so noble of apparaile,That leadest us into the high toure Of Paradise, thou me wish and counsaile,How I may have thy grace and thy succour!All have I been in filth and in errour:Lady, on that countrey thou me adjourne,That cleaped is thine bench of fresh flour,There as that mercy ever shall sojourne.X.Xen thine sonne, that in this world alightUpon a crosse to suffer his passioun,And suffred eke that Longeus his hart pight,And made his herte blood renne adoun,And all this was for my salvatioun:And I to him am fals and eke unkind,And yet he will not mine dampnatioun:This thanke I you, succour of all mankind!Y.Ysaac was figure of his death certaine,That so ferre forth his fader would obey,That him ne rought nothing for to be slain:Right so thy sonne list a lambe to dey:Now, lady full of mercy, I you prey,Sith he his mercy sured me so large,Be ye not scant, for all we sing or say,That ye been fro vengeaunce aye our targe.Z.Zacharie you clepith the open well That wisht sinfull soule out of his guilt,Therefore this lesson out I will to tell,That nere thy tender heart we were spilt .Now, lady bright, sith thou canst and wilt Been to the seed of Adam merciable,Bring us to that paleis that is built To penitentis, that ben to mercie able.EXPLICIT.THE BOOKE OF THE DUTCHESSE,ORThe Death of Blanch;COMMONLY ENTITLED, CHAUCER'S DREAM.I HAVE great wonder by this light,How I live, for day ne nightI may not sleepe welnigh nought;I have so many an idle thought,Purely for default of sleepe,That, by my trouth, I take no keepeOf nothing, how it commeth or gothe.To me n'is nothing lefe nor lothe,All is yliche good to me,Joy or sorrow, where so it be:For I have feeling in nothing,But as it were a mased thing,All day in point to fall adoun,For sorrowfull imaginaicounIs alway wholly in my minde.And well ye wote, against kinde It were to liven in this wise,For nature would not suffiseTo none earthly creature,Not long time to endure Without sleepe, and be in sorrow:And I ne may, ne night ne morrow,Sleepe, and this melancolie And drede I have for to die,Defaut of sleepe and heavinesse Hath slaine my spirit of quickenesse,That I have lost all lustyhead;Such fantasies ben in mine head,So I n'ot what is best to do:But men might aske me why soI may not sleepe, and what me is?But nathelesse, who aske this,Leseth his asking truely,My selven cannot tell why The sooth, but truly as I gesse,I hold it be a sickenesse That I have suffred this eight yere,And yet my boot is never the nere:For there is phisicien but one,That may me heale, but that is done:Passe we over untill efte,That will not be mote needs be lefte;Our first matter is good to keepe.So whan I saw I might not sleepe,Now of late this other nightUpon my bed I sate upright,And bade one reach me a booke,A romaunce, and he it me tooke To rede, and drive the night away:For me thought it better play,v. 1-100Than either at chesse or tables.And in this booke were written fables,That clerkes had in old time,And other poets put in rime,To rede, and for to be in mind,While men loved the law of Kinde.This booke ne spake but of such things,Of queenes lives, and of kings,And many other things smale.Among all this I found a tale,That me thought a wonder thing.This was the tale: There was a king That hight Seys, and had a wife,The best that might beare life,And this queene hight Alcione.So it befell, thereafter sooneThis king woll wenden over see:To tellen shortly, whan that he Was in the see, thus in this wise,Such a tempest gan to rise,That brake her mast, and made it fall,And cleft her ship, and dreint hem all,That never was found, as it tels,Bord, ne man, ne nothing els.Right thus this king Seys lost his life.Now for to speake of Alcione his wife:This lady that was left at home,Hath wonder that the king ne comeHome, for it was a long terme:Anon her herte began to yerne,And for that her thought evermoIt was not wele, her thought so,She longed so after the king,That certes it were a pitous thingTo tell her heartely sorrowfull life,That she had, this noble wife,For him, alas! she loved alderbest,Anon she sent both east and westTo seeke him, but they found him nought." Alas," (quod she) " that I was wrought,Whether my lord my love be dead,Certes I nill never eat bread,I make a vow to my God here,But I mowe of my lord here. "Such sorrow this lady to her tooke,That truly I that made this booke,Had such pitie and such routh To rede her sorrow, that by my trouth,I farde the worse all the morrowAfter, to thinken on her sorrow.364 THE BOOKE OF THE DUTCHESSE. v. 101-240So whan this lady coud here no word That no man might find her lord,Full oft she swowned, and said " Alas! "For sorrow full nigh wood she was,Ne she coud no rede but one,But downe on knees she sate anone,And wept, that pitie were to here."A mercy, sweet lady dere!"(Quod she) to Juno her goddesse,"Helpe me out of this distresse,And yeve me grace my lord to see Soone, or wete where so he bee,Or how he fareth or in what wise,And I shall make you sacrifice,And holy yours become I shall,With good will, body, herte, and all;And but thou wolt this, lady swete,Send me grace to slepe and meteIn my sleepe some certain sweven,Where through that I may know even Whether my lord be quicke or dead."With that word she hing downe the head,And fell in a swowne, as cold as stone;Her women caught her up anone,And brought her in bed all naked,And she, forweped and forwaked,Was weary, and thus the dead sleepe Fell on her or she tooke keepe,Through Juno, that had heard her boone,That made her to sleepe soone;For as she praide, right so was done Indeed, for Juno right anone Called thus her messengereTo do her errand, and he come nere;Whan he was come she bad him thus:" Go bet" (quod Juno) " to Morpheus,"Thou knowest him well, the god of sleepe,Now understand well, and take keepe;Say thus on my halfe, that hee Go fast into the great see,And bid him that on all thingHe take up Seys body the king,That lieth full pale, and nothing rody,Bid him creepe into the body,And do it gone to Alcione,The queene, there she lieth alone,And shew her shortly, it is no nay,How it was dreint this other day,And do the body speake right so,Right as it was wonted to do,The whiles that it was alive;Go now fast, and hye thee blive."This messenger took leve and wentUpon his way, and never he stent Till he came to the darke valley That stant betweene rockes twey,There never yet grew corne ne gras,Ne tree, ne naught that aught was,Beast ne man, ne naught els,Save that there were a few welsCame renning fro the cliffes adowne,That made a deadly sleeping sowne,And rennen downe right by a cave,That was under a rocke ygraveAmid the valley wonder deepe,There these goddes lay asleepe,Morpheus and Eclympasteire,That was the god of sleepes heire,That slept, and did none other werke.This cave was also as derkeAs Hell pitte, over all about They had good leyser for to rout,To vye who might sleepe best,Some hing hir chin upon hir brest,And slept upright hir head yhed,And some lay naked in hir bed,And slept whiles their daies last.This messenger come renning fast,And cried " Ho, ho, awake anone! "It was for nought, there heard him none."Awake! " (quod he) " who lieth there?"And blew his horne right in hir ear,And cried " Awaketh!" wonder hye.This god of sleepe, with his one eye,Cast up, and asked " Who clepeth there? ""It am I," (quod this messengere)"Juno bade thou shouldest gone,"And told him what he should done,As I have told you here before,It is no need rehearse it more,And went his way whan he had saide:Anone, this god of slepe abraide Out of his sleepe and gan to go,And did as he had bidde him do;Tooke up the dead body soone,And bare it forth to Alcyone,His wife the queene, there as she lay,Right even a quarter before day,And stood right at her beds fete,And called her right as she hete By name, and said, " My swete wife,Awake! let be your sorrowfull life,For in your sorrow there lyeth no rede,For certes, sweet love, I am but dede,Ye shall me never on live ysee.But, good sweet herte, looke that yee Bury my body, for such a tide Ye mowe it find the see beside,And farewell sweet, my worlds blisse,I pray God your sorrow lisse;Too little while our blisse lasteth."With that her eyen up she casteth,And saw naught: " Alas!" (quod she) for sorrow,And died within the third morrow.IBut what she said more in that swowe,may not tell it you as now,It were too long for to dwell;My first mattere I will you tell,Wherefore I have told you this thing,Of Alcione, and Seis the king.For thus much dare I say wele,I had be dolven every dele,And dead, right through defaut of sleepe,If I ne had red, and take kepe Of this tale next before,And I will tell you wherefore,For I ne might for bote ne bale Sleepe, or I had redde this taleOf this dreint Seis the king,And of the gods of sleeping.Whan I had red this tale wele,And overlooked it everydele,Me thought wonder if it were so,For I had never heard speake or tho Of no gods, that coud make Men to sleepe, ne for to wake,For I ne knew never God but one,And in my game I said anone,And yet me list right evill to pley,Rather than that I should deyv. 241-380 THE BOOKE OF THE DUTCHESSE. 365Through defaut of sleeping thus,I would give thilke Morpheus,Or that goddesse dame Juno,Or some wight els, I ne rought who,To make me slepe and have some rest,I will give him the alther best Yeft, that ever he abode his live,And here onward, right now as blive,If he woll make me sleepe alite,Of downe of pure doves white,I woll yeve him a featherbed,Raied with gold, and right well cled,In fine blacke sattin d'outremere,And many a pillow, and every bere,Of cloth of raines to slepe on soft,Him there not need to turne oft,And I woll yeve him al that fals To his chamber and to his hals,I woll do paint with pure gold,And tapite hem full manyfold,Of one sute this shall he have If I wist where were his cave,If he can make me sleepe soone,As did the goddesse queene Alcyone,And thus this ilke god MorpheusMay win of me mo fees thus Than ever he wan: and to Juno,That is his goddesse, I shall so do,I trowe that she shall hold her paid.I had unneth that word ysaid,Right thus as I have told you,That suddainly I n'ist how,Such a lust anone me tookeTo sleepe, that right upon my booke I fell a sleepe, and therewith even Me mette so inly such a sweven,So wonderfull, that never yet I trowe no man had the witTo conne well my sweven rede.No, not Joseph without dredeOf Egypt, he that rad so The kinges meting, Pharao,No more than coud the least of us.Ne nat scarcely Macrobeus,He that wrote all the avision That he mette of king Scipion,The noble man, the Affrican,Such mervailes fortuned than,I trow arede my dreames even,Lo, thus it was, this was my sweven.Me thought thus, that it was May,And in the dawning there I lay,Me mette thus in my bed all naked,And looked forth for I was waked,With smale foules a great hepe,That had afraied me out of my slepe,Through noise and sweetnesse of hir song,And as me mette, they sat among Upon my chamber roofe without Upon the tyles over all about.And everiche song in his wise The most solemne servise By note, that ever man I trow Had heard, for some of hem sung low,Some high, and all of one accord,To tell shortly at o word,Was never heard so sweet steven,But it had be a thing of Heven,So merry a sowne, so sweet entunes,That certes for the towne of TewnesI n'olde but I had heard hem sing,For all my chamber gan to ring,Through singing of hir ermony,For instrument nor melody Was no where heard yet halfe so swete,Nor of accord halfe so mete,For there was none of hem that fainedTo sing, for ech of hem him pained To find out many crafty notes,They ne spared nat hir throtes;And, sooth to saine, my chamber was Full well depainted, and with glas Were all the windowes well yglased Full clere, and nat an hole ycrased,That to behold it was great joy,For holy all the story of Troy Was in the glaising ywrought thus,Of Hector, and of king Priamus,Of Achilles, and of king Laomedon,And eke of Medea and Jason,Of Paris, Heleine, and of Lavine,And all the wals with colours fineWere paint, both text and glose,And all the Romaunt of the Rose;My windowes weren sh*t echone,And through the glasse the Sunne shoneUpon my bed with bright bemes,With many glad glidy stremes,And eke the welkin was so faire,Blew, bright, clere was the aire,And full attempre, for sooth it was,For neyther too cold ne hote it n'as,Ne in all the welkin was no cloud.And as I lay thus, wonder loud Me thought I heard a hunte blow T'assay his great horne, and for to know Whether it was clere, or horse of sowne.And I heard going both up and downe Men, horse, hounds, and other thing,And all men speake of hunting,How they would slee the hart with strength,And howthe hart had upon lengthSo much enbosed, I n'ot now what.Anon right whan I heard that,How that they would on hunting gone,I was right glad, and up anone,Tooke my horse, and forth I wentOut of my chamber, I never stent Till I come to the field without,There overtooke I a great rout Of hunters and eke forresters,And many relaies and limers,And highed hem to the forrest fast,And I with hem, so at the last I asked one lad, a lymere," Say, fellow, who shall hunte here?"(Quod I) and he answered ayen,"Sir, the emperour Octavien (Quod he) " and is here fast by. ""A goddes halfe, in good time," (quod I)Go we fast, and gan to ride;Whan we come to the forrest side,Every man did right soone,As to hunting fell to done.The maister hunte, anone, fote hote With his horne blew three moteAt the uncoupling of his houndis,Within a while the hart found is,Yhallowed, and rechased fastLong time, and so, at the last,366 THE BOOKE OF THE DUTCHESSE. v. 381-520This hart rouzed and stale away Fro all the hounds a previe way.The hounds had overshot him all,And were upon a default yfall,Therewith the hunte wonder fastBlew a forloyn at the last;I was go walked fro my tree,And as I went, there came by meA whelpe, that fawned me as I stood,That had yfollowed, and coud no good,It came and crept to me as low,Right as it had me yknow,Held downe his head, and joyned his eares,And laid all smooth downe his heares.I would have caught it anone,It fled and was fro me gone,As I him followed, and it forth went Downe by a floury grene it wentFull thicke of grasse, full soft and sweet,With floures fele, faire under feet,And little used, it seemed thus,For both Flora and Zepherus,They two, that make floures grow,Had made hir dwelling there I trow,For it was on to behold,As though the earth envye wold To be gayer than the heven,To have mo floures such sevenAs in the welkin sterres be,It had forgot the poverteThat winter, through his cold morrowes,Had made it suffer, and his sorrowes;All was foryeten, and that was seene,For all the wood was woxen greene,Sweetnesse of dewe had made it waxe.It is no need eke for to axe Where there were many greene greves,Or thicke of trees so full of leves,And every tree stood by himselve Fro other, well tenne foot or twelve,So great trees, so huge of strength,Of fortie or fiftie fadome length,Cleane without bowe or sticke,With croppes brode, and eke as thicke,They were not an inch asunder,That it was shadde over all under,And many an hart and many an hind Was both before me and behind,Of fawnes, sowers, buckes, does,Was full the wood, and many roes,And many squirrels, that sete,Full high upon the trees and ete,And in hir manner made feasts:Shortly, it was so full of beasts,That though Argus, the noble countour,Sate to recken in his countour,And recken with his figures ten,For by tho figures newe all ken If they be craftie, recken and nombre,And tell of every thing the nombre,Yet should he faile to recken even The wonders me met in my sweven:But forth I romed right wonder fast Downe the wood, so at the last I was ware of a man in blacke,That sate, and had yturned his backe To an oke, an huge tree:66 Lord," thought I, " who may that bee?What eyleth him to sitten here?"Anon right I went nere,Than found I sitte, even upright,A wonder welfaring knight,Bythe manner me thought so,Of good mokel, and right yonge thereto,Of the age of foure and twentie yeere,Upon his beard but little heere,And he was clothed all in blacke.I stalked even unto his backe,And there I stood as still as ought,The sooth to say, he saw me nought,For why he hing his head adowne,And with a deadly sorrowfull sowne,He made of rime ten verses or twelve,Of a complaint to himselve,The most pitie, the most routh,That ever I heard, for, by my trouth,It was great wonder that nature Might suffer any creature To have such sorrow, and he not ded:Full pitous pale, and nothing red,He said a lay, a manner song,Without note, without songAnd was this, for full well I can Rehearse it, right thus it began."I have of sorrow so great wone,That joy get I never none,Now that I see my lady bright,Which I have loved with all my might,Is fro me dead, and is agone,And thus in sorrow left me alone.Alas, Death, what eyleth thee,That thou n'oldest have taken me,Whan that thou tooke my lady swete?Of all goodnesse she had none mete,That was so faire, so fresh, so free,So good, that men may well see."Whan he had made thus his complaint,His sorrowfull herte gan fast faint,And his spirits wexen dead,The blood was fled for pure dread Down to his herte, to maken him warme,For well it feeled the herte had harme,To wete eke why it was adrad By kinde, and for to make it glad,For it is member principallOf the body, and that made all His hewe chaunge, and wexe greneAnd pale, for there no blood is seene In no manner limme of his.Anon, therewith, whan I saw this,He farde thus evill there he sete,I went and stood right at his fete,And grette him, but he spake nought But argued with his owne thought,And in his wit disputed fast,Why, and how his life might last,Him thought his sorrowes were so smart,And lay so cold upon his herte.So, through his sorrow, and holy thought,Made him that he heard me nought,For he had welnigh lost his minde,Though Pan, that men clepeth god of kinde,Were for his sorrowes never so wroth.But at the last, to faine right sooth,He was ware of me, how I stood Before him and did off my hood,And had ygret him, as I best coud Debonairly, and nothing loud,He said, " I pray thee, be not wroth,I heard thee not, to saine the sooth,v. 521-660 THE BOOKE OF THE DUTCHESSE. 367Ne I sawthe not, sir, truly.""Ah, good sir, no force," (quod I )"I am right sorry, if I have ought Distroubled you out of your thought,Foryeve me, if I have misse-take.""Yes, thamends is light to make "(Quod he) "for there lithe none thereto,There is nothing mis- saide, nor do."Lo, how goodly spake this knight,As it had be another wight,And made it neyther tough ne queint,And I saw that, and gan me acqueintWith him, and found him so tretable,Right wonder skilfull and reasonable,As me thought, for all his bale,Anon right I gan find a tale To him, to looke where I might oughtHave more knowledging of his thought." Sir," (quod I) " this game is done,I holde that this hart be gone,These huntes can him no where see.""" I do no force thereof," (quod he)"My thought is thereon never adele. "" By our lord, " (quod I) " I trow you wele,Right so me thinketh by your chere,But, sir, o thing woll ye here,Me thinketh in great sorrow I you see,But certes, sir, if that ye Would aught discovre me your wo,I would, as wise God helpe me so,Amend it, if I can or may,Ye mowe prove it by assay,For, by my trouth, to make you hole,I woll do all my power whole,And telleth me of your sorrowes smart,Paraunter it may ease your herte,That semeth full sicke under your side."With that he looked on me aside,As who saith nay, that n'ill not be."Graunt mercy, good friend," ( quod he)" I thanke thee that thou wouldest so,But it may never the rather be do,No man may my sorrow glade,That maketh my hew to fall and fade,And hath my understanding lorne,That me is wo that I was borne,May nought make my sorrowes slide,Not all the remedies of Ovide,Ne Orpheus, god of melodie,Ne Dedalus with his playes slie,Ne heale me may no phisicien,Nought Ipocras, ne Galien,Me is wo that I live houres twelve,But who so woll assay hemselve,Whether his herte can have piteOf any sorrow let him see me,I wretch that death hath made all naked Of all the blisse that ever was maked,Ywroth werste of all wights,That hate my dayes and my nights,My life, my lustes, be me loth,For all fare and I be wroth,The pure death is so full my fo,That I would die, it will not so,For whan I follow it, it will flie,I would have him, it n'ill not me,This is pain without reed,Alway dying, and be not deed,That Tesiphus, that lieth in Hell,May not of more sorrow tell:And who so wist all, by my trouth,My sorrow, but he had routhAnd pitie of my sorrows smart,That man hath a fiendly herte:For whoso seeth me first on morrow,May saine he hath met with sorrow,For I am sorrow, and sorrow is I ,Alas, and I will tell thee why,My sorrow is tourned to plaining,And all my laughter to weeping,My glad thoughts to heavinesse,In travaile is mine idlenesse,And eke my rest, my wele is wo,My good is harme, and evermo In wrath is tourned my playing,And my delite into sorrowing,Mine heale is tourned into sicknesse,In dred is all my sikernesse,To derke is turned all my light,My witte is foly, my day is night,My love is hate, my slepe wakyng,My mirth and meales is fastyng,My countenaunce is nicete,And all abawed, where so I be,My peace pleding, and in werre Alas, how might I fare werre?"My boldnesse is turned to shame,For false Fortune hath played a gameAt the chesse with me, alas the while,The trayteresse false, and full of gile,That al behoteth, and nothing halte,She gothe upright, and yet she halte,That baggeth foule, and loketh fayre,The dispitous debonaire,That scorneth many a creature,An ydole of false purtraiture Is she, for she woll sone wryen,She is the monstres heed ywryen,As filth over ystrowed with floures,Her most worship and her flouresTo lyen, for that is her nature,Without faith, lawe, or mesure,She false is, and ever laughingWith one eye, and that other weping,That is brought up, she set al downe:I liken her to the scorpiowne,That is a false flattering beest,For with his head he maketh feest,But all amid his flatering,With his taile he will sting And envenim, and so will she:She is the envious Charite,That is aye false, and semeth wele,So turneth she her false wheleAbout, for it is nothing stable,Now by the fire, now at table,Full many one hath she thus yblent,She is play of enchauntment,That seemeth one, and is not so,The false thefe, what hath she do,Trowest thou? by our Lord, I will thee say;At the chesse with me she gan to play,With her false draughtes full divers She stale on me, and toke my fers,And whan I sawe my fers away,Alas, I couth no lenger play,But said, " Farewell sweet ywis,And farewell all that ever there is: "Therewith Fortune said, " Checke here,"And mate in the mid point of the checkere,368 THE BOOKE OF THE DUTCHESSE. v. 661-800With a paune errant, alas,Full craftier to play she was Than Athalus, that made the game First of the chesse, so was his name:But God wolde I had ones or twise,Yconde, and know the jeoperdise,That coude the Greke Pythagores,I shulde have plaide the bet at ches,And kept my fers the bet thereby,And though whereto, for trewly,I holde that wishe not worthe a stre,It had be never the bet for me,For Fortune can so many a wyle,There be but few can her begile,And eke she is the lasse to blame,My selfe I wolde have do the same,Before God, had I been as she,She ought the more excused be,For this I say yet more thereto,Had I be God, and might have do,My will, whan she my fers caught,I wold have drawe the same draught:For also wise, God give me reste,I dare well swere, she toke the best,But through that draught I have lorne My blisse, alas, that I was borne!For evermore, I trowe trewly,For all my will, my lust wholly Is turned, but ye, what to done,By our Lorde it is to die sone:For nothing I leave it nought,But live and die, right in this thought.For there n'is planet in firmament,Ne in ayre ne in erth none element,That they ne yeve me a yeft echone,Of weping whan I am alone:For whan that I advise me wele,And bethinke me everydele,How that there lieth in rekening,In my sorrow for nothing,And how there liveth no gladnesseMay glad me of my distresse,And how I have lost suffisaunce,And thereto I have no pleasaunce,Than may I say, I have right nought;And whan al this falleth in my thought,Alas, than am I overcome,For that is done, is not to come;I have more sorrow than Tantale."And I herde him tell this taleThus pitously, as I you tell,Unneth might I lenger dwell:It did mine herte so much wo."A good sir," (quod I) " say nat so,Have some pitie on your nature,That fourmed you to creature,Remembreth you of Socrates,For he counted not three streesOfnought that Fortune coude do. ""No," (quod he) " I can not so. ""Why, good sir, yes parde," (quod I)"Ne say not so for truely,Though ye had lost the feerses twelve And ye for sorrow murdred your selve,Ye should be dampned in this cas,By as good right as Medea was,That slough her children for Jason,And Phyllis also for DemophonHing her selfe, so welaway,For he had broke his terme dayTo come to her: another rage Had Dido, the quene eke of Cartage,That slough her selfe for Eneas Was false, which a foole she was:And Ecquo died for Narcissus N'olde nat love her, and right thusHath many another folly done,And for Dalida died Sampsone,That slough himselfe with a pillere,But there is no man alive here Would for hir fers make this wo.""Why so?" (quod he) " it is not so,Thou wotest full little what thou menest,I have lost more than thou wenest:""How may that be" (quod I)"Good sir, tell me all holy,In what wise, how, why and wherefore,That ye have thus your blisse lore?"" Blithely," (quod he) " come sit doun,I tell thee upon a conditioun,That thou shalt holy with all thy wit Doe thine entent to hearken it.""Yes sir:" "Swere thy trouth thereto,Gladly do, than hold here to."" I shall right blithely, so God me save,Holy with all the wit I have,Here you as well as I can:"A goddes halfe," (quod he) and began."Sir," (quod he) " sith first I couthHave any manner wit fro youth,Or kindly understanding,To comprehend in any thing What Love was, in mine owne wit,Dredelesse I have ever yetBe tributarie, and yeve rent To Love holy, with good entent.And through pleasaunce become his thrall,With good will, body, herte, and all,All this I put in his servage,As to my lord, and did homage,And full devoutly I praide him tho,He should beset mine herte so,That it pleasaunce to him were,And worship to my lady dere."And this was long, and many a yere( Ere that mine herte was set o where)That I did thus, and n'ist why,I trowe it came me kindely,Paraunter I was thereto most able,As a white wall, or a table,For it is ready to catch and take All that men will therein make,Whether so men will portrey or paint,Be the werkes never so queint."And thilke time I fared right so,I was able to have learned tho,And to have conde as well or betterParaunter either art or letter,But for love came first in my thought,Therefore I forgate it naught,I chees love to my first craft,Therefore it is with melaft,For why, I tooke it of so yong age,That malice had my courage;Not that time turned to nothing,Through too mokell knowledging,For that time youth my maistresse Governed me in idlenesse,For it was in my first youth,And tho full little good I couth,v. 801-940 THE BOOKE OF THE DUTCHESSE. 369For all my werkes were flitting That time, and all my thought varying,All were to me yliche good,That knew I tho, but thus it stood."It happed that I came on a day Into a place, there that I seyTruly, the fairest companie Of ladies, that ever man with eie Had seene togither in o place,Shall I clepe it hap either grace,That brought me there? not but Fortune,That is to lien full commune,The false tratieresse perverse,God would I could clepe her werse,For now she worcheth me full wo,And I woll tell soone why so."Amonge these ladies thus echone,Sooth to saine, I saw one That was like none of the rout,For I dare swere, without dout,That as the summers Sunne brightIs fairer, clerer, and hath more light Than any other planet in Heven,The Moone, or the sterres seven,For all the world so had she Surmounten hem all of beaute,Of maner, and of comlinesse,Of stature, and of well set gladnesse,Of goodly heed, and so wel besey,Shortly what shall I more sey?By God and by his halowes twelve,It was my swete, right all her selve,She had so stedfast countenaunce,So noble porte, and maintenaunce:And Love, that well harde my bone,Had espied me thus sone,That she full soone in my thought,As helpe me God, so was I cought So sodainly, that I ne toke No maner counsaile, but at her loke,And at mine herte, for why her eyenSo gladly I trowe mine herte seyne,That purely tho, mine owne thought,Said, it were better serve her for nought,Than with another to be wele,And it was soth, for every dele,I will anone right tell thee why."I sawe her daunce so comely,Carol and sing so swetely,Laugh, and play so womanly,And looke so debonairly,So goodly speke and so freendly,That certes I trowe that evermore,Nas sene so blisfull a tresore:For every heer on her heed,Sothe to say, it was not reed,Ne neither yelowe ne browne it nas,Me thought most like gold it was,And which eyen my lady had,Debonaire, good, glad, and sad,Simple, of good mokel, not to wide,Thereto her loke nas not aside,Ne overtwhart, but beset so wele,It drewe and tooke up everydeleAll that on her gan behold,Her eyen semed anone she woldHave mercy, folly wenden so,But it was never the rather do,It nas no counterfeted thing,It was her owne pure loking,That the goddesse, dame Nature,Had made hem open by measure,And close, for were she never so glad,Her looking was not folish sprad,Ne wildely, though that she plaid,But ever me thought, her eyen said,By God my wrath is al foryeve.Therewith her list so well to live,That dulnesse was of her adrad,She n'as to sobre ne to glad,In all things more measure,Had never I trowe creature,But many one with her loke she herte,And that sate her full litel at herte:For she knew nothing of hir thought,But whether she knew, or knew it nought,Algate she ne rought of hem a stree,To get her love no nere n'as he That woned at home, than he in Inde,The formest was alway behinde;But good folke over all other,She loved as man may his brother,Of which love she was wonder large,In skilfull places that bere charge:But which a visage had she thereto,Alas, my herte is wonder wo,That I ne can discriven it;Me lacketh both English and wit,For to undo it at the full,And eke my spirites bene so dullSo great a thing for to devise,I have not wit that can suffiseTo comprehend her beaute,But thus much I dare sain, that sheWas white, rody, fresh, and lifely hewed,And every day her beaute newed,And nigh her face was alderbest,For certes Nature had soch lestTo make that faire, that truly she Was her chiefe patron of beaute,And chiefe ensample of all her werkeAnd monster: for be it never so derke,Me thinketh I see her ever mo,And yet more over, though all tho That ever lived were now a live,Ne would have found to discriveIn all her face a wicked signe,For it was sad, simple, and benigne ." And soch a goodly swete speech,Had that swete, my lives leech,So frendely, and so well ygrounded Upon all reason, so well yfounded,And so tretable to all good,That I dare swere well by the rood,Of eloquence was never fondeSo swete a souning faconde,Ne trewer tonged, ne scorned lasse,Ne bet coude heale, that by the masse,I durst sweare though the pope it songe,That there was never yet through her tonge,Man ne woman greatly harmid,As for her, was all harme hid:Ne lasse flattering in her worde,That purely her simple recorde,Was found as trewe as any bond,Or trouth of any mans hond."Ne chide she could never a dele,That knoweth all the world ful wele.But such a fairenesse of a necke,Had that swete, that bone nor brecke BB370 THE BOOKE OF THE DUTCHESSE. v. 941-1080Nas there none seen that mis-satte,It was white, smoth, streight, and pure flatte,Without hole or canel bone,And by seming, she had none."Her throte, as I have now memoire,Semed as a round toure of yvoire,Of good greatnesse, and not to grete,And faire white she hete,That was my ladies name right,She was thereto faire and bright,She had not her name wrong,Right faire shoulders, and body long She had, and armes ever lithFattish, fleshy, nat great therewith,Right white hands, and nailes rede,Round brestes, and of good brede Her lippes were, a streight flatte backe,I knew on her none other lacke,That all her limmes n'ere pure sewing,In as ferre as I had knowing;Thereto she could so well play What that her list, that I dare say That was like to torch bright,That every man may take of light Ynough, and it hath never the lesse Of maner and of comelinesse."Right so farde my lady dere,For every wight of her manere Mought catche ynough, if that he wold If he had eyen her to behold,For I dare sweare well, if that she Had among tenne thousand be,She wolde have be at the beste,A chefe myrrour of all the feste,Though they had stonde in a rowe,To mens eyen, that could have knowe,For where so men had plaide or waked,Me thought the felowship as naked Without her, that I saw ones,As a crowne without stones,Trewly, she was to mine eye,The solein fenix of Arabie,For there liveth never but one,Ne such as she ne know I none:To speake of goodnesse, trewly she Had as moch debonairteAs ever had Hester in the Bible,And more, if more were possible,And soth to sayne, therewithall She had a witte so generall,So whole enclined to all good,That al her witte was sette by the rood,Without malice upon gladnesse,And thereto I sawe never yet a lesse Harmefull than she was in doyng,I say not that she ne had knowyng What harme was, or els sheHad coulde no good, so thinketh me,And trewly, for to speake of trouth,But she had had, it had be routh;Thereof she had so moch her dele,And I dare saine, and swere it wele,That Trouth himselfe, over al and al,Had chose his maner principallIn her, that was his resting place,Thereto she had the most grace,To have stedfast perseveraunce,And easy attempre governaunce,That ever I knew, or wist yet,So pure suffraunt was her wit,And reason gladly she understood,It folowed wel, she coulde good,She used gladly to do wele,These were her maners every dele."Therewith she loved so wel right,She wrong do would to no wight,No wight might do her no shame,She loved so wel her own name."Her lust to hold no wight in hond,Ne be thou siker, she wold not fond,To holde no wight in balaunce,By halfe word ne by countenaunce,But if men wold upon her lye,Ne sende men into Walakie,To Pruise, and to Tartarie,To Alisaundrie, ne into Turkie,And bidde him fast, anone that he Go hoodlesse into the drie see,And come home by the Carrenare."And sir, be now right ware,That I may of you here saine,Worship, or that ye come againe." She ne used no soch knackes smale,But therfore that I tell my tale,Right on this same I have said,Was wholly all my love laid,For certes she was that swete wife,My suffisaunce, my lust, my life,Mine hope, mine heale, and all blesse,My worlds welfare, and my goddesse,And I wholy hers, and every dele. ""By our Lorde," (quod 1 ) " I trowe you wele,Hardly, your love was wel beset,I n'ot how it might have do bet.""Bet, ne not so wel," (quod he)" I trowe sir," (quod I) " parde. ""Nay, leve it well: "_" Sir, so do I ,I leve you wel, that trewly You thought that she was the best,And to behold the alderfairest,Who so had loked her with your eyen.""With mine? nay, all that her seyen,Said and swore it was so,And though they ne had, I would tho Have loved best my lady free,Though I had had al the beaute That ever had Alcibiades,And al the strength of Hercules,And thereto had the worthinesseOf Alisaunder, and all the richesse That ever was in Babiloine,In Cartage, or in Macedoine,Or in Rome, or in Ninive,And thereto also hardy beAs was Hector, so have I joy,That Achilles slough at Troy,(And therefore was he slayne alsoIn a temple, for both two Were slaine, he and Antilegius,And so saith Dares Frigius For love of Polixena) ,Or ben as wise as Minerva,I would ever, without drede,Have loved her, for I must nede." Nede? Nay, trewly I gabbe now,Nought nede, and I woll tellen how,For of good will mine herte it wold,And eke to love her, I was holde,As for the fayrest and the best,She was as good, so have I rest,v. 1081-1220 THE BOOKE OF THE DUTCHESSE. 371As ever was Penelope of Greece,Or as the noble wife Lucrece,That was the best, he telleth thusThe Romaine, Titus Livius,She was as good, and nothing like,Though hir stories be autentike,Algate she was as trewe as she." But wherefore that I tell thee?Whan I first my lady sey,I was right yong, soth to sey,And full great need I had to lerne,Whan mine herte wolde yerne,To love it was a great emprise,But as my wit wolde best suffise,After my yong childely wit,Without drede I beset it,To love her in my best wiseTo do her worship and the servise That I coude tho, by my trouth,Without faining, eyther slouth,For wonder faine I wolde her see,So mokell it amended mee,That whan I sawe her amoroweI was warished of all my soroweOf all day after, till it were eve,Me thought nothing might me greve,Were my sorowes never so smert,And yet she set so in mine herte,That by my trouth, I n'old nought For all this world, out of my thoughtLeave my lady, no trewly. ""Now, by my trouth, sir," (quod I)"Me thinketh ye have such a chaunce,As shrift, without repentaunce. ""Repentaunce, nay fie! " (quod he)" Shuld I now repent meTo love, nay certes, than were I well Worse than was Achitofell,Or Antenor, so have I joy,The traitour that betrayed Troy:Or the false Ganellion,He that purchased the trayson Of Rouland and of Olivere:Nay, while I am alive here,I n'ill foryet her never mo.""Nowgood sir," (quod I tho)Ye have well told me here before,It is no need to reherse it more,How ye saw her first, and where,But would ye tell me the manere,To her which was your first speche,Thereof I would you beseche,And how she knew first your thought,Whether ye loved her or nought,And telleth me eke, what ye have lore,I herde you tell here before,Ye said, thou n'otest what thou meanest,I have lost more than thou weenest:What losse is that? " (quod I tho)"N'il she not love you, is it so?Or have ye ought done amis,That she hath lefte you, is it this?For Goddes love tell me all.""Before God," (quod he) " and I shall,I say right as I have said,On her was all my love laid,And yet she n'ist it not never a dele,Not longe time, leve it wele,For by right siker, I durst nought For all this world tell her mythought,Ne I wolde have trothed her trewly,For wost thou why, she was ladyOfthe body that had the herte,And whoso hath that may not asterte."But for to keepe me fro ydlenesse,Trewly I did mybusinesse To make songes, as I best coude,And oft time I song hem loude,And made songes, this a great dele,Although I coude nat make so weleSonges, ne knew the arte al,As coude Lamekes son, Tubal,That found out first the arte of songe,For as his brothers hammers ronge,Upon his anvelt, up and downe,Thereof he toke the first sowne."But Grekes saine of Pithagoras,That he the first finder wasOf the art, Aurora telleth so,But thereof no force of hem two:Algates songes thus I made,Of my feling, mine herte to glade;And lo, this was alther first,I n'ot where it were the werst." Lord, it maketh mine herte light,Whan I thinke on that swete wight,That is so semely one to se,And wish to God it might so be That she wold hold me for her knight,My lady, that is so fayre and bright.'"Now have I told thee, soth to say,My first song: upon a day,I bethought me what wo And sorowe that I suffred tho,For her, and yet she wist it nought,Ne tell her durst I not my thought:Alas, thought I, I can no rede,And but I tell her I am but dede,And if I tel her, to say right soth,I am adradde she woll be wroth,Alas, what shal I than do?In this debate I was so wo,Me thought mine herte brast atwain,So at the last, sothe for to saine,I bethought me that Nature Ne formed never in creatureSo much beauty, trewly,And bounty without mercy." In hope of that, my tale I tolde,With sorowe, as that I never sholde,For nedes, and maugre mine heed I must have tolde her, or be deed:I n'ot well how that I began,Full yvell reherce it I can,And eke, as helpe me God withall,I trow it was in the dismall,That was the ten woundes of Egipt,For many a word I overskiptIn my tale for pure fere,Lest my wordes mis-set were,With sorowfull herte and woundes dede,Soft and quaking for pure drede,And shame, and stinting in my tale,For ferde, and mine hew al pale,Full oft I wexte both pale and red,Bowing to her I hing the hed,I durst not ones loke her on,For wit, manner, and all was gone;I said, ' Mercy,' and no more,It n'as no game, it sate me sore.BB 2372 THE BOOKE OF THE DUTCHESSE. v. 1221-1334"So at the last, soth to saine,Whan that mine herte was com againe,To tell shortly all my speech,With hole herte I gan her beseech That she wolde be my lady swete,And swore, and hertely gan her hete,Ever to be stedfast and trewe,And love her alway freshly newe,And never other lady have,And all her worship for to save,As I best coude, I sware her this,For yours is all that ever there is,For evermore, mine herte swete,And never to false you, but I mete I n'il, as wise God helpe me so.'"And whan I had my tale ydo,God wote, she acompted not a streOf all my tale, so thought me,To tell shortly right as it is,Trewly her answere it was this,I can not now well countrefeteHer wordes, but this was the greteOf her answere, she said nay All utterly alas that day!The sorow I suffered and the wo,That trewly Cassandra that so Bewayled the destructionOf Troy, and of Illion,Had never such sorow as I tho;I durst no more say theretoFor pure feare, but stale away,And thus I lived full many a day,That trewly, I had no need,Ferther than my beddes heed,Never a day to seche sorrow,I found it ready every morrow,For why I loved in no gere."So it befell another yere,I thought ones I would fonde,To doe her know and understondeMy wo, and she well understood,That I ne wilned thing but good,And worship, and to keepe her name,Over all things, and drede her shame,And was so busie her to serve,And pitie were that I should sterve,Sith that I wilned no harme ywis."So whan my lady knew all this,My lady yave me all holy,The noble yeft of her mercy,Saving her worship by all ways,Dredelesse, I mene none other ways,And therewith she yave me a ring,I trowe it was the first thing,But if mine herte was ywaxeGlad that it is no need to axe."As helpe me God, I was as bliveRaised, as fro death to live,Of all happes the alderbest,The gladdest and the most at rest,For truely that swete wight,Whan I had wrong, and she the right,She would alway so goodlyForyeve me so debonairly,In all my youth, in all chaunce,She tooke in her governaunce,Therewith she was alway so true,Our joy was ever yliche newe,Our hertes were so even a paire,That never n'as that one contrarieTo that other, for no woFor soth yliche they suffred tho.O blisse, and eke o sorow bothe,Yliche they were both glad and wrothe,All was us one, without were,And thus we lived full many a yere,So well, I can not tell how.""Sir," (quod I) " where is she now?""Now?" (quod he) and stinte anone,Therewith he woxe as dedde as stone,And saied, " Alas, that I was bore!That was the losse, that herebefore I tolde thee that I had lorne."Bethinke thee how I said here beforne,Thou woste full litle what thou menest,I have loste more than thou wenest."God wote alas, right that was she.""Alas sir, how, what may that be?" [ trouth.”"She is dedde:"- " Nay? " - " Yes, by my " Is that your losse? by God it is routhe.'And with that worde right anone,They gan to strake forth, all was done For that time, the hart huntyng.With that me thought that this kyng,Gan homeward for to rideUnto a place was there beside,Which was from us but a lite,A long castell with walles white,By sainct Johan, on a rich hill,As me mette, but thus it fill .Right thus me mette, as I you tell,That in the castell there was a bell,As it had smitte houres twelve,Therewith I awoke my selve,And found me lying in my bedde,And the booke that I had redde,Of Alcione and Seis the kyng,And of the goddes of sleping,Yfound it in mine hond full even;Thought I, this is so queint a sweven,That I would by processe of tyme,Fonde to put this sweven in ryme,As I can best, and that anon,This was my sweven, now it is done.EXPLICIT.THE HOUSE OF FAME.In this booke is shewed how the deedes of all men and women, be they good or bad, are carried by report to posteritie.GOD tourne us every dream to good,For it is wonder thing, by the rood,To my wit, what causeth swevens On the morrow, or on evens,And why the effect followeth of some,And of some it shal never come,Why that it is an avision ,And why this is a revelation,Why this a dreame, why that a sweven,And not to every man liche even;Why this a fantome, why that oracles;I n'ot; but whoso of these miracles The causes know bet than I ,Define he, for I certainly Ne can hem not, ne never thinkeTo busie my wit for to swinke To know of hir significationsThe gendres, ne distinctions Of the times of hem, ne the causes,Or why this is more than that is ,Or yeve folkes complexions,Make hem dreame of reflections,Or else thus, as other saine,For the great feeblenesse of hir brain,By abstinence, or by sicknesse,Prison, strife, or great distresse,Or els by disordinaunce,Or natural accustomaunce,That some men be too curiousIn studie, or melancolious,Or thus, so inly full of drede,That no man may him bote rede,Or els that devotionOf some, and contemplation Causen such dreames oft,Or that the cruell life unsoftOf hem that loves leden,Oft hopen much or dreden,That purely hir impressions Causen hem to have visions,Or if spirits han the might To make folke to dreame on night,Or if the soule of proper kindBe so perfite as men find,That it wote what is to come,And that he warneth all and some Of everiche of hir aventures,By avisions, or by figures,But that our flesh hath no might To understand it aright,For it is warned too derkely,But why the cause is, not wote I. Well worth of this thing clerkes That treaten of that and of other werkes,B. I. v. 1-108For I of none opinionN'ill as now make mention,But only that the holy rood Tourne us every dreame to good,For never sith I was borne,Ne no man els me beforne,Mette, I trow stedfastly,So wonderfull a dreame as I.The tenth day now of December,The which, as I can remember,I woll you tellen everydele,But at my beginning, trusteth wele,I woll make invocation,With a devout speciall devotion,Unto the god of sleepe anone,That dwelleth in a cave of stone,Upon a streame that commeth fro Lete,That is a flood of Hell unswete,Beside a fulke, that men clepe Cimerie,There slepeth aye this god unmerie,With his slepie thousand sonnis,That alway to sleepe hir wonne is;And to this god that I of rede,Pray I, that he woll me spede My sweven for to tell aright,If every dreame stand in his might,And he that mover is of all That is and was, and ever shall,So give hem joy that it here,Or all that they dreame to yere,And for to stand all in graceOf hir loves, or in what place That hem were levest for to stonde,And shield hem from povertie and shonde,And from every unhappe and disease,And send hem that may hem please,That taketh well and scorneth nought,Ne it misdeme in hir thought,Through malicious entention,And who so through presumption,Or hate, or scorne, or through envie,Dispite, or jape, or fellonie,Misdeme it, pray I Jesus good,Dreame he barefoot, or dreame he shood,That every harme that any man Hath had sith the world began,Befall him thereof, or he sterve,And graunt that he may it deserve.Lo, with right such a conclusion,As had of his avisionCresus, that was king of Lide,That high upon a gibbet dide,This praier shall he have of me,I am no bette in charite.374 THE HOUSE OF FAME. B. I. V. 109-248Now herken, as I have you saied,What that I mette or I abraied,Of December the tenth day,Whan it was night, to slepe I lay,Right as I was wont to doone,And fell asleepe wonder soone,As he that was weary forgoOn pilgrimage miles two To the corpes of saint Leonard,To maken lithe that erst was hard.But as I slept, me mette I was Within a temple ymade of glas,In which there were mo imagesOf gold, standing in sundry stages,In mo rich tabernacles,And with perrie mo pinacles,And mo curious portraitures,And queint manner of figures Of gold worke than I saw ever.But certainly I n'ist never Where that it was, but well wist I ,It was of Venus redelyThis temple, for in portreiture I saw anon right her figure Naked, fleeting in a see,And also on her head, parde,Her rose garland white and red,And her combe to kembe her hed,Her doves, and dan Cupido,Her blind sonne, and Vulcano,That in his face was full browne.But as I romed up and downe,I found that on the wall there was Thus written on a table of bras." I woll now sing, if that I can,The armes, and also the man,That first came through his destinieFugitife fro Troy the countrie,Into Itaile, with full much pine,Unto the stronds of Lavine: "And tho began the story anone,As I shall tellen you echone.First, saw I the destructionOf Troy, through the Greeke Sinon,With his false untrue forswearings,And with his chere and his lesings Made a horse brought into Troy,By which Troyans lost all hir joy.And after this was graved, alas,How Ilions castle assailed wasAnd won, and king Priamus slaine,And Polites his sonne certaine,Dispitously of dan Pirrus.And next that saw I how Venus,Whan that she saw the castle brend,Downe from Heaven she gan discend,And bad her sonne Eneas to flee,And how he fled, and how that he Escaped was from all the prees,And tooke his father, old Anchises,And bare him on his backe away,Crying " Alas, and welaway! "The which Anchises in his handBare tho the gods of the land,Thilke that unbrenned were.Than saw I next all in fere,How Crusa, dan Eneas wife,Whom that he loved all his life,And her yong sonne Iulo,And eke Ascanius also,Fledden eke with drerie chere,That it was pitie for to here,And in a forrest as they went,At a tourning of a went,How Crusa was ylost, alas!That rede not I, how that it was,How he her sought, and how her ghost Bad him flie the Greekes host,And said he must into Itaile,As was his destinie, sauns faile,That it was pitie for to heare,Whan her spirit gan appeare,The words that she to him saied,And for to keepe her sonne him praied.There saw I graven eke how he,His father eke, and his meine,With his ships gan to saile Toward the countrey of Itaile,As streight as they mighten go.There saw I eke the cruell Juno,That art dan Jupiters wife,That hast yhated all thy life All the Troyan blood,Ren and cry as thou were wood On Eolus, the god of winds,To blowen out of all kinds So loud, that he should drenchLord, lady, groome, and wenchOf all the Troyans nation,Without any of hir salvation.There saw I such tempest arise,That every herte might agrise To see it painted on the wall.There saw I eke graven withallVenus, how ye my lady dere,Weeping with full wofull chere,Praying Jupiter on hie To save and keepe that navie Of that Troyan Eneas,Sith that he her sonne was.There saw I Joves Venus kisse,And graunted was the tempest lisse .There saw I how the tempest stent,And howwith all pine he went,And prively tooke a rivage Into the countrey of Carthage,And on the morow how that heAnd a knight that height Achate,Metten with Venus that day,Going in a queint array,As she had be an hunteresse,With wind blowing upon her tresse,And how Eneas began to plaine,Whan he knew her, of his paine,And how his ships dreint were,Or els ylost, he n'ist where;How she gan him comfort tho,And bade him to Cartage go,And there he should his folke find,That in the sea were left behind,And shortly of this thing to pace,She made Eneas so in graceOf Dido, queene of that countre,That shortly for to tellen, she Became his love, and let him do All that wedding longeth to.What should I speake it more quaint,Or paine me my words to paint?To speake of love, it woll not be,I cannot of that faculte:B. I. v. 249-388 THE HOUSE OF FAME.375And eke to tellen of the manereHow they first acquainted were,It were a long processe to tell,And over long for you to dwell.There saw I grave, how Eneas Told to Dido every caas,That him was tidde upon the see.And eft graven was how that she Made of him shortly at a word,Her life, her love, her lust, her lord,And did to him all reverence,And laid on him all the dispence,That any woman might do,Wening it had all be so,As he her swore, and hereby demed That he was good, for he such seemed.Alas, what harme doth apparence,Whan it is false in existence!For he to her a traitour was,Wherefore she slow her selfe, alas!Lo, how a woman doth amisTo love him that unknowen is,For by Christ, lo, thus it fareth,It is not all gold that glareth ,For also brouke I well mine head,There may be under goodliheadCovered many a shreud vice,Therefore, be no wight so nice To take a love onely for chere,Or speech, or for friendly manere,For this shall every woman find,That some man of his pure kind Woll shewen outward the fairest,Till he have caught that what him lest,And than woll he causes find,And swere how she is unkind,Or false, or privie, or double was,All this say I by Eneas And Dido, and her nice lest,That loved all to soone a guest;Wherefore, I woll say o proverbe,That he that fully knoweth the herbe,May safely lay it to his eie,Withouten drede this is no lie.But let us speake of Eneas,How he betraied her, alas,And left her full unkindly.So whan she saw all utterly,That he would her of trouth faile,And wenden from her into Itaile,She gan to wring her handes two."Alas," (quod she) " that me is wo!Alas, is every man thus true,That every yere woll have a new,If it so long time endure,Or els three paraventure,And thus of one he woll have fameIn magnifying of his owne name,Another for friendship sayeth he,And yet there shall the third be,That is taken for delite,Lo, or els for singular profite: "In such words gan complaine Dido of her great paine,As me mette dreaming readily,None other authour alledge woll I." Alas," ( quod she) " my sweet herte,Have pitie on my sorrowes smart,And slee me not, go not away."O wofull Dido, welaway! "(Quod she) unto her selfe tho:" O Eneas, what woll ye do?O that your love ne your bond,That ye swore with your right hond,Ne my cruell death " (quod she)"May hold you still here with me!"O, have ye of my death no pite?Ywis mine owne deare herte ye Know full well that never yet,As farre as ever I had wit,Agilt you in thought ne in dede."O, have ye men such goodlihede In speech, and never a dele of trouth?Alas, that ever had routhAny woman on a false man!"Now I see well, and tell can,We wretched women can no art,For certaine, for the more part;Thus we been served everichone;How sore that ye men can grone,Anon, as we have you received,Certainly we been deceived,For though your love last a season,Wait upon the conclusion,And eke how ye determine,And for the more part define,O welaway, that I was borne!For through you my name is lorne,And mine actes redde and song Over all this land in every tong."O wicked Fame! for there n'isNothing so swift lo, as she is,O sooth is, every thing is wist,Though it be coverde with the mist,Eke though I might duren ever,That I have done recover I never,That it ne shall be said, alas,I shamed was through Eneas,And that I shall thus judged be:" Lo, right as she hath done, now she Woll done eftsoones hardely,'Thus say the people prively."But that is done, n'is not to done,But all her complaint ne her mone Certaine availeth her not a stre,And whan she wist soothly he Was forth into his ship agone,She into chamber went anone,And called on her suster Anne,And gan her to complaine than,And said, that she cause was That she first loved him, alas,And first counsailed her thereto;But what, whan this was said and do,She rofte her selven to the herte,And deide through the wounds smart:But all the manner how she deideAnd all the words how she seide ,Who so to know it hath purpose,Rede Virgile in Eneidos,Or the Pistels of Ovide,What that she wrote or that she dide,And nere it too long to endite,By God, I would it here write.But welaway, the harme and routh That hath betide for such untrouth,As men may oft in bookes rede,And all day seene it yet in dede,That for to thinken it tene is.Lo, Demophon, duke of Athenis,376 THE HOUSE OF FAME. B. I. v. 389-508How he forswore him falsely,And ' traied Phillis wickedly,That kings doughter was of Thrace,And falsely gan his tearme pace,And whan she wist that he was false,She hong her selfe right by the halse,For he had done her such untrouth,Lo, was not this a wo and routh?Eke, looke, how false and recheles Was to Briseida Achilles,And Paris to Oenone,And Jason to Hipsiphile,And eft Jason to Medea,And Hercules to Dianira,For he left her for Iolee,That made him take his death, parde.How false was eke Theseus,That as the storie telleth us,How he betraied Adriane,The devill be his soules bane,For had he laughed or yloured,He must have been all devoured,If Adriane ne had be,And, for she had of him pite,She made him fro the death escape,And he made her a full false jape,For after this within a while,He left her sleeping in an isle,Desart alone right in the see,And stale away, and let her bee,And tooke hir suster Phedra tho With him and gan to ship go,And yet he had sworne to here,On all that ever he could swere,That so she saved him his life,He would taken her to his wife,For she desired nothing els,In certaine, as the booke us tels .But for to excuse this Eneas Fulliche of all his great trespas,The booke saith, sauns faile,The gods bad him go to Itaile,And leaven Affrickes regioun And faire Dido and her toun.Tho saw I grave how to Itaile Dan Eneas gan for to saile,And how the tempest all began,And how he lost his steresman ,Which that the sterne, or he tooke keepe,Smote over the bord as he sleepe.And also saugh I how Sibile And Eneas beside an isle,To Hell went for to seeHis father Anchises the free,And how he there found Palinurus,And also Dido, and Deiphebus,And everiche tourment eke in HellSaw he, which long is for to tell,Which paines who so list to know,He must rede many a rowIn Vergile or in Claudian,Or Dante, that it tellen can.Tho saw I eke, all the arivaile That Eneas had made in Itaile,And with king Latin his treate,And all the battailes that heWas at himselfe and his knights,Or he had all ywonne his rights,And how he Turnus reft his life,And wan Lavinia to his wife,And all the marvellous signals Of the gods celestials ,How maugre Juno, Eneas,For all her sleight and her compas,Acheved all his aventure,For Jupiter tooke on him cure,At the prayer of Venus,Which I pray alway save us,And us aye of our sorrowes light.Whan I had seene all this sight In this noble temple thus," Hey, lord," thought I, " that madest us,Yet saw I never such noblesseOf images, nor such richesse As I see graven in this church,But nought wote I who did hem worch,Ne where I am, ne in what countree,But now will I out gone and seeRight at the wicket if I can Seene ought where sterring any man,That may me tellen where I am. "Whan I out of the dore came,I fast about me beheld,Than saw I but a large field,As farre as ever I might see,Without toune, house, or tree,Or bush, or grasse, or eared land,For all the field was but of sand,As small as men may see at eye In the desart of Lybye,Ne no manner creature,That is yformed by nature,Ne saw I, me to rede or wisse:"O Christ," thought I, " that are in blisse,From fantome and illusionMe save," and with devotionMine eyen to the Heaven I cast,Tho was I ware, lo, at the last,That fast by the Sunne on hye,As kenne might I with mine eye,Me thought I saw an egle sore,But that it seemed much moreThan I had any egle ysein;This is as sooth as death certain,It was of gold, and shone so bright,That never saw men such a sight,But if the Heaven had ywonneAll new of God another sonne,So shone the egles fethers bright,And somewhat downward gan it light.EXPLICIT LIBER PRIMUS.LIBER SECUNDUS.B. II. v. 1-10Now hearken every manner manThat English understand can,And listeth of my dreame to here,For nowe at erst shall ye lere So sely and so dredefull a vision,That I say neither Scipion,Ne king Nabugodonosore,Pharao, Turnus, ne Alcanore,Ne metten such a dreame as this,Now faire blisfull , O Cipris,B. II. v. 11-150 THE HOUSE OF FAME. 377So be my favour at this time,That ye me t'endite and rime Helpeth, that in Pernaso dwell Beside Elicon the clere well.O thought, that wrote all that I met,And in the tresorie it setOf my braine, now shall men see If any vertue in thee bee,To tell all my dreame aright;Now kithe thy engine and thy might!This egle of which I have you told,That with feathers shone all of gold,Which that so high gan to sore,I gan behold more and more,To seene her beauty and the wonder But never was that dent of thunder,Ne that thing that men call soudre,That smite sometime a toure to poudre,And in his swift comming brend,That so swithe gan downward discend,As this foule, whan it beheldThat I a roume was in the field,And with his grim pawes strong,Within his sharpe nailes long,Me fleyng at a swappe he hent,And with his sours againe up went,Me carying in his clawes starke,As lightly as I had ben a larke,How high I cannot tellen you,For I came up I n'ist never how,For so astonied and aswevedWas every virtue in my heved,What with his sours and my dread,That all my feeling gan to dead,For why? it was a great affray.Thus I long in his clawes lay,Till at the last he to me spakeIn mans voice, and said " Awake,And be not agast so for shame,"And called me tho by my name,And, for I should better abraid,Me to awake thus he said,Right in the same voice and stevin,That useth one that I can nevin,And with that voice, sooth to saine,My mind came to me again,For it was goodly said to me,So nas it never wont to be;And, herewithal, I gan to stere,As he me in his feet bere,Till that he felt that I had heat,And felt eke tho mine herte beat,And tho gan he me to disport,And with gentle wordes me comfort,And said twice, " Saint Mary,Thou art a noyous thing to cary,And nothing needeth it, parde,For also, wise God helpe me,As thou no harme shalt have of this,And this case that betiddeth thee isFor thy lore and for thy prow;Let darst thou looke yet now?Be full ensured boldely,see,I amthy friend: " and there with IGan for to wonder in my mind.O God," quod I: "that madest all kind,Shall I none otherwise die,Whether Jove will me stellifie,Or what thing may this signifie!I am neither Enocke, ne Helie,Ne Romulus, ne Ganimede,That were bore up, as men rede,To Heaven with dan Jupiter,And made the gods boteler:"Lo, this was tho my fantasie,But he that bare gan aspieThat I so thought, and said this,"Thou deemest of thy selfe amis,For Jove is not thereabout,I dare thee put full out of doubt,To make of the yet a sterre,But ere I beare thee much ferre,I will thee tell what I am,And whider thou shalt, and why I cameTo do this, so that thou take Good herte, and not for feare quake. "" Gladly," quod I: " Now well," quod he:" First, I that in my feet have the,Of whom thou hast feare and wonder,I am dwelling with the god of thonder,Which men callen Jupiter,That doth me flien full oft fer,To do all his commaundement,And for this cause he hath me sentTo thee herke now by thy trouth,Certaine he hath of thee routh ,That thou hast so truelyLong served ententifely His blind nevew Cupido,And faire Venus also,Without guerdon ever yet,And nathelesse hast set thy wit,Although in thy head full little is,To make bookes, songs, and ditiesIn rime, or else in cadence,As thou best canst, in reverenceOf Love, and of his servaunts eke,That have his service sought and seke,And painest thee to praise his art,Although thou haddest never part,Wherefore also, God me blesse,Jovis halt it great humblesse,And vertue eke, that thou wilt makeA night full oft thine head to ake,In thy study so thou writest,And evermore of Love enditest,In honour of him and praisings,And in his folkes furtherings,And in hir matter all devisest,And not him ne his folke dispisest,Although thou maist go in the daunce Of hem that him list not avaunce;Wherefore, as I said ywis,Jupiter considreth well this,And also beausire, of other things,That is, thou haste no tidingsOf Loves folke, if they be glade,Ne of nothing else that God madeAnd not onely fro ferre countree That no tidings commen to thee,Not of thy very neighbours,That dwellen almost at thy dores,Thou hearest neither that ne this,For whan thy labour all done is,And hast made all thy reckenings,In stead of rest and of new things,Thou goest home to thine house anone,And also dombe as a stoneThou sittest at another booke,Till fully dased is thy looke,378 THE HOUSE OF FAME. B. II. V. 151-290And livest thus as an hermite,Although thine abstinence is lite,And therfore Jovis, through his grace,Will that I beare thee to a placeWhich that hight the House of Fame,And to do the sport and game In some recompensation Of thy labour and devotion That thou hast had, lo, causelesse,To god Cupido the rechelesse;And thus this god through his merite Will with some manner thing thee quite,So that thou wilt be of good chere,For trust well that thou shalt here,When we ben commen there as I say,Mo wonder things dare I lay,And of Loves folke mo tidings,Both soothsawes and lesings,And mo loves new begon,And long served till love is won,And mo lovers casuelly,That ben betide, no man wote why,But as a blind man starteth an hare,And more jolite and welfare,While they find love of stele,As thinke men, and over all wele,Mo discords, and mo jealousies,Mo murmures, and mo novelries,And also mo dissimulations,And eke fained reparations,And mo berdes in two houres Without rasour or sisoursYmade, than graines be of sands,And eke mo holding in mo hands,And also mo renovelauncesOf old forleten acqueintaunces,Mo love-daies, and mo accords Than on instruments ben cords,And eke of love mo exchaunges,Than ever corne were in graunges,Unneth maiest thou trowen this ,"Quod he. " No, so helpe me God as wis,"Quod I. " Now why? " quod he. " For it Were impossible to my wit,Though Fame had all the pries In all a realme and all aspies,How that yet he should heare all this,Or they espien:"-"O yes, yes,"Quod he, to me, " that can I preve By reason, worthy for to leve,So that thou give thine advertence To understand my sentence."First shalt thou here where she dwelleth,Right so as thine owne booke telleth,Her palais standeth, as I shall say,Right even amiddes of the way Betweene Heaven, Earth, and see,That whatsoever in all these threeIs spoken in prive or apert,The way thereto is so overt,And stant eke in so just a place,That every sowne mote to it pace,Or what so commeth from any tong,Be rowned, red, or song,Or spoken in suertie or drede,Certaine it mote thider nede."Now hearken well, for why? I will Tellen thee a proper skill ,And a worthy demonstration In mine imagination."Geffray, thou wotest well this,That every kindely thing that is,Hath a kindely stede there he May best in it conserved be,Unto which place every thing,Through his kindely enclining,Meveth for to come to,Whan that it is away therefro,As thus, lo, how thou maist al day see,Take any thing that heavie bee,As stone or lead, or thing of weight,And beare it never so hie on height,Let go thine hand, it falleth downe,Right so say I by fire or sowne Or smoke, or other things light,Alway they seeke upward on height,Light things up, and downward charge,While everich of hembe at large,And for this cause thou maist well see,That every river unto the see Enclined is to go by kind,And by these skilles, as I find,Have fishes dwelling in flood and see,And trees eke on the earth be;Thus every thing by his reason Hath his own proper mansion,To which he seeketh to repaire,There as it should nat appaire." Lo. this sentence is knowne couthOf every philosophers mouth,As Aristotle and dan Platone,And other clerkes many one,And to confirme my reasoun,Thou wost well that speech is soun,Or else no man might it here,Now herke what I woll thee lere."Sowne is not but eyre ybroken,And every speech that is spoken,Loud or prive, foule or faire,In his substaunce is but eyre,For as flame is but lighted smoke,Right so is sowne eyre ybroke,But this may be in many wise,Of which I will thee devise;As sowne commeth of pipe or harpe For when a pipe is blowen sharpe,The eyre is twist with violence,And rent; lo , this is my sentence:Eke, whan men harpe strings smite,Wheder it be much or lite,Lo, with a stroke the eyre it breketh,And right so breaketh it whan men speaketh,Thus, wost thou well, what thing is speach,Now henceforth, I will thee teach How everich speech, voice, or soun,Through his multiplicatioun,Though it were piped of a mouse,Mote needs come to Fames House;I prove it thus, take heed nowBy experience, for if that thou Threw in a water now, a stone,Well wost thou it will make, anone,A little roundell as a circle,Paraventure as broad as a covercle,And right anone, thou shalt see wele ,That whele cercle wil cause another whele,And that the third, and so forth brother,Every cercle causing other,Broader than himselfe was,And thus from roundell to compas,B. II. V. 291-430 THE HOUSE OF FAME. 379Ech about other going,Causeth of others stering And multiplying evermo,Til it be so farre go That it at both brinkes bee,Although thou may it not seeAbove, yet gothe it alway under,Though thou thinke it a great wonder,And who so saith of trouth I vary,Bid him prove the contrary;And right thus every word ywis,That loud or privie yspoken is,Moveth first an eyre about,And of his moving, out of dout,Another eyre anone is moved;As I have of the water proved,That every cercle causeth other,Right so of eyre, my leve brother;Everich eyre in other stereth More and more, and speech up beareth,Or voice of noise, word or soun,Aye through multiplication,Till it be at the House of Fame;Take it in earnest or in game,Now have I told, if thou have mind,How speech or sowne, of pure kind Enclined is upward to meve;This maiest thou fele well by preve,And that same stede ywis ,That every thing enclined to is,Hath his kindliche stede,That sheweth it without drede,That kindely the mansioun Of everich speeche of every soun,Be it either foule or faire,Hath his kind place in aire,And sith that every thing ywis,Out of his kind place ywis,Moveth thider for to go,If it away be therefro,As I have before proved thee,It sheweth every soune, parde,Moveth kindely to pace,As up into his kind place;And this place of which I tell,There as Fame list to dwell,It sette amiddes of these three,Heaven, Earth, and eke the see,As most conservatife the soun;Than is this the conclusion,That every speech of every man,As I thee tell first began,Moveth up on height to paceKindly to Fames place."Tell me this now faithfully,Have I not proved thus simply,Without any subtelte Of speech, or great prolixite Of termes of philosophy,Of figures of poetry,Or colours of rhetorike?Perde, it ought thee to like,For hard language, and hard matere Is incombrous for to here At ones, wost thou not well this? "And I answered and said " Yes."" Ah, ah," quod he, " lo, so I can,Leudly unto a leud man Speke, and shew him such skilles,That he may shake hem by the billes,So palpable they shoulden be;But tel me this now pray I thee,How thinketh thee my conclusioun?""A good persuasion,"Quod I, " it is, and lyke to be,Right so as thou hast proved me,"" By God," quod he, " and as I leve,Thou shalt have it or it be eve,Of every word of this sentence,A profe by experience,And with thine eares hearen wellToppe and taile, and everidell,That every word that spoken is,Commeth into Fames House ywis,As I have said, what wilt thou more? "And with this word upper to sore,He began and said, " By saint Jame,Now will we speake all of game.How farest thou now?" quod he, to me."Well," quod I. " Now see," quod he,"Bythy trouth, yond adowne,Where that thou knowest any towne,Or house, or any other thing,And whan thou hast of ought knowing,Look that thou warne me,And I anon shall tell thee How farre that thou art now therefro."And I adowne gan to loken tho,And beheld fields and plaines,Now hils, and now mountaines,Now valeis, and now forests,And now unneth great beests,Now rivers, now citees,Now townes, now great trees,Now shippes sayling in the see.But thus soone in a while hee,Was flowen fro the ground so hye,That all the world, as to mine eye,No more seemed than a pricke,Or else was the eyre so thickeThat I might it not discerne:With that he spake to me so yerne,And said: " Seest thou any token,Or ought that in this world of spoken?"I said " Nay."—" No wonder is, "Quod he, " for never halfe so hye as this,N'as Alexander of MacedonKing, ne of Rome dan Scipion,That saw in dreame at point devise,Heaven and Earth, Hell and Paradise,Ne eke the wretch Dedalus,Ne his childe nice Icharus,That flewe so hie that the heteHis wyngs molte, and he fell wete In midde the sea, and there he dreint,For whom was made a great complaint."Now tourne upward," quod he, "thy face,And behold this large place,This eyre, but looke that thou ne bee Adrad of hem that thou shalt see,For in this regioun certayne,Dwelleth many a citezeine,Of which speaketh dan Plato,These benthe eyrishe beests, lo."And tho sawe I all the menie,Both gone and also flie." Lo, quod he, cast up thyne eye,See yonder lo, the galaxie,The which men clepe the milky way,For it is white: and some, parfay,380 THE HOUSE OF FAME. B. II. v. 431-570Callen it Watling streete,That ones was brent with the hete,When the Sunnes sonne the rede,That hight Pheton, would lede Algate his fathers cart, and gie.The cart horse gan well aspie,That he coud no governaunce,And gan for to leape and praunce,And beare him up, and now doun,Till he saw the Scorpioun,Which that in Heaven a signe is yet,And he for fere lost his witOf that, and let the reynes gone Of his horse, and they anone,Soon up to mount and downe discende,Till both eyre and Earth brende,Till Jupiter, lo, at the last,Him slew and fro the carte cast." Lo, is it not a great mischaunce To let a foole have governaunceOf things that he cannot demaine?"And with his word, sothe for to saine,He gan alway upper to sore,And gladded me than more and more,So faithfully to me spake he.Tho gan I to looke under me,And beheld the eyrish beests,Cloudes, mistes, and tempests,Snowes, hayles, raynes, and windes,And than gendring in hir kindes,All the way through which I came;"O God," quod I, " that made Adame,Moch is thy might and nobles! "And tho thought I upon Boece,That writeth a thought may flie so hie With fethers of philosophyTo passen everich element,And when he hath so far ywent,Than may be seen behind his backe,Cloude, and earth, and all that I of spake.Tho gan I wexe in a were,And said, " I wote well I am here,But whether in body or in goost,I n'ot ywis, but God thou woost;"For more clere entendement,N'as me never yet ysent;And than thought I on Marcian,And eke of Anticlaudian,That sothe was hir descripcion Of all the Heavens region,As far as that I saw the preve,And, therefore, I can hem leve.With that the egle gan to crie," Let be," quod he, " thy fantasie,Wilt thou learne of sterres ought? "" Nay certainly," quod I, " right nought. "" And why?" quod he. " For I am old."" Or els would I thee have told,"Quod he, " the sterres names, lo,And all the Heavens signs to,And which they be. "-" No force," quod I. " Yes, parde," quod he, " wost thou why?For whan thou redest poetry,How the goddes can stellifyBirde, fishe, or him, or her,As the ravin and other,Or Ariones harpe fine,Castor, Polexe, or Delphine,Or Athalantes doughters seven,How all these are set in Heven,For though thou have hem ofte in hand,Yet n'ost thou nat where they stand. ""No force," quod I, " it is no need,As well I leve, so God me speed ,Hem that writen of this matere,As though I knew hir places here,And eke they sem*n here so bright,It should shenden all my sight,To look on hem: "-" That may well be,"Quod he, and so forth bare he me A while, and tho he gan to cry,(That never herde I thing so hie)"Hold up thy thine heed, for all is well,Saint Julian, lo, bonne hostell,See here the House of Fame, lo,Mayst thou not here that I do?""What?" quod I. " The great sowne Quod he, " that rombleth up and downe In Fames House full of tidings,Both of fayre speech and chidings,And of false and sothe compouned,Herken well, it is not rowned.Herest thou not the great swough?""Yes, perde," quod I, " wel ynough."And what sowne is it like?" quod he.Parde, lyke the beating of the see,"Quod I, "against the roches holow,Whan tempests done her shippes swolow,And that a man stand out of doute,A myle thens, and here it route."Ör els lyke the humbling After the clappe of a thundring,When Jovis hath the eyre ybete,But it doth me for feare swete. '"Nay, drede thee not thereof," quod he," It is nothing that will biten thee,Thou shalt have no harme truely. "66""And with that worde both he and IAs nigh the place arrived were,As men might cast with a spere,I n'ist how, but in a strete He set me faire on my feete,And said, " Walke forth a pace And telle thine adventure and case,That thou shalt finde in Fames place. ""Now," quod I, " while we have space To speake, or that I go fro thee,For the love of God tell me,In sothe, that I will of thee lere,If this noyse that I here Be as I have herde thee tell,Of folke that done in earth dwell,And commeth here in the same wise,As I thee herd or this devise,And that here lives body n'is In all that house that yonder is,That maketh all this loude fare.""No," quod he, " by saint Clare,And also wisse God rede me,But o thing I will warne thee,Of the which thou wilt have wonder."Lo, to the House of Fame yonder,Thou woste how commeth every speach,It needeth not the efte to teach,But understand now right well this,When any speach ycomen is,Up to the palais anone right,It wexeth like the same wight,Which that the worde in earth spake,Be he clothed in reed or blake,??B. II . V. 571-582 THE HOUSE OF FAME. 381And hath so very his likenesse,And spake the worde that thou wilt gesse,That it the same body be,Man or woman, he, or she.And is not this a wonder thing? ""Yes," quod I tho, " by Heaven king: "And with this worde, " Farewell," quod he,"And here will I abide thee,And God of Heaven send thee graceSome good to learne in this place: "And I of him tooke leave anone,And gan forth to the palais gone.EXPLICIT LIBER SECUNDUS .LIBER TERTIUS.B. III. v. 1-118GOD of science and of light,Apollo, through thy great might,This littell last booke now thou gie,Now that I will for maistrieHere art potenciall be shewde,But for the rime is light and lewde,Yet make it somewhat agreeable,Though some verse fayle in a sillable,And that I do no diligence,To shewe crafte, but sentence,And if devine vertue thouWilt helpe me to shewe now,That in my heed ymarked is,Lo, that is for to meanen this,The House of Fame for to discrive,Thou shalt see me go as blive Unto the next laurer I see,And kisse it, for it is thy tree;Now entre in my brest, anone!When I was from the Egle gone,I gan behold upon this place,And certaine, or I further passe,I woll you all the shape devise,Of house and citee, and all the wiseHow I gan to this place approche,That stood upon so hie a roche,Hier standeth none in Spaine;But up I clambe with moch payne,And though to climbe greved mee,Yet I ententife was to see,And for to poren wondre low,If I coude any wise yknow What maner stone this roche was,For it was like a limed glas,But that it shone full more clere,But of what congeled matereIt was, I n'iste redely,But at the last espied I,And found that it was everydele,A roche of yse and not of stele:Thought I, " By saint Thomas of Kent,This were a feeble foundementTo builden on a place hie,He ought him little to glorifie,That hereon bilte, God so me save."Tho sawe I all the hall ygrave With famous folkes names fele,That had been in moch wele,And hir fames wide yblow,But well unneth might I know Any letters for to rede Hir names by, for, out of drede,They weren almost of thawed so,That of the letters one or twoWere molte away of every name,So unfamous was wexe her fame;But men say, what may ever last?Tho gan I in mine herte cast,That they were molte away for heate,And not away with stormes beate,For on that other side I sey,Of this hill, that northward ley,How it was written full of namesOf folke that had afore great fames,Of old time, and yet they were As fresh as men had written hem thereThe self-day, or that houre That I on hem gan to poure,But well I wiste what it made,It was conserved with the shade,All the writing that I sie,Of a castell that so stoode on hie,And stoode eke in so cold a place That heate might it not deface.Tho gan I on this hill to gone,And found on the coppe a wone,That all the men that been on liveNe han the conning to discrive The beaute of that ilke place,Ne coud caste no compaceSoch another for to make,That might of beauty be his make,Ne so wonderly ywrought,That it astonieth yet my thought,And maketh all my witte to swinke On this castell for to thinke,So that the great beautie,The caste, crafte, and curiositie,Ne can I not to you devise,My witte ne may me not suffise;But nathelesse all the substaunceI have yet in my remembraunce,For why? me thought, by saint Gile,All was of stone of berile,Both the castell and the toure,And eke the hall, and every boure,Without peeces or joynings,But many subtell compassings,As babeuries and pinnacles,Imageries and tabernacles,I saw, and full eke of windowes,As flakes fallen in great snowes;And eke in each of the pinnaclesWeren sundry habitacles,In which stooden, all withouten,Full the castle all abouten,Of all manner of minstrales,And jestours, that tellen tales Both of weeping and of game;And of all that longeth unto Fame,There heard I play on an harpe,That souned both well and sharpe,Him Orpheus full craftely,And on this side, fast by,Sat the harper Orion,And Gacides Chirion,And other harpers many one,And the Briton Glaskirion,382 THE HOUSE OF FAME. B. III. v. 119-258And smale harpers with hir glees,Sate under hem in divers sees,And gone on hem upward to gape,And counterfeited hem as an ape,Or as craft counterfeit kind .Tho saw I standen hem behind,A farre from hem, all by hemselve,Many a thousand times twelve,That made loud minstralcies,In cornemuse and shalmies,And many another pipe,That craftely began to pipe,Both in douced and in rede,That ben at feasts with the brede,And many a floyte and litling horne,And pipes made of greene corne,As have these little heerd gromes,That keepen beastes in the bromes.There saw I than dan Citherus,And of Athenes dan Proserus,And Mercia that lost her skinne,Both in face, body, and chinne,For that she would envien, lo,To pipen bette than Apollo.There saw I eke famous old and yong,Pipers of all the Dutch tong,To learne love daunces, springs,Reyes, and the straunge things.Tho saw I in another place,Standing in a large space Of hem that maken bloody soun,In trumpe beme, and clarioun,For in fight and bloodsheddingsIs used gladly clarionings.There heard I trumpe Messenus,Of whom that speaketh Vergilius.There heard I Joab trumpe also,Theodomas, and other mo,And all that used clarion,In Casteloigne and Aragon,That in hir times famous were,To learnen saw I trumpen there.There saw I sit in other sees,Playing upon other sundry glees,Which that I cannot neven,Mo than sterres ben in Heven,Of which I n'ill as now not rime,For ease of you, and losse of time:For time ylost, this know ye,By no way may recovered be.There saw I playing jogelours,Magiciens, and tragetours,And phetonisses, charmeresses,Old witches, sorceresses,That usen exorsisations,And eke subfumigations,And clerkes eke, which conne well All this magike naturell,That craftely doe hir entents To maken in certaine ascendents,Images, lo, through which magike To maken a man ben hole or sike.There saw I the queene Medea,And Circes eke, and Calipsea.There saw I Hermes Ballenus,Limote, and eke Simon Magus.There saw I, and knew by name,That by such art done men have fame.There saw I Coll Tragetour Upon a table of sicamourPlay an uncouth thing to tell,I saw him carry a wind- mell Under a walnote shale.What should I make lenger tale?Of all the people that I sey,I could not tell till domisdey.Whan I had all this folke behold,And found me loose and not hold,And I amused a long while Upon this wall of berile,That shone lighter than a glas And made well more than it was,As kinde thing of fame is,And than anone, after this,I gan forth romen till I fondeThe castell yate on my right honde,Which so well corven was,That never such another n'as,And yet it was by aventure Ywrought by great and subtill cure;It needeth not you more to tellenTo make you too long dwellen Of these yates florishings,Ne of compaces, ne of karvings,Ne how the hacking in masonries,As corbettes, and imageries.But Lord, so faire it was to shewe,For it was all with gold behewe;But in I went, and that anone,There met I crying many one," A larges, a larges, hold up well!God save the lady of this pell,Our owne gentill lady Fame,And hem that willen to have a nameOf us!" thus heard I crien all,And fast commen out of the hall,And shoke nobles and starlings,And crowned were as kings,With crownes wrought full of losinges,And many ribans, and many fringes Wore on hir clothes truely.Tho at the last, espied IThat pursevauntes and heraudes,That crien riche folkes laudes,It weren, all and every man Of hem, as I you tell can,Had on him throwe a vestureWhich men clepe a coate armure,Embroudred wonderly riche,As though they were not yliche,But nought will I, so mote I thrive,Be about to discrive All these armes that there weren,That they thus on hir coates weren,For to me were impossible,Men might make of hem a bible,Twenty foote thicke as I trowe,For certain who so coud know,Might there all the armes seen Of famous folke that had beenIn Affrike, Europe, and Asie,Sith first began chevalrie.Lo, how should I now tell all this?Ne of the hall, eke what need is To tellen you that every wall Of it, and rofe and flore with all,Was plated halfe a foote thickeOf golde, and that n'as not wicke,But for to prove in all wise,As fine as ducket in Venise,B. III. V. 259-398 THE HOUSE OF FAME. 383Of which to lite all in my pouche is,And they were set as thicke of ouchesFine, of the finest stones faire,That men reden in the lapidaire,Or as grasses growen in a mede,But it were all to long to rede The names, and therefore I pace,But in this lustie and riche place,That Fames hall called was,Full moch prees of folke there n'as,Ne crouding, for to moch prees,But all on hie above a dees,Satte in a see imperiall,That made was of rubie royall,Which that a carbuncle is ycalled,I sawe perpetually ystalled,A feminine creature,That never formed by nature Was such another thing I saie:For alderfirst, soth to saie,Me thought that she was so lite ,That the length of a cubite,Was lenger than she seemed be,But thus soone in a while she,Her self tho wonderly streight,That with her feet she th'erthe reight,And with her hedde she touched Heaven,There as shineth the sterres seven,And thereto yet, as to my wit,I saw a great wonder yet,Upon her eyen to behold,But certainly I hem never told,For as fele eyen had she,As fethers upon foules be,Or weren on the beasts foure,That Goddes trone can honour,As writeth John in the Apocalips,Her heer that was oundie and crips,As burned gold it shone to see.And sothe to tellen, also shee Had also fele up standing eares,And tonges, as on beast been heares,And on her feete woxen saw I,Partriche winges redily.But Lord the perrie and the richesse I saw sitting on the goddesse,And the heavenly melodie Of songes full of armonie I heard about her trone ysong,That all the palais wall rong,So song the mighty Muse, she That cleped is Caliope,And her seven sisterne eke,That in hir faces seemen meke,And evermore eternally They song of Fame, tho heard I ,"Heried be thou and thy name,Goddes of renoun and of Fame!"Tho was I ware at the last,As I mine eyen gan up cast,That this ilke noble queene,On her shoulders gan sustene Both the armes and the name Of tho that had large fame,Alisander, and Hercules,That with a sherte his life did lese,And thus found I sitting this goddesse,In noble honour and richesse,Of which I stinte a while now,Other thing to tellen you.Tho saw I stande on thother side,Streight doune to the doores wide,From the deis many a pillereOf metall, that shone not full clere,But though ther were of no richesse,Yet were they made for great noblesse,And in hem great sentence,And folke of hie and digne reverence,Of which to tell will I fonde.Upon a piller sawe I stonde,Alderfirst there I sie,Upon a piller stonde on hie,That was of lede and of iron fine,Him of the secte Saturnine,The Ebraike Josephus the old,That of Jewes gestes told,And he bare on his shulders hieThe fame up of the Jewrie,And by him stoden other seven,Wise and worthy for to neven,To helpen him beare up the charge,It was so heavy and so large,And for they written of battailes,As well as of other marvayles,Therefore was lo, this pillere,Of which I you tell here,Of leade and iron both ywis,For iron Martes metall is ,Which that god is of battaile,And the leade withouten faile,Is lo, the metall of Saturne,That hath full large whele to turne,To stand forth on either roweOf hem, which I could knowe,Though I by order hem not tell,To make you to long to dwell.These, of which I gan rede,There saw I stand, out of drede,Upon an iron piller strong,That painted was all endlong With tigres blood in every place,The Tholason that height Stace,That bare of Thebes up the nameUpon his shoulders, and the fame Also of cruell Achilles,And by him stode, withouten lees,Full wonder hie upon a pillerOf iron, he the great Omer,And with him Dares and TitusBefore, and eke he Lollius,And Guido eke the Colempnis,And English Galfride eke ywis,And ech of these, as I have joy,Was busie to beare up Troy,So heavy thereof was the fame,That for to beare it was no game,But yet I gan full well espie,Betwene hem was a little envie,One said that Omer made lies,Feyning in his poetries,And was to the Greekes favourable,Therefore held he it but fable.Tho saw I stand on a pillere,That was of tinned iron clere,The Latine poete Virgile,That hath bore up a long whileThe fame of pius Eneas.And next him on a piller was,Of copper, Venus' clerke, Ovide,That hath sowen wondrous wide384 THE HOUSE OF FAME. B. III. V. 399-538The great god of loves fame,And there he bare up well his name,Upon this piller also hie,As I might see it with mine eye:For why this hall whereof 1 rede,Was woxe on height, length and brede,Well more by a thousand deale Than it was erst, that saw I weale.Tho saw I on a piller by,Of iron wrought full sternely,The great poet dan Lucan,That on his shoulders bare up than,As hie as that I might see,The fame of Julius and Pompee,And by him stoden all these clerkes,That write of Romes mighty werkes,That if I would hir names tell,All to long must I dwell.And next him on a piller stood,Of sulphure, liche as he were wood,Dan Claudian, sothe for to tell That bare up all the fame of Hell,Of Pluto, and ofProserpine,That queene is of the derke pine,What should I more tell of this?The hall was all full, ywis,Of hem that written old jestes,As been on trees rokes nestes,But it a full confuse mattereWere all these jestes for to here,That they of write, and how they hight.But while that I beheld this sight,I herde a noise approchen blive,That fareth as bees done in an hive,Ayenst hir time of out flying,Right soch a maner murmuring,For all the world it seemed mee.Tho gan I looke about and see,That there come entring into the hallA right great company withall,And that of sondry regions,Of all kind of condicions,That dwell in yearth under the Moone,Poore and riche; and all so sooneAs they were come into the hall,They gan on knees doune to fall,Before this ilke noble queene,And said, " Graunt us lady sheene,Eche of us of thy grace a bone,"And some of hem she graunted sone,And some she warned well and faire,And some she graunted the contraire Of hir asking utterly:But this I say you truely,What her grace was, I n'ist,For of these folke full well I wist,They had good fame eche deserved ,Although they were diversly served,Right as her sister, dame Fortune,Is wont to serve in commune.Now herken how she gan to pay Hem that gan her of grace pray,And yet, lo, all this companieSaiden soth, and not a lie."Madame," sayd they, " we bee Folke that here besechen thee,That thou graunt us now good fame,And let our workes have good name,In full recompensaciounOf good worke, give us good renoun. "" I warne it you," quod she, " anone,Ye get of me good fame none,By God, and therefore go your way. "" Alas," quod they, " and welaway!Tell us what your cause may be.""For me list it not," quod she," No wight shall speake of you, ywis,Good ne harme, ne that ne this. "And with that worde she gan to call Her messenger that was in hall,And bad that he should faste gone,Upon paine to be blinde anone,For Eolus the god of winde," In Trace there ye shall him finde,And bid him bring his clarioun,That is full divers of his soun,And it is cleped cleare laude,With which he wont is to heraudeHem that me list ypraised bee;And also bid him how that heeBring eke his other clarioun,That height sclaunder in every toun,With which he wont is to diffameHem that me list, and doe hem shame."This messenger gan fast to gone,And found where in a cave of stone,In a countree that height Trace,This Eolus with harde grace,Helde the windes in distresse,And gan hem under him to presse,That they gonne as the beres rore,He bound and pressed hem so sore.This messenger gan fast crie,"Rise up," quod he, " and fast thee hie,Till thou at my lady bee,And take thy clarions eke with thee,And speed thee fast: " and he, anone,Tooke to one that hight Tritone,His clarions to bearen tho,And let a certaine winde go,That blewe so hidously and hie,That it ne left not a skieAnd all the welkin long and brode.This Eolus no where abode,Till he was come to Fames feete,And eke the man that Triton heete,And there he stode as still as stone,And herewithall, there came anone,Another huge companieOf good folke and gan to crie," Lady, graunt us now good fame And let our workes have that name,Now in honour of gentilnesse,And also God your soule blesse,For we han well deserved it,Therefore is right that we be quit. "" As thrive I," quod she, " ye shall faile,Good workes shall you not availe,To have of me good fame as now,But wote ye what, I graunt you,That ye shall have a shrewd name,And wicked loos and worse fame,Though ye good loos have well deserved,Now goeth your way for you been served:And thou dan Eolus, " quod she," Take forth thy trumpe anone, let see,That is ycleped sclaunder light,And blow hir loos, that every wightSpeake of hem harme and shreudnesse,In stede of good and worthinesse,B. III. v. 539-678 THE HOUSE OF FAME. 385For thou shalt trumpe all the contrarie,Of that they have done well and faire."Alas, thought I , what aventures Have these sory creatures,That they among all the pres,Should thus be shamed giltles?But what, it must needes be.What did this Eolus, but he Tooke out his blacke trumpe of bras,That fouler than the Devil was,And gan this trompe for to blow,As all the world should overthrow.Throughout every regioun,Went this foule trumpes soun,As swifte as a pellet out of a gonne,When fire is in the pouder ronne,And soch a smoke gan out wende,Out of the foule trumpes ende,Blacke, blue, grenishe, swartish, red,As doth where that man melte led,Lo, all on hie from the tewell;And thereto, one thing saw I well,That the ferther that it ranne,The greater wexen it beganne,As doth the river from a well,And it stanke as the pitte of Hell:Alas, thus was hir shame yrong,And giltlesse on every tong.Tho came the third companie,And gone up to the dees to hie,And doune on knees they fell anone,And saiden, " We been everichone Folke that han full truely Deserved fame rightfully,And prayed you it might be know,Right as it is and forth blow. ""I graunt," quod she, " for now me list That your good workes shall be wist,And yet ye shall have better loos,Right in dispite of all your foos,Than worthy is, and that anone:Let now," quod she, " thy trumpe gone,Thou Eolus that is so blacke,And out thine other trumpe takeThat hight laude, and blow it so That through the world hir fame go,All easely and not too fast,That it be knowen at the last.""Full gladly, lady mine," he saied,And out his trumpe of gold he braied Anone, and set it to his mouth,And blewe it east, west, and south,And north, as loude as any thonder,That every wight hath of it wonder,So brode it ran or that it stent,And certes, all the breath that went Out of his trumpes mouth smelde As men a potte full of baume helde Among a basket full of roses,This favour did he to hir loses.And right with this I gan espie,There came the fowerth companie,But certaine they were wonder fewe,And gonne to standen on a rewe,And saiden, " Certes, lady bright,We have done well with all our might,But we ne keepe to have fame;Hide our workes and our name,For Goddes love, for certes wee Have surely done it for bountee,And for no manner other thing."" I graunt you all your asking,"Quod she, "let your workes be dedde. "With that about I tourned my hedde,And sawe anone the fifth routThat to this lady gan lout,And doune on knees, anone, to fall,And to her tho besoughten all,To hiden hir good workes eke,And said, they yeve not a leke For no fame, ne soch renoun,For they for contemplacioun,And Goddes love had it wrought,Ne of fame would they nought."What!"quod she, " and be ye wood?And wene ye for to do good,And for to have of that no fame?Have ye dispite to have my name?Nay, ye shall lien everichone:Blowe thy trumpe and that anone,”Quod she, "thou Eolus I hote,And ring these folkes workes by note,That all the world may of it here:"And he gan blowe hir loos so cleare In his golden clarioun,Through the worlde went the soun,Also kindly, and eke so soft,That their fame was blowe aloft.Tho came the sixt companie,And gan fast to Fame crie,Right verely in this manere,They saiden, " Mercy, lady dere,To tell certain as is,We have done neither that ne this,But idell all our life hath be,But nathelesse, yet pray we,That we may have as good a fame,And great renome and knowen name,As they that have do noble jestes,And acheved all hir questes,As well of love as other thing,All was us never broche ne ring,Ne els what fro women sent,Ne ones in hir herte yment,To maken us onely frendly chere,But mought temen us on bere,Yet let us to the people seeme Soch as the world may of us deeme,That women loven us for wood,It shall do us as moch good,And to our herte as moch availe,The counterpeise, ease, and travaile,As we had won with labour,For that is dere bought honour,At regard of our great ease:And yet ye must us more please,Let us be hold eke therto,Worthy, wise, and good also,And rich, and happy unto love.For Goddes love that sitteth above,Though we may not the body have Of women, yet so God me save,Let men glewe on us the name,Suffiseth that we have the fame.""I graunt," quod she, " by my trouth,Now Eolus, withouten slouth,Take out thy trumpe of gold, " quod she," And blowe as they have asked me,That every man wene hem at ease,Though they go in full badde lease. "cc386 THE HOUSE OF FAME. B. III. V. 679-818This Eolus gan it so blowe,That through the world it was yknow.Tho came the seventh route anone,And fill on knees everichone,And sayed, " Lady, graunt us soone The same thing, the same boone,That this nexte folke have done.""Fie on you," quod she, " everichone,Ye nastie swine, ye idle wretches,Full of rotten slow tetches,What false theeves where ye wold,Been famed good, and nothing n'old Deserve why, ne never thought,Men rather you to hangen ought,For ye be like the slepie cat,That would have fish; but wost thou what?He woll nothing wette his clawes;Evil thrifte come to your jawes,And on mine, if I it graunt,Or do favour you to avaunt." Thou Eolus, thou king of Thrace,Go blowe this folke a sorie grace,"Quod she, " anone, and wost thou how,As I shall tell thee right now,Say these ben they that would honour Have, and do no kind labour,Ne do no good, and yet have laude,And that men wende that belle Isaude,Ne coude hem not of love werne,And yet she that grint at querne,Is all too good to ease hir herte."This Eolus anone up sterte,And with his blacke clariounHe gan to blasen out a soun,As loude as belleth winde in Hell,And eke therewith, sothe to tell,This sowne was so full of japes As ever mowes were in apes,And that went all the world about,That every wight gan on hem shout,And for to laugh as they were wood,Such game found they in hir hood.Tho came another company,That had ydone the trechery,The harme and great wickednesse,That any herte coulden gesse,And prayed her to have good fame,And that she n'olde do hem no shame,But give hem loos and good renoun,And do it blowe in clarioun."Nay wis," quod she, " it were a vice,Al be there in me no justice,Me list not to do it now,Ne this I n'ill graunt it you."Tho came there leaping in a rout,And gan clappen all about,Every man upon the crowne That all the hall gan to sowne,And said, " Lady lefe and dere,We ben soch folkes as ye may here,To tell all the tale aright,We ben shrewes every wight,And have delite in wickednesse,As good folke have in goodnesse,And joy to been knowen shrewes,And full vice and wicked thewes,Wherefore we pray you on a rowe,That our fame be such yknow,In all things right as it is. ""I graunt you, " quod she, "ywis,But what art thou that saiest this tale,That wearest on thy hose a pale,And on thy tippet soch a bell? ""Madame," quod he, " sothe to tell,I am that ilke shrewe ywis,That brent the temple of Isidis In Athenes, lo, that citee.""And wherefore diddest thou so?" quod she."By my trouth, " quod he, " madame,I wolde faine have had a name,As other folke had in the towne,Although they were of great renowne For hir vertue and hir thewes,Thought I, as great fame have shrewes,(Though it be nought) for shrewdnesse,As good folke have for goodnesse,And sithen I may not have that one,That other n'ill I not forgone,As for to get a fame here,The temple set I all on fire." Now done our loos be blowe swithe,As wisely be thou ever blithe. ""Gladly," quod she, " thou Eolus,Herest thou not what they prayen us?""Madame yes, full well," quod he," And I will trumpen it, parde: "And tooke his blacke trumpe fast,And gan to puffen and to blast,Till it was at the worlds end.With that I gan about wend,For one that stode right at my backe,Me thought full goodly to me spake,And said, " Frende, what is thy name?Arte thou come hider to have fame?"Nay forsothe, frende," quod I ,"I come not hither, graunt mercy,For no soch cause by my heed,Suffiseth me as I were deed,That no wight have my name in honde,I wot my selfe best how I stonde,For what I drie or what I thinke,I woll my selfe all it drinke,Certaine for the more part,As ferforth as I can mine art.""What dost thou here than? " quodhe:Quod I, " that woll I tell thee,The cause why I stand here,Some new tidings for to lere,Some new thing, I not what,Tidings eyther this or that,Of love, or such things glade,For certainely he that me madeTo come hyder, said to mee I sholde bothe heare and see,In this place wonder things,But these be no soch tidingsAs I meant of: "-"No!" quod he:And I answerde " No, parde,For well I wote ever yet,Sith that first I had wit,That some folke han desired fame,Diversly, and loos and name,But certainly I n'ist how,Ne where that Fame dwelled or now,Ne eke of her descripcion,Ne also her condicion,Ne the order of her dome,Knew I not till I hider come.""Whythan be, lo, these tidings,That thou now hether brings,B. III. v. 819-958 THE HOUSE OF FAME. 387That thou hast herde," quod he to mee;" But now, no force, for well I see What thou desirest for to lere,Come forth and stande no lenger here,And I woll thee without drede,Into soch another place lede,There thou shalt here many one."Tho gan I forth with him gone,Out of the castell, sothe to sey.Tho sawe I stand in a valey,Under the castell fast by,An house, that domus Dedali,That Laborintus ycleped is,N'as made so wonderly ywis,Ne halfe so queintly ywrought,And evermo, as swift as thought,This queint house about went,That nevermo it still stent,And there came out so great a noise,That had it stonde upon Oise,Men might have heard it easily To Rome, I trowe sikerly,And the noise which that I herde,For all the world right so it ferde,As doth the routing of the stone,That fro th'engin is letyn gone.And all this house of which I rede,Was made of twigges, salow, rede,And green eke, and some were white,Such as men to the cages twite,Or maken of these paniers.Or els hutches or doffers,That for the swough and for the twigges,This house was also full of gigges,And also full eke of chirkinges,And of many other werkings,And eke this house hath of entreesAs many as leves ben on trees,In sommer whan they been greene,And on the rofe yet men may seene Athousand holes, and wel mo,To letten the sowne out go,And by day in every tide Bene all the dores open wide,And by night eche one unshet,Ne porter is there none to let No maner tidings in to pace,Ne never rest is in that place,That it n'is filled full of tidings,Eyther loude or of whisperings,And ever all the houses anglesIs ful of rownings and of jangles,Of werres, of peace, of mariages,Of restes, and of labour, of viages,Of abode, of death, and of lyfe,Of love, of hate, accord, of strife,Of losse, of lore, and of winnings,Of heale, of sicknesse, or of lesings,Of faire wether, and eke of tempests,Of qualme, of folke, and of beests,Of divers transmutacions,Of estates and eke of regions,Of trust, ofdrede, of jalousie,Of witte, of winning, of folie,Of plenty, and of great famine,Of chepe, derth, and of ruine,Of good or misgovernment,Of fire, and of divers accident.And lo, this house of which I write,Syker be ye it n'as not lite,For it was sixtie mile of length,Al was the timber of no strength,Yet it is founded to endure,While that it list to aventure,That is the mother of tidings,As the sea of welles and springs,And it was shaped lyke a cage."Certes," quod I, " in all mine age,Ne saw I soch an house as this."And as I wondred me, ywis,Upon this house tho ware was IHow mine egle, fast by,Was perched hie upon a stone,And I gan streight to him gone,And said thus, " I pray thee,That thou a while abide meeFor goddes love, and let me seene What wonders in that place bene,For yet, paraunter, I may lere Some good therein, or somewhat here,That lefe me were, or that I went. "" Parde, that is now mine entent,"Quod he to me, " therefore I dwell,But certaine one thing I thee tell,That but I bring thee therin,Ne shall thou never conne the gin To come into it out of doubt,So faste it whirleth, lo, about,But sith that Joves of his grace,As I have said, will the solace Finally with these things,Uncouth sighes and tidings,To passe with thine hevinesse,Soch routh hath he of thy distresse,That thou suffredest debonairly,And woste they selven utterly,Desperate of all blisse,Sith that fortune hath made a misse,The swete of all thine hertes rest,Languish and eke in point to brest,But he through his mighty merite,Wil do thee ease, al be it lite,And gave in expresse commaundement,To which I am obedient,To forther thee with all my might,And wish and teach thee aright,Where thou maist most tidings here,Thou shalt here many one lere."With this word he right anone,Hent me up bytwene his tone,And at a window in me brought,That in this house was at me thought,And therewithall me thought it stent,And nothing it about went,And me set in the floore adoun;But such a great congregacioun Of folke as I sawe rome about,Some within and some without,N'as never seene, ne shall be efte,That certes, in this world n'is lefteSo many formed by nature,Ne need so many a creature,That wel unneth in that place Had I a foote brede of space;And every wight that I sawe there,Rowned everich in others eere,A new tiding prively,Or els he told it all openly Right thus, and said, " N'ost nat thouThat is betidde, lo, right now? "CC 2388 THE HOUSE OF FAME. B. III. V. 959-1080"No," quod he, " tell me what: "And than he told him this and that,And swore thereto that it was soth,Thus hath he said, and thus he doth,And this shal be, and thus herde I say,That shal be found that dare I lay:That all the folke that is on live,Ne have the conning to discrive Tho thinges that I herde there,What a loude, and what in eere;But all the wonder most was this,Whan one had herd a thing ywis,He came streight to another wight And gan him tellen anon right,The same that him was toldOr it a forlong way was old,And gan somewhat for to echeTo this tiding in his speche,More than ever it spoken was,And nat so sone departed n'as Tho fro him that he ne metteWith the third, and ere he lette Any stound he told hym alse,Where the tidings sothe or false,Yet wold he tell it natheles,And evermore with mo encrees,Than it was erst: thus north and south,Went every tiding fro mouth to mouth,And that encreasing evermo,As fire is wont to quicken and go From a sparcle sprongen amis,Till a citie brent upis.And whan that was full up sprong,And waxen more on every tonge Than ever it was, and went anone,Up to a window out to gone,Or but it might out there passe,It gan out crepe at some crevasse,And flewe forth fast for the nones.And sometime I saw there at ones,A leasing and a sadde sothe sawe,That gonnen of aventure drawe,Out at a window for to pace,And whan they metten in that place,They were achecked both two,And neyther of them might out go,For ech other they gonne so croudeTil ech of hem gan crien loude,"Let me gone first! "-" nay, but let mee!And here I woll ensuren thee,With vowes that thou wolt do so,That I shall never fro thee go,But be thine owne sworne brother,We woll meddle us eche in other,That no man be he never so wrothe,Shall have one two, but bothe At ones, as beside his leve,Come we a morrowe or on eve,But we cride or still yrowned:"Thus saw I false and soth compowned,Togider flie for o tiding.Thus out at holes gonne wring,Every tidyng streight to Fame,And she gan yeve eche his name,After her disposicion,And yeve hem eke duracion;Some to wexe and wane soone,As doth the faire white Moone,And let hem gonne, there might I seen Winged wonders fast fleen,Twenty thousand in a route,As Eolus hem blewe aboute,And lord! this house in all timesWas full of shipmen and pilgrimes,With scrippes bret-full of leasings,Entermelled with tidings,And eke alone by hemselve.O many thousand times twelve Saw I eke of these pardoners,Currours, and eke messaungers,With boxes crommed full of lies As ever vessell was with lies.And as I alder- fastest wentAbout, and did all mine entent,Me for to playen and for to lere,And eke a tiding for to here,That I had herde of some countreeThat shall not now be told for mee,For it no need is, redelyFolke can sing it bet than I,For al mote out late or rathe,All the sheves in the lathe.I herde a great noise withall,In a corner of the hall;There men of love tidings toldAnd I gan thitherward behold,For I saw renning every wight,As fast as that they hadden might,And everich cride, " What thing is that?"And some said, " I n'ot never what,"And whan they were all on a hepe,Tho behind gone up lepe,And clamben up on other faste,And up the noyse on highen caste,And treden fast on others heles,And stampe as men done after eles.At the last I saw a man,Which that I nought ne can,But he seemed for to beA man of great auctorite.And therewithall I abraideOut of my slepe halfe afraide,Remembring well what I had sene,And how hie and ferre I had beneIn my gost, and had great wonder Of that the god of thonder Had let me knowen, and began to writeLike as ye have herd me endite,Wherefore to study and rede alway,I purpose to do day by day.Thus in dreaming and in game,Endeth this litell booke of Fame.HERE ENDETH THE BOOKE OF FAME.CHAUCER'S DREAM,FIRST PRINTED IN 1597.THAT WHICH HERETOFORE HATH GONE UNDER THE NAME OF HIS DREAM, IS THE BOOKE OF THE DUTCHESSE: OR THE DEATH OF BLANCH, DUTCHESS OF LANCASTER.WHAN Flora the queene of pleasaunce,Had whole achieved thobeisaunce Of the fresh and new season,Thorow out every region,And with her mantle whole covert That winter made had discovertOf aventure, withoute light,In May, I lay upon a nightAlone, and on my lady thought,And how the lord that her wrought,Couth well entaile in imagery And shewed had great maistry,Whan he in so little spaceMade such a body and a face,So great beaute with swiche features More than in other creatures;And in my thoughtes as I lay In a lodge out of the way,Beside a well in a forest,Where after hunting I tooke rest,Nature and kind so in me wrought,That halfe on sleepe they me brought,And gan to dreame to my thinking,With mind of knowliche like making,For what I dreamed, as me thought,I sawit, and I slept nought;Wherefore is yet my full beleeve,That some good spirit that eve,By meane of some curious port,Bare me, where I saw paine and sport;But whether it were I woke or slept,Well wot I of, lough and wept,Wherefore I woll in remembraunce,Put whole the paine, and the pleasaunce,Which was to me axen and hele,Would God ye wist it every dele,Or at the least, ye might o night Of such another have a sight,Although it were to you a paine,Yet on the morow ye would be faine,And wish it might longe dure;Than might ye say ye had good cure,For he that dreames and wenes he see,Much the better yet may hee Wite what, and of whom, and where,And eke the lasse it woll hindere To thinke I see this with mine eene,Ywis this may not dreame kene,But signe or signifiaunce Of hasty thing souning pleasaunce,For on this wise upon a night,As ye have heard, without light,v. 1-104Not all waking, ne full on sleepe,About such houre as lovers weepeAnd cry after their ladies grace,Befell me this wonder cace,Which ye shall heare and all the wise,So wholly as I can devise,In plaine English evill written,For sleepe writer, well ye witten,Excused is, though he do mis,More than one that waking is,Wherefore here of your gentilnesse,I you require my boistousnesseYe let passe, as thinge rude,And heareth what I woll conclude;And of the enditing taketh no heed,Ne of the tearmes, so God you speed,But let all passe as nothing were,For thus befell, as you shall here.Within an yle me thought I was,Where wall and yate was all of glasse,And so was closed round about That leavelesse none come in ne out,Uncouth and straunge to behold,For every yate of fine gold A thousand fanes, aie turning,Entuned had, and briddes singing,Divers, and on each fane a paire,With open mouth again thaire;And of a sute were all the toures,Subtily corven after floures,Of uncouth colours during aye,That never been none seene in May,With many a small turret hie,But man on live could I non sie,Ne creatures, save ladies play,Which were such of their arrayThat, as me thought, of goodlihead They passeden all and womanhead;For to behold them daunce and sing,It seemed like none earthly thing,Such was their uncouth countinaunceIn every play of right usaunce;And of one age everichone They seemed all, save onely one,Which had of yeeres suffisaunce,For she might neither sing ne daunce,But yet her countenaunce was so glad,As she so fewe yeeres had had As any lady that was there,And as little it did her dereOf lustines to laugh and tale As she had full stuffed a male390 CHAUCER'S DREAM. v. 105-244Of disports and new playes:Faire had she been in her daies,And maistresse seemed well to beOf all that lusty companie;And so she might, I you ensure,For one the conningest creature She was, and so said everichone,That ever her knew, there failed none,For she was sober and well avised,And from every fault disguised,And nothing used but faith and truth;That she n'as young it was great ruth,For every where and in ech place,She governed her, that in grace She stode alway with poore and riche,That, at a word, was none her liche,Ne halfe so able maistres to be To such a lusty companie.Befell me so, when I avised Had the yle that me suffised,And whole the state every where,That in that lusty yle was there,Which was more wonder to deviseThan the joieux paradise,I dare well say, for floure ne tree,Ne thing wherein pleasaunce might bee There failed none, for every wight Had they desired, day and night,Riches, heale, beauty, and ease,With every thing that them might please,Thinke and have, it cost no more;In such a country there before,Had I not bene, ne heard tell That lives creature might dwell.And when I had thus all aboutThe yle avised throughoutThe state, and how they were arayed,In my heart I were well payed,And in my selfe I me assured That in my body I was well ured,Sith I might have such a grace To see the ladies and the place,Which were so faire, I you ensure,That to my dome, though that nature Would ever strive and do her paine,She should not con ne mow attaine The least feature to amend,Though she would all her conning spend,That to beauty might availe,It were but paine and lost travaile,Such part in their nativity Was them alarged of beauty,And eke they had a thing notable Unto their death, ay durable,And was, that their beauty should dure,Which was never seene in creature,Save onely there (as I trow)It hath not be wist ne know,Wherefore I praise with their conning,That during beauty, rich thing,Had they been of their lives certaine,They had been quite of every paine.And when I wende thus all have seene,The state, the riches, that might beene,That me thought impossible were To see one thing more than was there,That to beauty or glad conning Serve or availe might any thing;All sodainly, as I there stood,This lady that couth so much good,Unto me came with smiling chere,And said, " Benedicite, this yere Saw I never man here but you,Tell me how ye come hider now?And your name, and where ye dwell?And whom ye seeke eke mote ye tell,And how ye come be to this place,The soth well told may cause you grace,And else ye mote prisoner be Unto the ladies here, and me,That have the governaunce of this yle:"And with that word she gan to smile,And so did all the lusty rout Of ladies that stood her about."Madame," (quod I) " this night past,Lodged I was and slept fast In a forest beside a well,And now am here, how should I tell?Wot I not by whose ordinance,But onely Fortunes purveiance,Which puts many, as I gesse,To travaile, paine, and businesse,And lettes nothing for their truth ,But some sleeth eke, and that is ruth,Wherefore, I doubt her brittilnes,Her variance and unsteadfastnes,So that I am as yet afraid,And of my being here amaid,For wonder thing seemeth me,Thus many fresh ladies to see,So faire, so cunning, and so yong,And no man dwelling them among:N'ot I not how I hider come,Madame," (quod I) " this all and some,What should I faine a long processeTo you that seeme such a princesse?What please you commaund or say,Here I am you to obay,To my power, and all fulfill,And prisoner bide at your will,Till you duly enformed be Of every thing ye aske me."This lady there, right well apaid,Me by the hand tooke, and said,"Welcome prisoner adventurous,Right glad am I ye have said thus,And for ye doubt me to displease,I will assay to do you ease:"And with that word, ye anon,She, and the ladies everichon Assembled, and to counsaile went,And after that soone for me sent,And to me said on this manere,Word for word, as ye shall here."To see you here us thinke marvaile,And how without bote or saile,By any subtilty or wyle,Ye get have entre in this yle;But not for that, yet shall ye see That we gentill women bee,Loth to displease any wight,Notwithstanding our great right,And for ye shall well understond The old custome of this lond,Which hath continued many yere,Ye shall well wete that with us hereYe may not bide, for causes twaine,Which we be purposed you to saine." Th'one is this, our ordinance,Which is of long continuance,v. 245-384 CHAUCER'S DREAM. 391Woll not, sothly we you tell,That no man here among us dwell,Wherefore ye mote needs retourne,In no wise may you here sojourne."Th'other is eke, that our queeneOut of the realme, as ye may seene,Is, and may be to us a charge,If we let you goe here at large,For which cause the more we doubt,To doe a fault while she is out,Or suffer that may be noysaunce,Againe our old accustomaunce."And whan I had these causes twaineHeard, O God! what a paineAll sodainly about mine herte There came at ones and how smart,In creeping soft as who should steale,Or doe me robbe of all mine heale,And made me in my thought so fraid,That in courage I stode dismaid.And standing thus, as was my grace,A lady came more than apace,With huge prease her about,And told how the queene without Was arived and would come in,Well were they that thider might twin,They hied so they would not abide The bridling their horse to ride,By five, by sixe, by two, by three,There was not one abode with me,The queene to meet everichone,They went, and bode with me not one:And I, after a soft pase,Imagining how to purchase Grace of the queene, there to bide,Till good fortune some happy guideMe send might, that would me bring Where I was borne to my wonning,For way ne foot knew I none,Ne witherward I n'ist to gone,For all was sea about the yle,No wonder though me list not smile,Seeing the case uncouth and straunge,And so in like a perilous chaunge;Imagining thus walking alone,I saw the ladies everichone,So that I might somwhat offer,Sone after that I drew me nere,And tho I was ware of the queene,And how the ladies on their kneene,With joyous words, gladly advised,Her welcomed so that it suffised,Though she princes hole had be Of all environed is with see:And thus avising, with chere sad,All sodainly I was glad,That greater joy, as mote I thrive,I trow had never man on live,Than I tho, ne heart more light,Whan of my lady I had sight,Which with the queene come was there,And in one clothing both they were,A knight also there well beseene,I saw that come was with the queene,Of whome the ladies of that yle Had huge wonder longe while,Till at the last right soberly,The queene her selfe full cunningly,With soft words in good wise,Said to the ladies young and nise,"My sisters, how it hath befall,I trow ye know it one and all,That of long time here have I beene,Within this yle biding as queene,Living at ease, that never wight More parfit joy have ne might,And to you been of governance,Such as you found in whole pleasance,In every thing as ye know,After our custome and our low,Which how they first found were,I trow ye wote all the manere,And who queene is of this yle,As I have been long while,Ech seven yeeres not of usage,Visit the heavenly armitage,Which on a rocke so high stonds,In strange sea out from all londs,That to make the pilgrimage Is called a long perillous viage,For if the wind be not good frend,The journey dures to the end Of him that it undertakes,Of twenty thousand one not scapes;Upon which rock growth a tree,That certaine yeeres beares apples three,Which three apples who may have,Been from all displeasaunce save,That in the seven yeere may fall,This wote you well one and all ,For the first apple and the hext,Which growth unto you next,Hath three vertues notable,And keepeth youth aie durable,Beauty and looke, ever in one,And is the best in everichone."The second apple red and grene,Onely with lookes of your yene,You nourishes in pleasaunceBetter than partridge or fesaunce,And feeds every lives wight Pleasantly with the sight." The third apple of the three,Which groweth lowest on the tree,Who it beares may not faileThat to his pleasaunce may availe.So your pleasure and beauty rich,Your during youth ever liche,Your truth, your cunning, and your weale,Hath aye floured, and your good heale,Without sicknes or displeasaunce,Or thing that to you was noysaunce,So that you have as goddesses,Lived above all princesses:Now is befall, as ye may see;To gather these said apples three,I have not failed againe the day,Thitherward to take the way,Wening to speed as I had oft,But whan I come, I find aloftMy sister which that here stands,Having those apples in her hands,Avising them and nothing said,But looked as she were well paid:And as I stood her to behold,Thinking how my joyes were cold,Sith I those apples have ne might,Even with that so came this knight,And in his armes of me aware,Me tooke, and to his ship me bare,392 CHAUCER'S DREAM. v. 385-524And said, though him I never had seen,Yet had I long his lady been,Wherefore I should with him wend,And he would to his lives endMy servant be, and gan to sing As one that had wonne a rich thing;Tho were my spirits fro me gone,So sodainly everichone,That in me appeared but death,For I felt neither life ne breath,Ne good ne harme none I knew,The sodaine paine me was so new,That had not the hasty grace beOf this lady, that fro the tree Of her gentilnesse so hied Me to comfort, I had died,And of her three apples, one In mine hand there put anone,Which brought againe mind and breath,And me recovered from the death,Wherefore, to her so am I hold,That for her all things do I wold,For she was lech of all my smart,And from great paine so quite mine hart,And, as God wote, right as ye heare,Me to comfort with friendly cheare She did her prowesse and her might,And truly eke so did this knight,In that he couth, and oft said,That of my wo he was ill paid,And cursed the ship that them there brought,The mast, the master that it wrought;And as ech thing mote have an end,My sister here your brother frend,Con with her words so womanlyThis knight entreat, and conningly,For mine honour and his also,And said that with her we should go Both in her ship, where she was brought,Which was so wonderfully wrought,So cleane, so rich, and so araid,That we were both content and paid,And me to comfort and to please,And mine herte to put at ease,She toke great paine in little while,And thus hath brought us to this yle,As ye may see, wherefore echone,I pray you thanke her, one and one,As heartily as ye can devise,Or imagine in any wise."At once there tho men might seen A world of ladies fall on kneenBefore my lady, that there about Was left none standing in the rout,But altogither they went at ones To kneele, they spared not for the stones,Ne for estate, ne for their blood,Well shewed there they couth much good,For to my lady they made such feast,With such words, that the least,So friendly and so faithfully Said was, and so cunningly,That wonder was, seing their youth,To here the language they couth,And wholly how they governed were,In thanking of my lady there,And said by will and maundement,They were at her commaundement,Which was to me as great a joy,As winning of the towne of TroyWas to the hardy Greekes strong,Whan they it wan with siege long,To see my lady in such a place So received as she was:And whan they talked had a while Of this and that, and of the yle,My lady, and the ladies there,Altogether as they were,The queene her selfe began to play,And to the aged lady say:"Now seemeth you not good it were,Sith we be altogither here,To ordaine and devise the best,To set this knight and me at rest?For woman is a feble wight To rere a warre against a knight,And sith he here is in this place,At my list, danger or grace,It were to me great villany To do him any tiranny,But faine I would, now will ye here,In his owne country that he were,And I in peace, and he at ease,This were a way us both to please,If it might be; I you beseech,With him hereof you fall in speech."This lady tho began to smile,Avising her a little while,And with glad chere she said anone,"Madam, I will unto him gone,And with him speake, and of him fele What he desires every dele: "And soberly this lady tho,Her selfe and other ladies twoShe tooke with her, and with sad chere,Said to the knight on this manere," Sir, the princes of this yle,Whom for your pleasance many mileYe sought have, as I understond,Till at the last ye have her fond,Me sent hath here, and ladies twaine,To heare all thing that ye saine,And for what cause ye have her sought,Faine would she wote, and whol your thought,And why you do her all this wo,And for what cause you be her fo?And why, of every wight unware,By force ye to your ship her bare,That she so nigh was agone,That mind ne speech had she none,But as a painfull creature,Dying, abode her adventure,That her to see indure that paine,Here well say unto you plaine,Right on your selfe ye did amisse,Seeing how she a princes is."This knight, the which couth his good,Right of his truth meved his blood,That pale he woxe as any lead,And lookt as he would be dead,Blood was there none in nother cheke,Wordlesse he was and semed sicke,And so it proved well he was,For without moving any paas,All sodainely as thing dying,He fell at once downe sowning,That for his wo this lady fraid,Unto the queene her hied and said,"Cometh on anon as have you blisse,But ye be wise, thing is amisse,v. 525-664 CHAUCER'S DREAM. 393This knight is dead or will be soone,Lo, where he lyeth in a swoone,Without word, or answeringTo that I have said, any thing:Wherefore, I doubt that the blameMight be hindering to your name,Which floured hath so many yere,So long, that for nothing here,I would in no wise he died,Wherefore good were thatye His life to save at the least,And after that his wo be ceast,Commaund him void, or dwell,For in no wise dare I more mellOf thing wherein such perill is,As like is now to fall of this."hied?This queene right tho full of great feare,With all the ladies present there,Unto the knight came where he lay,And made a lady to him say:" Lo, here the queene, awake for shame!What will you doe, is this good game Why lye you here, what is your mind?Now is well seene your wit is blind,To see so many ladies here,And ye to make none other chere,But as ye set them all at nought;Arise, for his love that you bought: "But what she said, a word not oneHe spake, ne answer gave her none.The queene of very pitty tho,Her worship, and his like also,To save there she did her paine,And quoke for feare, and gan to saine For woe, " Alas, what shall I doe?What shall I say this man unto?If he die here, lost is my name,How shal I play this perillous game?If any thing be here amisse,It shall be said it rigour is,Whereby my name impayre might,And like to die eke is this knight:And with that word her hand she laidUpon his brest, and to him said,"Awake my knight! lo, it am IThat to you speake, now tell me why Ye fare thus, and this paine endure,Seeing ye be in country sure,Among such friends that would you heale,Your hertes ease eke and your weale,And if I wist what you might ease,Or know the thing that you might please,I you ensure it should not faile,That to your heale you might availe:Wherefore, with all my herte I pray Ye rise, and let us talke and play;And see! how many ladies here Be comen for to make good chere."All was for nought, for still as stoneHe lay, and word spoke none.Long while was or he might braid,And of all that the queene had said,He wist no word, but at the last,66 Mercy," twise he cried fast,That pitty was his voice to heare,Or to behold his painefull cheare,Which was not fained well was to sein,Both by his visage and his eyn,Which on the queene at once he cast,And sighed as he would to brast,And after that he shright so That wonder was to see his wo,For sith that paine was first named,Was never more wofull paine attained,For with voice dead he gan to plaine,And to himselfe these words saine,"I wofull wight full of malure,Am worse than dead, and yet dure,Maugre any paine or death,Against my will I fell my breath:Why n'am I dead sith I ne serve,And sith my lady will me sterve?Where art thou Death, art thou agast?Well, shall we meete yet at the last,Though thou thee hide, it is for nought,For where thou dwelst thou shalt be sought;Maugre thy subtill double face,Here will I die right in this place,To thy dishonour and mine ease;Thy manner is no wight to please,What needs thee, sith I thee seche,So thee to hide my paine to eche?And well wost thou I will not live,Who would me all this world here give,For I have with my cowardise,Lost joy, and heale, and my servise,And made my soveraigne lady so,That while she lives I trow my fo She will be ever to her end,Thus have I neither joy ne frend;Wote I not whether hast or slothHath caused this now by my troth,For at the hermitage full hie,Whan I her saw first with mine eye,I hied till I was aloft,And made my pace small and soft,Till in mine armes I had her fast,And to my ship bare at the last,Whereof she was displeased so,That endlesse there seemed her wo,And I thereof had so great fere,That me repent that I come there,Which hast I trow gan her displease,And is the cause of my disease: "And with that word he gan to cry," Now Death, Death! twy or thry,And motred wot I not what of slouth,And even with that the queene, of routh,Him in her armes tooke and said,"Now mine owne knight, be not evill apaid That I a lady to you sentTo have knowledge of your entent,For, in good faith, I meant but well,And would ye wist it every dele,Nor will not do to you ywis;"And with that word she gan him kisse,And prayed him rise, and said she would His welfare, by her truth, and told Him how she was for his diseaseRight sory, and faine would him please,His life to save these words tho She said to him, and many moIn comforting, for from the paine She would he were delivered faine.The knight tho up cast his een,And whan he saw it was the queen,That to him had these words said,Right in his wo he gan to braid,And him up dresses for to knele,The queene avising wonder wele:394 CHAUCER'S DREAM. v. 665-804But as he rose he overthrew,Wherefore the queene, yet eft anew,Him in her armes anon tooke,And pitiously gan on him looke,But for all that nothing she said,Ne spake not like she were well paid,Ne no chere made, nor sad ne light,But all in one to every wight There was seene conning, with estate,In her without noise or debate,For save onely a looke piteous,Of womanhead undispiteous,That she showed in countenance ,For seemed her herte from obeisance,And not for that she did her reineHim to recure from the peine,And his herte to put at large,For her entent was to his bargeHim to bring against the eve,With certaine ladies and take leve,And pray him of his gentilnesse,To suffer her thenceforth in peace,As other princes had before,And from thenceforth for evermore,She would him worship in all wise,That gentilnesse might devise,And paine her wholly to fulfill,In honour, his pleasure and will.And during thus this knights wo,Present the queene and other mo,My lady, and many another wight,Ten thousand ships at a sight,I saw come over the wawy flood,With saile and ore, that as I stood Them to behold, I gan marvaile From whom might come so many a saile,For sith the time that I was bore,Such a navy there before Had I not seene, ne so arayed,That for the sight my herte played To and fro within my brestFor joy, long was or it would rest,For there was sailes full offloures,After castels with huge toures,Seeming full of armes bright,That wonder lusty was the sight,With large toppes, and mastes long,Richly depeint, and rear among At certain times gan repaire Small birds downe from th'aire,And on the ships bounds about Sate and song with voice full out,Ballades and layes right joyously,As they couth in their harmony,That you to write that I there see,Mine excuse is it may not be,For why the matter were to long To name the birds and write their song:Whereof, anon, the tidings thereUnto the queene soone brought were,With many alas, and many a doubt,Shewing the ships there without.Tho gan the aged lady weepe,And said, " Alas, our joy on sleepe Soone shall be brought, ye, long or night,For we descried been by this knight,For certes, it may none other be,But he is of yond companie,And they be come him here to seche,"And with that word her failed speche."Without remedy we be destroid,"Full oft said all, and gan conclude,Holy at once at the last,That best was sh*t their yates fast,And arme them all in good langage,As they had done of old usage,And of faire wordes make their shot,This was their counsaile and the knot,And other purpose tooke they none,But armed thus forth they goneToward the walles of the yle,But or they come there long while,They met the great lord of bove,That called is the god of love,That them avised with such chere,Right as he with them angry were:Availed them not their walls of glasse,This mighty lord let not to passe,The shutting of their yates fast,All they had ordaind was but wast,For whan his ships had found land,This lord anon, with bow in hand,Into this yle with huge prease Hied fast, and would not ceaseTill he came there the knight lay;Of queene ne lady by the way Tooke he no heed but forth past,And yet all followed at the last;And whan he came where lay the knight,Well shewed he he had great might,And forth the queene called anone,And all the ladies everichone,And to them said, " Is not thus routh,To see my servaunt for his trouth,Thus leane, thus sicke , and in this paine,And wot not unto whom to plaine,Save onely one without mo,Which might him him heale and is his fo?"And with that word his heavy browHe shewed the queene and looked row;This mighty lord forth tho anone,With o looke her faults echoneHe can her shew in little speech,Commaunding her to be his leech,Withouten more, shortly to say,He thought the queene soone should obay,And in his hond he shoke his bow,And said right soone he would be know,And for she had so long refused- His service, and his lawes not used,He let her wit that he was wroth,And bent his bow and forth he goth A pace or two, and even thereA large draught, up to his eare,He drew, and with an arrow groundSharpe and new, the queene a wound He gave, that piersed unto the herte,Which afterward full sore gan smart,And was not whole of many a yeare;And even with that, " Be of good cheare,My knight," (quod he) " I will thee hele,And thee restore to parfite wele,And for each paine thou hast endured,To have two joys thou art cured: "And forth he past by the rout,With sober cheare walking about,And what he said I thought to heare,Well wist he which his servaunts were,And as he passed anon he fond,My lady, and her tooke by the hond,v. 805-944 CHAUCER'S DREAM. 395And made her chere as a goddes,And of beaute called her princes,Of bounte eke gave her the name,And said there was nothing blame In her, but she was vertuous,Saving she would no pity use,Which was the cause that he her sought,To put that far out of her thought,And sith she had whole richesseOf womanhead, and friendlinesse,He said it was nothing fitting To void pity his owne legging,And gan her preach and with her play,And of her beauty told her aie,And said she was a creatureOf whom the name should endure,And in bookes full of pleasaunceBe put for ever in remembraunce,And, as me thought, more friendly Unto my lady, and goodlely He spake, than any that was there,And for th' apples I trow it were,That she had in possession;Wherefore, long in procession,Many a pace, arme under other,He welke, and so did with none other,But what he would commaund or say,Forthwith needs all must obay,And what he desired at the lest,Of my lady, was by request;And whan they long together had beene,He brought my lady to the queene,And to her said, " So God you speed,Shew grace, consent, that is need. "My lady tho, full conningly,Right well avised and womanly Downe gan to kneele upon the floures,Which April nourished had with shoures,And to this mighty lord gan say,"That pleaseth you, I woll obay,And me restraine from other thought,As ye woll all thing shall be wrought. "And with that word kneeling she quoke;That mighty lord in armes her tooke,And said, " You have a servaunt one,That truer living is there none,Wherefore, good were, seeing his trouth,That on his paines ye had routh,And purpose you to heare his speech,Fully avised him to leech,For of one thyng ye may be sure,He will be yours while he may dure. "And with that word, right on his game,Me thought he lough, and told my name,Which was to me marvaile and fere,That what to do I n'ist there,Ne whether was me bet or none,There to abide, or thus to gone,For well wend I my lady wold Imagen or deme that I had told My counsaile whole, or made complaint Unto that lord, that mighty saint,So verily each thing unsought He said, as he had knowne my thought,And told my trouth and mine unease Bet than I couth have for mine ease,Though I had studied all a weeke,Well wist that lord that I was seeke,And would be leched wonder faine,No man me blame, mine was the paine:And whan this lord had all said,And long with my lady plaid,She gan to smile with spirit glade,This was the answere that she made,Which put me there in double peine,That what to do, ne what to seine Wist I not, ne what was the best,Ferre was my herte than fro his rest,For, as I thought, that smiling signe Was token that the herte enclineWould to requests reasonable,Because smiling is favorable To every thing that shall thrive,So thought I tho; anon, blive,That worldlesse answere in no toun Was tane for obligatioun,Ne called surety in no wise,Amongst them that called been wise.Thus was I in a joyous dout,Sure and unsurest of that rout,Right as mine herte thought So more or lesse wexe my fere,That ifone thought made it wele Another shent it every dele,Till, at the last, I couth no more,But purposed, as I did before,To serve truly my lives space,Awaiting ever the yeare of grace,Which may fall yet or I sterve,If it please her that I serve,And served have, and woll do ever,For thing is none that me is lever Than her service, whose presenceMine Heaven is whole, and her absence An Hell, full of divers paines,were,Which to the death full oft me straines.Thus in my thoughts as I stood,That unneth felt I harme ne good,I saw the queene a little paas Come where this mighty lord was,And kneeled downe in presence there Of all the ladies that there were,With sober countenaunce avised,In few words that well suffised,And to this lord, anon, presentA bill, wherein whole her entent Was written, and how she besought,As he knew every will and thought,That of his godhead and his grace He would forgive all old trespace,And undispleased be of time past,For she would ever be stedfast,And in his service to the deathUse every thought while she had breath;And sight and wept, and said no more;Within was written all the sore,At which bill the lord gan smile,And said he would within that yleBe lord and sire, both east and west,And cald it there his new conquest,And in great councell tooke the queene,Long were the tales them betweene,And over her bill he read thrise,And wonder gladly gan devise Her features faire and her visage,And bad good thrift on that image,And sayd he trowed her compleint Should after cause her be corseint,And in his sleeve he put the bill ,Was there none that knew his will,396 CHAUCER'S DREAM. v. 945-1084And forth he walke apace aboutBeholding all the lusty rout,Halfe in a thought with smiling chere,Till at the last, as ye shall here,He turned unto the queene ageine,And said, " To morne, here in this pleine,I woll ye be, and all yours,That purposed ben to weare flours,Or of my lusty colour use,It may not be to you excuse,Ne none of yours in no wise,That able be to my servise,For as I said have here before,I will be lord for evermoreOf you, and of this yle, and all,And of all yours, that have shall Joy, peace, ease, or in pleasaunce Your lives use without noysaunce;Here will I in state be seene,"And turned his visage to the queene," And you give knowledge of my will,And a full answere of your bill. "Was there no nay, ne words none,But very obeisaunt seemed echone,Queene and other that were there,Well seemed it they had great fere,And there tooke lodging every night,Was none departed of that night,And some to read old romances,Them occupied for their pleasances,Some to make verelaies and laies,And some to other diverse plaies:And I to me a romance tooke,And as I reading was the booke,Me thought the sphere had so run,That it was rising of the Sun,And such a prees into the plaine Assemble gone, that with great paine One might for other go ne stand,Ne none take other by the hand,Withouten they distourbed were,So huge and great the prees was there.And after that within two houres,This mighty lord all in floures Of divers colours many a paire,In his estate up in the aire,Well two fathom, as his hight,He set him there in all their sight,And for the queene and for the knight,And for my lady, and every wight In hast he sent, so that never oneWas there absent, but come echone:And whan they thus assembled were,As ye have heard me say you here,Without more tarrying, on hight,There to be seene of every wight,Up stood among the prees above A counsayler, servaunt of Love,Which seemed well of great estate,And shewed there how no debateOwe no goodly might be used In gentilnesse, and be excused,Wherefore, he said, his lordes willWas every wight there should be still,And in pees, and one accord,And thus commaunded at a word,And can his tongue to swiche languageTurne, that yet in all mine age Heard I never so conninglyMan speake, ne halfe so faithfully,For every thing he said there Seemed as it insealed were,Or approved for very trew:Swiche was his cunning language new,And well according to his chere,That where I be, me thinke I here Him yet alway, whan I mine one In any place may be alone:First con he of the lusty yle All th'astate in little whileRehearse, and wholly every thing That caused there his lordes comming,And every wele and every wo,And for what cause ech thing was so,Well shewed he there in easie speech,And how the sicke had need of leech:And that whole was, and in grace,He told plainly why each thing was,And at the last he con conclude,Voided every language rude,And said, " That prince, that mighty lord,Or his departing, would accord All the parties there present,And was the fine of his entent,Witnesse his presence in your sight,Which sits among you in his might: "And kneeled downe withouten more,And not o word spake he more.Tho gan this mighty lord him dresse,With cheare avised, to do largesse,And said unto this knight and me,"Ye shall to joy restored be,And for ye have ben true, ye twaine,I graunt you here for every paine A thousand joys every weeke,And looke ye be no lenger seeke.And both your ladies, lo, hem here Take ech his own, beeth of good chere,Your happy day is new begun,Sith it was rising of the Sun,And to all other in this placeI graunt wholly to stand in grace,That serveth truely, without slouth,And to avaunced be by trouth. "Tho can this knight and I downe kneele,Wening to doe wonder wele,""" Seeing, O Lord, your great mercy,Us hath enriched so openly,That we deserve may never moreThe least part, but evermore With soule and body truely serveYou and yours till we sterve. 'And to their ladies there they stood,This knight that couth so mikel good,Went in hast, and I also,Joyous, and glad were we tho,And also rich in every thought,As he that all hath and ought nought,And them besought in humble wise,Us t'accept to their service,And shew us , of their friendly cheares,Which in their treasure many yeares,They kept had, us to great paine,And told how their servants twaine,Were and would be, and so had ever,And to the death chaunge would we never,Ne doe offence, ne thinke like ill,But fill their ordinance and will:And made our othes fresh new,Our old service to renew,v. 1085-1224 CHAUCER'S DREAM. 397And wholly theirs for evermore,We there become, what might we more?And well awaiting, that in slouth We made ne fault, ne in our trouth,Ne thought not do, I you ensure,With our will, where we may dure.This season past, againe an eve,This lord of the queene tooke leve,And said he would hastely returne,And at good leisure there sojourne,Both for his honour and for his ease,Commaunding fast the knight to please,And gave his statutes in papers,And ordent divers officers,And forth to ship the same night He went, and soone was out of sight.And on the morrow, whan the aire Attempred was and wonder faire,Early at rising of the Sun,After the night away was run,Playing us on the rivage,My lady spake of her voyage,And said she made small journies,And held her in straunge countries,And forthwith to the queene went,And shewed her wholly her entent,And tooke her leave with cheare weeping,That pitty was to see that parting:For to the queene it was a paine,As to a martyr new yslaine,99That for her woe, and she so tender,Yet I weepe oft whan I remember;She offerd there to resigne,To my lady eight times or nine,Th'astate, the yle, shortly to tell,If it might please her there to dwell,And said for ever her linage Should to my lady doe homage,And hers be hole withouten more,Ye, and all theirs for evermore:"Nay, God forbid," my lady oft,With many conning word and soft,Seid, " that ever such thing should beene,That I consent should, that a queeneOf your estate, and so well named,In any wise should be attamed;But would be faine with all my herte,What so befell, or how me smert,To doe thing that you might please,In any wise, or be your ease:And kissed there, and bad good night,For which leve wept many a wight;There might men here my lady praised,And such a name of her araised,What of cunning and friendlinesse,What of beauty with gentilnesse,What of glad and friendly cheares,That she used in all her yeares,That wonder was here every wight,To say well how they did their might;And with a prees, upon the morrow,To ship her brought, and what a sorrow They made, whan she should under saile,That, and ye wist, ye would mervaile.Forth goeth the ship, out goeth the sond,And I as a wood man unbond,For doubt to be behind there,Into the sea withouten fere,Anon I ran, till with a waw,All sodenly I was overthraw,And with the water to and fro,Backward and forward travailed so,That mind and breath nigh was goneFor good ne harme knew I none,Til at the last with hookes tweine,Men of the ship with mikel peine,To save my life, did such travaile,That, and ye wist, ye would mervaile,And in the ship me drew on hie,And saiden all that I would die,And laid me long downe by the mast,And of their clothes on me cast,And there I made my testament,And wist my selfe not what I ment,But whan I said had what I would,And to the mast my wo all told,And tane my leave of every wight,And closed mine eyen, and lost my sight,Avised to die, without more speech,Or any remedy to seech Of grace new, as was great need:My lady of my paine tooke heed,And her bethought how that for trouth To see me die it were great routh,And to me came in sober wise,And softly said, " I pray you rise,Come on with me, let be this fare,All shall be wel, have ye no care,I will obey ye and fulfill Holy in all that lords will,That you and me not long ago,After his list commaunded so,That there againe no resistence May be without great offence,And, therefore, now loke what I say,I am and will be friendly aye,Rise up, behold this avauntage,I graunt you inheritage,Peaceably without strive,During the daies of your live ."And of her apples in my sleve One she put, and took her leve In words few and said, " Good hele,He that all made, you send and wele: "Wherewith my paines, all at ones,Tooke such leave, that all my bones,For the new duranse pleasaunce,So as they couth, desired to daunce,And I as whole as any wight,Up rose, with joyous herte and light,Hole and unsicke, right wele at ease,And all forget had my disease,And to my lady, where she plaid,I went anone, and to her said:"He that all joies persons to please First ordained with parfite ease,And every pleasure can depart,Send you madame, as large a part,And of his goods such plenty,As he has done you of beauty,With hele and all that may be thought,He send you all as he all wrought:Madame," (quoth I) " your servaunt trew,Have I ben long, and yet will new,Without chaunge or repentaunce,In any wise or variaunce,And so will do, as thrive I ever,For thing is none that me is leverThan you to please, how ever I fare,Mine hertes lady and my welfare,398 CHAUCER'S DREAM. v. 1225-1364My life, mine hele, my lech also,Of every thing that doth me wo,My helpe at need, and my surete Of every joy that longs to me,My succours whole in all wise,That may be thought or man devise,Your grace, madame, such have I found,Now in my need that I am bound To you for ever, so Christ me save,For heale and live of you I have,Wherefore is reasoun I you serve,With due obeisaunce till I sterve,And dead and quicke be ever yours,Late, early, and at all hours."Tho came my lady small alite ,And in plaine English con consite In words few, whole her entent She shewed me there, and how she ment To meward in every wise,Wholly she came at their devise,Without processe or long travell,Charging me to keepe counsell,As I would to her grace attaine,Of which commaundement I was faine,Wherefore I passe over at this time,For counsell cords not well in rime,And eke the oth that I have swore,To breake me were better unbore,Why for untrue for evermore I should be hold, that nevermoreOf mein place should be report Thing that availe might, or comfort To mewards in any wise,And ech wight would me dispise In that they couth, and me repreeve,Which were a thing sore for to greeve,Wherefore hereof more mencion Make I not now ne long sermon,But shortly thus I me excuse,To rime a councell I refuse.Sailing thus two dayes or three,My lady towards her countree,Over the waves high and greene,Which were large and deepe betweene,Upon a time me called, and said That of my hele she was well paid,And of the queene and of the yle,She talked with me long while,And of all that she there had seene,And of the state, and of the queene,And of the ladies name by name,Two houres or mo, this was her game,Till at the last the wind gan rise,And blew so fast, and in such wise,The ship that every wight can say,"Madame, er eve be of this day,And God tofore, ye shall be there As ye would fainest that ye were,And doubt not within sixe hours,Ye shall be there, as all is yours."At which words she gan to smile,And said that was no long while,That they her set, and up she rose,And all about the ship she gose,And made good cheare to every wight,Till of the land she had a sight,Of which sight glad, God it wote,She was abashed and abote,And forth goeth, shortly you to tell,Where she accustomed was to dwell,And received was, as good right,With joyous cheere and hertes light,And as a glad new aventure,Pleasaunt to every creature,With which landing tho I woke,And found my chamber full of smoke,My cheekes eke unto the eares,And all my body wet with teares,And all so feeble and in such wise,I was, that unneth might I rise,So fare travailed and so faint,That neither knew I kirke ne saint,Ne what was what, ne who was who,Ne avised what way I would go,But by a venturous grace,I rise and walkt, sought pace and pace,Till I a winding staire found,And held the vice aye in my hond,And upward softly so gan creepe,Till I came where I thought to sleepe More at mine ease, and out of preace,At my good leisure, and in peace,Till somewhat I recomfort wereOf the travell and great feare That I endured had before,This was my thought without more,And as a wight witlesse and faint,Without more, in a chamber paint Full of stories old and divers,More than I can now rehearse,Unto a bed full soberly,So as I might full sothly,Pace after other, and nothing said,Till at the last downe I me laid,And as my mind would give me leve,All that I dreamed had that eve,Before all I can rehearse,Right as a child at schoole his verse Doth after that he thinketh to thrive,Right so did I for all my live,I thought to have in remembraunce,Both the paine and the pleasaunce,The dreame whole, as it me befell,Which was as ye here me tell.Thus in my thoughts as I lay,That happy or unhappy day,Wot I not, so have I blame,Of the two which is the name:Befell me so, that there a thought,By processe new on sleepe me brought,And me governed so in a while,That againe within the yle,Methought I was, whereof the knight,And of the ladies I had a sight,And were assembled on a greene,Knight and lady, with the queene,At which assembly there was said,How they all content and paidWere wholly as in that thing,That the knight there should be king,And they would all for sure witnesse Wedded be both more and lesse,In remembraunce without more,Thus they consent for evermore,And was concluded that the knight Depart should the same night,And forthwith there tooke his voiage,To journey for his marriage,And returne with such an host,That wedded might be least and most,v. 1365-1504 CHAUCER'S DREAM. 399This was concluded, written and sealed,That it might not be repealed In no wise, but aie be firme,And all should be within a tearme,Without more excusation,Both feast and coronation.This knight which had thereof the charge,Anon into a little bargeBrought was late against an eve,Where of all he tooke his leave;Which barge was as a mans thought,After his pleasure to him brought,The queene her selfe accustomed aye In the same barge to play,It needeth neither mast ne rother,I have not heard of such another,No maister for the governaunce,Hie sayled by thought and pleasaunce,Without labour, east and west,All was one, calme or tempest,And I went with at his request,And was the first prayed to the fest.Whan he came in his countree,And passed had the wavy see,In an haven deepe and large He left his rich and noble barge,And to the court, shortly to tell,He went, where he wont was to dwell,And was received as good right,As heire, and for a worthy knight,With all the states of the lond,Which came anon at his first sond,With glad spirits full of trouth,Loth to do fault or with a slouth,Attaint be in any wise;Their riches was their old servise,Which ever trew had be fond,Sith first inhabit was the lond,And so received there hir king,That forgotten was no thing,That owe to be done ne might please,Ne their soveraine lord do ease,And with them, so shortly to say, ⚫As they of custome had done aye,For seven yere past was and more,The father, the old wise and hore King of the land tooke his leve Of all his barons on an eve,And told them how his dayes past Were all, and comen was the last,And hertily prayed hem to remember His sonne, which yong was and tender,That borne was their prince to be,If he returne to that countreeMight, by adventure or grace,Within any time or space,And to be true and friendly aye,As they to him had bene alway:Thus he them prayd, without more,And tooke his leave for evermore.Knowen was how, tender in age,This young prince a great viage Uncouth and straunge, honours to seeche,Tooke in hond with little speeche,Which was to seeke a princes That he desired more than riches,For her great name that floured so,That in that time there was no moOf her estate ne so well named,For borne was none that ever her blamed:Of which princes somewhat before,Here have I spoke, and some will more.So thus befell as ye shall heare,Unto their lord they made such cheare,That joy was there to be present To see their troth and how they ment,So very glad they were ech one,That them among there was no one,That desired more riches,Than for their lord such a princes,That they might please, and that were faire,For fast desired they an heire,And said great surety were ywis.And as they were speaking of this,The prince himselfe him avised,And in plaine English undisguised,Them shewed hole his journey,And of their counsell gan them prey,And told how he ensured was,And how his day he might not passe,Without diffame and great blame,And to him for ever shame,And of their counsell and avise,There he prayth them once or twise,And that they would within ten daies,Avise and ordaine him such waies,So that it were no displeasaunce,Ne to this realme over great grievaunce,And that he have might to his feast,Sixty thousand at the least,For his intent within short whileWas to returne unto his yleThat he came fro, and kepe his day,For nothing would he be away.To counsaile tho the lords anon,Into a chamber everychone,Togither went, them to devise,How they might best and in what wise,Purvey for their lords pleasaunce And the realmes continuaunce Of honor, which in it before Had continued evermore.So, at the last, they found the waies,How within the next ten daies,All might with paine and diligence Be done, and cast what the dispence Might draw, and in conclusion,Made for ech thing provision.Whan this was done, wholly toforeThe prince, the lords all before Come, and shewed what they had done,And how they couth by no reason Find that within the ten daies,•He might depart by no waies,But would be fifteene, at the least,Or he returne might to his feast:And shewed him every reason whyIt might not be so hastily,As he desired, ne his day He might not keepe by no way,For divers causes wonder great:Which, whan he heard, in such an heat He fell, for sorow and was seke,Still in his bed whole that weke,And nigh the tother for the shamne,And for the doubt, and for the blameThat might on him be aret,And oft upon his brest he bet,And said, " Alas, mine honour for aye,Have I here lost cleane this day,400 CHAUCER'S DREAM. v. 1505-1644Dead would I be! alas, my nameShall aye be more henceforth in shame,And I dishonoured and repreved,And never more shall be beleeved: "And made swich sorow, that in trouth,Him to behold it was great routh:And so endured the dayes fiftene,Till that the lords on an evenHim come, and told they ready were,And shewed in few words there,How and what wise they had purveydFor his estate, and to him said,That twenty thousand knights of name,And fourty thousand without blame,All come of noble lignee,Togider in a companee,Were " lodged on a rivers side,Him and his pleasure there t'abide.The prince tho for joy up rose,And where they lodged were, he goes Without more that same night,And these his supper made to dight,And with them bode till it was dey,And forthwith to take his journey,Leving the streight, holding the large,Till he came to his noble barge;And when this prince, this lusty knight,With his people in armes bright,Was comen where he thought to pas,And knew well none abiding wasBehind, but all were there present,Forthwith anon all his intentHe told them there, and made his criesThrough his hoste that day twise,Commaunding every lives wight,There being present in his sight,To be the morow on the rivage,Where he begin would his viage.The morrow come, the cry was kept,Few was there that night that slept,But trussed and purveied for the morrow,For fault of ships was all their sorrow,For save the barge, and other two,Of ships there saw I no mo:Thus in their doubts as they stood,Waxing the sea, comming the flood,Was cried, " To ship goe every wight,"Than was but hie, that hie might,And to the barge me thought echone They went, without was left not one,Horse, male, trusse, ne bagage,Salade, speare, gard-brace, ne page,But was lodged and roome ynough,At which shipping me thought I lough,And gan to marvaile in my thought,How ever such a ship was wrought,For what people that can encrease,Ne never so thicke might be the prease,But all had roome at their will,There was not one was lodged ill,For as I trow, my selfe the last Was one, and lodged by the mast,And where I looked I saw such rome,As all were lodged in a towne.Forth goth the ship, said was the creed,And on their knees for their good speed,Downe kneeled every wight a while,And praied fast that to the yleThey might come in safety,The prince and all the company,With worship and without blame,Or disclaunder of his name,Of the promise he should retourne,Within the time he did sojourne,In his lond biding his host,This was their prayer of least and most;To keepe the day it might not been,That he appointed had with the queen,To returne without slouth,And so assured had his trouth,For which fault this prince, this knight,During the time slept not a night,Such was his wo and his disease,For doubt he should the queene displease.Forth goeth the ship with such speed,Right as the prince for his great need Desire would after his thought,Till it unto the yle him brought,Where in hast upon the sand,He and his people tooke the land,With hertes glad, and chere light,Weening to be in Heaven that night:But or they passed a while,Entring in toward that yle,All clad in blacke with chere piteous,A lady which never dispiteous Had be in all her life tofore,With sory chere, and herte to tore,Unto this prince where he gan ride,Come and said, " Abide, abide,And have no hast, but fast retourne,No reason is ye here sojourne,For your untruth hath us discried,Wo worth the time we us alliedWith you, that are so soone untrew,Alas, the day that we you knew!Alas, the time that ye were bore,For all this lond by you is lore!Accursed be he you hider brought,For all your joy is turnd to nought,Your acquaintance we may complaine,Which is the cause of all our paine.""Alas, madame," quoth tho this knight,And with that from his horse he light,With colour pale, and cheekes lene," Alas, what is this for to mene?What have ye said, why be ye wroth?You to displease I would be loth,Know ye not well the promesse I made have to your princesse,Which to perfourme is mine intent,So mote I speed, as I have ment,And as I am her very trew,Without change or thought new,And also fully her servand,As creature or man livandMay be to lady or princesse,For she mine Heaven and whole richesseIs, and the lady of mine heale,My worlds joy and all my weale,What may this be, whence coms this speech?Tell me, madame, I you beseech,For sith the first of my living,Was I so fearfull of nothing,As I am now to heare you speake;For dout I feele mine herte breake;Say on, madame, tell me your will,The remenaunt is it good or ill? ”" Alas," (quod she) " that ye were bore,For, for your love this land is lore!v. 1645—1784 CHAUCER'S DREAM. 401The queene is dead, and that is ruth,For sorrow of your great untruth;Of two partes of the lusty rout Of ladies that were there about,That wont were to talke and play,Noware dead and cleane away,And under earth tane lodging new;Alas, that ever ye were untrew!For whan the time ye set was past,The queene to counsaile sone in hast,What was to doe, and said great blame Your acquaintaunce cause would and shame,And the ladies of their avisePrayed, for need was to be wise,In eschewing tales and songs,That by them make would ill tongs,And sey they were lightly conquest,And prayed to a poore feast,And foule had their worship weived,Whan so unwisely they conceived,Their rich treasour, and their heale,Their famous name, and their weale,To put in such an aventure,Of which the sclaunder ever dureWas like, without helpe of appele,Wherefore they need had of counsele,For every wight of them would say Their closed yle an open wayWas become to every wight,And well appreved by a knight,Which he alas, without paysaunce,Had soone acheved thobeisaunce:All this was moved at counsell thrise,And concluded daily twise,That bet was die without blame Than lose the riches of their name,Wherefore, the deaths acquaintaunce They chese, and left have their pleasaunce,For doubt to live as repreved,In that they you so soone beleeved,And made their othes with one accord,That eat, ne drinke, ne speake word,They should never, but ever weping Bide in a place without parting,And use their dayes in penaunce,Without desire of allegeaunce,Of which the truth, anon, con preve,For why? the queen forthwith her leve Toke at them all that were present,Of her defauts fully repent,And died there withouten more:Thus are we lost for evermore;What should I more hereof reherse?Comen within, come see her herse,Where ye shall see the piteous sight,That ever yet was shewen to knight,For ye shall see ladies stond,Ech with a great rod in hond,Clad in black, with visage white,Ready each other for to smite,If any be that will not wepe,Or who that makes countenaunce to slepe;They be so bet, that all so blew They be as cloth that died is new,Such is their parfite repentance;And thus they kepe their ordinance,And will do ever to the death,While them endures any breath."This knight tho in armes twaine,This lady tooke and gan her saine," Alas, my birth! wo worth my life!"And even with that he drew a knife,And through gowne, doublet, and shert,He made the blood come from his herte,And set him downe upon the greene,And full repent closed his eene,And save that ones he drew his breath,Without more thus he tooke his death.For which cause the lusty hoast,Which in a battaile on the coast,At once for sorrow such a cry Gan rere thorow the company,That to the Heaven heard was the sowne,And under therth als fer adowne,That wild beasts for the feareSo sodainly afrayed were,That for the doubt, while they might dure,They ran as of their lives unsure,From the woods unto the plaine,And from the valleys the high mountaine They sought, and ran as beastes blind,That cleane forgotten had their kind.This wo not ceased, to counsaile wentThese lords, and for that lady sent,And of avise what was to done,They her besought she say would sone.Weeping full sore, all clad in blake,This lady softly to them spake,And said, " My lords, by my trouth,This mischiefe it is of your slouth,And if ye had that judge would right,A prince that were a very knight,Ye that ben of astate, echone,Die for his fault should one and one;And if he hold had the promesse,And done that longs to gentilnesse,And fulfilled the princes behest,This hasty farme had bene a feast,And now is unrecoverable,And us a slaunder aye durable;Wherefore, I say, as of counsaile,In me is none that may availe,But, if ye list, for remembrauncePurvey and make such ordinaunce,That the queene, that was so meke,With all her women, dede or seke,Might in your land a chappell have,With some remembraunce of her grave,Shewing her end with the pity,In some notable old city,Nigh unto an high way,Where every wight might for her pray,And for all hers that have ben trew;"And even with that she changed hew,And twise wished after the death,And sight, and thus passed her breath.Than said the lords of the host,And so conclude least and most,That they would ever in houses of thackeTheir lives lead, and weare but blacke,And forsake all their pleasaunces,And turn all joy to penaunces,And beare the dead prince to the barge,And named them should have the charge;And to the hearse where lay the queen,The remenaunt went, and down on kneen,Holding their honds on high, gon crie,"Mercy, mercy," everich thrie,And cursed the time that ever slouth Should have such masterdome of trouth.D D402 CHAUCER'S DREAM. v. 1785-1924And to the barge a long mile,They bare her forth, and in a while All the ladies one and one,By companies were brought echone,And past the sea and tooke the land,And in new herses on a sand,Put and brought were all anon,Unto a city closed with stone,Where it had been used ayeThe kings of the land to lay,After they raigned in honours,And writ was which were conquerours,In an abbey of nunnes which were blake,Which accustomed were to wake,And of usage rise ech a nightTo pray for every lives wight;And so befell as in the guise,Ordeint and said was the servise,Of the prince and of the queen,So devoutly as might been,And after that about the herses,Many orisons and verses,Without note full softely,Said were and that full heartily,That all the night till it was day,The people in the church con pray Unto the holy Trinity,Of these soules to have pity.And whan the night past and ronne Was, and the new day begonne,The yong morrow with rayes red,Which from the Sunne over all con spred,Atempered clere was and faire,And made a time of wholsome aire,Befell a wonder case and strange,Among the people and gan change Soone the word and every wooUnto a joy, and some to two:A bird, all fedred blew and greene,With bright rayes like gold betweene,As small thred over every joynt,All full of colour strange and coint,Uncouth and wonderfull to sight,Upon the queens herse con light,And song full low and softely,Three songs in her harmony,Unletted of every wight,Till, at the last, an aged knight Which seemed a man in great thoughtLike as he set all thing at nought,With visage and eyen all forwept And pale, as man long unslept,Bythe herses as he stood With hasty hondling of his hoodUnto a prince that by him past Made the bridde somewhat agast,Wherefore he rose and left his song,And depart from us among,And spread his wings for to passeBythe place he entred was,And in his hast, shortly to tell,Him hurt, that backeward downe he fell,From a window richly peintWith lives of many divers seint,And bet his wings and bled fast,And of the hurt thus died and past,And lay there well an houre and more,Till, at the last, of briddes a score Come and sembled at the place Where the window broken was,And made swiche waimentacioun,That pity was to heare the soun,And the warbles of their throtes,And the complaint of their notes,Which from joy cleane was reversed,And of them one the glas soone persed,And in his beke of colours nine,An herbe he brought flourelesse, all greene,Full of small leaves and plaine,Swart and long with many a vaine,And where his fellow lay thus dede,This hearbe down laid by his hede,And dressed it full softily,And hong his head and stood thereby,Which hearb, in lesse than halfe an houre,Gan over all knit, and after floure Full out and wexe ripe the seed,And right as one another feed Would, in his beake he tooke the graine,And in his fellowes beake certaineIt put, and thus, within the third,Up stood and pruned him the bird,Which dead had be in all our sight,And both togither forth their flight Tooke singing from us, and their leve,Was none disturb hem would ne greve;And whan they parted were and gone Th'abbesse the seeds soone echoneGadred had, and in her hand The herb she tooke, well avisand The leafe, the seed, the stalke, the floure,And said it had a good savour,And was no common herb to find,And well approved of uncouth kind,And than other more vertuouse,Who so have it might for to use In his need, flowre, leafe, or graine,Of their heale might be certaine;And laid it downe upon the herse Where lay the queene, and gan reherse,Echone to other that they had seene,And taling thus the sede wex greene,And on the dry herse gan spring,Which me thought a wondrous thing,And after that floure and new seed,Of which the people all tooke heed,And said, it was some great miracle,Or medicine fine more than triacle,And were well done there to assay,If it might ease in any wayThe corses, which with torch light,They waked had there all that night.Soone did the lords there consent,And all the people thereto content,With easie words and little fare,And made the queenes visage bare,Which shewed was to all about,Wherefore in swoone fell whole the rout,And were so sory, most and least,That long of weeping they not ceast,For of their lord the remembraunceUnto them was such displeasaunce,That for to live they called a paine,So were they very true and plaine;And after this, the good abbesse Of the graine gan chese and dresse Three, with her fingers cleane and small,And in the queenes mouth by tale,One after other full easily,She put and full conningly,v. 1925-2064 CHAUCER'S DREAM. 403Which shewed soone such vertue,That preved was the medicine true,For with a smiling countenaunceThe queene uprose, and of usaunce,As she was wont, to every wightShe made good cheere, for which sight The people kneeling on the stones,Thought they in Heaven were soule and bones:And to the prince where he lay,They went to make the same assay;And whan the queene it understood,And how the medicine was good,She prayed she might have the graines To releve him from the paines Which she and he had both endured,And to him went, and so him cured,That within a little space,Lusty and fresh on live he wasAnd in good hele, and hole of speech,And lough, and said, " Gramercy leech,"For which the joy throughout the toun,So great was that the bels sown Afraied the people, a journay About the city every way,And come and asked cause and why,They rongen were so stately?And after that the queene, th'abbesse Made diligence, or they would cesse,Such, that of ladies soone a routShewing the queene was all about,And called by name echone and told,Was none forgotten young ne old;There might men see joyes new,Whan the medicine fine and trew,Thus restored had every wight,So well the queene as the knight,Unto perfit joy and hele,That fleting they were in such wele As folke that would in no wise,Desire more perfit paradise.And thus, whan passed was the sorrow,With mikel joy soone on the morrow,The king, the queene, and every lord,With all the ladies by one accord,A generall assembly Great cry through the country,The which after as their intentWas turned to a parliament,Where was ordained and avisedEvery thing and devised,That please might to most and least,And there concluded was the feast,Within the yle to be hold With full consent of young and old,In the same wise as before,As thing should be withouten more;And shipped and thither went,And into straunge realmes sentTo kings, queenes, and duch*esses,To divers princes and princesses,Of their linage, and can prayThat it might like them at that dayOf mariage, for their sport,Come see the yle and them disport,Where should be jousts and turnaies,And armes done in other waies,Signifying over all the day,After Aprill within May;And was avised that ladies tweine,Of good estate and well beseine,With certaine knights and squiers,And of the queenes officers,In manner of an embassade,With certain letters closed and made,Should take the barge and depart,And seeke my lady every part,Till they her found for any thing,Both charged have queene and king,And as their lady and maistres,Her to beseke ofgentilnes,At the day there for to been,And oft her recommaund the queen,And prayes for all loves to hast,For, but she come, all woll be wast,And the feast a businesseWithout joy or lustinesse:And tooke them tokens and good speedPraid God send, after their need.Forth went the ladies and the knights,And were out fourteene daies and nights,And brought my lady in their barge,And had well sped and done their charge;Whereof the queene so hartily gladWas, that, in soth, such joy she had Whan the ship approched lond,That she my lady on the sond Met, and in armes so constraine,That wonder was behold them twaine,Which to my dome during twelve houres,Neither for heat ne watry shoures,Departed not no company,Saving themselfe but none them by,But gave them leisour at their ease,To rehearse joy and disease,After the pleasure and couragesOf their young and tender ages:And after with many a knightBrought were, where, as for that night,They parted not, for to pleasaunce,Content was herte and countenaunceBoth of the queene and my maistresse,This was that night their businesse:And on the morrow with huge rout,This prince of lords him about,Come and to my lady saidThat of her comming glad and well apaid He was, and full conningly Her thanked and full heartily,And lough and smiled, and said, “ ywis,That was in doubt in safety is:"And commaunded do diligence,And spare for neither gold ne spence,But make ready, for on the morow Wedded, with saint John to borrow,He would be, withouten more,And let them wite this lesse and more.The morow come, and the service Of mariage, in such a wise Said was, that with more honourWas never prince ne conquerour Wedde, ne with such companyOf gentilnesse in chivalry,Ne of ladies so great routs,Ne so beseen, as all abouts They were there, I certifie You on mylife withouten lie.And the feast hold was in tentis,As to tell you mine entent is ,In a rome, a large plaine Under a wood in a champaine,DD 2404 CHAUCER'S DREAM. v. 2065-2204Betwixt a river and a welle,Where never had abbay, ne selle Ben, ne kirke, house, ne village,In time of any mans age:And dured three months the feast,In one estate and never ceast,From early the rising of the Sonne,Till the day spent was and yronne,In justing, dauncing, and lustinesse,And all that sowned to gentilnesse.And, as me thought, the second morrow,Whan ended was all old sorrow,And in surety every wight Had with his lady slept a night,The prince, the queene, and all the rest,Unto my lady made request,And her besought oft and praied To mewards to be well apaied,And consider mine old trouth,And on my paines have routh,And me accept to her servise,In such forme and in such wise,That we both might be as one,Thus prayed the queene, and everichone:And, for there should be no nay,They stint justing all a day,To pray my lady and requere Be content and out of fere,And with good herte make friendly cheare,And said it was a happy yeare:At which she smiled and said, ywis," I trow well he my servaunt is,And would my welfare, as I trist,So would I his, and would he wist How, and I knew that his trouth Continue would without slouth,And be such as ye here report,Restraining both courage and sport,I couth consent at your request,To be named of your fest,And do after your usaunce,In obeying your pleasaunce;At your request this I consent,To please you in your entent,And eke the soveraine above Commanded hath me for to love,And before other him prefer,Against which prince may be no wer,For his power over all raigneth,That other would for nought him paineth,And sith his will and yours is one,Contrary in me shall be none."Tho (as me thought) the promise Of marriage before the mese Desired was of every wight To be made the same night,To put away all maner douts Of every wight thereabouts ,And so was do; and on the morrow,Whan every thought and every sorrow Dislodged was out of mine herte,With every wo and every smert,Unto a tent prince and princes,Me thought, brought me and my maistres,And said we were at full age There to conclude our marriage,With ladies, knights, and squiers,And a great host of ministers,With instruments and sounes diverse,That long were here to rehearse,Which tent was church perochiall,Ordaint was in especiall,For the feast and for the sacre,Where archbishop, and archdiacre Song full out the servise,After the custome and the guise,And the churches ordinaunce;And after that to dine and daunceBrought were we, and to divers playes,And for our speed ech with prayes,And merry was most and least,And said amended was the feast,And were right glad lady and lord,Of the marriage and th'accord,And wished us hertes pleasaunce,Joy, hele, and continuance,And to the ministrils made request,That in encreasing of the fest,They would touch their cords,And with some new joyeux accords,Moove the people to gladnesse,And praiden of all gentilnesse,Ech to paine them for the day,To shew his cunning and his play.Tho began sownes mervelous Entuned with accords joyous,Round about all the tents,With thousands of instruments,That every wight to daunce them pained,To be merry was none that fained,Which sowne me troubled in my sleepe,That fro my bed forth I lepe,Wening to be at the feast,But whan I woke all was ceast,For there n'as lady ne creature,Save on the wals old portraiture Of horsmen, haukes, and hounds,And hurt deere full of wounds,Some like bitten, some hurt with shot,And, as my dreame, seemed that was not;And whan I wake, and knew the trouth,And ye had seen, ofvery routh,I trow ye would have wept a weke,For never man yet halfe so seke;I went escaped with the life,And was for fault that sword ne knifeI find ne might my life t'abridge,Ne thing that kerved, ne had edge,Wherewith I might my woful pains Have voided with bleeding of my vains.Lo, here my blisse, lo, here my paine,Which to my lady I do complaine,And grace and mercy her requere,To end my wo and busie fere,And me accept to her servise,After her service in such avise,That of my dreame the substaunce Might turne once to cognisaunce,And cognisaunce to very preveBy full consent and good leve,Or els without more I pray,That this night, or it be day,I mote unto my dreame returne,And sleeping so, forth aie sojourne About the yle of pleasaunce,Under my ladies obeisaunce,In her servise, and in such wise,As it please her may to devise,And grace ones to be accept,Like as I dreamed whan I slept,v. 2205-2235 CHAUCER'S DREAM. 405And dure a thousand yeare and ten,In her good will, amen, amen.FAIREST of faire, and goodliest on live,All my secret to you I plaine and shrive,Requiring grace and of complaint,To be healed or martyred as a saint,For by my trouth I sweare, and by this booke,Ye may both heale and slee me with a looke.Go forth mine owne true herte innocent,And with humblesse, do thine observaunce,And to thy lady on thy knees presentThy servise new, and think how great pleasance It is to live under th'obeisanceOf her that may with her looks soft Give thee the blisse that thou desirest oft.Be diligent, awake, obey, and drede,And not too wild of thy countenaunce,But meeke and glad, and thy nature feed,To do each thing that may her pleasance,Whan thou shalt sleep, have aie in remembrance Th'image of her which may with lookes soft Give thee the blisse that thou desirest oft.And if so be that thou her name findWritten in booke, or els upon wall,Looke that thou, as servaunt true and kind,Thine obeisaunce, as she were there withall;Faining in love is breeding of a fallFrom the grace of her, whose lookes soft May give the blisse that thou desirest oft.Ye that this ballade read shall ,I pray you keepe you from the fall.THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF.Agentlewoman out of an arbour in a grove, seeth a great companie of knights and ladies in a daunce upon the greene grasse: the which being ended, they all kneele downe, and do honour to the daisie, some to the flower, and some to the leafe. Afterward this gentlewoman learneth by one of these ladies the meaning hereof, which is this:Theywhich honour the flower, a thing fading with every blast, are such as looke after beautie and worldly pleasure.But they that honour the leafe, which abideth with the root, notwithstanding the frosts and winter stormes, are they which follow vertue and during qualities, without regard of worldly respects.WHAN that Phebus his chair of gold so hie Had whirled up the sterry sky aloft,And in the Boole was entred certainly,When shoures sweet of raine descended soft,Causing the ground fele times and oft,Up for to give many an wholsome aire,And every plaine was clothed faireWith new greene, and maketh small flouresv. 1-56To springen here and there in field and in mede,So very good and wholsome be the shoures,That it renueth that was old and dede,In winter time; and out of every sedeSpringeth the hearbe, so that every wight Of this season wexeth glad and light.And I so glad of the season swete,Was happed thus upon a certaine night,As I lay in my bed, sleepe full unmete Was unto me, but why that I ne might Rest, I ne wist: for there n'as earthly wight As I suppose had more herts easeThan I; for I n'ad sicknesse nor disease.Wherefore I mervaile greatly of my selfe,That I so long withouten sleepe lay,And up I rose three houres after twelfe,About the springing of the day,And on I put my geare and mine array,And to a pleasaunt grove I gan passe,Long er the bright Sunne up risen was.In which were okes great, streight as a line,Under the which the grasse so fresh of hew,Was newly sprong, and an eight foot or nine Every tree well fro his fellow grew,With branches brode, laden with leves new,That sprongen out ayen the sunne- shene,Some very red, and some a glad light grene.Which as me thought was right a pleasant sight,And eke the briddes songe for to here,Would have rejoiced any earthly wight,And I that couth not yet in no manere Heare the nightingale of all the yeare,Ful busily herkened with herte and with eare,If I her voice perceive coud any where.And, at the last, a path of little bredeI found, that greatly had not used be,For it forgrowen was with grasse and weede,That well unneth a wighte might it se:Thought I, this path some whider goth, parde;And so I followed, till it me broughtTo right a pleasaunt herber well ywrought,That benched was, and with turfes newFreshly turved, whereof the grene gras,So small, so thicke, so short, so fresh of hew,That most like unto green wool wot I it was:The hegge also that yede in compas,And closed in all the greene herbere,With sicamour was set and eglatere;406 THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF. v. 57-182Wrethen in fere so well and cunningly,That every branch and leafe grew by mesure,Plaine as a bord, of an height by and by,I sie never thing I you ensure,So well done; for he that tooke the cureIt to make ytrow, did all his peine To make it passe all tho that men have seine.And shapen was this herber roofe and all As a prety parlour; and also The hegge as thicke as a castle wall,That who that list without to stond or go,Though he would all day prien to and fro,He should not see if there were any wightWithin or no; but one within well mightPerceive all tho that yeden there without In the field , that was on every side Covered with corn and grasse, that out of doubt,Though one would seeke all the world wide,So rich a fielde coud not be espide On no coast, as of the quantity,For of all good thing there was plenty.And I that all this pleasaunt sight sie,Thought sodainly I felt so sweet an aireOf the eglentere, that certainely There is no hert, I deme, in such dispaire,Ne with thoughts froward and contraire,So overlaid, but it should soone have bote,If it had ones felt this savour sote.And as I stood and cast aside mine eie,I was ware of the fairest medler tree,That ever yet in all my life I sie,As full of blossomes as it might be,Therein a goldfinch leaping pretile Fro bough to bough; and, as him list, he eet Here and there of buds and floures sweet.And to the herber side was joyningThis faire tree, of which I have you told,And at the last the brid began to sing,Whan he had eaten what he eat wold;So passing sweetly, that by manifold It was more pleasaunt than I coud devise,And whan his song was ended in this wise,The nightingale with so merry a note Answered him, that all the wood rong So sodainly, that as it were a sote,I stood astonied, so was I with the song Thorow ravished, that till late and long,I ne wist in what place I was, ne where;And ayen, me thought, she song ever by mine ere.Wherefore I waited about busilyOn every side, if I her might see;And, at the last, I gan full well aspy Where she sat in a fresh grene laurer tree,On the further side even right by me,That gave so passing a delicious smell,According to the eglentere full well.Whereof I had so inly great pleasure,That, as me thought, I surely ravished was Into Paradise, where my desire Was for to be, and no ferther passe As for that day, and on the sote grasse I sat me downe, for as for mine entent,The birdes song was more convenient,And more pleasaunt to me by many fold,Than meat or drinke, or any other thing,Thereto the herber was so fresh and cold,The wholesome savours eke so comforting,That, as I demed, sith the beginning Of the world was never seene er thanSo pleasaunt a ground of none earthly man.And as I sat the birds harkening thus,Me thought that I heard voices sodainly,The most sweetest and most deliciousThat ever any wight I trow truly Heard in their life, for the armonyAnd sweet accord was in so good musike,That the voice to angels most was like.At the last, out of a grove even by,That was right goodly and pleasaunt to sight,I sie where there came singing lustily A world of ladies; but, to tell arightTheir great beauty, it lieth not in my might,Ne their array; neverthelesse I shall Tell you a part, though I speake not of all.The surcotes white of velvet wele sitting,They were in cladde; and the semes echone,As it were a manere garnishing,Was set with emerauds one and one,By and by; but many a riche stoneWas set on the purfiles, out of dout,Of colors, sleves, and traines round about.As great pearles round and orient,Diamonds fine, and rubies red,And many another stone of which I went The names now; and everich on her headA rich fret of gold, which without dreadWas full of stately riche stones set,And every lady had a chapeletOn her head of [ branches ] fresh and grene,So wele wrought and so mervelously,That it was a noble sight to sene,Some of laurer, and some full pleasauntly Had chapelets of woodbind, and sadly Some of agnus castus were also Chapelets fresh; but there were many of thoThat daunced, and eke song full soberly,But all they yede in manner of compace,But one there yede in mid the company,Sole by her selfe, but all followed the paceThat she kepte, whose heavenly figured face So pleasaunt was, and her wele shape person,That of beauty she past hem everichon.And more richly beseene, by many foldShe was also in every maner thing,On her head full pleasaunt to behold,A crowne of golde rich for any king,A braunch of agnus castus eke bearingIn her hand; and to my sight truly,She lady was of the company.And she began a roundell lustely,That " Suse le foyle, devers moy," men call,"Siene et mon joly couer est endormy,"And than the company answered all,With voices sweet entuned, and so small,That me thought it the sweetest melody That ever I heard in my life soothly.v. 183-308 THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF. 407And thus they came, dauncing and singing Into the middes of the mede echone,Before the herber where I was sitting,And, God wot, me thought I was wel bigone,For than I might avise hem one by one,Who fairest was, who coud best dance or sing,Or who most womanly was in all thing.They had not daunced but a little throw,Whan that I hearde ferre off sodainly,So great a noise of thundering trumpes blow,As though it should have departed the skie;And after that within a while I sie,From the same grove where the ladies come out,Of men of armes comming such a rout,As all the men on earth had been assembledIn that place, wele horsed for the nones,Stering so fast, that all the earth trembled:But for to speake of riches and [ of] stones,And men and horse, I trow the large wones,Of Pretir John, ne all his tresory,Might not unneth have boght the tenth partyOf their array: who so list heare more,I shall rehearse, so as I can, a lite.Out of the grove, that I spake of before,I sie come first all in their clokes white,A company, that ware for their delite,Chapelets fresh of okes seriall,Newly sprong, and trumpets they were all.On every trumpe hanging a broad banere Of fine tartarium were full richely bete,Every trumpet his lords armes bere,About their neckes with great pearles seteCollers brode, for cost they would not lete,As it would seem, for their schochones echone,Were set about with many a precious stone.Their horse harneis was all white also,And after them next in one company,Came kings of armes, and no mo,In clokes of white cloth of gold richly;Chapelets of greene on their heads on hie,The crowns that they on their scochones bere,Were set with pearle, ruby, and saphere,And eke great diamondes many one;But all their horse harneis and other geareWas in a sute according everichone,As ye have heard the foresaid trumpets were;And by seeming they were nothing to lere,And their guiding they did so manerly,And after hem came a great companyOf heraudes and pursevauntes eke,Arraied in clothes of white velvet,And hardily they were no thing to seke,How they on them should the harneis set;And every man had on a chapelet;Scochones and eke horse harneis indede,They had in sute of hem that ' fore hem yede.Next after hem came in armour brightAll save their heades, seemely knightes nine,And every claspe and naile, as to my sight,Of their harneis were of red golde fine,With cloth of gold, and furred with ermine Were the trappoures of their stedes strong,Wide and large, that to the ground did hong.And every bosse of bridle and paitrellThat they had, was worth, as I would wene,Athousand pound; and on their heades well Dressed were crownes of laurer grene,The best made that ever I had sene,And every knight had after him riding Three henchemen on him awaiting.Of which every [ first ] on a short tronchoun His lordes helme bare, so richly dight,That the worst was worthe the ransounOf [ any] king; the second a shield bright Bare at his backe; the thred bare upright A mighty spere, full sharpe ground and kene,And every childe ware of leaves greneA fresh chapelet upon his haires bright;And clokes white of fine velvet they ware,Their steeds trapped and raied right Without difference as their lordes were,And after hem on many a fresh corsere,There came of armed knights such a rout,That they bespread the large field about.And all they ware after their degrees Chapelets newe made of laurer grene,Some of [ the] oke, and some of other trees,Some in their honds bare boughes shene,Some of laurer, and some of okes kene,Some of hauthorne, and some of [ the ] woodbind,And many mo which I had not in mind.And so they came, their horses freshly stering,With bloody sownes of hir trompes loud;There sie I many an uncouth disguisingIn the array of these knightes proud,And at the last as evenly as they coud,They took their places in middes of the mede,And every knight turned his horses hedeTo his fellow, and lightly laid a spereIn the rest; and so justes began On every part about here and there;[man,Some brake his spere, some drew down hors and About the field astray the steedes ran;And to behold their rule and governaunce,I you ensure it was a great pleasaunce.And so the justes last an houre and more;But tho, that crowned were in laurer grene,Wan the prise; their dints were so sore,That there was none ayenst hem might sustene,And the justing all was left off clene,And fro their horse the ninth alight anone,And so did all the remnant everichone.And forth they yede togider, twain and twain,That to behold it was a worthy sight,Toward the ladies on the greene plain,That song and daunced as I said now right:The ladies as soone as they goodly might,They brake of both the song and dance,And yede to meet hem with ful glad semblaunce.And every lady tooke full womanlyBy the hond a knight, and forth they yede Unto a faire laurer that stood fast by,With leves lade the boughes of great brede;And to my dome there never was indedeMan, that had seene halfe so faire a tre;For underneath there might it well have be408 THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF. v. 309-434An hundred persons at their owne plesaunce Shadowed fro the heat of Phebus bright,So that they should have felt no grevaunceOf raine ne haile that hem hurte might,The savour, eke, rejoice would any wight That had be sicke or melancolious;It was so very good and vertuous.And with great reverence they enclined low To the tree so soot and faire of hew;And after that, within a little throw,They began to sing and daunce of new,Some song of love, some plaining of untrew,Environing the tree that stood upright;And ever yede a lady and a knight.And at the last I cast mine eye aside,And was ware of a lusty companyThat came roming out of the field wide,Hond in hond a knight and a lady;The ladies all in surcotes, that richely Purfiled were with many a rich stone,And every knight of green ware mantles on,Embrouded well so as the surcotes were,And everich had a chapelet on her hed,Which did right well upon the shining here,Made of goodly floures white and red,The knightes eke, that they in honde led,In sute of hem ware chapelets everichone,And before hem went minstrels many one,As harpes, pipes, lutes, and sautry Alle in greene; and on their heades bare Of divers floures made full craftely,All in a sute goodly chapelets they ware;And so dauneing into the mede they fare,In mid the which they found a tuft that was All oversprad with floures in compas.Whereto they enclined everichone With great reverence, and that full humbly;And, at the last, there began, anone,A lady for to sing right womanly,A bargaret in praising the daisie;For as me thought among her notes swete,She said " Si douce est la Margarete."Than they alle answered her in fere,So passingly well, and so pleasauntly,That it was a blisful noise to here,But I n'ot how it happed, suddainly,As about noone, the Sunne so ferventlyWaxe hote, that the prety tender flouresHad lost the beauty of hir fresh coloures.Forshronke with heat, the ladies eke to-brent,That they ne wist where they hem might bestow;The knightes swelt for lack of shade nie shent,And after that, within a little throw,The wind began so sturdily to blow,That down goeth all the floures everichone,So that in all the mede there left not one;Save such as succoured were among the leves Fro every storme that might hem assaile,Growing under [ the ] hegges and thicke greves;And after that, there came a storme of haile,And raine in fere, so that withouten faile,The ladies ne the knightes n'ade o threed Drie on them, so dropping was hir weed.And whan the storm was cleane passed away,Tho in white that stood under the tree,They felt nothing of the great affray,That they in greene without had in ybe,To them they yede for routh and pite,Them to comfort after their great disease,So faine they were the helplesse for to ease.Than I was ware how one of hem in greneHad on a crowne rich and well sitting,Wherefore I demed well she was a quene,And tho in greene on her were awaiting;The ladies then in white that were comming Toward them, and the knights in fere Began to comfort hem, and make hem chere.The queen in white, that was of great beauty,Took by the hond the queen that was in grene,And said, " Suster, I have right great pity Of your annoy, and ofthe troublous tene,Wherein ye and your company have bene So long, alas! and if that it you pleaseTo go with me, I shall do you the ease,“ In all the pleasure that I can or may;"Whereof the other humbly as she might,Thanked her; for in right ill arrayShe was with storm and heat I you behight,And every lady then anone right That were in white, one of them took in grene By the hond, which whan the knights had sene,In like wise ech of them tooke a knightCladde in greene, and forth with hem they fare,To an hegge, where they anon right,To make their justs they would not spare Boughes to hew down, and eke trees square,Wherwith they made hem stately fires great,To dry their clothes that were wringing weat.And after that of hearbes that there grew,They made for blisters of the Sunne brenning,Very good and wholesome ointments new,Where that they yede the sick fast anointing;And after that they yede about gadering Pleasaunt salades which they made hem eat,For to refresh their great unkindly heat.The lady of the Leafe than began to pray Her of the Floure (for so to my seemingThey should be as by their array)To soupe with her, and eke for any thing,That she should with her all her people bring;And she ayen in right goodly manere,Thanketh her of her most friendly cheare,Saying plainely, that she would obay With all her hert all her commaundement;And then, anon, without lenger delay The lady of the Leafe hath one ysentFor a palfray, after her intent,Arrayed well and faire in harneis of gold,For nothing lacked, that to him long shold.And after that to all her companyShe made to purvey horse and every thing That they needed, and than full lustily,Even by the herber where I was sittingThey passed all so pleasantly singing,That it would have comforted any wight;But then I sie a passing wonder sight.v. 435-560 THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF. 409For then the nightingale, that all the day Had in the laurer sate, and did her might The whole service to sing longing to May,All sodainly began to take her flight;And to the lady of the Leafe forthright She flew, and set her on her hond softly,Which was a thing I marveled of greatly.The goldfinch eke, that fro the medler tree Was fled for heat into the bushes cold,Unto the lady of the Flower gan flee,And on her hond he set him as he wold,And pleasauntly his winges gan to fold;And for to sing they pained hem both as sore,As they had do of all the day before.And so these ladies rode forth a great pace,And all the rout of knightes eke in fere;And I that had seen all this wonder case,Thought I would assay in some manere,To know fully the trouth of this matere;And what they were that rode so pleasantly:And whanthey were the herber passed by,I drest me forth, and happed to mete, anone,Right a faire lady, I do you ensure;And she came riding by herselfe alone,Alle in white, with semblance ful demure;I salued her, and bad good aventure Might her befall, as I coud most humbly;And she answered, " My doughter, gramercy!"66 Madame," quoth I, " if that I durst enquere Of you, I would faine of that companyWite what they be that past by this arbere?"And she ayen answered right friendly;"My faire doughter, all tho that passed here by In white clothing, be servaunts everichone Unto the Leafe, and I my selfe am one."See ye not her that crowned is," quoth she," All in white?" -" Madame," quoth I , "yes: ""That is Diane, goddesse of chastite,And for because that she a maiden is,In her hond the braunch she beareth this,That agnus castus men call properly;And all the ladies in her company,"Which ye se of that hearbe chapelets weare,Be such as han kept alway hir maidenheed:And all they that of laurer chapelets beare,Be such as hardy were and manly in deed,Victorious name which never may be dede!And all they were so worthy of hir hond,In hir time that none might hem withstond."And tho that weare chapelets on their hede Of fresh woodbind, be such as never were To love untrue in word, thought, ne dede,But aye stedfast, ne for pleasaunce, ne fere,Though that they should their hertes all to-tere,Would never flit but ever were stedfast,Till that their lives there asunder brast. ""Nowfaire madame," quoth I, " yet I would prayYour ladiship, if that it might be,That I might knowe by some maner way,Sith that it hath liked your beaute,The trouth of these ladies for to tell me,What that these knightes be in rich armour,And what tho be in grene and weare the flour?And why that some did reverence to that tre,And some unto the plot of floures faire?""Withrightgood will myfair doughter," quoth she,"Sith your desire is good and debonaire;Tho nine crowned be very exemplaire,Of all honour longing to chivalry,And those certaine be called the Nine Worthy,"Which ye may see [ now] riding all before,That in hir time did many a noble dede,And for their worthines full oft have boreThe crowne of laurer leaves on their hede,As ye may in your old bookes rede;And how that he that was a conquerour,Had by laurer alway his most honour."And tho that beare bowes in their hondOf the precious laurer so notable,Be such as were, I woll ye understond,Noble knightes of the round table,And eke the Douseperis honourable,Which they beare in signe of victory;It is witnesse of their deeds mightily."Eke there be knightes old of the garter,That in hir time did right worthily,And the honour they did to the laurer,Is for by it they have their laud wholly,Their triumph eke, and martiall glory;Which unto them is more parfite richesse,Than any wight imagine can or gesse."For one leafe given of that noble treeTo any wight that hath done worthily,And it be done so as it ought to be,Is more honour than any thing earthly;Witnes of Rome that founder was trulyOf all knighthood and deeds marvelous,Record I take of Titus Livius."And as for her that crowned is in greene,It is Flora, of these floures goddesse,And all that here on her awaiting beene,It are such folk that loved idlenesse,And not delite in no businesse,But for to hunt and hauke, and pley in medes,And many other suchlike idle dedes.And for the great delite and pleasaunce They have to the floure, and so reverently They unto it do such obeisaunceAs ye may se."-" Now faire Madame," quoth I," If I durst aske what is the cause and why,That knightes have the ensigne of honour,Rather by the leafe than the flour?""Soothly doughter," quod she, "this is the trouth;For knightes ever should be persevering,To seeke honour without feintise or slouth;Fro wele to better in all manner thing;In signe of which with leaves aye lasting,They be rewarded after their degre,Whose lusty green May may not appaired be,"But aie keping their beautie fresh and greene,For there n'is storme that may hem deface,Haile nor snow, winde nor frosts kene,Wherfore they have this property and grace;And for the floure, within a little spaceWoll be [ all ] lost, so simple of nature They be, that they no greevance may endure.410 THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF. v. 561-595"And every storme will blow them soone away,Ne they last not but for a season;That is the cause, the very trouth to say,That they may not by no way of reason Be put to no such occupation.""Madame," quoth I, " with all mine whole serviseI thanke you now, in my most humble wise,"For now I am ascertained throughly,Of every thing [ that ] I desired to know. "" I am right glad that I have said sothly,Ought to your pleasure, if ye will me trow,"Quod she ayen, " but to whom do ye owe Your service and which will ye honour,Tel me I pray, this yere? the Leafe or the Flour? "" Madame," quoth I, " though I least worthy,Unto the Leafe I owe mine observaunce:"That is," quod she, " right well done certainly;And I pray God to honour you avaunce,And kepe you fro the wicked remembraunceOf Malebouch, and all his crueltie ,And all that good and well conditioned be."For here may I no lenger now abide,I must follow the great company,That ye may see yonder before you ride."And forth as I couth most humbly,I tooke my leve of her, as she gan hie,After them as fast as ever she might,And I drow homeward, for it was nigh night.And put all that I had seene in writing,Under support of them that lust it to rede.O little booke, thou art so unconning,How darst thou put thy self in prees for drede?It is wonder that thou wexest not rede!Sith that thou wost full lite who shall beholdThy rude langage, full boistously unfold.EXPLICIT.THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN.PROLOGUE.A THOUSAND times I have heard men tell,That there is joy in Heaven, and pain in Hell,And I accord it wele that it is so,But nathelesse yet wote I wele also,That there n'is non dwelling in this countre,That either hath in Heaven or in Hell ybe,Ne may of it none other waies witten,But as he heard sayd, or found it written,For by assay there may no man it preve.But God forbede but men should leveWel more thing than they have seen with eye,Men shall nat wenen every thing a lie But if himself he seeth, or els it dooth,For, God wote, thing is never the lesse soth,Though every wight ne may it not ysee.Bernarde the monke ne saugh all, parde,Than mote we to bookes that we find,(Through which that old things ben in mind)And to the doctrine of the old wise,Yeve credence, in every skilful wise,That tellen of the old appreved stories,Of holines, of reignes, of victories,Of love, of hate, and other sundry things,Of which I may not make rehearsings:And if that old bookes were away,Ylorne were of all remembraunce the kay.Well ought us than, honouren and beleve These bookes, there we han none other preve.And as for me, though that I can but lite,On bookes for to rede I me delite,And to hem yeve I faith and full credence,And in mine herte have hem in reverenceSo hertely, that there is game none,That fro my bookes maketh me to gone,v. 1-71But it be seldome on the holy daie,Save certainly, whan that the month of May Is comen, and that I heare the foules sing,And that the floures ginnen for to spring,Farwell my booke, and my devotion.Now have I than eke this condition,That of all the floures in the mede,Than love I most these floures white and rede,Soch that men callen daisies in our toun,To hem I have so great affectioun,As I sayd erst, whan comen is the May,That in my bedde there daweth me no day,That I nam up and walking in the mede,To seen this floure ayenst the Sunne sprede,Whan it up riseth early by the morrow,That blisfull sight softeneth all my sorow,So glad am I, whan that I have presence Of it, to done it all reverence,As she that is of all floures the floure,Fulfilled of all vertue and honoure,And every ylike faire, and fresh of hewe,And ever I love it, and ever ylike newe,And ever shall, till that mine herte die,All sweare I not, of this I woll not lie.There loved no wight hotter in his life,And whan that it is eve I renne blithe,As sone as ever the Sunne ginneth west,To seen this floure, how it woll go to rest,For feare of night, so hateth she derkenesse,Her chere is plainly spred in the brightnesse Of the Sunne, for there it woll unclose:Alas, that I ne had English rime, or prose Suffisaunt this floure to praise aright,But helpeth ye, that han conning and might,Ye lovers, that can make of sentement,In this case ought ye be diligent,To forthren me somewhat in my labour,v. 72-211 THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 411Whether ye been with the lefe or with the flour,For well I wote, that ye han here beforneOf making ropen, and had alway the corne,And I come after, glening here and there,And am full glad if I may find an eare,Of any goodly worde that ye han left,And though it happen me to rehearsen eft,That ye han in your freshe songes sayd,Forbeareth me, and beth not evill apayd,Sith that ye se, I doe it in the honourOf love, and eke of service of the flour,Whom that I serve, as I have wit or might,She is the clerenesse and the very light,That in this derke world me wint and ledeth;The herte within my sorowfull brest you dredeth,And loveth so sore, that ye ben verily The maistres of my wit, and nothing I,My word, my workes, is knit so in your bonde That as an harpe obeieth to the honde,And make it soune after his fingering,Right so mowe ye out of mine herte bring,Soch voice, right as you list, to laugh or pain;Be ye my guide, and lady soverain!As to mine yearthly God, to you I call,Both in this werke, and my sorowes all.But wherefore that I spake to yeve credence To old stories, and done hem reverence,And that men musten more thing bileve That men may seen at eye or els preve,That shall I sein, whan that I see my time,I may nat all atones speake in rime;My busie ghost, that thursteth alway new,To seen this flour so yong, so fresh of hew,Constrained me, with so gredy desire,That in my herte I fele yet the fire,That made me rise ere it were day,And this was now the first morow of May,With dreadfull herte and glad devotion For to been at the resurrectionOf this floure, whan that it should unclose Again the Sunne, that rose as redde as rose,That in the brest was of the beast that day,That Angenores daughter ladde away:And doune on knees, anon, right I me sette,And as I could, this fresh floure I grette,Kneeling alway, till it unclosed was,Upon the small, soft, swete gras,That was with floures swete embrouded all,Of such swetenesse, and soch odour over all,That for to speake of gomme, herbe, or tree,Comparison may not ymaked be,For it surmounteth plainly all odoures,And of riche beaute of floures:Forgotten had the yearth his poore estate Of Winter, that him naked made and mate,And with his sword of cold so sore greved;Now hath the attempre sunne al that releved That naked was, and clad it new again;The small foules of the season fain,That of the panter and the net been scaped,Upon the fouler, that hem made awhaped In Winter, and destroied had hir brood,In his dispite hem thought it did hem good To sing of him, and in hir song dispise The foule chorle, that for his covetise,Had hem betraied with his sophistrie,This was hir song, " The fouler we defie ,'And all his craft:" and some songen clere,Laies of love, that joy it was to here,In worshipping and praysing of hir make,And for the new blisfull Somers sake,Upon the braunches full of blosmes soft,In hir dilite, they tourned hem ful oft,And songen, "Blissed be Sainct Valentine,For on his day I chese you to be mine,Withouten repenting mine herte swete;"And therewithall hir bekes gonnen mete,Yelding honour, and humble obeisaunceTo love, and didden hir other observaunceThat longeth unto love, and unto nature,Constrewe that as you list, I do no cure:And tho that had done unkindnesse,As doeth the tidife, for new fanglenesse,Besought mercy of hir trespasing,And humbly song hir repenting,And sworen on the blosmes to be true,So that hir makes would upon hem rue,And at the last maden hir acorde,All found they Daunger for the time a lord,Yet Pite, through his strong gentill might,Foryave, and made Mercy passen right Through Innocence, and ruled Curtesie:But I ne cleape it nat innocence folie,Ne false pite, for vertue is the meane,As eticke sayth, in soch maner I meane.And thus these foule, voide of all malice,Acordeden to love, and laften vice Of hate, and song all of one acorde,"Welcome Sommer, our governour and lorde."And Zephirus, and Flora gentelly,Yave to the floures soft and tenderly,Hir swote breth, and made hem for to sprede,As god and goddesse of the flourie mede,In which me thoughte I might day by day,Dwellen alway, the joly month of May,Withouten slepe, withouten meat or drinke:Adowne full softly I gan to sinke,And leaning on my elbow and my side,The long day I shope me for to abide,For nothing els, and I shall nat lie,But for to looke upon the daisie,That well by reason men it call may The daisie, or els the eye of the day,The emprise, and floure of floures all,I pray to God that faire mote she fall,And all that loven floures, for her sake:But nathelesse, ne wene nat that I make In praising of the floure againe the lefe,No more than of the corne againe the shefe:For as to me n'is lever none ne lother,I n'am witholden yet with never nother,Ne I not who serveth lefe, ne who the floure,Well brouken they hir service or laboure,For this thing is all of another tonne,Of old storie, er soch thing was begonne.Whan that the Sunne out the south gan west,And that this floure gan close, and gan to rest,For derknes of the night, the which she dred,Home to mine house full swiftly I me sped To gone to rest, and earely for to rise,To seene this floure to sprede, as I devise,And in a little herber that I have,That benched was on turves fresh ygrave,I bad men shoulde me my couche make,For deintie of the newe Sommers sake,I bad hem strawen floures on my bedde;Whan I was laid, and had mine eyen hedde,I fell a slepe, and slept an houre or two,Me met how I lay in the medow tho,To seen this floure, that I love so and drede,412 PROLOGUE TO THE v. 212-348And from a ferre came walking in the mede The god of love, and in his hand a queene,And she was clad in royall habite grene,A fret of golde she had next her heere,And upon that a white croune she beare,With flourouns small, and I shall not lie,For all the world right as a daisie Yerouned is, with white leaves lite,So were the florouns of her croune white,For of o perle fine orientall ,Her white croune was ymaked all,For which the white croune above the grene Made her like a daisie for to seme,Considred eke her fret of gold above:Yclothed was this mighty god of love In silke, embroided full of grene greves,In which a fret of redde rose leves,The freshest sens the world was first begun;His gilt heere was crouned with a sun,In stede of gold, for hevinesse and weight,Therwith, me thought, his face shone so bright That well unnethes might I him behold,And in his hand, me thought, I saw him hold Two firie dartes, as the gledes rede,And angelike his winges saw I sprede:And all be that men sain that blinde is he,Algate, me thought, that he might se,For sternely on me he gan behold ,So that his loking doeth mine herte cold,And by the hand he held this noble queene,Crouned with white, and clothed al in greene,So womanly, so benigne, and so meke,That in this worlde though that men wold seke,Halfe her beaute should they not finde In creature that formed is by kinde,And therfore may I sain as thinketh me,This song in praising of this lady fre.Hide, Absolon, thy gilte tresses clere,Hester lay thou thy mekenesse all adoun,Hide, Jonathas, all thy frendly manere,Penelopee, and Marcia Catoun,Make of your wifehode no comparisoun,Hide your beauties, Isoude and Helein,My lady cometh, that all this may distain." Thy faire body let it not appere,Lavine, and thou Lucrece of Rome toun,And Polixene, that boughten love so dere,And Cleopatras, with all thy passioun,Hide your trouthe of love, and your renoun,And thou Tisbe, that hast of love such pain,My lady commeth, that all this may distain." Hero, Dido, Laodomia, al yfere,And Phillis, hanging for Demophoun,And Canace, espied by thy chere,Hipsiphile betrayed with Jasoun,Maketh of your trouth neither boste ne soun,Nor Hipermistre, or Ariadne, ye twain,My lady cometh, that all this may distain."This balade may full well ysongen be,As I have sayd erst, by my lady fre,For certainly, all these mowe not suffice,To apperen with my lady in no wise,For as the Sunne woll the fire distain,So passeth all my lady soverain,That is so good, so faire, so debonaire,I pray to God that ever fall her faire,For nad comforte ben of her presence,I had ben dead, withouten any defence,For drede of Loves wordes, and his chere,As whan time is, hereafter ye shall here.Behind this god of love upon the grene,I saw coming of ladies ninetene,In roiall habit, a full easie pace,And after hem came of women such a trace,That sens that God Adam had made of yerth,The third part of mankinde, or the ferth,Ne wende I nat by possibilite,Had ever in this wide world ybe,And true of love, these women were echon:Now, whether was that a wonder thing or non,That right anon, as that they gonne espyeThis floure, which that I clepe the daysie,Full sodainly they stinten all at ones,And kneled doune, as it were for the nones,And songen with o voice, " Heale and honourTo trouth of womanhede, and to this flour,That beareth our alderprise in figuring,Her white croune beareth the witnessing. "And with that word, a compas enviroun,They sitten hem ful softely adoun:First sat the god of love, and sith his quene,With the white croune, clad all in grene,And sithen al the remnaunt by and by,As they were of estate, full curtesly,Ne nat a worde was spoken in the place,The mountenance of a furlong way of space.I, kneling by this floure, in good entent Abode to knowen what this people ment,As still as any stone, till, at the last,This god of love, on me his eyen cast,And said, " Who kneleth there? " and I answerdeUnto his asking, whan that I it herde,And sayd, " Sir, it am I," and come him nere,And salued him: quod he, " What doest thou here,So nigh mine owne floure, so boldly?It were better worthy truely,A worme to nighen nere my floure than thou. "" And why sir," quod I , " and it like you? ”"For thou," quod he, " art therto nothing able,It is my relike, digne and delitable,And thou my fo, and all my folke werriest,And of mine old servaunts thou missaiest,And hindrest hem with thy translation,And lettest folke from hir devocion,To serve me, and holdest it folieTo serve Love, thou mayst it nat denie,For in plain text, withouten nede of glose,Thou hast translated the Romaunt of the Rose,That is an heresie ayenst my law,And makest wise folke fro me withdraw;And of Creseide, thou hast said as the list,That maketh men to women lesse trist,That ben as trewe as ever was any stele:Of thine answere avise thee right wele,For though thou renied hast my lay,As other wretches have done many a day,By seint Venus, that my mother is,If that thou live, thou shalt repenten this,So cruelly, that it shall well be sene. "Tho spake this lady, clothed all in greene,And saied, " God, right of your curtesie,Ye mote herken if he can replieAyenst all this that ye have to him meved;AGod ne shulde nat be thus agreved,But of his deite he shal be stable,And there gracious and merciable:And if ye n'ere a God that knowen all ,v. 349-488 LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 413Than might it be as I you tellen shall,This man to you may falsely ben accused,That as by right him ought ben excused,For in your court is many a losengeour,And many a queinte totoler accusour,That tabouren in your eares many a soun,Right after hir imaginatioun,To have your daliaunce, and for envie,These ben the causes, and I shall nat lie,Envie is lavender of the court alway,For she ne parteth neither night ne day,Out of the house of Cæsar, thus saith Dant,Who so that goeth algate she wol nat want." And eke, peraunter, for this man is nice,He might done it, gessing no malice,But for he useth thinges for to make,Him recketh nought of what mater he take,Or him was boden make thilke twey,Of some persone, and durst it nat withsey:Or him repenteth utterly of this,He ne hath nat done so grevously amis,To translaten that old clerkes writen,As though that he of malice would enditen,Dispite of Love, and had himself it wrought:This shold a rightwise lord have in his thought,And nat be like tiraunts of Lombardie,That han no reward but at tyrannie,For he that king or lorde is naturell,Him ought nat be tiraunt ne cruell,As is a fermour, to done the harme he can,He must thinke it is his liege man,And is his tresour, and his gold in cofer,This is the sentence of the philosopher:A king, to kepe his lieges in justice,Withouten doute that is his office,All woll he kepe his lordes in hir degree,As it is right and skil, that they bee Enhaunsed and honoured, and most dere,For they ben halfe goddes in this world here,Yet mote he done both right to poore and riche,All be that hir estate be nat both yliche,And have of poore folke compassion,For lo, the gentill kinde of the lion,For whan a flie offendeth him or biteth,He with his taile away the flie smiteth,Al easily, for of his gentrie Him deineth nat to wreke him on a flie,As doeth a curre, or els another beest;In noble corage ought ben areest,And waien every thing by equite,And ever have regard unto his owne degre:For, sir, it is no maistrie for a lordTo dampne a man, without answere of word,And for a lorde, that is full foule to use;And it so be, he may him nat excuse,But asketh mercy with a dreadfull herte,And profereth him, right in his bare sherte,To ben right at your owne judgement,Than ought a God by short avisem*nt,Consider his owne honour, and his trespace,For sith no cause of death lieth in this case,You ought to ben the lightlier merciable,Letteth your ire, and bethe somewhat tretable:The man hath served you of his conninges,And forthred well your law in his makinges,All be it that he can nat well endite,Yet hath he made leude folke deliteTo serve you, in preising of your name,He madethe boke, that hight, the House of Fame,And eke the Death of Blaunche the duch*esse,And the Parliament of Foules, as I gesse,And al the Love of Palamon and ArciteOf Thebes, though the storie is knowen lite,And many an himpne, for your holy daies,That highten Balades, Rondels, Virelaies;And for to speake of other holinesse,He hath in prose translated Boece,And made the Life also of Saint Cecile:He made also, gone is a great while,Origenes upon the Maudelaine:Him ought now to have the lesse paine,He hath made many a ley, and many a thing." Now as ye be a God, and eke a king,I your Alceste, whilom quene of Trace,I aske you this man right of your grace,That ye him never hurt in al his live,And he shal swearen to you, and that blive,He shal never more agilten in this wise,But shal maken as ye woll devise,Of women trewe in loving al hir life,Where so ye woll, of maiden or of wife,And forthren you as much as he misseide,Or in the Rose, or eles in Creseide. "The god of love answerde her thus anon,"Madame," quod he, " it is so long agon,That I you knew, so charitable and trewe,That never yet, sens the world was newe,To me ne found I better none than ye,If that I woll save my degree:I may nor woll nat werne your request,Al lieth in you, doth with him as you lest." I al foryeve withouten lenger space,For who so yeveth a yefte or doth a grace,Do it betime, his thanke shall be the more;And demeth ye what ye shal do therfore?"Go thanke now my lady here," quod he.I rose, and doun I set me on my knee,And said thus: " Madame, the God above Foryelde you that the god of love Have maked me his wrath to foryeve,And grace so longe for to live,That I may know sothely what ye be,That have me holpen, and put in this degreBut trewly I wende, as in this caas Nought have a gilte, ne done to love trespas,For why a trewe man withouten dredeHath nat to parten with a theves dede."Ne a trewe lover ought me nat to blame,Though that I speke a false lover some shame:They ought rather with me for to hold,For that I of Creseide wrote or told,Or of the Rose, what so mine author ment,Algate, God wotte, it was mine entent To forthren trouth in love, and it cherice,And to ben ware fro falsenesse and fro vice,By which ensample, this was my mening."And she answerde, " Let be thine arguing,For love ne wol not counterpleted be,In right ne wrong, and lerne that of me:Thou hast thy grace, and hold the right thereto:Now woll I saine what penance thou shalt do For thy trespace, understand it here:Thou shalt while that thou livest, yere by yere,The most partie of thy time spende,In making of a glorious legende,Of good women, maidenes and wives,That weren trewe in loving all hir lives,And tell of false men that hem betraien,That al hir life ne do nat but assaien How many women they may done a shame,414 THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. v. 489-619For in your world that is now hold a game:And though thee like nat a lover be,Speke wel of love, this penance yeve I thee,And to the god of love I shal so pray,That he shal charge his servaunts by any way,To forthren thee, and wel thy labour quite,Go now thy waie, this penaunce is but lite:And whan this boke is made, yeve it the queneOn my behalfe, at Eltham, or at Shene."The god of love gan smile, and than he said:"Wost thou," quod he, "wherethis bewife ormaid,Or queene, or countesse, or of what degree,That hath so littell penaunce yeven thee,That hast deserved sore for to smart,But pite renneth sone in gentle herte:That maist thou sene, she kitheth what she is."And I answerde, " Naie, sir, so have I blis,No more, but that I see well she is good."" That is a trewe tale, by mine hood,"Quod Love, " and thou knowest wel, parde,If it be so that thou avise the:Hast thou nat in a booke in thy cheste,The great goodnesse of the quene Alceste,That turned was into a dayesie,She that for her husband chese to die,And eke to gone to Hell, rather than he,And Hercules rescued her, parde,And brought her out of Hel againe to blis?"And I answerde againe, and said " Yes,Now know I her, and is this good Alceste,The dayesie, and mine owne hertes reste?Now fele I well the goodnesse of this wife,That both after her death, and in her life,Her great bounte doubleth her renoun,Wel hath she quit me mine affectioun,That I have to her floure the dayesie,No wonder is though Jove her stellifie,As telleth Agaton, for her great goodnesse,Her white corowne beareth of it witnesse:For all so many vertues had she,As smal florounes in her corowne be,In remembraunce of her, and in honour,Cibylla made the dayesie and the floure,Ycrowned al with white, as men may se,And Mars yave to her a corowne reed, parde,In stede of rubies set among the white: "Therewith this quene woxe red for shame alite,Whan she was praysed so in her presence,Than said Love, " A full great negligenceWas it to thee, that ilke time thou made,'Hide Absolon thy tresses,' in balade,That thou forget in thy songe to sette,Sith that thou art so greatly in her dette,And wost well that kalender is sheTo any woman, that woll lover be:For she taught all the craft of trewe loving,And namely of wifehode the living,And all the bondes that she ought keepe;Thy litel witte was thilke time asleepe:But now I charge thee upon thy life,That in thy legende thou make of this wife,Whan thou hast other smale ymade before:And fare now well, I charge thee no more,But er I go, thus much I will the tell,Ne shal no trewe lover come in Hell."These other ladies sitting here a rowe,Ben in thy balade, if thou const hem know,And in thy bokes al thou shalt hem find,Have hem now in thy legende al in mind,I meane of hem that ben in thy knowing,For here ben twenty thousand mo sittingThan thou knowest, good women all,And trewe of love, for ought that may befall:Make the metres of hem as thee lest,I mote gone home, the Sunne draweth west,To Paradis, with all this companie,And serve alway the fresh dayesie.At Cleopatras I woll that thou begin,And so forth, and my love so shalt thou win;For let see now, what man, that lover be,Wol done so strong a paine for love as she.I wote well that thou maist nat all it rime,That suche lovers did in hir time:It were too long to reden and to here,Suffiseth me thou make in this manere,That thou reherce of al her life the great,After these old authours listen for to treat,For who so shall so many a story tell,Sey shortely or he shall too longe dwell: "And with that worde my bookes gan I take,And right thus on my legende gan I make.THUS ENDETH THE PROLOGUE.HERE BEGINNETHTHE LEGENDE OF CLEOPATRAS,Queene of Egypt.AFTER the death of Ptholome the king,That all Egypt had in his governing,Reigned his queene Cleopataras,Till on a time bifel there such a caas,That out of Rome was sent a senatour,For to conqueren realmes and honour,Unto the toune of Rome, as was usaunce,To have the world at her obeisaunce,And soth to say, Antonius was his name,So fil it, as fortune him ought a shame,Whan he was fallen in prosperite,Rebel unto the toune of Rome is he,And over al this, the suster of CesareHe left her falsely, er that she was ware,And would algates han another wife,For which he toke with Rome and Cesar strife.Nathelesse, forsoth, this ilke senatour,Was a full worthy gentill werriour,And of his deth it was ful great damage,But Love had brought this man in such a rage And him so narow bounden in his laas,And all for the love of Cleopatras,That al the world he set at no value,Him thought there was nothing to him so due,As Cleopatras for to love and serve;Him thought that in armes for to sterve In the defence of her, and of her right.This noble quene, eke loved so this knight,Through his desert, and for his chevalrie,As certainly, but if that bokes lie,He was of person, and of gentilnesse,And of discretion, and of hardinesse,Worthy to any wight that liven may,And she was faire, as is the rose in May;And, for to maken shorte is the best,She woxe his wife, and had him as her lest.The wedding and the feast to devise,To me that have ytake such emprise,And so many a storie for to make,It were to longe, lest that I should slakev. 620-753 THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 415Of thing that beareth more effect and charge,For men may overlade a ship or barge,And forthy, to effect than woll I skippe,And al the remnaunt I woll let it slippe.Octavian, that wood was of this dede,Shope him an hooste on Antony to lede,Al utterly for his destruction,With stoute Romaines, cruell as lion;To ship they went, and thus I let hem saile.Antonius was ware, and woll nat faile To meten with these Romaines, if he may,Toke eke his rede, and both upon a day,His wife and he, and all his host forth wentTo ship anone, no lenger they ne stent,And in the see it happed hem to mete;Up goeth the trumpe, and for to shoute and shete,And painen hem to set on with the Sunne,With grisly sown out goeth the great gunne,And hertely they hurtlen in all at ones,And fro the top doune cometh the great stones,In goeth the grapenel so full of crokes,Among the ropes ran the shering hokes,In with the polaxe preaseth he and he,Behind the maste beginneth be to flee,And out againe, and driveth him over borde,He sticketh him upon his speares orde,He rent the saile with hookes like a sith ,He bringeth the cup, and biddeth hem be blith,He poureth peesen upon the hatches slider,With pottes full of lime, they gone togider,And thus the longe day in fight they spend,Till at the last, as every thing hath end,Antony is shent, and put him to the flight,And all his folke to go, that best go might,Fleeth eke the quene, with all her purple saile,For strokes which that went as thicke as haile,No wonder was, she might it nat endure:And whan that Antony saw that aventure,"Alas," quod he, " the day that I was borne,My worship in this day thus have I lorne,”And for dispaire out of his wit he start,And rofe himselfe, anon, throughout the herte,Ere that he ferther went out of the place:His wife, that could of Cesar have no grace,To Egipt is fled, for drede and for distresse,But herkeneth ye that speken of kindnesse.Ye men that falsely swearen many an oth,That ye woll die if that your love be wroth,Here may ye seene of women such a trouth.This woful Cleopatra had made such routh,That there n'is tonge none that may it tell,But on the morow she woll no lenger dwell,But made her subtill werkmen make a shrineOf all the rubies and the stones fineIn all Egipt that she coulde espie,And put full the shrine of spicerie,And let the corse enbaume, and forth she fette This dead corse, and in the shrine it shette,And next the shrine a pit than doth she grave,And all the serpentes that she might have,She put hem in that grave, and thus she seid:"Now love, to whom my sorowfull herte obeid,So ferforthly, that fro that blisfull hour That I you swore to ben all freely your,I meane you, Antonius my knight,That never waking in the day or night,Ye n'ere out of mine hertes remembraunce,For wele or wo, for carole, or for daunce,And in my selfe this covenaunt made I tho,That right such as ye felten wele or wo,As ferforth as it in my power lay,Unreprovable unto my wifehood aye,The same would I felen, life or death,And thilke covenaunt while me lasteth breathI woll fulfill, and that shall well be seene,Was never unto her love a truer queene:And with that word, naked, with full good herte,Among the serpents in the pit she start,And there she chese to have her burying.Anone the neders gonne her for to sting,And she her death receiveth with good chere,For love of Antony that was her so dere.And this is storiall, sooth it is no fable:Now ere I find a man thus true and stable,And woll for love his death so freely take,I pray God let our hedes never ake.THE LEGEND OF TISBE OF BABILON.AT Babiloine whylome fill it thus,The whiche toun the queen Simiramus Let dichen al about, and walles makeFull hie, of harde tiles well ybake:There were dwelling in this noble toun,Two lordes, which that were of great renoun,And woneden so nigh upon a grene,That there nas but a stone wal hem between,As oft in great tounes is the wonne:And sothe to saine, that one man had a sonne,Of all that lond one of the lustiest,That other had a doughter, the fairest That estward in the world was tho dwelling;The name of everiche gan to other spring,By women that were neighbours aboute,For in that countre yet withouten doute,Maidenes ben ykept for jelousieFul straite, lest they didden some folie.This yonge man was cleped Piramus,Thisbe hight the maide, ( Naso saith thus)And thus by report was hir name yshove,That as they woxe in age, so woxe hir love:And certaine, as by reason of hir age,Ther might have ben betwixt hem mariage,But that hir fathers n'olde it nat assent,And bothe in love ylike sore they brent,That none of all hir friendes might it lette,But prively sometime yet they mette By sleight, and spaken some of hir desire,As wrie the glede and hotter is the fire,Forbid a love, and it is ten times so wode.This wal, which that betwixt hem both stode,Was cloven atwo, right fro the top adoun,Of old time, of his foundatioun,But yet this clift was so narrow and lite It was nat seene, dere inough a mite,But what is that, that love cannot espie?Ye lovers two, if that I shall not lie,Ye founden first this little narrow clift,And with a sound, as soft as any shrift,They let hir wordes through the clifte pace,And tolden, while that they stoden in the place,All hir complaint of love, and all hir wo,At every time whan they durst so.On that one side of the wall stood he,And on that other side stood Tisbe,The sweet soune of other to receive,And thus hir wardeins would they disceive,416 THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. v. 754-893And every daie this wall they would threte,And wish to God that it were doun ybete,Thus wold they sain, " Alas, thou wicked wall,Through thine envie thou us lettest all ,Why nilt thou cleave, or fallen all atwo,Or at the least, but thou wouldest so,, Yet wouldest thou but ones let us mete,Or ones that we might kissen swete,Than were we cured of our cares cold,But nathelesse, yet be we to thee hold,In as much as thou suffrest for to gone,Our words through thy lime and eke thy stone,Yet ought we with thee ben well apaid. "And whan these idle wordes weren said,The cold wall they woulden kisse of stone,And take hir leave, and forth they wolden gone,And this was gladly in the eventide,Or wonder erly, least men it espide.And long time they wrought in this manere,Till on a day, whan Phebus gan to clere,Aurora with the stremes of her hete,Had dried up the dew of herbes wete,Unto this clift, as it was wont to be,Come Piramus, and after come Tisbe,And plighten trouthe fully in hir fay,That ilke same night to steale away,And to beguile hir wardeins everychone,And forth out of the citie for to gone,And for the fieldes ben so brode and wide,For to mete in o place at o tide,They set markes, hir meetings should be There king Ninus was graven, under a tree,For old paynims, that idolles heried,Useden tho in fields to ben buried,And fast by his grave was a well,And shortely of this tale for to tell,This covenaunt was affirmed wonder fast,And long hem thought that the Sunne last,That it nere gone under the see adoun.This Tisbe hath so great affectioun,And so great liking Piramus to see,That whan she saw her time might be,At night she stale away full prively,With her face iwimpled subtelly,For all her friends ( for to save her trouth)She hath forsake alas, and that is routh,That ever woman woulde be so trew,To trusten man, but she the bet him knew:And to the tree she goeth a full good pace,For love made her so hardy in this case,And by the well adoun she gan her dresse,Alas, than commeth a wild lionesseOut of the wood, withouten more arrest,With bloody mouth, strangling of a beast,To drinken of the well there as she sat,And whan that Tisbe had espied that,She rist her up with a full drery herte,And in a cave, with dreadfull foot she start,For by the Moone she saw it well withall.And as she ran, her wimple let she fall,And toke none hede, so sore she was awhaped,And eke so glad that she was escaped,And that she sat, and lurketh wonder still:Whan that this lionesse hath dronke her fill,About the well gan she for to wind,And right anon the wimple gan she find,And with her bloody mouth it all to rent,Whan this was done, no lenger she ne stent,But to the wood her way than hath she nome.And, at the last, this Piramus is come,But all too long, alas, at home was hee,The Moone shone, men might well ysee,And in his way, as that he come full fast,His eyen to the ground adoun he cast,And in the sonde, as he beheld adoun,He saw the steppes brode of a lioun,And in his herte he suddainly agrose,And pale he wext, therwith his herte arose,And here he came, and found the wimple torne," Alas," quod he, " the day that I was borne!This o night woll both us lovers slee;How should I asken mercy of Tisbee,Whan I am he that have you slaine? alas!My bidding hath you slaine in this caas.Alas, to bidde a woman gone by nightIn place thereas perill fallen might,And I so slow, alas, I ne had be Here in this place a furlong way ere yeNow, what lion that is in this forrest,My body mote he rente, or what beastThat wild is, gnawen mote he mine herte."And with that word he to the wimple start,And kist it oft, and wept on it full sore,And said, " Wimple, alas, there n'is no more,But thou shalt feele as well the blood of me,As thou hast felt the bleeding of Tisbe:"And with that word he smote him to the herte,The blood out of the wound as broad start,As water, whan the conduit broken is.!Now Tisbe, which that wist nat this,But sitting in her drede, she thought thus," If it so fall out that my PiramusBe comen hither, and may me nat yfind,He may me holden false, and eke unkind: "And out she commeth, and after him gan espien,Both with her herte and with her eien,And thought, " I woll him tellen of my drede,Both of the lionesse and of my dede."And, at the last, her love than hath she found,Beating with his heeles on the ground,All bloody, and therewithall abacke she start,And like the wawes, quappe gan her herte,And pale as boxe she woxe, and in a throwAvised her, and gan him well to know,That it was Piramus her herte dere.Who could write whiche a deadly chere Hath Tisbe now, and how her haire she rent,And how she gan her selfe to turment,And how she lieth and swouneth on the ground,And how she wept of teares full his wound,How medleth she his blood with her complaint,How with her blood her selven gan she paint,How clippeth she the red corse, alas!How doth this wofull Tisbe in this caas!How kisseth she his frosty mouth so cold!"Who hath don this? and who hath ben so boldTo sleen my lefe? o speake Piramus,I am thy Tisbe, that thee calleth thus,"And therwithall she lifteth up his head.This wofull man that was nat fully dead,Whan that he herd the name of Tisbe crien,On her he cast his heavy deadly eyen,And doun againe, and yeeldeth up the ghost.Tisbe rist up, without noise or bost,And saw her wimple and his empty sheath,And eke his swerd, that him hath done to death,Than spake she thus, " My woful hand, " quod she," Is strong ynough in such a werke to me,For love shall yeve me strength and hardinesse,To make my wound large ynough I gesse,v. 894-1025 THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 417I woll thee followen dead, and I woll beFelaw, and cause eke of thy death," quod she,"And though that nothing save the death only,Might thee fro me depart, trewly Thou shalt no more departe now fro me Than fro the death, for I woll go with thee."And now ye wretched jelous fathers our,We that weren whylome children your,We praien you, withouten more envie,That in o grave we moten lie,Sens love hath brought us to this pitous end;And right wise God, to every lover send,That loveth trewly, more prosperite Than ever had Piramus and Tisbe,And let no gentill woman her assure To putten her in such an aventure,But God forbid but that a woman canBen as true and loving as a man,And, for my part, I shall anon it kithe:"And with that word, his swerde she tooke swithe,That warme was of her loves blood, and hote,And to the herte she her selven smote.And thus are Tisbe and Piramus ago;Of true men I find but few moIn all my bookes, save this Piramus,And therefore have I spoken of him thus;For it is deintie to us men to find A man that can in love be true and kind.Here may ye seene, what lover so he be,A woman dare and can as well as he.THE LEGEND OF DIDO,Queene of Cartage.GLORY and honour, Virgile Mantuan,Be to thy name, and I shall as I canFollow thy lanterne, as thou goest beforne,How Eneas to Dido was forsworne,In thine Eneide, and Naso woll I takeThe tenour and the great effects make.Whan Troy brought was to destructionBy Grekes sleight, and namely by Sinon,Faining the horse offred unto Minerve,Through which that many a Trojan must sterve,And Hector had after his death apered,And fire so wood it might nat ben stered,In all the noble toure of Ilion ,That ofthe citie was the cheefe dungeon,And all the country was so low ybrought,And Priamus the king fordone and nought,And Eneas was charged by Venus To flien away, he tooke Ascanius That was his son, in his right hand and fled,And on his backe he bare and with him ledHis old father, cleped Anchises,And by the way his wife Creusa he lees,And mokell sorrow had he in his mind,Ere that he coulde his fellawship find:But, at the last, whan he had hem found,He made hem redy in a certaine stound,And to the sea full fast he gan him hie,And saileth forth with all his companie Towards Itaile, as would destinee:But of his aventures in the see,N'is nat to purpose for to speke of here,For it accordeth nat to my matere,But, as I said, of him and of DidoShall be my tale, till that I have do.So long he sailed in the salt see,Till in Libie unneth arrived he,So was he with the tempest all to shake,And whan that he the haven had ytake,He had a knight was called Achatees,And him of all his fellowship he chees,To gone with him the country for t'espie,He tooke with him no more companie,But forth they gon, and left his ships ride,His feere and he, withouten any guide.So long he walketh in this wildernesse,Till at the last he met an hunteresse,A bow in hond, and arrowes had she,Her clothes cutted were unto the knee,But she was yet the fairest creature That ever was yformed by nature,And Eneas and Achates she gret,And thus she to hem spake, whan she hem met."Saw ye, " quod she, " as ye han walked wide,Any of my sustren walke you beside,With any wild bore or other beast,That they have hunted into this forrest,Ytucked up with arrowes in her caas?""Nay, sothly, lady," quod this Eneas,"But by thy beautie, as it thinketh me,Thou mightest never yearthly woman be,But Phebus suster art thou, as I gesse,And if so be that thou be a goddesse,Have mercy on our labour and our wo.""I n'am no goddesse soothly, " quod she tho,For maidens walken in this country here,With arrows and with bow, in this manere:This is the realme of Libie there ye been,Of which that Dido lady is and queen,"And shortly told all the occasionWhy Dido came into that region,Of which as now me listeth nat to rime,It nedeth nat, it nere but losse of time,For this is all and some, it was Venus,His owne mother, that spake with him thus,And to Cartage she bade he should him dight,And vanished anon out of his sight.I could follow word for word Vergile,But it would lasten all to longe while.This noble queen that cleped was Dido,That whylom was the wife of Sicheo,That fairer was than the bright Sunne,This noble toun of Carthage hath begunne,In which she reigneth in so great honour,That she was hold of all quenes flour,Of gentillesse, of freedome, and of beaute,That well was him that might her ones se,Of kings and lordes so desired,That all the world her beautie had yfired,She stood so well in every wights grace.Whan Eneas was come unto the place,Unto the maister temple of all the toun,There Dido was in her devotioun,Full prively his way than hath he nome:Whan he was in the large temple come,I cannot saine if that it be possible,But Venus had him maked invisible,Thus sayth the booke, withouten any lees.And whan this Eneas and AchatesHadden in this temple ben over all,Than found they depainted on a wall,How Troy and all the land destroyed was,"Alas, that I was borne!" quod Eneas,EE418 THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN.v. 1026-1165" Through the world our shame is kid so wide,Nowit is painted upon every side:We that weren in prosperite,Ben now disclaundred, and in such degre,No lenger for to liven I ne kepe; "And with that word he brast out for to wepe,So tenderly that routh it was to seene.This fresh lady, of the citie queen,Stood in the temple, in her estate roiall,So richely, and eke so faire withall,So yong, so lustie, with her eyen glade,That if that God that Heaven and yearth made,Would have a love, for beauty and goodnesse,And womanhede, trouth, and semelinesse,Whom should he loven but this lady swete?There n'is no woman to him halfe so mete:Fortune, that hath the world in governaunce,Hath sodainly brought in so new a chaunce,That never was there yet so fremed a caas,For all the company of Eneas,Which that we wend have lorne in the see,Arrived is nought ferre fro that citee,For which the greatest of his lords, some,By aventure ben to the citie come Unto that same temple for to sekeThe queene, and of hir socour her beseke,Such renome was ther sprung of her goodnes.And whan they had tolde all hir distresse,And all hir tempest and all hir hard caas,Unto the queene appeared Eneas,And openly beknew that it was he;Who had joy than, but his meine,That hadden found hir lord, hir governour?The quene saw they did him such honour,And had heard of Eneas, ere tho,And in her herte had routh and wo,That ever such a noble man as heShall ben disherited in such degre,And saw the man, that he was like a knight,And suffisaunt of person and of might,And like to ben a very gentilman,And well his wordes he besette can,And had a noble visage for the nones,And formed well of brawne and of bones,And after Venus had such fairenesseThat no man might be halfe so faire I gesse,And well a lord him semed for to be,And for he was a straunger, somewhat she Liked him the bet, as God do boote,To some folke often new thing is soote;Anon her herte hath pitee of his wo,And with pitie love came also,And thus for pitie and for gentilnesse,Refreshed must he ben of his distresse.She said, certes, that she sorry was,That he hath had such perill and such caas,And in her friendly speech, in this manere She to him spake, and sayd as ye may here."Be ye nat Venus sonne and Anchises?In good faith, all the worship and encreesThat I may goodly done you, ye shall have,Your shippes and your meine shall I save;"And many a gentle word she spake him to,And commaunded her messengers to goThe same day, withouten any faile,His shippes for to seeke and hem vitaile;Full many a beast she to the ships sent,And with the wine she gan hem to present,And to her roiall paleis she her sped,And Eneas she alway with her led.What nedeth you the feastes to discrive,He never better at ease was in his live,Full was the feast of deinties and richesse,Of instruments, of song, and of gladnesse,And many an amorous looking and devise.This Eneas is come to ParadiseOut of the swolowe of Hell, and thus in joy Remembreth him of his estate in Troy,To dauncing chambers full of paraments,Of rich beds, and of pavements,This Eneas is ledde after the meat,And with the queene whan that he had seat,And spices parted, and the wine agon,Unto his chamber was he lad anon,To take his ease, and for to have his rest With all his folke, to done what so him lest.Ther nas courser well ybridled none,Ne stede for the justing well to gone,Ne large palfrey, easie for the nones,Ne jewell fret full of rich stones,Ne sackes full of gold, of large wight,Ne rubie none that shineth by night,Ne gentill hautein faukon heronere,Ne hound for hart, wild bore, or dere,Ne cup of gold, with floreins new ybette,That in the lond of Libie may ben gette,That Dido ne hath Eneas it ysent,And all is payed what that he hath spent.Thus can this honorable quene her gestes call,As she that can in freedome passen all.Eneas sothly eke, without lees,Hath sent to his shippe by Achates After his sonne, and after rich things,Both scepter, clothes, broches, and eke rings,Some for to weare, and some to present To her, that all these noble things him sent,And bad his sonne how that he should makeThe presenting, and to the quene it take.Repaired is this Achates againe,And Eneas full blisfull is and faineTo seene his yong sonne Ascanius,For to him it was reported thus,That Cupido, that is the god of love,At prayer of his mother high above,Had the likenesse of the child ytake,This noble queene enamoured for to make On Eneas; but of that scriptureBe as he may, I make of it no cure;But soth is this, the queen hath made such chere Unto this child, that wonder was to here,And of the present that his father sent,She thanked him oft in good entent.Thus is this queen in pleasaunce and joy,With all these new lustie folke of Troy,And of the deeds hath she more enquiredOf Eneas, and all the story lered Of Troy, and all the long day they tway Entendeden for to speake and for to play,Of which there gan to breden such a fire,That sely Dido hath now such desire With Eneas her new guest to deale,That she lost her hew and eke her heale.Now to th'effect, now to the fruit of all,Why I have told this story, and tellen shall.Thus I begin; it fell upon a night,Whan that the Mone upreised had her light,This noble queene unto her rest went,She sighed sore, and gon her selfe tourment,She walketh, waloweth, and made many braide,As done these lovers, as I have heard saide,v. 1166-1305 THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 419And, at the last, unto her suster AnneShe made her mone, and right thus spake she than."Now dere suster mine, what may it beThat me agasteth in my dreme," quod she,"This ilke new Trojan is so in my thought,For that me thinketh he is so wel iwrought,And eke so likely to ben a man,And therwith so mikell good he can,That all my love and life lieth in his cure;Have ye nat heard him tell his aventure?" Now certes, Anne, if that ye rede me,I woll faine to him ywedded be,This is the effect, what should I more seine?In him lieth all, to do me live or deine."Her suster Anne, as she that coud her good,Said as her thought, and somdele it withstood,But hereof was so long a sermoning,It were to long to make rehearsing:But, finally, it may not be withstonde,Love woll love, for no wight woll it wonde.The dawning uprist out of the see,This amorous quene chargeth her meine The nettes dresse, and speres brode and kene,In hunting woll this lustie fresh quene,So pricketh her this new jolly wo,To horse is all her lustie folke ygo,Unto the court the houndes ben ybrought,And up on courser, swift as any thought,Her yong knights heven all about,And of her women eke an huge rout.Upon a thicke palfray, paper white,With saddle redde, embrouded with delite,Of gold the barres, up enbossed high,Sate Dido, all in gold and perrie wrigh,And she is faire as is the bright morrow,That healeth sicke folkes of nights sorrow;Upon a courser, startling as the fire,Men might tourne him with a little wire.But Eneas, like Phebus to devise,So was he fresh arrayed in his wise,The fomie bridle, with the bitte of gold,Governeth he right as himselfe hath would;And forth this noble queene, this lady rideOn hunting, with this Trojan by her side.The herd of hartes founden is anon,With " Hey, go bet, pricke thou, let gon, let gon,Why n'ill the lion comen or the beare,That I might him ones meten with this spear?"Thus saine this yong folke, and up they kill The wild hartes, and have hem at hir will.Emong all this, to romblen gan the Heven,The thunder rored with a grisly steven,Doun come the rain, with haile and sleet so fast,With Heavens fire, that made so sore agastThis noble queene, and also her meine,That eche of hem was glad away to flie,And shortly, fro the tempest her to save,She fled her selfe into a little cave,And with her went this Eneas also,I n'ot with hem if there went any mo,The authour maketh of it no mention:And here began the deepe affection Betwixt hem two, this was the first morrowOf her gladnesse, and ginning of her sorrow,For there hath Eneas ykneled so,And told her all his hurt and all his wo,And sworne so deepe to her to be true,For wele or wo, and chaunge for no new,And as a false lover so well can plaine,That sely Dido rewed on his paine,And toke him for husbond, and became his wife For evermore, while that hem last life;And after this, whan that the tempest stent,With mirth out as they came, home they went.The wicked fame up rose, and that anon,How Eneas hath with the queene ygonInto the cave, and demed as hem list:And whan the king (that Yarbas hight) it wist,As he that had her loved ever his life,And woed her to have her to his wife,Such sorrow as he hath maked, and such chere,It is a routh and pitie for to here,But as in love, alday it happeth so,That one shall laughen at anothers wo,Now laughed Eneas, and is in joy,And more richesse than ever was in Troy.O sely woman, full of innocence,Full of pitie, of truth, and continence,What maked you to men to trusten so?Have ye such routh upon hir fained wo,And have such old ensamples you beforne?See ye nat all how they ben forsworne?Where see ye one, that he ne hath laft his lefe,Or ben unkind, or done her some mischefe,Or pilled her or bosted of his dede?Ye may as well it seene, as ye may rede.Take hede now of this great gentilman,This Trojan, that so well her please can,That faineth him so true and obeysing,So gentill, and so privie of his doing,And can so well done all his obeysaunceTo her, at feastes and at daunce,And whan she goeth to temple, and home agayn,And fasten till he hath his lady seyn,And bearen in his devises for her sake,N'ot I nat what, and songes would he make,Justen, and done of armes many things,Send her letters, tokens, brooches, and rings.Now herkneth how he shal his lady serve:There as he was in perill for to sterve For hunger and for mischefe in the see,And desolate, and fled fro his countree,And all his folke with tempest all to driven,She hath her body and eke her realme yeven Into his hond, there she might have been Of other land than of Cartage a queen,And lived in joy inough, what would ye more?This Eneas, that hath thus deepe yswore,Is wearie of his craft within a throw,The hote earnest is all overblow,And prively he dothe his ships dight,And shapeth him to steale away by night.This Dido hath suspection of this,And thought well that it was al amis,For in his bed he lieth a night and siketh,She asketh him anon, what him misliketh," My dere herte, which that I love most.""Certes," quod he, " this night my fathers ghost Hath in my slepe me so sore tourmented,And eke Mercury his message hath presented,That needes to the conquest of ItaileMy destinie is soone for to saile,For which, me thinketh, brosten is mine herte:Therwith his false teares out they start,And taketh her within his armes two."Is that in earnest," quod she, " woll ye so?Have ye nat sworne to wife me to take?Alas, what woman woll ye of me make?I am a gentyl woman, and a queen,Ye woll not fro your wife thus foule fleen?EE 2420 THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. v. 1306-1439That I was borne, alas! what shall I do?"To tellen in short, this noble queen Dido She seeketh halowes, and doth sacrifise ,She kneeleth, crieth, that routh is to devise,Conjureth him, and profereth him to be His thrall, his servaunt, in the best degre,She falleth him to foot, and sowneth there,Dischevile with her bright gilt heere,And sayth, " Have mercy, let me with you ride,These lordes, which that wonnen me beside,Woll me destroyen, only for your sake:And ye woll me now to wife take,As ye have sworne, than woll I yeve you leveTo sleen me with your swerd now sone at eve,For than yet shall I dien as your wife;I am with child, and yeve my child his life!Mercy lord, have pitie in your thought!"But all this thing availeth her right nought!And as a traitour forthe gan to saileToward the large countrey of Itaile,And thus hath he laft Dido in wo and pine,And wedded there a ladie hight Lavine.A cloth he laft, and eke his sword standing,Whan he fro Dido stale in her sleeping,Right at her beds head, so gan he hie,Whan that he stale away to his navie.Which cloth, whan selie Dido gan awake,She hath it kist full oft for his sake,And said, " O sweet cloth, while Jupiter it lest,Take my soule, unbind me of this unrest,I have fulfilled of fortune all the course."And thus, alas, withouten his socourse,Twentie time yswouned hath she than,And whan that she unto her suster AnneComplained had, of which I may not write,So great routh I have it for to endite,And bad her norice and her sustren goneTo fetchen fire, and other things anone,And sayd that she would sacrifie,And whan she might her time well aspie,Upon the fire of sacrifice she start,And with his sword she rofe her to the herte:But as mine authour saith, yet this she seide,Or she was hurt, beforne or she deide,She wrote a letter anon, and thus began." Right so, " quod she, " as the white swan Ayenst his death beginneth for to sing,Right so to you I make my complaining,Not that I trow to getten you againe,For well I wote it is all in vaine,Sens that the gods ben contrarious to me,But sin my name is lost through you," quod she," I may well lese a word on you or letter,Albeit I shall be never the better,99 For thilke wind that blew your ship away,The same wind hath blow away your fay:But who so woll all this letter have in mind,Rede Ovide, and in him he shall it find.THE LEGEND OF HIPSIPHILE AND MEDEA.THOU root of false lovers, duke Jason,Thou sleer, devourer, and confusionOf gentyl women, gentle creatures,Thou madest thy reclaiming and thy lures To ladies of thy scathliche apparaunce,And of thy wordes farsed with pleasaunce,And of thy fained trouth, and thy manere,With thine obeysaunce and humble chere,And with thine counterfeited paine and wo,There other falsen one, thou falsed two,O oft swore thou that thou wouldst dieFor love, whan thou ne feltest maladie,Save foule delite, which thou callest love;If that I live, thy name shall be shove In English, that thy deceit shall be know,Have at thee Jason, now thine honor is blow.But certes, it is both routh and wo,That love with false lovers werketh so,For they shall have well better love and chere Than he that hath bought love full dere,Or had in armes many a bloodie boxe,For ever as tender a capon eateth the foxe,Though he be fals, and hath the foule betraied,As shall the good man that therefore paied,Although he have to the capon skill and right,The false foxe woll have his part at night.On Jason this ensample is well yseene,By Hipsiphile and Medea the queene.In Thessalie, as Ovide telleth us,There was a knight, that hight Peleus,That had a brother, which that hight Eson,And whan for age he might unnethes gon,He yave to Peleus the governingOf al his reign, and made him lord and king,Of which Eson, this Jason getten was,That in his time in all that land there nas Nat such a famous knight of gentillesse,Of freedome, of strength, and of lustinesse;After his fathers death he bare him so,That there nas none that list ben his fo,But did him all honour and companie,Of which this Peleus hath great envie,Imagining that Jason might be Enhaunsed So, and put in such degre,With love of lordes of his regioun,That from his reigne he may be put adoun,And in his wit a night compassed he How Jason might best destroyed be,Withouten slaunder of his compasment;And, at the last, he tooke avisem*nt,That to send him into some ferre countre,There as this Jason may destroyed be;This was his wit, all made he to Jason Great chere of looke, and of affection,For drede least his lords it espide.So fell it, as fame ronneth wide,There was such tiding over all, and such loos,That in an isle, that called was Colcos,Beyond Troy eastward in the see,That there was a ram, that men might see,That had a flees of gold that shone so bright,That no where was there such another sight;But it was kept alway with a dragoun,And many other mervailes up and doun,And with two bulles maked all of bras,That spitten fire, and much thing there was,But this was eke the tale nathelees,That who so would winnen thilke flees,He must both, or he it winnen might,With the buls and the dragon fight.And king Otes lord was of that isle:This Peleus bethought upon this wile,That he his nephew Jason would exhort To sailen to that lond, him to disport,And sayd, " Nephew, if it might bee,That such worship might fall thee,v. 1440-1579 THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 421That thou this famous treasure might win,And bring it my region within,It were to me great pleasaunce and honour,Than were I hold to quite thy labour,And all thy costes I woll my selfe make,And chose what folke thou wolt with thee take,Let see now, darste thou taken this voyage?"Jason was yonge, and lustie of corage,And undertooke to done this ilke emprise;Anon, Argus his ships gan devise.With Jason went the strong Hercules,And many another, that he with him ches,But who so asketh who is with him gon,Let him rede Argonauticon,For he woll tell a tale long ynough.Philoctetes anon the saile up drough,Whan the wind was good, and gan him hieOut of his countrey, called Thessalie.So long they sayled in the salt see,Till in the isle of Lemnon arrived hee,All be this nat rehearsed of Guido,Yet saieth Ovide in his Epistles so,And of this isle lady was and quene,The faire yong Hipsiphile the shene,That whilom Thoas doughter was, the king.Hipsiphile was gone in her playing,And, roming on the clevis by the see,Under a banke, anone, espied sheWhere lay the ship that Jason gan arrive:Of her goodnesse adoune she sendeth blive,To weten if that any straunge wightWith tempest thider were yblow anight,To done him succour, as was her usaunce,To furtheren every wight, and done pleasaunceOf very bountie and of courtesie.This messenger adoune him gan to hie,And found Jason and Hercules also,That in a cogge to lond were ygo,Hem to refreshen and to take the aire.The morning attempre was and faire,And in hir way this messenger hem mette;Full cunningly these lordes two he grette,And did his message, asking hem anon,If that they were broken, or aught wo begon,Or had need of lodesmen, or vitaile,For socoure they shoulde nothing faile,For it was utterly the queenes will .Jason answerde meekely and still:“ My lady," quod he, " thanke I hertely Of her goodnesse; us needeth truly Nothing as now, but that we weary be,And come for to play out of the see,Till that the wind be better in our way."This lady rometh by the cliffe to play With her meinie, endlong the strond,And findeth this Jason and this other stondIn speaking of this thing, as I you told.This Hercules and Jason gan beholdHowe that the queene it was, and faire her grete,Anone, right as they with this lady mete,And she tooke heed, and knew by hir manere,By hir array, by wordes, and by chere,That it were gentyl men of great degree,And to the castle with her leadeth sheThese straunge folk, and doth hem great honour,And asketh hem of travaile and of labourThat they have suffred in the salte see,So that within a day, two or three,She knew by the folke that in his shippes be,That it was Jason, full of renomee,And Hercules, that had the great loos,That soughten the aventures of Colcos,And did hem honour more than before,And with hem dealed ever longer the more,For they ben worthy folke, withouten lees,And namely most she spake with Hercules,To him her herte bare, he shoulde be Sadde, wise, and true, of words avisee,Withouten any other affection Of love, or any other imagination.This Hercules hath this Jason praised,That to the Sunne he hath it up raised,That halfe so true a man there n'as of loveUnder the cope of Heaven that is above,And he was wise, hardie, secrete, and riche,Of these three points there nas none him liche,Of freedome passed he, and lustyhead,All tho that liven, or ben dead;Thereto, so great a gentyl man was he,And of Thessalye likely king to be,Ther n'as no lacke, but that he was agast To love, and for to speake shamefast,Him had lever himselfe to murder and die,Than that men should a lover him espie,As would God that I had iyeve My blood and flesh, so that I might live With the bones, that he had aught where a wife For his estate, for such a lustie life She shoulden lede with this lustie knight.And all this was compassed on the night Betwixe him Jason, and this Hercules,Of these two here was a shreud lees,To come to house upon an innocent,For to bedote this queene was hir entent:And Jason is as coy as is a maid,He looketh pitously, but naught he sayd,But freely yave he to her counsailersYeftes great, and to her officers,As woulde God that I leyser had and time,By processe all his wrong for to rime:But in this house, if any false lover be,Right as himselfe now doth, right so did he,With faining, and with every subtill dede,Ye get no more of me, but ye woll redeTh'original, that telleth all the caas,The sooth is this, that Jason wedded was Unto this queene, and tooke of her substaunce What so him list unto his purveyaunce,And upon her begate children two,And drough his saile, and saw her never mo:Aletter sent she him certaine,Which were too long to writen and to saine,And him reproveth of his great untrouth,And praieth him on her to have some routh,And on his children two, she sayd him this,That they be like of all thing ywis To Jason, save they couth nat beguile,And prayd God, or it were long while,That she that had his herte yreft her fro,Must finden him untrue also:And that she must both her children spill,And all tho that suffreth him his will:And true to Jason was she all her life,And ever kept her chast, as for his wife,Ne never had she joy at her hart,But died for his love of sorrowes smart.To Colcos come is this duke Jason,That is of love devourer and dragon,As matire appeteth forme alway,And from forme to forme it passen may,422 THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. v. 1580-1713Or as a well that were bottomles,Right so can Jason have no pees,For to desiren through his appetiteTo done with gentyl women his delite;This is his lust, and his felicitie.Jason is romed forth to the citie,That whylome cleped was Jasonicos,That was the master toune of all Colcos,And hath ytold the cause of his comming Unto Otes, of that countrey king,Praying him that he must done his assay To get the fleese of gold, if that he may;Of which the king assenteth to his boone,And doth him honour, as it is doone,So ferforth that his doughter and his heire,Medea, which that was so wise and faire,That fairer saw there never man with eie,He made her done to Jason companie At meat, and sitte by him in the hall.Now was Jason a seemely man withall,And like a lord, and had a great renoun,And of his looke as royall as a lioun,And godly of his speech, and famillere,And coud of love all the craft and art plenere Withouten booke, with everiche observaunce,And as fortune her ought a foule mischaunce,She woxe enamoured upon this man."Jason," quod she, " for ought I see or can,As of this thing, the which ye ben about,Ye and your selfe ye put in much dout,For who so woll this aventure atcheveHe may nat wele asterten, as I leve,Withouten death, but I his helpe be,But nathelesse, it is my will," quod she,"To forthren you, so that ye shall nat die,But turnen sound home to your Thessalie. "" My right lady," quod this Jason, " tho That ye have of my death or my woAny regard, and done me this honour,I wot well that my might, ne my labour,May nat deserve it my lives day,God thanke you, there I ne can ne may,Your man am I, and lowly you beseech To ben my helpe, withouten more speech,But certes, for my death shall I not spare."Tho gan this Medea to him declareThe perill of this case, fro point to point Of his batayle, and in what disjoint He mote stonde, of which no creature,Save only she, ne might his life assure:And shortely, right to the point for to go,They ben accorded fully betwixe hem two,That Jason shall her wedde, as trewe knight,And terme yset to come soone at nightUnto her chambre, and make there his otheUpon the goddes, that he for lefe or lothe Ne shulde her never falsen, night ne day,To ben her husband whyle he live may,As she that from his deth him saved here,And here upon at night they mete yfere,And doth his othe, and gothe with her to bedde,And on the morow upward he him spedde,For she hath taught him how he shall nat faile The flees to winne, and stinten his bataile,And saved him his life and his honour,And gate him a name as a conquerour,Right through the sleight of her enchantment.Now hath Jason the fleese, and home is went With Medea, and treasours fell great wonne,But unwist of her father she is gonneTo Thessalie, with duke Jason her lefe,That afterward hath broght her to mischeife,For as a traytour he is from her go,And with her left yonge children two,And falsely hath betraied her, alas!And ever in love a chefe traytour he was,And wedded yet the thirde wife anon,That was the doughter of king Creon.This is the meede of loving, and guerdon That Medea received of duke JasonRight for her trouth, and for her kindnesse,That loved him better than her selfe I gesse,And left her father, and her heritage,And of Jason this is the vassalage,That in his dayes nas never none yfound So false a lover going on the ground,And therfore in her letter thus she said,First whan she of his falsenesse him upbraid:"Why liked thee my yellow haire to see,More than the boundes of mine honestie?Why liked me thy youth and thy fairenesse,And of thy tong the infinite graciousnesse?O haddest thou in thy conquest dead ybe,Ful mikel untrouth had there died with thee."Well can Ovide her letter in verse endite,Which were, as now, too long for to write.THE LEGEND OF LUCRECE OF ROME.Now mote I saine th'exiling of kingsOf Rome, for hir horrible doings Of the last kinge Tarquinius,As saith Ovid, and Titus Livius,But for that cause tell I nat this storie,But for to praysen, and drawen in memorieThe very wife, the very Lucresse,That for her wifehood, and her stedfastnesse,Nat only that these paynims her commend,But that cleped is in our legendThe great Austyn, that hath compassioun Of this Lucrece, that starfe in Rome toun,And in what wise I woll but shortly treat,And of this thing I touch but the great.When Ardea besieged was about With Romanes, that full sterne were and stout,Full long lay the siege, and little wroughten,So that they were halfe idle, as hem thoughten,And in his play Tarquinius the yonge,Gan for to yape, for he was light of tonge,And said, that " it was an idle life,No man did there no more than his wife,And let us speke of wives that is best,Praise every man his owne as him lest,And with our speech let us ease our herte. "A knight (that hight Colatin) up stert,And sayd thus, " Nay, sir, it is no nede To trowen on the word, but on the dede:I have a wife," quod he, " that as I trowIs holden good of all that ever her know;Go we to Rome to night, and we shull see.'Tarquinius answerde, " That liketh mee."To Rome they be comen, and fast hem dight To Colatins house, and downe they light,Tarquinius, and eke this Colatine;The husbond knew the efters well and fine,And full prively into the house they gone,Nor at the gate porter was there none,v. 1714-1853 THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 42399And at the chamber dore they abide:This noble wife sate by her beds sideDischeveled, for no mallice she ne thought,And soft wooll, sayth Livie, that she wrought,To kepe her from slouth and idlenesse,And bad her servaunts done hir businesse,And asketh hem, " What tidings heren ye?How sayth men of the siege, how shall it be?God would the wals were fallen adoun,Mine husbond is too long out of this toun,For which drede doth me sore to smert,Right as a sword it stingeth to mine herte,Whan I thinke on this or of that place,God save my lord, I pray him for his grace:And therwithall so tenderly she gan weepe,And of her werke she tooke no more keepe,But meekely she let her eyen fall,And thilke semblant sate her well withall,And eke her teares full of heavinesse,Embelessed her wifely chastnesse.Her countenaunce is to her herte digne,For they acordeden in deed and signe,And with that word her husbond, Colatin,Or she of him was ware, came stertling in,And said, " Drede thee nat, for I am here; "And she anone up rose, with blisfull chere,And kissed him, as of wives is the wonne.Tarquinius, this proud kings sonne,Conceived hath her beautie and her chere,Her yellow haire, her bountie, and her manere,Her hew, her words, that she hath complained,And by no craft her beautie was nat fained,And caught to this lady such desire,That in his herte he brent as any fire,So woodly that his wit was all forgotten,For well thought he she should nat be gotten,And aye the more he was in dispaire,The more coveiteth, and thought her faire;His blind lust was all his coveiting.On morrow, whan the bird began to sing,Unto the siege he commeth full prively,And by himselfe he walketh soberly,The image of her recording alway new,Thus lay her hair, and thus fresh was her hew,Thus sate, thus span, this was her chere,Thus fair she was, and this was her manere:All this conceit his herte hath new ytake,And as the see with tempest all to shake,That after whan the storme is all ago,Yet woll the water quappe a day or two,Right so, though that her forme were absent,The pleasaunce of her forme was present,But nathelesse, nat pleasaunce, but delite,Or an unrightfull talent with dispite:" For, maugre her, she shall my lemman be;Hap helpeth hardy man alway," quod he,"What end that I make, it shall be so,"And girt him with his sword, and gan to go,And he forthright, till to Rome he come,And all alone his way that he hath nome Unto the house of Colatin full right;Doun was the Sunne, and day hath lost his light,And in he come unto a privie halke,And in the night full theefely gan he stalke,Whan every wight was to his rest brought,Ne no wight had of treason such a thought,Whether by window, or by other gin,With swerd ydraw, shortly he commeth in There as she lay, this noble wife Lucresse,And as she woke, her bedde she felt presse:"What beast is that," quod she, "that wayeth" I am the kings sonne Tarquinius," [thus?"Quod he, "but and thou crie, or any noise make,Or if thou any creature awake,By thilke God that formed man of live ,This swerd through thine herte shall I rive; "And therwithall unto her throte he stert,And set the swerd all sharpe on her herte:No word she spake, she hath no might therto,What shall she saine? her wit is all ago;Right as whan a wolfe findeth a lamb alone,To whom shall she complaine or make mone?What, shall she fight with an hardy knight?Well wote men a woman hath no might:What, shall she crie, or how shall she astert,That hath her by the throte, with swerd at herte?She asketh grace, and said all that she can."No wolt thou nat," quod this cruell man,"As wisely Jupiter my soule save,I shall in thy stable slee thy knave,And lay him in thy bed, and loud crie,That I thee find in such avoutrie,And thus thou shalt be dead, and also lese Thy name, for thou shalt nat chese."This Romans wives loveden so her nameAt thilke time, and dreden so the shame,That what for fere of slander, and drede of death She lost both at ones wit and breath,And in a swough she lay, and woxe so dead,Men mighten smite off her arme or head,She feleth nothing, neither foule ne faire.Tarquinius, that art a kings heire,And shouldest, as by linage and by right,Done as a lord and a very knight,Why hast thou done dispite to chivalrie?Why hast thou done this lady villanie?Alas, of thee this was a villanous dede,But now to the purpose: in the story I rede,Whan he was gon, and this mischaunce is fall,This lady sent after her friendes all,Father, mother, and husbond, all yfere,And discheveled with her haire clere,In habite such as women used thoUnto the burying of hir frends go,She sate in hall, with a sorowfull sight;Her friends asken what her aylen might,And who was dead? and she sate aye weeping,A word for shame ne may she forth out bring,Ne upon hem she durst nat behold,But, at the last, of Tarquiny she hem told This rufull case, and all this thing horrible,The wo to tell were impossible That she and all her friends make at ones;All had folkes hertes ben of stones,It might have maked hem upon her rew,Her herte was so wifely and so trew;She said, that for her gilt ne for her blame Her husbond should nat have the foule name,That would she nat suffren by no way:And they answerde all unto her fay,That they foryave it her, for it was right,It was no gilt, it lay nat in her might,And saiden her ensamples many one,But all for naught, for thus she said anone:" Be as be may," quod she, " of forgiving,I will nat have no forgift for nothing; "But prively she cought forth a knife,And therwithall she raft her selfe her life,And as she fell adowne she cast her looke,And of her clothes yet heed she tooke,424 THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. v. 1854-1987For in her falling, yet she had a care Least that her feet or such things lay bare,So well she loved cleannesse, and eke trouth;Of her had all the towne of Rome routh,And Brutus hath by her chast blood swore That Tarquin should ybanished be therfore,And all his kinne; and let the people call,And openly the tale he told hem all,And openly let carry her on a bere Through all the town, that men may see and here The horrible deed of her oppressioun,Ne never was there king in Rome tounSens thilke day, and she was holden thereA saint, and ever her day yhallowed dere,As in hir law and thus endeth Lucresse,The noble wife, Titus beareth witnesse:I tell it, for she was of love so trew,Ne in her will she chaunged for no new,And in her stable herte, sadde and kind,That in these women men may all day findThere as they cast hir herte, there it dwelleth,For well I wote, that Christ himselfe telleth That in Israel, as wide as is the lond,That so great faith in all the lond he ne fond As in a woman, and this is no lie,And as for men, looke ye, such tyrannieThey doen all day, assay hem who so list,The truest is full brotell for to trist.THE LEGEND OF ARIADNE OF ATHENS.JUDGE infernall, Minos, of Crete king,Now commeth thy lot, thou commest on the ring;Nat for thy sake only written is this storie,But for to clepe ayen unto memorie,Of Theseus the great untrouth of love,For which the gods of Heaven above Ben wroth, and wrath have take for thy sinne;Be red for shame! now I thy life beginne.Minos, that was the mighty king of Crete,That had an hundred cities strong and grete,To schoole hath sent his sonne AndrogeusTo Athens, of the which it happed thus,That he was slaine, learning phylosophie,Right in that citie, nat but for envie.The great Minos, of the which I speke,His sonnes death is come for to wreke,Alcathoe he besieged hard and long,But nathelesse, the walles be so strong,And Nisus, that was king of that cite,So chivalrous, that little dredeth he;Of Minos or his host tooke he no cure,Till on a day befell an aventure,That Nisus doughter stood upon the wall,And of the siege saw the manner all:So happed it, that at scarmishing She cast her herte upon Minos the king,For his beautie, and his chevalrie,So sore that she wende for to die.And shortly of this processe for to pace,She made Minos winnen thilke place,So that the citie was all at his will,To saven whom him list, or els spill;But wickedly he quit her kindnesse,And let her drench in sorrow and distresse,N'ere that the gods had of her pite,But that tale were too long as now for me.Athenes wan this king Minos also,As Alcathoe, and other townes mo,And this the effect, that Minos hath so driven Hem of Athenes, that they mote him yeven Fro yere to yere her owne children dere For to be slaine, as ye shall after here.This Minos hath a monster, a wicked best,That was so cruell, that without areest,Whan that a man was brought into his presence,He would him eat, there helpeth no defence:And every third yeare, withouten dout,They casten lotte, as it came about,On rich and poore, he must his sonne take,And of his childe he must present makeTo Minos, to save him or to spill,Or let his beast devour him at his will.And this hath Minos done right in dispite,To wreke his sonne was set all his delite,And make hem of Athenes his thrallFro yere to yere, while he liven shall;And home he saileth whan this toun is wonne.This wicked custome is so long yronne,Till of Athenes king Egeus Mote senden his owne sonne Theseus,Sens that the lotte is fallen him uponTo ben devoured, for grace is there non.And forth is ladde this wofull yonge knightUnto the country of king Minos full of might,And in a prison fettred fast is he,Till the time he should yfreten be.Well maist thou wepe, O wofull Theseus,That art a kings sonne, and damned thus,Me thinketh this, that thou art depe yhold To whom that saved thee fro cares cold,And now if any woman helpe thee,Well oughtest thou her servaunt for to bee,And ben her true lover, yere by yere,But now to come ayen to my matere.The toure, there this Theseus is throw,Down in the bottome derk, and wonder low,Was joyning to the wall of a foreine Longing unto the doughtren tweine Of Minos, that in hir chambers grete Dwelten above the maister streteOf the towne, in joy and in sollas:Not I n'at how it happed, percaas,As Theseus complained him by night,The kings doughter, that Ariadne hight,And eke her suster Phedra, herden all His complaint, as they stood on the wall And looked upon the bright Moone,Hem list nat to go to bed so soone:And of his wo they had compassionA kings sonne to be in such prison,And ben devoured, thought hem great pite:Than Ariadne spake to her suster free,And said: " Phedra, lefe suster dere,This wofull lords sonne may ye nat here,How pitously he complaineth his kin,And eke his poore estate that he is in,And guiltlesse, certes, now it is routh ,And if ye woll assent, by my trouth,He shall ben holpen, how so that we do."Phedra answerde, " Ywis me is as wo For him as ever I was for any man,And to his helpe the best rede I can Is that we done the gailer privelyTo come and speke with us hastely,And done this wofull man with him to come,For if he may this monster overcome,v. 1988-2127 THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 425Than were he quit, there is none other boot,Let us well taste him at his herte root,That if so be that he a weapon have,Where that he his life dare kepe or save,Fighten with this fiend, and him defend,For in the prison, here as he shall discend,Ye wote well, that the beast is in a place That is not derke, and hath roume and eke space To welde an axe or swerde, staffe or knife,So that me thinketh he should save his life,If that he be a man, he shall do so:And we shall make him balles eke alsoOfwexe and towe, that whan he gapeth fast,Into the beestes throte he shall hem cast,To sleke his honger, and encomber his teeth,And right anon, whan that Theseus seethThe beest acheked, he shall on him leepe To sleen him, or they comen more to keepe;This weapen shal the gailer, or that tide,Full prively within the prison hide:And, for the house is crencled to and fro,And hath so queint waies for to go,For it is shapen as the mase is wrought,Thereto have I a remedy in my thought,That by a clewe of twine, as he hath gon The same way he may returne anon,Folowing alway the threde, as he hath come,And whan this beest is overcome,Than may he flien away out of this stede,And eke the gailer may he with him lede,And him avaunce at home in his countre,Sens that so great a lordes sonne is he:This is my rede, if that ye dare it take. "What shold I lenger sermon of it make?The gailer cometh, and with him Theseus,Whan these things ben accorded thus.Downe sate Theseus upon his knee," The right lady of my life," quod he," I sorowfull man, ydamned to the deth,Fro you, whiles that me lasteth breth,I wol nat twinne, after this aventure,But in your service thus I woll endure,That as a wretch unknow I woll you serveFor evermore, till that mine herte sterve,Forsake I woll at home mine heritage,And, as I said, ben of your court a page,If that ye vouchsafe that in this placeYe graunt me to have soche a graceThat I may have nat but my meate and drinke,And for my sustinaunce yet woll I swinke,Right as you list, that Minos, ne no wight,Sens that he saw me never with eyen sight,Ne no man else shall me espie,So slily and so well I shal me grie,And me so wel disfigure, and so low,That in this world there shall no man me know,To have my life, and to have presenceOf you, that done to me this excellence;And to my father shall I sende here This worthy man, that is your gaylere,And him so guerdon that he shall well be One of the greatest men of my countre,And if I durst saine, my lady bright,I am a kings sonne, and eke a knight,As wold God, if that it might be,Ye weren in my countrey all thre,And I with you, to beare you companie,Than shuld ye sene if that I thereof lie;And if that I profer you in lowe manereTo ben your page, and serven you right here,But I you serve as lowly in that place,I pray to Mars to yeve me suche grace That shames death on me there mote fall,And death and poverte to my frends all,And that my sprite by night mote go,After my death, and walke to and fro,That I mote of traitour have a name,For which my sprit mote go, to do me shame,And if I clayme ever other degree,But ye vouchsafe to yeve it mee,As I have said, of shames death I dey,And mercy, lady, I can naught else sey. "A semely knight was this Theseus to see,And yonge, but of twenty yere and three,But who so had ysene his countenance,He wold have wept for routh of his penance:For which this Ariadne in this manere,Answerde to his profre and to his chere."A kings sonne, and eke a knight," quod she,"To ben my servaunt in so lowe degree,God shilde it, for the shame of women all ,And lene me never soch a case befall,And sende you grace, and sleight of herte also,You to defend, and knightly to sleen your foe,And lene hereafter I may you findTo me, and to my suster here, so kind,That I ne repent nat to yeve you life,Yet were it better I were your wife,Sith ye ben as gentill borne as I,And have a realme nat but fast by,Than that I suffred your gentillesse to sterve,Or that I let you as a page serve;It is no profite, as unto your kinrede,But what is that, that man woll nat do for dred?And to my suster, sith that it is so,That she mote gone with me, if that I go,Or els suffre death as wel as I,That ye unto your sonne as trewly,Done her be wedded, at your home coming,This is the finall end of all this thing,66 Ye swere it here, upon all that may be sworne?"Ye, lady mine," quod he, " or els to torne Mote I be with the Minotaure or to morrow,And haveth here of mine herte blood to borow,If that ye woll, if I had knife or speare,I would it letten out, and thereon sweare,For than at erste, I wot ye would me leve,By Mars, that is chiefe of my beleve,So that I might liven, and nat faile To morow for to taken my bataile,I nolde never fro this place flie,Till that ye should the very profe se,For now, if that the soth I shall you say,I have loved you full many a day,Though ye ne wist nat, in my countre,And aldermost desired you to see,Of any earthly living creature,Upon my truth I sweare and you assure,This seven yere I have your servaunt be,Now have I you, and also have ye me,My dere herte, of Athenes duch*esse."This lady smileth at his stedfastnesse,And at his hertely wordes, and at his chere,And to her suster said in this manere:"And sothly, suster mine," quod she,"Now be we duch*esses, both I and ye,And sikerde to the regals of Athenes,And both hereafter likely to be queenes,And saved fro his death a kings sonne,As ever of gentill women is the wonne,426 THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. v. 2128-2261To save a gentil man, enforth hir might,In honest cause, and, namely, in his right,Me thinketh no wight ought us herof blame,Ne bearen us therefore an yvel name."And shortly of this mater for to make,This Theseus of her hath leave ytake,And every point was performed in dede,As ye have in this covenaunt herde me rede,His wepen, his clewe, his thing that I have said,Was by the gailer in the house ylaid,There as the Minotaure hath his dwelling,Right fast by the dore, at his entring,And Theseus is lad unto his dethe,And forth unto this Minotaure he gethe,And by the teaching of this Adriane,He overcame this beest, and was his bane,And out he cometh by the clewe againeFul prively, whan he this beest hath slaine,And the gailer gotten hath a barge,And of his wives treasure gan it charge,And toke his wife, and eke her suster free,And by the gailer, and with hem al three Is stole away out of the lond by night,And to the countre of Enupie him dight,There as he had a frende of his knowing,There feesten they, there daunsen they and sing,And in his armes hath this Adriane,That of the beest hath kept him fro his bane,And get him there a noble barge anone,And of his countrey folke a ful great wone,And taketh his leave, and homeward saileth hee,And in an yle, amidde the wilde see,There as there dwelt creature none,Save wild beestes, and that full many one,He made his shippe a londe for to sette,And in that yle halfe a day he lette,And said, that on the londe he must him rest.His mariners have done right as him lest,And for to tell shortly in this caas,Whan Ariadne his wife a slepe was,For that her suster fayrer was than she,He taketh her in his honde, and forth goeth he To ship, and as a traitour stale away,While that this Ariadne a slepe lay,And to his countrey warde he sailed blive,Atwenty divel way the winde him drive,And found his father drenched in the see.Me list no more to speke of him, parde,These false lovers, poison be hir bane.But I wol turne againe to Adriane,That is with slepe for werinesse ytake,Ful sorowfully her herte may awake.Alas, for thee mine herte hath pite,Right in the dawning awaketh she,And gropeth in the bed, and fond right nought:"Alas," quod she, " that ever I was wrought,I am betrayed," and her heere to rent,And to the stronde barefote fast she went,And cried: " Theseus, mine herte swete,Where be ye, that I may nat with you mete?"And might thus with beestes ben yslaine.The holowe rockes answerde her againe,No man she saw, and yet shone the moone,And hie upon a rocke she went soone,And sawe his barge sayling in the see,Cold woxe her herte, and right thus said she:"Meker then ye find I the beestes wilde."Hath he nat sinne, that he her thus begilde?She cried, " O turne againe for routhe and sinne,Thy barge hath nat all his meinie in!"Her kerchefe on a pole sticked she,Ascaunce he should it well yse,And him remembre that she was behind,And turne againe, and on the stronde her find.But all for naught, his way he is gone,And downe she fel a swowne on a stone,And up she riste, and kissed in all her careThe steppes of his feete, there he hath fare,And to her bed right thus she speketh tho:"Thou bed," quod she, " that hast received two,Thou shalt answere of two, and not of Where is the greater parte away gone?one," Alas, wher shal I wretched wight become?For though so be that bote none here come,Home to my countrey dare I nat for drede,I can my selfe in this case nat rede."What should I tell more her complaining?It is so long, it were an heavy thing;In her epistle, Naso telleth all,But shortly to the end tell I shall,The goddes have her holpen for pite,And in the signe of Taurus men may see The stones of her crowne shine clere,I will no more speake of this matere,But thus this false lover can begileHis trew love, the divel quite him his wile.THE LEGEND OF PHILOMENE.THOU yever of the formes, that hast wrought The fayre world, and bare it in thy thoughtEternally, er thou thy werke began,Why madest thou unto the slaunder of man,Or all be that it was not thy doing,As for that end to make suche a thing,Why suffredest thou that Tereus was bore,That is in love so false and so forswore,That fro this world up to the first Heven,Corrumpeth, whan that folke his name neven?And as to me, so grisly was his dede,That whan that I this foule storie redeMine eyen wexen foule, and sore also,Yet lasteth the venime of so longe ago,That enfecteth him that wolde beholdThe storie of Tereus, of which I told,Of Trace was he lord, and kin to Marte,The cruel god that stante with blody darte,And wedded had he with blisfull chereKing Pandionis faire doughter dere,That hight Progne, floure of her countre,Though Juno list not at the feast be,Ne Hymeneus, that god of wedding is,But at the feast ready ben, ywis,The furies three, with all hir mortall bronde,The oule all night above the balkes wonde,That prophete is of wo and of mischaunce;This revell, full of song and full of daunce,Last a fourtenight, or little lasse;But shortly of this storie for to passe,(For I am weary of him for to tell)Five yere his wife and he togither dwell,Till on a day she gan so sore longTo seene her suster, that she saw not long,That for desire she n'ist what to say,But to her husbond gan she for to pray For Gods love, that she mote ones gone Her suster for to seene, and come ayen anone,v. 2262-2396 THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 427Or else, but she mote to her wend,She praied him that he would after her send:And this was, day by day, all her prayere,With al humblesse of wifehood, word and chere.This Tereus let make his ships yare,And into Grece himselfe is forth yfare,Unto his father- in-law gan he pray,To vouchsafe, that for a moneth or tway,That Philomene his wives suster mightOn Progne his wife but ones have a sight," And she shall come to you again, anon,My selfe with her, I will both come and gon,And as my hertes life I will her kepe."This old Pandion, this king gan wepeFor tendernesse of herte, for to leveHis doughter gon, and for to yeve her leve;Of all this world he loved nothing so,But, at the last, leave hath she to go,For Philomene, with salt teares eke,Gan of her father grace to beseke To seene her suster, that her longeth so,And him embraceth with her armes two;And there also yong and faire was she,That whan that Tereus saw her beaute,And of array, that there was none her liche,And yet of beautie was she to so riche,He cast his fierie herte upon her so,That he woll have her, how so that it go,And with his wiles kneled, and so praied,Till at the last Pandion thus saied."Now sonne," quod he, " that art to me so dere,I thee betake my yong doughter dere,That beareth the key of all mine hertes life,And grete well my doughter and thy wife,And yeve her leave sometime for to pley,That she may seen me ones, or I deie."And sothly he hath made him riche feast,And to his folke, the most and eke the least,That with him came: and yave him yefts great,And him conveieth through the master streat Of Athenes, and to the sea him brought,And tourneth home, no malice he ne thought.The ores pulleth forth the vessell fast,And into Trace arriveth at the last,And up in to a forest he her led,And to a cave prively he him sped,And in this darke cave, if her lest Or list nought, he had her for to rest,Of which her herte agrose, and saied thus:"Where is my suster, brother Tereus? "And therewithall she wept tenderly,And quoke for feare, pale and pitiously,Right as the lambe, that of the wolfe is bitten,Or as the culver, that of the egle is smitten,And is out of his clawes forth escaped,Yet it is aferde, and awaped,Lest it be hent eftsones: so sate she,But utterly it may none other be,By force hath this traitour done a deede,That he hath reft her of her maidenhede,Maugre her head, by strength and by his might.Lo, here a deede of men, and that aright.She crieth, " Suster! " with full loude steven,And, " Father dere! Helpe me God in Heven! "All helpeth not, and yet this false thefe Hath done this lady yet a more mischefe,For feare lest she should his shame crie,And done him openly a villanie,And with his sweard her tong of kerfe he,And in a castell made her for to be,Full prively in prison evermore,And kept her to his usage and to his store,So that she ne might never more astarte.O sely Philomene, wo is in thine herte,Huge been thy sorowes, and wonder smart!God wreke thee, and sende thee thy boone!Now is time I make an end soone.This Tereus is to his wife ycome,And in his armes hath his wife ynome,And pitiously he wept, and shoke his hedde,And swore her that he found her suster dedde,For which this selie Progne hath soch wo,That nigh her sorowfull herte brake a two.And thus in teares let I Progne dwell,And of her suster forth I woll you tell.This wofull lady ylearned had in youth,So that she worken and enbrauden couth,And weaven in stole the radevore,As it of women hath be woved yore,And sothly for to saine, she hath her fillOf meate and drinke, of clothing at her will,And couthe eke rede well ynough and endite,But with a penne she could not write,But letters can she weave to and fro,So that by the yere was all ago,She had woven in a flames large,How she was brought fro Athens in a barge,And in a cave how that she was brought,And all the thing that Tereus wrought,She wave it wel, and wrote the storie above,How she was served for her susters love.And to a man a ring she yave anon,And praied him by signes for to gonUnto the queene, and bearen her that clothe,And by signe swore many an othe She should him yeve what she getten might.This man, anon, unto the queene him dight,And toke it her, and all the maner told,And whan that Progne hath this thing behold,No worde she spake, for sorow and eke for rage,But fained her to gon on pilgrimageTo Baccus temple, and in a little stound Her dombe suster sitting hath she foundWeeping in the castell, her selfe alone;Alas, the wo, constraint, and the mone That Progne upon her dombe suster maketh,In armes everich of hem other taketh,And thus I let hem in hir sorow dwell;The remnaunt is no charge to tell,For this is all and some, thus was she servedThat never agilte, ne deserved Unto this cruell man, that she of wist.Ye may beware of men, if that you list,For all be that he woll not for shame Doen as Tereus, to lese his name,Ne serve you as a murtherer or a knave,Full little while shull ye trew him have,That wol I sain, al were he now my brother,But it so be that he may have another.THE LEGENDE OF PHILLIS.By prove, as well as by auctorite,That wicked fruite commeth of a wicked tree,That may ye find, if that it liketh you,But for this end, I speake this as now,To tell you of false Demophon:In love a falser heard I never non,428 THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. v. 2397-2536But it were his father, Theseus,God for his grace fro soch one kepe us,Thus these women praien, that it here,Now to the effect tourne I of my matere.Destroied is of Troie the citee,This Demophon came sayling in the see Toward Athenes, to his paleis large,With him came many a ship and many a barge Full of folke, of which full many one Is wounded sore, and sicke and wo begone,And they have at the siege long ylaine,Behind him came a winde, and eke a raine,That shofe so sore his saile might not stonde,Him were lever than all the world a londe,So hunted him the tempest to and fro,So darke it was he could no where go,And with a wave brusten was his stere,His ship was rent so lowe, in such manere,That carpenter could it not amende,The see by night as any torche brendeFor wood, and posseth him up and doun,Till Neptune hath of him compassioun,And Thetis, Chorus, Triton, and they all,And maden him up a londe to fall,Wherof that Phillis lady was and queene,Lycurgus doughter, fairer unto seene Than is the floure again the bright Sonne.Unneth is Demophon to londe ywonne,Weake and eke werie, and his folke forpined Of werinesse, and also enfamined,And to the death he was almost ydriven,His wise folke consaile have him yeven,To seken helpe and succour ofthe queene,And loken what his grace might bene,And maken in that lande some chevesaunce,And kepen him fro wo, and fro mischaunce,For sicke he was, and almost at the death,Unneth might he speake, or drawe breath,And lieth in Rhodopeia him for to rest.Whan he may walk, him thought it was best Unto the countrey to seeken for succour,Men knew him wele, and did him honour,For at Athenes duke and lord was he,As Theseus his father hath ybe,That in his time was great of renoun,No man so great in all his regioun,And like his father of face and of stature,And false of love, it came him of nature,As doth the foxe Renarde, the foxes sonne,Of kinde he coulde his old father wonne Without lore, as can a drake swimme,Whan it is caught and carried to the brimme:This honorable queen Phillis doth him chere,Her liketh well his sporte and his manere,But I am agroted here beforne,To write of hem that in love been forsworne,And eke to haste me in my legende,Which to performe, God me grace sende;Therfore, I passe shortly in this wise,Ye have well heard of Theseus the gise,In the betraiyng of faire Adriane,That of her pitee kept him fro his bane;At short wordes, right so Demophon,The same way, and the same pathe hath gon That did his false father Theseus,For unto Phillis hath he sworne thus,To wedden her, and her his trouth plight,And piked of her all the good he might,Whan he was hole and sound, and had his rest,And doth with Phillis what so that him lest,As well I could, if that me list so,Tellen all his doing to and fro.He sayd to his countrey mote him saile,For there he would her wedding apparaile,As fill to her honour, and his also,And openly he tooke his leave tho,And to her swore he would not sojourne,But in a month again he would retourne,And in that londe let make his ordinaunce,As very lorde, and tooke the obeisaunceWell and humbly, and his shippes dight,And home he goeth the next way he might,For unto Phillis yet came he nought,And that hath she so harde and sore ybought,Alas, as the storie doth us record,She was her owne death with a corde,Whan that she saw that Demophon her traied.But first wrote she to him, and fast him praied He would come, and deliver her of pain,As I rehearse shall a worde or twain,Me liste not vouchsafe on him to swinke,Dispenden on him a penne full of ynke,For false in love was he, right as his sire,The Devill set hir soules both on a fire:But of the letter of Phillis woll I write,A worde or twain, although it be but lite." Thine hostesse," quod she, " O Demophon,Thy Phillis, which that is so wo begon,Of Rhodopeie, upon you mote complain,Over the terme set betwixt us twain,That ye ne holden forward, as ye sayd:Your ancre, which ye in our haven layd,Hight us, that ye would comen out of doubt,Or that the Moone ones went about,But times fower the Moone hath hid her faceSens thilke day ye went fro this place,And fower times light the world again,But for all that, yet shall I sothly sain,Yet hath the streme of Scython not brought From Athenes the ship, yet came it nought,And if that ye the terme reken would,As I or other true lovers doe should,I plain not, God wot, before my day. "But al her letter writen I ne may,By order, for it were to me a charge,Her letter was right long, and therto large,But here and there, in rime, I have it laydThere as me thought that she hath wel sayd.She sayd, " The sailes commeth not again,Neto the word there n'is no fey certain,But I wot why ye come not," quod she," For I was of my love to you so fre,And of the goddes that ye have swore,That hir vengeaunce fall on you therfore,Ye be not suffisaunt to beare the pain,Too moche trusted I , well may I sain,Upon your linage, and your faire tong,And on your teares falsely out wrong,How coud ye wepe so by craft?" quod she," May there suche teares fained be?"Now, certes, if ye would have in memory,It ought be to you but little glory,To have a sely maide thus betrayed,To God," quod she, " pray I, and oft have prayed,That it be now the greatest price of all,And most honour that ever you shall befall,And whan thine old aunceters painted bee,In which men may hir worthinesse see,Than pray I God, thou painted be also,That folke may reden, forth by as they go,v. 2537-2670 THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. 429" Lo, this is he, that with his flattery Betraied hath, and done her villany,That was his true love, in thought and drede.'" But sothly, of o point yet may they rede,That ye been like your father, as in this,For he begiled Ariadne, ywis,With such an arte, and such subtelte,As thou thy selven hast begiled me:As in that poinct, although it be not feire,Thou folowest certain, and art his heire.But sens thus sinfully ye me begile,My body mote ye sene, within a while,Right in the haven of Athenes fleeting,Withouten sepulture and burying,Though ye been harder than is any stone."And whan this letter was forth sent, anone,And knew how brotell and how fals he was,She for dispaire fordid her selfe, alas!Such sorow hath she, for he beset her so.Beware ye women of your subtill fo,Sens yet this day men may ensample se,And trusteth now in love no man but me.THE LEGENDE OF HYPERMESTRE.IN Grece, whilom, were brethren two Of which that one was called Danao,That many a son hath of his body wonne,As such false lovers ofte conne.Emong his sonnes all there was one,That aldermost he loved of everychone,And whan this child was borne, this Danao Shope him a name, and called him Lino,That other brother called was Egiste,That was of love as false as ever him liste,And many a daughter gate he in his life,Of which he gate upon his right wife,A doughter dere, and did her for to call,Hypermestra, yongest of hem all,The which child of her nativite,To all good thewes borne was she,As liked to the goddes or she was borne,That of the shefe she should be the corne.The werdes that we clepen destine,Hath shapen her, that she must needes be Pitous, sad, wise, true as stele,And to this woman it accordeth wele,For though that Venus yave her great beaute,With Jupiter compowned so was she,That conscience, trouth, and drede of shame,And of her wifehode for to kepe her name,This thought her was felicite as here,And reed Mars, was that time of the yere So feble, that his malice is him raft,Repressed hath Venus his cruell craft,And what with Venus, and other oppressionOf houses, Mars his venime is adon,That Hypermestre dare not handle a knife,In malice, though she should lese her life;But nathelesse, as Heaven gan tho turne,Two bad aspectes hath she of Saturne,That made her to die in prison,And I shall after make mencion,Of Danao and Egistes also,And though so be that they were brethren two,For thilke tyme n'as spared no linage,It liked hem to maken mariageBetwixt Hypermestre, and him Lino,And casten soch a day it shall be so,And full accorded was it utterly,The aray is wrought, the time is fast by,And thus Lino hath of his fathers brother,The doughter wedded, and ech of hem hath other;The torches brennen, and the lamps bright,The sacrifice been full ready dight,Th'ensence out of the fire reketh soote,The floure, the leefe, is rent up by the roote,To maken garlandes and crounes hie,Full is the place of sound of minstralcie,Of songes amourous of mariage,As thilke tyme was the plain usage,And this was in the paleis of Egiste,That in his hous was lord, right as him liste:And thus that day they driven to an end,The frendes taken leve, and home they wend,The night is come, the bride shall go to bed,Egiste to his chamber fast him sped,And prively let his doughter call ,Whan that the house voided was of hem all,He looked on his doughter with glad chere,And to her spake, as ye shall after here." My right doughter, tresour of mine herte,Sens first that day that shapen was my shert,Or by the fatall suster had my dome,So nie mine herte never thing ne come,As thou, Hypermestre, doughter dere,Take hede what thy father sayth thee here,And werke after thy wiser ever mo,For alderfirst doughter I love thee so,That all the world to me n'is halfe so lefe,Ne n'olde rede thee to thy mischefe,For all the good under the cold Mone,And what I meane, it shall be said right sone,With protestacion as sain these wise,That but thou doe as I shall thee devise,Thou shalt be ded, by him that all hath wrought,At short wordes, thou ne scapest noughtOut of my paleis, or that thou be deed,But thou consent, and werke after my reed,Take this to the fearfull conclusioun."This Hypermestre cast her eyen doun,And quoke as doth the leefe of ashe grene,Deed wext her hew, and like ashen to sene,And sayd: " Lord and father, all your will,After my might, God wote, I will fulfill,So it be to me no confusion. ""I n'ill ," quod he, " have none excepcion,"And out he caught a knife, as rasour kene," Hide this," quod he, " that it be not ysene,And whan thine husbond is to bed go,While that he slepeth, cut his throte atwo,For in my dreme it is warned me,How that my nevewe shall my bane be,But which I n'ot, wherfore I woll be siker,If thou say nay, we two shall have a biker,As I have said, by him that I have sworn.'This Hipermestre hath nigh her wit forlorn,And for to passen harmelesse out of that place,She graunted him, there was none other grace:And withall a costrell taketh he tho,And sayd, " Hereof a draught or two,Yeve him drinke, whan he goeth to rest,And he shal slepe as long as ever thee lest,The narcotikes and apies been so strong,And go thy way, lest that him thinke to long."Out cometh the bride, and with full sobre chere,As is of maidens oft the manere,430 THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN. v. 2671-2720To chamber brought with revel and with song,And shortly, leste this tale be to long,This Lino and she beth brought to bed,And every wight out at the doore him sped,The night is wasted, and he fell aslepe,Full tenderly beginneth she to weepe,She rist her up, and dredfully she quaketh,As doth the braunch that Zephirus shaketh,And husht were all in Argone that citee,As cold as any frost now wexeth shee,For pite by the herte strained her so,And drede of death doth her so moche wo,That thrise doune she fill, in suche a were,She riste her up, and stakereth here and there,And on her handes fast looketh she,"Alas, shall mine hands bloudie be?I am a maide, and as by my nature,And by my semblaunt, and by my vesture,Mine hands been not shapen for a knife,As for to reve no man fro his life.What devill have I with the knife to do?And shall I have my throte corve a two?Than shall I blede, alas, and be shende,And nedes this thing mote have an ende,Or he or I mote nedes lese our life,Now certes," quod she, " sens I am his wife,And hath my faith, yet is bette for me.For to be dedde in wifely honeste,Than be a traitour living in my shame,Be as be may, for earnest or for game,He shall awake, and rise and go his wayOut at this gutter er that it be day: "And wept full tenderly upon his face,And in her armes gan him to embrace,And him she joggeth, and awaketh soft,And at the window lepe he fro the loft,Whan she hath warned him, and done him bote:This Lino swift was and light of foote,And from her ran a full good paas.This sely woman is so weake, alas,And helplesse, so that er she ferre went,Her cruell father did her for to hent.Alas, Lino! why art thou so unkind?Why ne hast thou remembred in thy mind,And taken her, and led her forth with thee?For whan she saw that gone away was hee,And that she might not so fast go,Ne folowen him, she sate doune right tho,Untill she was caught, and fettred in prison:.This tale is sayd for this conclusion.HERE ENDEтh the LEGENDE OF GOOD WOMEN.THE COMPLAINT OF MARS AND VENUS.v. 1-56GLADETH ye lovers in the morowe graie,Lo, Venus risen among yon rowes rede,And floures freshe honour ye this daie,For whan the Sun uprist than wold they sprede,But ye lovers that lie in any drede,Flieth, least wicked tongues you aspie,Lo, yonde the Sun, the candell of jelousie.With tears blew, and with a wounded herteTaketh your leve, and, with saint John to borow,Apeseth somewhat of your paines smert,Time cometh eft, that cessen shall your sorrow,The glad night is worth an heavy morow,Saint Valentine, a foule thus heard I sing,Upon thy day, or Sunne gan up spring.Yet sang this foule, " I rede you all awake,And ye that have not chosen, in humble wise,Without repenting, cheseth your make,Yet at the least, renoveleth your service:And ye that have full chosen, as I devise,Confermeth it perpetually to dure,And paciently taketh your aventure. "And for the worship of this high feast,Yet woll I in my birdes wise sing,The sentence of the complaint at the least,That wofull Mars made at the departing Fro fresh Venus in a morowning,Whan Phebus with his firie torches rede,Ransaked hath every lover in his drede.Whilome, the three Heavens lorde above,As well by heavenlich revolucion,As by desert, hath wonne Venus his love,And she hath take him in subjection,And as a maistresse taught him his lesson,Commaunding him never in her service,He were so bold no lover to dispise.For she forbade him jealousie at all ,And cruelty, and boste, and tyranny,She made him at her lust so humble and tall,That when she dained to cast on him her eye,He tooke in patience to live or die,And thus she bridleth him in her maner,With nothing but with scorning of her chere.Who reigneth now in blisse but Venus,That hath this worthy knight in governance?Who singeth now but Mars, that serveth thus The faire Venus, causer of pleasaunce?He bint him to perpetuel obeysaunce,And she binte her to love him for ever,But so be that his trespace it discever.Thus be they knit, and reignen as in Heven,By loking most, as it fell on a tide,That by hir both assent was set a steven That Mars shall enter, as fast as he may glide,In to her next palais to abide,Walking his course till she had him ytake,And he prayed her to hast her for his sake.v. 57-181 THE COMPLAINT OF MARS AND VENUS. 431Than said he thus, " Mine hertes lady sweete,Ye know well my mischief in that place,For sikerly, till that I with you meete,My life stant there in aventure and grace,But whan I see the beaute of your face,There is no drede of death may do me smert,For all your luste is ease to mine herte."She hath so great compassion of her knight,That dwelleth in solitude till she come,For it stode so, that ilke time, no wightCounsailed him, ne said to him welcome,That nigh her wit for sorow was overcome,Wherefore, she spedded as fast in her way,Almost in one day as he did in tway.The great joy that was betwix hem two,Whan they be mette, there may no tong tel,There is no more but unto bedde they go,And thus in joy and blisse I let hem dwell,This worthy Mars, that is of knighthood well,The floure of fairnesse happeth in his arms,And Venus kisseth Mars, the god of arms.Sojourned hath this Mars, of which I rede,In chambre amidde the palais prively,A certaine time, till him fell a dredeThrough Phebus, that was commen hastely,Within the palais yates sturdely,With torch in hond, of which the stremes bright On Venus chambre knockeden ful light.The chambre there as lay this fresh queene,Depainted was with white boles grete,And by the light she knew that shon so shene,That Phebus cam to bren hem with his hete;This sely Venus, ny dreint in teares wete,Enbraseth Mars, and said, " Alas, I die,The torch is come that al this world wol wrie. "Up sterte Mars, him list not to sleepe,Whan he his lady herde so complaine,But for his nature was not for to weepe,Instede of teares, from his eyen twaine The firy sparcles sprongen out for paine,And hente his hauberke that lay him beside,Flie wold he nought, ne might himself hide.He throweth on his helme of huge weight,And girt him with his swerde, and in his hondeHis mighty speare, as he was wont to feight,He shaketh so, that it almost to wonde,Full hevy was he to walken over londe,He may not hold with Venus company,But bad her flie least Phebus her espy.Owoful Mars, alas! what maist thou sain,That inthe palais of thy disturbaunce Art left behind in peril to be slain?And yet there to is double thy penaunce,For she that hath thine herte in governance,Is passed halfe the stremes of thine eyen,That thou nere swift, wel maist thou wepe and crien.Now flieth Venus in to Ciclinius tour,With void corse, for fear of Phebus light,Alas, and there hath she no socour,For she ne found ne sey no maner wight,And eke as there she had but littel might,Wherefore her selven for to hide and save,Within the gate she fledde in to a cave.Darke was this cave, and smoking as the hell,Nat but two paas within the yate it stood;A naturel day in darke I let her dwell;Now wol I speake of Mars, furious and wood,For sorow he wold have seene his herte blood,Sith that he might have done her no company,He ne rought not a mite for to die.So feble he wext for hete, and for his wo,That nigh he swelt, he might unneth endure,He passeth but a sterre in daies two,But nevertheles, for al his hevy armure,He foloweth her that is his lives cure,For whose departing he tooke greater ire,Than for his brenning in the fire .After he walketh softly a paas,Complaining that it pitie was to here,He saide, " O lady bright, Venus, alas,That ever so wide a compas is my sphere,Alas, whan shall I mete you herte dere?This twelve dayes of April I endure,Through jelous Phebus this misaventure."Now God helpe sely Venus alone,But, as God wold, it happed for to be,That while the weping Venus made her mone,Ciclinius, riding in his chivachee,Fro Venus Valanus might this palais see,And Venus he salveth, and maketh chere,And her receiveth as his frende full dere.Mars dwelleth forth in his adversite,Complaining ever in her departing,And what his complaint was remembreth me,And therefore in this lusty morowning,As I best can, I woll it saine and sing,And after that I woll my leave take,And God yeve every wight joy of his make.The Complaint of Mars.THE order of complaint requireth skilfully,That if a wight shal plaine pitously,There mote be cause wherfore that he him plain,Or men may deme he plaineth folily,And causeles: alas, that do not I. Wherfore the ground and cause of al my pain,So as my troubled witte may it attain,I wol reherse, not for to have redresse,But to declare my ground of hevinesse.The first time, alas, that I was wrought,And for certain effects hider brought,By him that lorded each intelligence,I yave my trew service and my thought,For evermo, how dere I have it bought,To her that is of so great excellence,That what wight that sheweth first her offence,Whan she is wroth and taketh of him no cure,He may not long in joy of love endure.This is no fained mater that I tell,My lady is the very sours and well Of beaute, luste, fredome, and gentilnesse,Of rich array, how dere men it sell,Of all disport in which men frendly dwell,Of love and play, and of benigne humblesse,Of sowne of instruments of al sweetnesse,And thereto so well fortuned and thewed,That through the world her goodnes is shewed.432 THE COMPLAINT OF MARS AND VENUS. v. 182-306What wonder is than though that I be setMy service on soch one that may me knet To wele or wo, sith it lithe in her might,Therfore mine herte for ever I to her hette,Ne trewly, for my death shall I not lette To ben her trewest servaunt and her knight,I flatter not, that may wete every wight,For this day in her service shall I dye,But grace be, I see her never with eye.To whom shall I plaine of my distresse,Who may me help, who may my heart redresse?Shall I complaine unto my lady free?Nay, certes, for she hath such heavinesse,For feare and eke for wo, that, as I gesse,In littel time it would her bane bee,But were she safe, it were no force of mee,Alas, that ever lovers mote endureFor love, so many perilous aventure.For though so be that lovers be as trewe,As any metal that is forged newe,In many a case him tideth oft sorowe;Somtime hir ladies woll nat on hem rewe;Somtime, if that jelousie it knewe,They might lightly lay hir heed to borowe;Somtime envious folke with tonges horowe,Depraven hem; alas! whom may they please?But he be false, no lover hath his ease.But what availeth such a long sermounOf aventures of love up and doun?I wol retourne and speaken of my paine;The point is this, of my distruction,My right lady, my salvacioun,Is in affray, and not to whom to plaine;O herte swete, O lady soveraine,For your disease I ought wel swoun and swelt,Though I none other harme ne drede felt,To what fine made the God that sit so hie,Beneth him love [ or] other companie,And straineth folke to love mauger hir heed?And than hir joy, for aught I can espie,Ne lasteth not the twinckling of an eye,And some have never joy till they be deed:What meaneth this? what is this mistiheed?Wherto constraineth he his folke so fast,Thing to desire, but it should last?And though he made a lover love a thing,And maketh it seem stedfast and during,Yet putteth he in it soch misaventure,That rest n'is there in his yeving.And that is wonder, that so just a king Doth such hardnesse to his creature;Thus, whether love break or els dure,Algates he that hath with love to doon,Hath ofter wo than chaunged is the Moon.It seemeth he hath to lovers enmite,And, like a fisher, as men may all day se,Baited his angle hoke with some pleasance,Til many a fish is wood, till that he be Ceased therwith, and than at erst hath heAll his desire, and therwith all mischaunce,And though the line breke he hath penaunce,For with that hoke he wounded is so sore,That he his wages hath for evermore.The broche of Thebes was of soch kinde,So full of rubies and of stones of Inde,That every wight that set on it an eye,He wende, anone, to worth out of his mind,So sore the beaute wold his herte bind,Till he it had, him thought he must die,And whan that it was his, than should he drie Soch wo for drede, aye while that he it had,That welnigh for the feare he should [ be] mad.And whan it was fro his possession,Than had he double wo and passion,That he so faire a jewell hath forgo,But yet this broche, as in conclusion,Was not the cause of his confusion,But he that wrought it enfortuned it so,That every wight that had it shold have wo,And therfore in the worcher was the vice,And in the coveitour that was so nice.So fareth it by lovers, and by me,For though my lady have so great beaute,That I was mad till I had gette her grace,She was not cause of mine adversite,But he that wrought her, as mote I the,That put soch a beaute in her face,That made me coveiten and purchaseMine owne death, him wite I, that I die,And mine unwit that ever I clambe so hie.But to you, hardy knightes of renoune,Sith that ye be of my devisioune,Albe I not worthy to so great a name,Yet saine these clerkes I am your patroune,Therfore ye ought have some compassion Of my disease, and take it nat a game,The proudest of you may be made ful tame,Wherfore I pray you, of your gentilesse,That ye complaine for mine heavinesse.And ye, my ladies, that be true and stable,By way of kind ye ought to ben able To have pite of folke that been in paine,Now have ye cause to cloth you in sable,Sith that your empresse, the honorable,Is desolate, wel ought you to plaine,Now should your holy teares fall and raine;Alas, your honour and your emprise,Nigh dead for drede, ne can her not chevise.Complaineth eke ye lovers, all in fere,For her that with unfained humble chere,Was ever redy to do you socour,Complaineth her that ever hath be you dere,Complaineth beaute, freedome, and manere,Complaineth her that endeth your labour,Complaineth thilke ensample of al honour,That never did but gentilnesse,Kitheth therfore in her some kindnesse.The Complaint of Venus.THERE n'is so high comfort to my pleasance,Whan that I am in any heavinesse,As to have leiser of remembraunce,Upon the manhood and the worthinesse,Upon the trouth, and on the stedfastnesse,Of him whose I am all, while I may dure,There ought to blame me no creature,For every wight praiseth his gentillesse.v. 307-380 THE COMPLAINT OF MARS AND VENUS. 433In him is bounte, wisdome, and governaunce,Wel more than any mans witte can gesse,For grace hath wolde so ferforth him avance,That of knighthood he his parfite richesse,Honour honoureth him for his noblesse,Thereto so well hath fourmed him nature,That I am his for ever I him ensure,For every wight praiseth his gentillesse.And nat withstanding all his suffisaunce,His gentil herte is of so great humblesse To me in word, in werke, and in countenance,And me to serve is all his besinesse,That I am sette in very sikernesse;Thus ought I blisse well mine aventour,Sith that him list me serven and honour,For every wight praiseth his gentillesse.Now certes, Love, it is right covenable That men ful dere abie thy noble things,As wake a bedde, and fasten at the table,Weping to laugh, and sing in complainings,And downe to cast visage and lookings,Often to chaunge visage and countenaunce,Play in sleeping, and dremen at the daunce,All the revers of any glad feeling.Jelousie he hanged by a cable,She wold al know through her espying,There doth no wight nothing so reasonable,That al n'is harme in her imagining,Thus dere about is Love in yeving,Which oft he yeveth without ordinaunce,As sorow ynough, and little of pleasaunce,All the revers of any glad feling.A little time his yeft is agreable,But full accombrous is the using,For subtel Jelousie, the deceivable,Full often time causeth distourbing,Thus ben we ever in drede and suffring,In no certaine, we languishen in penaunce,And have well oft many an hard mischance,All the revers of any glad feling.But certes, Love, I say not in soch wise,That for to scape out of your lace I ment,For I so long have been in your service,That for to lete, of will, I never assent,No force, though Jelousie me tourment,Suffiseth me to see him whan I may,And therefore, certes, to my ending day,To love him best shall me never repent.And certes, Love, whan I me well advise,Of any estate that man may represent,Than have ye made me, through your franchise,Thefe the best that ever in earth went;Now love well herte, and look thou never stent,And let the jealous put it in assay,That for no paine woll I not say nay,To love him best shall I never repent.Harte, to thee it ought ynough suffice,That Love so high a grace to you sent,To chose the worthies in all wise,And most agreable unto mine entent,Seek no ferther, neither way ne went,Sith ye have suffisaunce unto my pay:Thus wol I end this complaining or this lay,To love him best shall I never repent.LENVOY.Princes, receiveth this complaining in gree,Unto your excellent benignite,Direct after my litel suffisaunce,For elde, that in my spirite dulleth mee,Hath of enditing all the subtelte Welnigh berafte out of my remembraunce:And eke to me it is a great penaunce,Sith rime in English hath soch scarcite,To folow, word by word, the curiosite Of Graunson, flour of hem that make in Fraunce.EXPLICIT.OF THE CUCKOW AND THE NIGHTINGALE.Chaucer dreameth that hee heareth the cuckow and the nightingale contend for excellencie in singing.THE god of love, and benedicite,How mighty and how great a lord is he!For he can make of low hertes hie,And of high low, and like for to die,And hard hertes he can maken free.He can make within a little stound,Of sicke folke hole, fresh, and sound,And of hole he can make seke,He can bind and unbinden eke,That he woll have bounden or unbound.v. 1-20To tell his might my wit may not suffice,For he can make of wise folke full nice,For he may do all that he woll devise,And lither folke to destroyen vice,And proud hertes he can make agrise.Shortly, all that ever he woll he may,Against him dare no wight say nay,For he can glad and greve whom him liketh,And who that he woll he lougheth or siketh,And most his might he shedeth ever in May.F F434 THE CUCKOW AND THE NIGHTINGALE. v. 21-140For every true gentle herte free,That with him is or thinketh for to be,Againe May now shall have some steringOr to joy or els to some mourning,In no season so much, as thinketh me.For whan they may here the birds sing,And see the floures and the leaves spring,That bringeth into hir remembraunce A manner ease, medled with grevaunce,And lustie thoughts full of great longing.And of that longing commeth hevinesse,And thereof groweth of great sicknesse,And for lacke of that that they desire,And thus in May ben hertes set on fire,So that they brennen forth in great distresse.I speake this of feeling truly If I be old and unlusty,Yet I have felt of the sicknesse through May,Both hote and cold, and accesse every day,How sore ywis there wote no wight but I.I am so shaken with the fevers white,Of all this May sleepe I but a lite,And also it is not like to meThat any herte should sleepy be In whom that Love his firy dart woll smite.But as I lay this other night waking,I thought how lovers had a tokening,And among hem it was a commune tale That it were good to here the nightingale Rather than the leud cuckow sing.And than I thought, anon, as it was day,I would go some where to assay If that I might a nightingale here,For yet had I none heard of all that yere,And it was tho the third night of May.And anone, as I the day aspide,No lenger would I in my bed abide,But unto a wood that was fast by,I went forth alone boldely,And held the way downe by a brooke side,Till I came to a laund of white and green,So faire one had I never in been,The ground was green, ypoudred with daisie,The floures and the greves like hie,All greene and white, was nothing els seene.There sate I downe among the faire flours,And saw the birds trip out of hir bours,There as they rested hem all the night,They were so joyfull of the dayes light,They began of May for to done honours.They coud that service all by rote,There was many a lovely note,Some song loud, as they had plained,And some in other manner voice yfained,And some all out with the full throte.They proyned hem and made hem right gay,And daunceden and lepten on the spray,And evermore two and two in fere,Right so as they had chosen hem to yere In Feverere upon saint Valentines day.And the river that I sate upon,It made such a noise as it ron,Accordaunt with the birdes armony,Me thought it was the best melodyThat might ben yheard of any mon.And for delite, I wote never how,I fell in such a slomber and a swow,Nat all asleepe, ne fully waking,And in that swow, me thought, I hearde sing The sorry bird, the leud cuckow.And that was on a tree right fast by,But who was than evill apaid but I?"Now God," quod I, " that died on the crois,Yeve sorrow on thee, and on thy leud vois,Full little joy have I now of thy cry."And as I with the cuckow thus gan chide,I heard in the next bush besideA nightingale so lustely sing That with her clere voice she made ring Through all the greene wood wide."Ah, good nightingale," quod I then,"A little hast thou ben too long hen,For here hath ben the leud cuckow,And songen songs rather than hast thou,I pray to God evill fire her bren."But now I woll you tell a wonder thing,As long as I lay in that swouning,Me thought I wist what the birds ment,And what they said, and what was hir entent,And of hir speech I had good knowing.There heard I the nightingale say,"Now good cuckow, go somewhere away,And let us that can singen dwellen here,For every wight escheweth thee to here,Thy songs be so elenge, in good fay."" What," quod she, " what may thee aylen now?It thinketh me, I sing as well as thou,For my song is both true and plaine,And though I cannot crakell so in vaine,As thou dost in thy throte, I wot never how."And every wight may understande mee,But, nightingale, so may they not done thee,For thou hast many a nice queint cry,I have thee heard saine, ocy, ocy,How might I know what that should be? "" Ah foole," quod she, " wost thou not what it is,Whan that I say, ocy, ocy? ywis,Than meane I that I would wonder faine,That all they were shamefully yslaine,That meanen ought againe love amis." And also I would that all tho were dedeThat thinke not in love hir life to lede,For who so that wol not the god of love serve,I dare well say he is worthy to sterve,And for that skill, ocy, ocy, I grede. ""Eye," quod the cuckow, " this is a queint law,That every wight shall love or be to draw,But I forsake all such companie,For mine entent is not for to die,Ne never while I live on Loves yoke to draw;v. 141-260 THE CUCKOW AND THE NIGHTINGALE. 435" For lovers ben the folke that ben on liveThat most disease have, and most unthrive,And most endure sorrow, wo, and care,And least feelen of welfare,What needeth it ayenst trouth to strive? ""What! " quod she, " thou art out of thy mind;How might thou in thy churlenesse find To speake of Loves servaunts in this wise,For in this world is none so good servise To every wight that gentle is of kind." For thereof truly commeth all goodnesse,All honour and all gentlenesse,Worship, ease, and all hertes lust,Parfite joy, and full assured trust,Jolitie, pleasaunce, and freshnesse,"Lowlyhead, largesse, and curtesie,Semelyhead, and true companie,Drede of shame for to done amis:For he that truly Loves servaunt is,Were lother be shamed than to die." And that this is soth that I sey,In that beleeve I will live and dey,And cuckow, so I rede that thou do ywis: '"Than," quod he, " let me never have blisse,If ever I unto that counsaile obey."Nightingale, thou speakest wonder faire,But for all that is the sooth contraire,For love is in yong folke but rage,And in old folke a great dotage,Who most it useth, most shall enpaire."For thereof cometh disease and hevinesse,So sorow and care, and many a great sicknesse,Despite, debate, anger, and envie,Depraving, shame, untrust, and jelousie,Pride, mischeefe, poverty, and woodnesse:"Loving is an office of despaire,And one thing is therein that is not faire,For who that getteth of love a little blisse,But if he be alway therewith, ywis,He may full soone of age have his haire."And nightingale, therefore hold thee nie,For leve me well, for all thy queint crie,If thou be ferre or long fro thy make,Thou shalt be as other that been forsake,And than thou shalt hoten as doe I."" Fie," quod she, " on thy name, and on thee!The god of love ne let thee never ythe,For thou art worse a thousand fold than wood,For many a one is full worthy and full good,That had be naught ne had love ybe."For evermore Love his servants amendeth,And from all evill taches hem defendeth,And maketh hem to brenne right in a fire,In trouth and in worshipfull desire,And whan him liketh, joy inough him sendeth. ""Thou nightingale," he said, " be still,For Love hath no reason, but it is will,For oft time untrue folke he easeth,And true folke so biterly he displeaseth,That for default of courage he let hem spill. "Than tooke I of the nightingale keepe,How she cast a sigh out of her deepe,And said, " Alas, that ever I was bore,I can for tene not say one word more,'And right with that word she brast out to weepe.دو"Alas," quod she, " my herte woll to breake,To hearen thus this leud bird speakeOf Love, and of his worshipfull servise.Now God of love, thou help me in some wise,That I may on this cuckow been awreake."Me thought than he stert up anone,And glad was I that he was agone,And evermore the cuckow as he flay,Said, " Farewell, farewell, popingay! "As though he had scorned me alone.And than came the nightingale to mee,And said, " Friend, forsooth I thanke thee,That thou hast liked me to rescow,And one avow to Love make now,That all this May I woll thy singer be."I thanked her, and was right well apaied:"Ye," quod she, " and be thou not dismaied,Tho thou have herd the cuckow erst than me,For, if I live, it shall amended beThe next May, if I be not affraied."And one thing I woll rede thee also,Ne leve thou not the cuckow, ne his loves so,For all that he hath said is strong lesing:""Nay," quod I, " thereto shall nothing me bring,For love, and it hath doe me much wo."Ye, use," quod she, "this medicineEvery day this May or thou dine,Go looke upon the fresh daisie,And though thou be for wo in point to die,That shall full greatly lessen thee of thy pine."And looke alway that thou be good and trew,And I woll sing one of the songes newFor love of thee, as loud as I may crie:"And than she began this song full hie," I shrew all hem that been of love untrue."And whan she had song it to the end,"Now farewell," quod she, " for I mote wend,And god of love, that can right well, and may,As much joy send thee this day,As any lover yet he ever send. "Thus taketh the nightingale her leave of me,I pray to God alway with her be,And joy of love he send her evermore,And shilde us fro the cuckow and his lore,For there is not so false a bird as he.Forth she flew, the gentle nightingale,To all the birds that were in that dale,And gate hem all into a place in fere,And besoughten hem that they would hereHer disease, and thus began her tale."The cuckow, well it is not for to hide,How the cuckow and I fast have chide,Ever sithen it was day light,I pray you all that ye do me right On that foule false unkind bridde."FF 2436 THE CUCKOW AND THE NIGHTINGALE. v. 261-280Than spake o bird for all, by one assent,"This matter asketh good avisem*nt,For we ben birdes here in fere,And sooth it is, the cuckow is not here,And therefore we woll have a parliment."And thereat shall the egle be our lord,And other peres that been of record,And the cuckow shall be after sent,There shall be yeve the judgement,Or els we shall finally make accord." And this shall be without nay,The morrow after saint Valentines day,Under a maple that is faire and grene,Before the chamber window of the quene,At Woodstocke upon the grene lay."She thanked hem, and than her leave toke,And into an hauthorne by that broke,And there she sate and song upon that tree,"Terme of life love hath withhold me,"So loud that I with that song awoke.EXPLICIT.MINOR POEMS.L'ENVOY DE CHAUCER À BUKTON.My master Bukton, whan of Christ our king,Was asked, what is troth or sothfastnesse,He not a worde answerde to that asking,As who saith, no man is all true, gesse:And therefore, though I hight to expresseThe sorrow and wo that is in mariage,I dare not writen of it no wickednesse,Lest I my selfe fall efte in suche dotage.I woll not say how that it is the chaine Of Sathanas, on which he knaweth ever,But I dare saine, were he out of his paine,As by his will he would be bounden never;But thilke doted foole , that eft hath lever Ychayned be, than out of prison crepe,God let him never fro his wo discever,Ne no man him bewayle, though he wepe.But yet, lest thou doe worse, take a wife,Bet is to wedde than brenne in worse wise.But thou shalt have sorow on thy flesh thy life,And ben thy wives thrale, as sain these wise,And if that holy writ may not suffice,Experience shall thee teach, so may happe,Take the way lever to be taken in frise,Than efte to fall of wedding in the trappe.This little writte, proverbes or figures,I sende you, take keepe of it I rede,Unwise is he that can no wele endure,If thou be siker, put thee not in drede,The Wife of Bathe I pray you that ye rede Of this matter that we have on honde,God graunt you your lyfe freely to lede In fredome, for foule is to be bonde.EXPLICIT.That word and deed, as in conclusioun,Is nothing like, for tourned is up so dounAll the world, through mede and fikelnesse,That all is lost for lacke of stedfastnesse.What maketh the world to be so variableBut lust, that men have in dissension?For among us a man is hold unable,But if he can by some collusionDoe his neighbour wrong and oppression:What causeth this but wilfull wretchednesse That all is lost for lacke of stedfastnesse?Trouth is put downe, reason is hold fable,Vertue bath now no domination,Pity is exiled, no man is merciable,Through covetise is blente discretion,The world hath made a permutation,Fro right to wrong, fro trouth to fikelnesse,That all is lost for lacke of stedfastnesse.LENVOYE.Prince, desire to be honourable,Cherish thy folke, and hate extortion,Suffer nothing that may be reprovable To thine estate, done in thy region,Shew forth the yerd of castigation,Drede God, do law, love trouth and worthinesse,And wed thy folke ayen to stedfastnesse.EXPLICIT.BALADE SENT TO K. RICHARD.SOMETIME the world so stedfast was and stable,That mannes word was an obligatioun,And now it is so false and deceivable,GOOD COUNSAIL OF CHAUCER.FLY fro the prease, and dwell with soothfastnesse,Suffise unto thy good though it be small,For horde hath hate, and climbing tikelnesse,Prease hath envy, and wele is blent over all,Savour no more than thee behove shall,Rede well thy selfe that other folke canst rede,And trouth thee shall deliver, it is no drede.MINOR POEMS. 437Paine thee not ech crooked to redresseIn trust of her that tourneth as a ball,Great rest standeth in little businesse,Beware also to spurne againe a nall,Strive not as doth a crocke with a wall,Deme thy selfe that demest others dede,And trouth thee shall deliver, it is no drede.That thee is sent receive in buxomnesse,The wrastling of this world asketh a fall,Here is no home, here is but wildernesse,Forth, pilgrime! forth, beast, out of thy stall!Looke up on high, and thanke God of all!Weive thy lusts, and let thy ghost thee lede,And trouth thee shall deliver, it is no drede.EXPLICIT.A BALLADE OF THE VILLAGE WITHOUTPAINTING.PLAINTIFE TO FORTUNE.THIS wretched worldes transmutation,As wele and wo, now poor, and now honour,Without order or due discretion,Governed is by Fortunes errour,But natheless, the lacke of her favourNe may not doe me sing, though that I die,J'ay tout perdu, mon temps et mon labour,For finally Fortune I defie.Yet is me left the sight of my reasoun,To know friend fro foe in thy mirrour,So much hath yet thy tourning up and doun Ytaught me to knowen in an hour,But truly, no force of thy reddour To him that over himselfe hath maistrie,My suffisaunce shall be my succour,For finally Fortune I defie.O Socrates, thou stedfast champion,She might never be thy turmentour,Thou never dredest her oppression,Ne in her chere found thou no favour,Thou knew the deceit of her colour,And that her moste worship is for to lie,I know her eke a false dissimulour,For finally Fortune I defie.How many have I refused to sustene,Sith I have thee fostred in thy pleasaunce!Wolt thou than make a statute on thy quene,That I shall be aye at thine ordinaunce?Thou born art in my reigne of variaunce,About the whele with other must thou drive,My lore is bet than wicke is thy grevaunce,And eke thou hast thy best friend alive.THE ANSWERE TO FORTUNE.Thy lore I dampne, it is adversity,My frend maist thou not reve, blind goddesse,That I thy friends know, I thanke it thee,Take hem againe, let hem go lie a presse,The nigg*rdes in keeping hir richesse,Pronostike is, thou wolt hir toure assaile,Wicke appetite commeth aye before sicknesse,In general this rule may not faile.FORTUNE.Thou pinchest at my mutability,For I thee lent a droppe of my richesse,And now me liketh to withdraw me,Why shouldest thou my royalty oppresse?The sea may ebbe and flow more and lesse,The welken hath might to shine, rain, and hail,Right so must I kithe my brotilnesse,In generall this rule may not fail.THE PLAINTIFE.Lo, the execution of the majesty,That all purveigheth of his rightwisenesse,That same thing Fortune clepen ye,Ye blind beasts, full of leaudnesse,The Heaven hath property of sikernesse,This world hath ever restlesse travaile,The last day is end of mine entresse,In generall this rule may not faile.TH'ENVOYE OF FORTUNE.Princes, I pray you of your gentilnesse Let not this man and me thus cry and plain,And I shall quite you this businesse,And if ye liste releve him of his pain,Pray ye his best frende, of his noblesse,That to some better state he may attain.THE ANSWERE OF FORTUNE.No man is wretched, but himselfe it wene,Ne that hath in himselfe suffisaunce,Why saist thou than I am to thee so kene,That hast thy selfe out of my governance?Say thus, graunt mercy of thine habundanceThat thou hast lent, or this, thou shalt not strive,What wost thou yet how I thee woll avance?And eke thou hast thy best friend alive.I have thee taught devision betweene Friend of effect, and friend of countenaunce,Thee needeth nat the gall of an hine,That cureth eyen darke for her pennaunce,Now seest thou clere that were in ignoraunce,Yet holt thine anker, and yet thou maist arrive There bounty beareth the key of my substance,And eke thou hast thy best friend alive.L'ENVOY DE CHAUCER.À SCOGAN.Tobroken been the statutes hie in Heaven,That create were eternally t'endure,Sithe that I see the bright goddes seven Mowe wepe and waile, and passion endure,As may in yearth a mortall creature:Alas, fro whens may this thing procede,Of which errour I die almost for drede?By word eterne, whilom, was it shape,That fro the fifth cercle, in no manere,Ne might of teares doune escape,But now so weepeth Venus in her sphere,That with her teares she wol drench us here.Alas, Scogan, this is for thine offence,Thou causest this deluge of pestilence.438 MINOR POEMS.Hast thou not said, in blaspheme of the goddis,Through pride, or through thy gret rekelnes,Such things as in the law of love forbode is,That for thy lady saw not thy distresse,Therfore thou yave her up at Mighelmesse?Alas, Scogan, of olde folke ne yong,Was never erst Scogan blamed for his tong.Thou drew in scorne Cupide eke to record,Of thilke rebell word that thou hast spoken,For which he woll no lenger be thy lord,And Scogan, though his bow be not broken,He woll not with his arowes be ywroken On thee ne me, ne none of our figure,We shall of him have neither hurte ne cure.Now certes, frend, I drede of thine unhape,Lest for thy gilte the wreche of love procede On all hem that been hore and round of shape,That be so likely folke to spede,Than we shall of our labour have our mede,But well I wot, thou wolt answere and say,Lo, old Grisell list to renne and play.Nay, Scogan, say not so, for I me excuse,God helpe me so, in no rime doubtles,Ne thinke I never of sleepe wake my muse,That rusteth in my sheath still in pees,While I was yong I put her forth in prees,But all shall passe that men prose or rime,Take every man his tourne as for his time.Scogan, thou knelest at the stremes heddeOf grace, of all honour, and of worthiness,In th'ende of which I am dull as dedde,Forgotten in solitary wildernesse,Yet, Scogan, thinke on Tullius' kindness,Mind thy frende there it may fructifie,Farewel, and looke thou never eft love defie.EXPLICIT.A BALLADMADE BY CHAUCER, TEACHING WHAT IS GENTILNESS , OR WHOM IS WORTHY TO BE CALLED GENTILL.THE first stocke father of gentilnes,What man desireth gentil for to bee,Must followe his trace, and all his wittes dres Vertue to love and vices for to flee,For unto vertue longeth dignitee,And not the revers falsly, dare I deme,All weare he miter, crowne, or diademe.This first stocke was full of rightwisnes,Trewe of his worde, sober, pitous and free,Clene of his goste, and loved besinesse,Against the vice of slouth in honeste,And, but his heire love vertue as did he,He is not gentill, though he rich seme,All weare he miter, crowne, or diademe.Viceste may well be heir to old richesse,But there may no man, as men may wel see,Bequethe his heire his vertues noblenesse,That is appropried unto no degree,But to the first father in majestee,That maketh his heires them that him queme,All weare he miter, crowne, or diademe,EXPLICIT.PROVERBESAGAINST COVETISE AND NEGLIGENCE.TO HIS EMPTY PURSE.To you, mypurse, and to none other wightComplaine I, for ye be my lady dere,I am sorry now that ye be light,For, certes, ye now make me heavy chere,Me were as lefe laid upon a bere,For which unto your mercy thus I crie,Be heavy againe, or els mote I die.Now vouchsafe this day or it be night,That I of you the blissful sowne may here,Or see your colour like the Sunne bright,That of yelowness had never pere,Ye be my life, ye be my hertes stere,Queene of comfort and of good companie,Be heavy againe, or els mote I die.Now purse, that art to me my lives light,And saviour, as downe in this world here,Out of this towne helpe me by your might,Sith that you woll not be my treasure,For I am shave as nere as anyfrere,But I pray unto your curtesie,Be heavy againe, or els mote I die.EXPLICIT.WHAT shall these clothes manifold,Lo, this hote somers day?After great heat commeth cold,No man cast his pilche away.Of all this world the large compasseIt will not in mine armes twaine;Who so mokel woll embrace,Litel thereof he shall distraine.EXPLICIT.CHAUCERS WORDS UNTO HIS OWN SCRIVENER.ADAM Scrivener, if ever it thee befall Boece or Troilus for to write new,Under thy long locks thou maist have the scall,But after my making thou write more trew,So oft a day I mote thy werke renew,It to correct and eke to rubbe and scrape,And all is thorow thy negligence and rape.MINOR POEMS. 439VIRELAI.ALONE walking,In thought plaining,All desolate:And sore sighing,Me remembringOf myliving,My death wishing,Both early and late:InfortunateIs so my fateThat wote ye what?Out of measureMy life I hate:Thus desperate,In such poor estate Do I endure.Ofother cure Am I not sure,Thus to endure Is hard certain.Such is my ure,I you ensure,What creatureMay have more pain?My truth so plain Is taken in vain,And great disdainIn remembraunce,Yet I full fain,Would me complain,Me to abstainFrom this penaunce.But in substaunce,None allegeaunceOf my grevaunce Can I not find.Right so my chaunce With displesaunce Doth me avaunce,And thus an end.

GLOSSARY.

ADVERTIsem*nT.THE following Glossary is intended to facilitate the reading of Chaucer, by explaining, inour present language, such of his words and phrases as are now become difficult to be understood, either from a total disuse, or from any smaller alterations of orthography or inflexion.Many of these words and phrases having been already explained in the Notes of this edition,it has been thought sufficient in that case to refer the reader to those Notes. For the rest, itis hoped that this work may be of use in removing some of the most material difficulties, whichoccur, not only in the Canterbury Tales, but also in the other genuine ' compositions of Chaucer,as far as the present state of their text makes it safe to attempt any explanation of them .It would be injustice to the learned author of the Glossary to Mr. Urry's edition ², not toacknowledge, that I have built upon his foundations, and often with his materials. In particular, I have followed, and have endeavoured to improve upon, his example, by constantly citingone or more places, in which the word or phrase explained is to be found 3. Where the placescited by him were apposite and satisfactory, I have generally spared myself the trouble ofhunting for others, with this caution however, that I have not made use of any one of his references without having first verified it by actual inspection; a caution which every compilerought to take in all cases, and which in the present case was indispensably necessary, on accountof the numerous and gross errors in the text of that edition 4 to which Mr. Thomases Glossarywas adapted.For the further prevention of uncertainty and confusion, care has been taken to mark thepart of speech to which each word belongs, and to distribute all hom*onymous words intoseparate articles 5. The numbers, cases, modes, times, and other inflexions of the declinableparts of speech are also marked, whenever they are expressed in a manner differing from modern usage.Etymology is so clearly not a necessary branch of the duty of a Glossarist, that, I trust, Ishall be easily excused for not having troubled the reader with longer or more frequentdigressions of that sort. In general, I have thought it sufficient to mark shortly the originallanguage from which each word is probably to be derived, according to the hypothesis, which has1 Atthe end of this advertisem*nt I shall add a short Account ofwhat I conceive to be the genuine works ofChaucer,and of those which have been either falsely ascribed to him, or improperly mixed with his, in the Editions. Thoseunder the two latter descriptions may be of use to illustrate the works of Chaucer, but should not be confounded with them.2 Mr. Timothy Thomas. See App. to the Preface. A. note " .3 The expediency of this practice is obvious. It enables the reader to apprehend more clearly the interpretation ofthe Glossarist , when right; and it affords him an opportunity of correcting those mistakes, to which we are all so exceedingly liable.4 See App. to the Preface. A. p. viii.5 The neglect of this precaution, and of that just mentioned, has made Mr. Hearne's Glossaries to Robert ofGloucester and Robert ofBrunne of very little use. Who would place any confidence in such interpretations as the following?-R. G. ar. as, after, before, ere, till. bet. better, bid, bad, desired, prayed, be, are.-P. L. ame. aim, esteem, love,desire, reckon'd, aim'd, fathom , tell. bidene. biting, abiding, tarrying, bidding, praying, bidden , being bidden, beingdesired, continually, commanded, judged, adjudged, readily.444 ADVERTIsem*nT.been more fully explained in the ESSAY, &c. Part the second, that the Norman-Saxon dialectin which Chaucer wrote, was almost entirely composed of words derived from the Saxon andFrench languages 6.As every author must be allowed to be the best expositor of his own meaning, I have alwaysendeavoured to establish the true import of any doubtful word or phrase by the usage ofChaucer himself in some other similar passage. Where it has been necessary to call in foreignassistance, recourse has been chiefly had to such authors as wrote before him, or at least werecontemporary with him in some part of his life 7.The proper names of persons and places, as they occur in Chaucer, are often either soobscure in themselves, or so disguised by a vitious orthography, that they stand in as muchneed of an interpreter as the most obsolete appellative . Some other proper names, particularlyof authors quoted, though sufficiently known and clear, have been inserted in this Glossary, inorder to make it, in that respect, answer the purposes of an Index.As there are several passages, of which, after all my researches, I am unable to give anyprobable explanation, I shall follow the laudable example of the learned Editor of “ AncientScottish Poems from the MS. of George Bannatyne. Edinb. 1770." by subjoining a list of such wordsand phrases as I profess not to understand. I only wish the reader may not find occasionto think, that I ought to have made a considerable addition to the number.I will just add, for the sake of those who may be disposed to make use of this Glossary inreading the works of Chaucer not contained in this edition, that it will be found to be almostequally well adapted to every edition of those works, except Mr. Urry's. Mr. Urry'sedition should never be opened by any one for the purpose of reading Chaucer.1778. T. TYRWHITT.6 Afew words are marked as having been taken immediately from the Latin language. The number has increasedvery considerably since the time of Chaucer. It is observable, that the verbs of this sort are generally formed fromtheparticiple past, whereas those which have come to us through France are as generally formed from the infinitive mode.In referring words to the other two great classes a precise accuracy has not been attempted. The small remains of the genuine Anglo- Saxon language, which our lexicographers have been able to collect, do not furnish authorities fora multitude of words, which however may be fairly derived from that source, because they are to be found with littlevariation in the other collateral languages descended from the Gothic. The term SAXON therefore is here used withsuch a latitude as to include the Gothic, and all ils branches. At the same time, as the Francic part of the Frenchlanguage had a common original with the Anglo- Saxon, it happens that some words may be denominated eitherFRENCH OF SAXON with almost equal probability. In all such cases, the final judgement is left to those, who haveleisure and inclination ( according to our author's phrase ver. 15246. ) to boult the matter to the bren7 Some ofthese authors have been pointed out in the ESSAY, &c . §. VIII. n. 24. Of the others the most considerableare, the author of the Visions ofPierce Ploughman, GOWER, OCCLEVE, and LYDGATE.In the ESSAY, &c. n. 57. a circ*mstance is mentioned , which shews that the Visions ofPierce Ploughman werewritten after 1350. I have since taken notice of a passage which will prove, I think, that they were written after1362. The great storm of wind, alluded to in fol. xx. b. 1. 14.And the Southwesterne winde on Satterdaie at even , &c . is probably the storm recorded by Thorn, inter x Script.c. 2122. Walsingham, p. 178. and most particularly by the Continuator of Adam Murimuth, p. 115.A.D. M.CCC.LXII -XV. die Januarii, circa horam vesperarum, ventus vehemens notus Australis Africus tantârabie erupit, & c.The 15th of January in the year 1362 , N. S. was a Saturday.AN ACCOUNTOF THEWORKS OF CHAUCERTO WHICHTHIS GLOSSARY IS ADAPTED;AND OF THOSE OTHER PIECES WHICH HAVE BEEN IMPROPERLY INTERMIXED WITH HIS IN THE EDITIONS.Of the CANTERBURY TALES, the greatest work of Chaucer, it is needless to repeat whathas been said in different parts of this Edition; particularly in the App. to the Preface, A. andin the Introductory Discourse. One of the earliest of his other works was probablyI. THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE. He speaks of it himself in L.W. 329 and 441. It isprofessedly a translation of the French Roman de la Rose, and many gross blunders in theprinted text may be corrected by comparing it with the original. Dr. Hunter was so obligingas to lend me a MS. of this poem, the only one that I have ever heard of, which has occasionallybeen consulted to good advantage; but it does not supply any of the most material defects ofthe printed Editions. See page 209.II. TROILUS AND CRESEIDE, in v. Books. This Poem is also mentioned by our author inL.W. 332 and 441. It is for the most part a translation of the Filostrato of Boccace; but withmany variations, and such large additions, that it contains above 2700 lines more than itsoriginal. See the Essay, &c. n. 62. and page 209.There are several MSS. of this poem in the Bodleian Library and in the Museum, which havebeen occasionally consulted.III. THE COURT OF LOVE was first printed among the additions made to Chaucer's worksby John Stowe, in the Edition of 1561. One might reasonably have expected to find itmentioned in L.W. loc . cit. but notwithstanding the want of that testimony in its favour, I aminduced by the internal evidence to consider it as one of Chaucer's genuine productions. Ihave never heard of any MS. of this poem.IV. THE COMPLAINT OF PITEE. So this Poem is entitled in MS. Harl. 78. It is extantalso in MS. Bodl. Fairf. 16. The subject is alluded to in the Court of Lore, ver. 700. seq.V. OF QUENE ANNELIDA AND FALSE ARCITE, with the COMPLAINT OF ANNELIDA.The story of this poem is said in ver. 10. to have been originally in Latin; and in ver. 21 .Chaucer names the authors whom he professes to follow. "Firste folue I STACE and after himCORINNE." As the opening only is taken from Statius, L. IV. v. 519, we must suppose thatCorinne furnished the remainder; but who Corinne was is not easy to guess. See the Gloss. in v.CORINNE. It should be observed, that the Arcite, whose infidelity is here complained of, isquite a different person from the Arcite of the Knightes tale; from which circ*mstance we mayperhaps be allowed to infer, that this poem was written before Chaucer had met with theTheseida.It is extant in MSS. Harl. 372. and Bodl. Fairf. 16.446 AN ACCOUNT OF THE WORKS OF CHAUCER.VI. THE ASSEMBLEE OF FOULES is mentioned by Chaucer himself in L.W. 419. under thetitle of " The Parlement offoules." In MS. Bodl. Fairf. 16. it is entitled " The Parlement of Briddes."The opening of this poem is built upon the Somnium Scipionis of Cicero, as it appears at thehead of Macrobiuses commentary. The description of a Garden and Temple, from ver. 183 tover. 287, is almost entirely taken from Boccaces description of the Temple of Venus in the vIIbook of the Theseida. See the note on ver. 1920. I have found no reason to retract thesuspicion there intimated as to the date of this poem; nor can I confirm it by any external evidence.VII. THE COMPLAINT OF THE BLACK KNIGHT, in MSS. Bodl. Fairf. 16. and Bod. 638. isentitled " Complaint of a lover's life. " I do not wish much confidence to be given to theconjecture, in App. to the Pref. C. n. that this poem relates to John of Gaunt.VIII. CHAUCER'S A. B. C. was first printed in Mr. Speght's 2d Edit . in 1602. It is said, inthe title, to have been composed at the request of the duch*esse Blanche. If that be true, it ought tobe placed beforeIX. THE BOOKE OF THE duch*eSSE, which Chaucer himself has mentioned by the titleof" The deth ofBlaunche the duch*esse ." L.W. 418. See an account of this poem in the n. on ver.4467. and page 209.X. THE HOUSE OF FAME is mentioned by Chaucer himself in L.W. 417. It was probablywritten while he was comptroller of the custom of wools, and consequently not earlier than1374. See the passage from B. II. quoted in the App. to the Pref. C. n. e . It is extant inMSS. Bodl. Fairf. 16. and Bod. 638.XI. CHAUCER'S DREME was first printed in Mr. Speght's Edit. of his works in 1597. Baleseems to speak of it under the title, " De castello dominarum. Lib. i." The supposed plan of thispoem, prefixed to it by Mr. Speght, is a mere fancy; but there is no ground for doubting theauthenticity of the poem itself.When I imagined that a passage in this Dreme, ver. 1820-1926, was probably copied fromthe Lay ofElidus (Discourse, &c. n. 24.) I did not recollect, that the incident there related isvery similar to one in the Grecian fabulous history (See Hyginus, fab. CXXXVI. de Polyido.)and therefore might easily have come to Chaucer through some other channel.XII. THE FLOUR AND THE LEFE was also printed for the first time in the Edit. of 1597;but I do not think its authenticity so clear as that of the preceding poem. The subject, atleast, is alluded to by Chaucer in L.W. 188-194.XIII. THE LEGENDE OF GOODE WOMEN is extant in MSS. Bodl. Arch. Seld. B. 24. andFairf. 16. For the time of its composition see the Discourse, &c. n. 3. See also the n. on ver.4481. An additional argument, for believing that the number intended was nineteen, may bedrawn from the Court of Love, ver. 108. where, speaking of Alceste, Chaucer says-" To whom obeyed the ladies gode ninetene. ”XIV. THE COMPLAINT OF MARS AND VENUS is said, in the conclusion, to have beentranslated from the French of Graunson; probably that Otho de Graunson, who was retainedin the military service of Richard II, with an annuity of 200 marks. Pat. 17. R. II. p. 1. m. 6.ap. Rymer. Mr. Speght mentions a tradition , if I understand him right, that this poem wasoriginally made of the Lady Elizabeth, daughter to John of Gaunt, whom he calls King of Spaine,and her husband the Lord John Holland, half-brother to Richard II. I cannot see any thing inthe poem itself that countenances this particular notion, though I have little doubt, that it wasintended to describe the situation of some two lovers under a veil of mystical allegory.This poem is extant in MSS. Bodl. Arch. Seld. B. 24. and Fairf. 16. In MS. Harl. 7333 it isentitled " The broche of Thebes as of the love of Mars and Venus; " which inclines me to believe,AN ACCOUNT OF THE WORKS OF CHAUCER. 447that it is the poem, mentioned by Lydgate, and from him by Bale, which has of late beensupposed to be lost. Lydgate's words areOf Annelida and of false ArciteHe made a complaynt dolefull and piteous,And of the broche which that VulcanusAt Thebes wrought, full divers of nature.Prol. to Trag. Sign. A. ii. b.From this passage Bale, as I suppose, deceived by the ambiguous sense of the word broche, hasattributed to Chaucer a poem " De Vulcani ceru; " of Vulcan's spit. He should have said " DeVulcani gemma, or monili." See BROCHE in the Glossary.This broche of Thebes, from which the whole poem is here supposed to have taken its title, isdescribed at large in the Complaint of Mars, ver. 93-109. The first idea of it seems to havebeen derived from what Statius has said of the fatal necklace made by Vulcan for Harmonia.Theb. II. 265–305. Lydgate refers us to Ovide; but I cannot find anything in him upon thesubject.XV. THE CUCKow and the NIGHTINGALE in MS . Fairf. 16. is entitled “ The boke ofCupideGod of Love." It is extant also in MS. Bod. 638. and as far as ver. 235. in Arch. Seld . B. 24.and might be much improved and augmented with some lines from those MSS. The Balladeof three Stanzas with an Envoye, which seems to belong to this poem in the Editt. does notappear at all in MS. Bod. 638. In MS. Fairf. 16. it is at the end of the Booke of the duch*esse.I cannot believe that it was written by Chaucer.Beside these more considerable works, it appears from L.W. 422. 430. that our author hadcomposed many " balades, roundels, virelayes; " that he had " made many a lay and many a thing.”A few pieces of this sort are still extant, but hardly any, I think, of so early a date as theLegende. I will set them down here as they stand in the Editt.1. L'Envoy de Chaucer à Bukton . Beginning,My maister Bukton, whan of Christ, &c.So this little poem is entitled in MS. Fairf. 16. It has always been printed at the end of theBooke of the duch*esse, with an &c. in the first line instead of the name of Bukton; and inMr. Urry's Edit. the following most unaccountable note is prefixed to it."This seems anEnvoy to the Duke of Lancaster after his loss of Blanch."From the reference to the Wife of Bathe, ver. 29. I should suppose this to have been one ofour author's later compositions, and I find that there was a Peter de Buketon, the King's Escheatorfor the County of York, in 1397, ( Pat . 20 R. II. p. 2. m. 3. ap. Rymer. ) to whom this poem,from the familiar style of it, is much more likely to have been addressed than to the Duke ofLancaster.2. Balade sent to King Richard.Beginn. Sometime the world, &c.So this poem is entitled in MS. Harl. E. It is extant also in Fairf. 16. and in Cotton. Otho.A. XVIII.3. Balade beginning-Flefro the prese, &c.In MS. Cotton. Otho. A. XVIII. this balade is said to have been made by Chaucer “upon hisdeath-bed lying in his anguish; " but of such a circ*mstance some further proof should be required .It is found, without any such note, in MS. Arch. Seld. B. 24. and Fairf. 16.4. Balade ofthe village.Beginn. This wretched worldes, &c.It is extant in MS. Fairf. 16. and Bod. 638. In MS. Ashmol. 59. it is said to have beentranslated from the French. Tanner, in v. CHAUCER.5. L'Envoy de Chaucer à Skogan.Beginn. Tobroken ben the Statutes, &c.So this poem is entitled in MS. Fairf. 16. Among a number of people of all sorts, who had448 AN ACCOUNT OF THE WORKS OF CHAUCER.letters of protection to attend Richard II. upon his expedition to Ireland in 1399, is HenricusScogan, Armiger. This jocose expostulation was probably addressed to him by our author someyears before, when Scogan's interest at court may be supposed to have been better thanhis own.6. Chaucer to his emptiepurse.Beginn. To you, my purse, &c.This balade is extant in MS. Fairf. 16. and in Cotton. Otho. A. XVIII. The Encoy appearsto be addressed to Henry the 4th.7. Balade beginning-The firste stock, &c.These three stanzas have been preserved in a " Moral Balade by Henry Scogan; " of whichsome notice will be taken below.8. Proverbes by Chaucer.Beginn. What shal these clothes, &c.So this little piece is entitled in MS. Harl. 7578. It evidently contains two distinct Proverbsor Moral Admonitions.9. Chaucer's wordes to his Scrivenere.Beginn. Adam Scrivenere, &c.A proof of his attention to the correctness of his writings. See also T. V. 1794, 5.The works of Chaucer in prose are,I. A TRANSLATION OF BOETHIUS de consolatione Philosophia, which he has mentioned himselfin L.W. ver. 425.II. A TREATISE ON THE ASTROLABE, addressed to his son Lowis, in 1391. It is plain fromwhat is said at the beginning of this treatise, that the printed copies do not contain more thantwo ofthe five parts, of which it was intended to consist.III. THE TESTAMENT OF LOVE is evidently an imitation of Boethius de consolatione Philosophia. It seems to have been begun by our author after his troubles, in the middle part ofthe reign of Richard II, and to have been finished about the time that Gower published hisConfessio Amantis, in the 16th year of that reign. At least it must then have been far advanced,as Gower mentions it by its title. Conf. Am. 190. b.The foregoing I consider as the genuine works of Chaucer. Of those, which have beenimproperly intermixed with his in the Editions, the following are known to be the works ofother authors.1. The Testament and Complaint of Crescide appears from ver. 41. not to have been written byChaucer; and Mr. Urry was informed " by Sir James Ereskin, late Earl of Kelly, and diverseaged scholars of the Scottish nation," that the true author was " Mr. ROBERT HENDERSON,chiefSchool- master of Dumferlin, a little time before Chaucer was first printed, and dedicated toKing Henry VIII. by Mr. Thynne." I suppose, the same person is meant that is called ROBERTHENRYSONE in " Ancient Scottish Poems," where several of his compositions may be seen, fromp. 98 to p. 138.2. The Floure of Courtesie is said, in the title, to have been made by JOHN LYDGATE.3. La Belle Dame sans mercie, a translation from Alain Chartier, is attributed in MS. Harl.372. to Sir RICHARD Ros. See App. to the Pref. C. note " . Upon looking further into Alain'sworks I find a Balade upon the taking of Fougieres by the English in 1448 (Oeuvres d'Al.Chartier, p. 717.); so that he was certainly living near fifty years after Chaucer's death; whichmakes it quite incredible that the latter should have translated any thing of his.4. The Letter of Cupide is dated in 1402, two years after Chaucer's death. It was written byTHOMAS OCCLEVE, who mentions it himself, as one of his own compositions, in a Dialogue,which follows his Complaint. MS. Bodl. 1504."Yes, Thomas, yes, in the epistle of CupideThou hast of hem so largelich seid ."AN ACCOUNT OF THE WORKS OF CHAUCER. 4495. JOHN GOWER unto the noble King Henry the 4th, with some Latin verses ofthe same author.6. Sayings of DAN JOHN ( LYDGate).7. SCOGAN unto the lordes and gentlemen ofthe Kynges house.So the title of this poem is expressed in the old Editt. but, according to Mr. Speght, in thewritten copies it is thus; " Here followeth a moral balade to the Prince, the Duke of Clarence, theDuke of Bedford, the Duke of Glocester, the King's sonnes; by Henry Scogan, at a supper amongthe Marchants in the Vintry at London in the house of Lewis John." This cannot be quiteaccurate; as neither of the two younger sons of Henry IV. had the title of Duke while theireldest brother was Prince; but I find that there was, about that time, a Lewis John, a Welshman, who was naturalized by act of Parliament, 2 H. V. and who was concerned with ThomasChaucer in the execution of the office of Chief Butler. Rot. Parl. 2 H. V. n. 18. The sameperson, probably, was appointed Remitter of all monies that should be sent to Rome for threeyears. Ap. Rymer. an. eodem.The article concerning Skogan in Tanner's Bibl. Brit. is a heap of confusion. He is therecalled John; is said to have been a Master ofArts of Oxford and jester to K. Edward VI. ( perhapsa misprint for IV); to have been contemporary with Chaucer, and famous in the year 1480.In a collection of foolish stories, which is supposed to have been first published by Dr. AndrewBorde, in the time of Henry VIII, under the title of Scogan's jests, he is called Thomas; andthere too he is represented as a Graduate, I think, of Oxford, and as jester to some King,but without any circ*mstances sufficient to determine what King is meant.I am inclined to believe that the Scogan, who wrote this poem, is rightly named Henry inMr. Speght's MS. As to the two circ*mstances of his having been a Master of Arts of Oxfordand jester to a King, I can find no older authority for either than Dr. Borde's book. That hewas contemporary with Chaucer, but so as to survive him for several years, perhaps till thereign of Henry V, is sufficiently clear from this poem.Shakespeare seems to have followed the jest-book, in considering Scogan as a mere buffoon,when he mentions, as one of Falstaff's boyish exploits, that he " broke Scogan's head at theCourt-gate; " (2d Part of Henry IV. A. 3.) but Jonson has given a more dignified, and, probably,ajuster account of his situation and character. Masque ofthe Fortunate Isles, Vol. vi . p. 192.Mere-fool. Skogan? what was he?Johphiel. O, a fine gentleman and master of artsOf Henry the fourth's time, that made disguisesFor the king's sons, and writ in ballad- royalDaintily well.Mere-fool. But wrote he like a gentleman?Johphiel. In rhime, fine tinkling rhime and flowand verse,With now and then some sense; and he was paid for ' t,Regarded and rewarded; which few poetsAre now a-days.This description of Skogan corresponds very well with the ideas which would naturally besuggested bythe perusal of the poem before us, and of that addressed to him by Chaucer. Seeabove, p. 447. And indeed I question whether Jonson had any other good foundation forwhat he has said of him.8. Abalade ofgoode counseil, translated out of Latin verses into English, by Dan John Lydgate.9. A balade made in the preise, or rather dispreise, of women for their doubleness; by Lydgate,according to MS. Ashmol. 6943.10. A balade warning men to beware of deceitful women; by LYDGATE, according to MS. Harl.2251.To these, which are known to be the works of other authors, we should perhaps add an 11th,viz. Balade in commendation of our Ladie; as a poem with the same beginning is ascribed toLYDGATE, under the title of " Invocation to our Lady." Tanner, in v. LYDGATE.G G450 AN ACCOUNT OF THE WORKS OF CHAUCER.The anonymous compositions, which have been from time to time added to Chaucer's in theseveral Editt. seem to have been received, for the most part, without any external evidence whatever, and in direct contradiction to the strongest internal evidence. Of this sort are"The Plowman's tale," first printed in 1542: See the Discourse, &c. §. XL. n. 32. “ The Story ofGamelyn," and " The Continuation of the Canterbury Tales," first printed in Mr. Urry's Edition:"Jack Upland," first produced by Mr. Speght in 1602. I have declared my suspicion, in theGloss. v. ORIGENES, that the " Lamentation of Marie Magdalene " was not written by Chaucer;and I am still clearer that the " Assemblee ofLadies," " A Praise of Women," and the “ Remedie ofLove," ought not to be imputed to him. It would be a waste of time to sift accurately the heapof rubbish, which was added, by John Stowe, to the Edit. of 1561. Though we might perhapsbe able to pick out two or three genuine fragments of Chaucer, we should probably find themso soiled and mangled * , that he would not thank us for asserting his claim to them.As a specimen of the care and discernment, with which Mr. Stowe's collections were made, I would refer thecurious reader to what is called a Balade, fol . 324. b. Ed. Sp.Beginn. O merciful and o merciable.The four first stanzas are found in different parts of an imperfect poem upon the Fall ofMan. MS. Harl. 2251. n. 138 .The 11th stanza makes part of an Envoy, which in the same MS. n. 37. is annexed to the poem entitled " The Craft ofLovers," among the Additions to Chaucer's works, by J. Stowe; which poem , by the way, though printed with a dateof 1347, and ascribed to Chaucer, has in the MS. a much more probable date of 1459, near sixty years after Chaucer's death.There is one little piece, perhaps by Chaucer, fol. 224. Ed. Sp.Beginn. Alone walking, In thought plaining, &c.which comes nearer to the description of a Virelay, than anything else of his that has been preserved. See the bookquoted in the Gloss. v. Virelaye.EXPLANATION OF THE ABBREVIATIONSBY WHICH THE WORKS OF CHAUCER AND SOME OTHER BOOKS ARE GENERALLY CITED IN THEFOLLOWING GLOSSARY.The Arabian numerals, without any letter prefixed, refer to the verses ofthe Canterbury Tales in this Edition.A. B. C.A. F.An.-Chaucer's A. B. C,-Assemblee of Foules,Edit. Sp. 1fol. 347233-Annelida and Arcite,243 b.Astr. -Treatise on the Astrolabe, 249Bal. Vil. -Balade of the Village,319 b.Ber. -The History of Beryn, Edit. Urr. p. 600.B.K. -Complaint of the Black Knight, 257 b.Bo. -Translation of Boethius, 5 Books, 197 b.C. D.C. L.C. M.-Chaucer's Dreme,-Court of Love,-Complaint of Mars,334327309 b.C. M. V. -Complaint of Mars and Venus, 308 b.C. N. -Cuckow and Nightingale,316 b.Cotg . -Cotgrave's Fr. and Eng. Dictionary.Conf. Am. -Gower's Confessio Amantis, Edit. 1532.C. V. -Complaint ofVenus, 310Du. -The Book of the duch*esse, commonly called , The Dreme of Chaucer, 227F. -The House of Fame, 3 Books, 262F. L. -The Flour and Leaf, 344Gam. -The Tale of Gamelyn, Edit. Urr. p. 36.Jun. Etymol. -Junii Etymologicon Ling. Angl. by Lye.Kilian.L. W.-Kiliani Etymologicum Ling. Teuton.--Legende of good Women,Lydg. Trag. -Lydgate's Translation of Boccace De casibus virorum illustrium, Edit.J. Wayland.M. -The Tale of Melibeus, p. 106 .Magd. -Lamentation of Marie Magdalene,P. -The Persones Tale, p. 148.P. L. -Translation of Peter of Langtoft, by Robert of Brunne. Ed. Hearne.P. P. -Visions of Pierce Ploughman, Edit. 1550.Prompt. Parv. -Promptorium Parvulorum sive Clericorum. MS. Harl. 221. A dictionary, inwhich many hundreds of English words are translated into Latin, compiled in1440, by a Frier Preacher, a Recluse, at Lynne in Norfolk. He gives notice inhis preface, that his English is that spoken in the East country; and accord185302GG 2452 EXPLANATION OF THE ABBREVIATIONS.Prov.R.R. G. 22Sk.ingly his orthography will be found to differ very much from Chaucer's. Hisname was Richard Fraunces, if we may believe a MS. note cited by Hearne,Gloss. to P. L. v. Nesshe; who has there also given an account of an editionof this dictionary, printed by Pynson in 1499. Dr. Hunter has a copy of it.-Proverbes by Chaucer,-The Romaunt of the Rose,-Robert of Glocester's Chronicle. Ed. Hearne.-Skinner's Etymologicon Ling. Angl.Sp.T.T. L.Ur.-Speght, the Editor of Chaucer.-Troilus and Creseide, 5 Books,--Testament of Love, 3 Books,-Urry, the Editor of Chaucer.321 b.109143271 b.GLOSSARY.A, WHICH is commonly called the Indefinite Article, is really nothing more than a corruption of the Saxon Adjective ANE, or AN, before a Substantive beginning with a consonant.It is sometimes prefixed to another Adjective; the Substantive, to which both belong, being understood.ver. 208.A Frere there was, A WANTON and A MERY.165, and the note.See ver.It is also joined to Nouns plural, taken collectively;as, An hundredfrankes, ver. 13201. A thousandfrankes,ver. 13206.-and to such as are not used in the singular number; as, A listes, ver. 1715. See the Note. So the Latins said, Una literæ, Cic. ad Att. v. 9. and the French, formerly, unes lices; unes lettres; unes tréves.Froissart. v. i. c. 153. 237. v. ii. c. 78.A, prep. before a Gerund, is a corruption of on. To go ABEGGING. 11884. R. 6719. i. e. on begging. The prep. is often expressed at length. ON HUNTING ben they ridden.1689. To ride ON HAWKING. 13667.In the same manner, before a noun it is generally acorruption of ON or IN. A'bed. 5989, 6509. A'fire. 6308.A'Goddes name. 17267. A'morwe. 824. A'night. 5784.A'werke. 4335, 5797. though in some of these instances perhaps it may as well be supposed to be a corruption of AT.A in composition, in words of Saxon original, is an abbreviation of AF, or OF; of AT; of ON, or IN; and often only a corruption of the prepositive particle GE, or Y. In words of French original, it is generally to be de- duced from the Latin AB, AD, and sometimes Ex.A, Interj. Ah! 1080. 9109.ABACKE, adv. SAX. Backwards, L. W. 864.ABAIST, part. pa. FR. Abashed, ashamed. 8193 , 8887.ABATE, V. FR. To beat down.ABAWED, part. pa. FR. Esbahi. Astonished. R. 3646.I was ABAWED for marveile. Orig. Moult M'ESBAHY de la merveille.ABEGGE, ABEYE, ABIE, v. SAX. To suffer for. 3936. 12034.16162.ABET, N. SAX. Help. T. ii. 357.ABIDE, v. SAX. To stay. 3131,3.ABIDDEN,ABIDEN,part. pa.T. ii. 935.2984.9762.ABIT for ABIDETH. 16643. R. 4977.ABLE, adj. FR. Fit, proper. 167. R. 986.ABOTE, part. pa. of ABATE. C. D. 1290.ABOUGHT, part. pa. of ABEGGE. 2305.ABOUTEN, prep. SAX. On- butan. About. 2191. 4146.APRAIDE, v. SAX. To awake; to start. 4188. See BRAIDE.pa. t. Awaked, started. 8937. 10791. 15014.ABREDE, adv. SAX. Abroad. R. 2563.ABREGE, V. FR. To shorten, to abridge. 9531.ABROCHE, V. FR. To tap, to set abroach; spoken of a ves- sel of liquor. 5759.ABUSION, n. FR. Abuse, impropriety. T. iv. 990.ACCESSE, n. FR. Properly, the approach of a fever; Afever. B. K. 136.ACCIDIE, n. FR. from Axndia, Gr. Negligence; arising from discontent, melancholy, &c. P. 161, col. 2, 1.62, seq.} part. pr. {ACCORD, N. FR. Agreement. 840.V. FR. To agree. 832.ACCORDEDEN, pa. t. pl. L. W. 168.ACCORDANT, 10417.ACCORDING, 6506.ACCUSE, V. FR. To discover. R. 1591 .ACHATE, n. FR. Purchase. 573.ACHATOUR, n. FR. A purchaser; a caterer. 570.ACHEKED. part. pa. SAX. Choaked. L. W. 2006.ACHEVE, V. FR. To accomplish. R. 2049. 4600.ACKELE (Akele) , v. Sax. To cool . C. L. 1076.ACLOYE, v. A. F. 517. may perhaps mean-To cloy; to embarrass with superfluity.ACOIE, V. FR. To make quiet. R. 3564.ACOMBERD, part. pa. FR. Encumbered. 510.ACROKE, adj. FR. Crooked, aukward. C. L. 378.ADAWE, v. SAX. To awake. 10274. T. iii. 1126.ADO, v. SAX. To do. It is used to express the FR. à faire.To have ADO. R. 3036. To have to do. And don all that they han ADO. R. 5080. Etfacent ce qu'ils doiventFAIRE. Orig . 4801.ADON ( Corruption of OF- DON) , part. pa. SAX. Done away.L. W. 2582.ADON, pr. n. Adonis. 2226.ADOUN, adv. SAX. Downward. 2417.-Below. 17054.ADRAD, ADRADDE, part. pa. of ADREDE, v. SAX. Afraid,607, 3425.ADRIANE for ARIADNE, pr. n. 4487.ADVERTENCE, n. FR. Attention, T. iv. 698.ADVOCACIES, n. pl. FR. Law- suits, T. ii. 1469.ADVOCAS, n. pl. FR. Lawyers, advocates. 12225.AFERED, AFERDE, part. pa. Sax. Afraid, frightened.12218. T. ii. 606.AFFECTE, N. LAT. Affection. R. 5486. T. iii. 1397.AFFERMED, part. pa. FR. Confirmed. 2351. L. W. 790.AFFIE, V. FR. To trust. R. 3155.AFFRAY, V. FR. To affright. 8331.N. FR. Disturbance, 5557.-Fear. R. 4397.AFFRIKAN, pr. n. The elder Scipio Africanus. A. F. 41.AFILE, V. FR. To file, polish, 714.AFOREN, AFORNE, AFORE, adv. et prep. SAX. Æt-fopan.Before.AGAIN, prep. SAX. On-zean. Against. 2453. 10456. To- ward. 4811. 5419.-adv. 993. 10456.AGAST, for AGASTED, part. pa. Terrified. 2343.AGASTE, v. SAX. To terrifie. 1509.AGATHON, pr. n. L. W. 526. I have nothing to say concern- ing this writer, except that one of the same name is quoted in the Prol. to the Tragedie of Cambises, by Thomas Preston. There is no ground for supposing,with Gloss. Ur. that a philosopher ofSamos is meant, or any of the Agathoes of antiquity.AGEINS, prep. 12667, as AGAIN.AGEN, adv. 803, as AGAIN.AGILTE, v. SAX. To offend, to sin against. P. 171, col. 1, 1. 57.for AGILTED, pa. t. Sinned. 5674.AGO, AGON, for YGON, part. pa. Sax. Gone; past. 2338.6445.AGREE, FR. à gré. In good part . R. 4349.AGREFE, (A'grefe). In grief. 14899. T. iii. 864.454 GLOSSARY.AGREGE, V. FR. To aggravate. M. 107, col. 2, 1. 46.AGREVED, part. pa. FR. Injured, agrieved. 4197. L. W. 345.AGRISE, V. SAX. To shudder. 5034. -To make to shudder.7231.Bo. i. m. 6.AGROSE, pa. t. Shuddered, trembled. T. ii. 930. L. W. 830.AGROTED, part. pa. Cloyed, surfeited. AGROTONE WITH METE OR DRINKK. Ingurgito. Prompt. Parv.AGUILER, n. FR. A needle- case. R. 98.AJUST, V. FR. To applie. Bo. ii. pr. 3.AKEHORNS, N. pl . Sax. Acorns.AKNOWE, part. pa. Sax. To ben aknowe. C. L. 1199. To confess. I am aknowe. Bo. iv. pr. 4. I acknowledge.AL, ALLE, adj. SAX. All. Al and som. 5673, 11910. The whole thing. At al. 8921 , 9098. In the whole. Over all.7666, 8924. Through the whole. In alle manere wise.13276. By every kind of means. At alle rightes. 2102.With every thing requisite.ALAIN, pr. n. A. F. 316. a poet and divine of the xth Century. Beside his Planctus Naturæ, or Plaint of Kinde, which is here quoted, he wrote another poem in Latin verse, called Anticlaudianus, to which our author alludes in F. ii. 478. For the rest of his works see Fabric. Bibl. Med. Et. in v. ALANUS DE INSULIS.ALDER, ALLER, gen. ca. pl. Of all. 801. 825. It is fre- quently joined in composition with adjectives of the superl. deg. Alderfirst. 9492. Alderlast. B. K. 504.Alderlevest. T. iii. 240. First, Last, Dearest of all.AL, ALL, adv. SAX. generally answers to the LAT. Omnino.Al alone. 9200. Quite alone. Al hol. 11762. Entire.Al holly. 7678. Entirely. All in one. C. D. 670. At the same time. All newe. 13308. A- new. Al only.13385. T. iv. 1096. Solely, singly. It is sometimes used elliptically for although, or all be it that. 2266.ALL tell I not as now his observances. 2477. ALL be ye not ofo complexion.ALARGED, part. pa. FR. Eslargi. Given largely. C. D. 156.ALAUNS, n. pl. A species of Dog. See the n. on ver. 2150.Theywere much esteemed in Italy in the xivth century.Gualv. de la flamma , (ap. Murator. Antiq. Med. E. t. ii.p. 394. ) commends the governors of Milan, quod equos emissarios equabus magnis commiscuerunt, et procreati sunt in nostro territorio DESTRARII nobiles, qui in magno pretio habentur. Item CANES ALANOS alte stature et mirabilis fortitudinis nutrire studuerunt.ALAYE, N. FR. Allay; a mixture of base metal. 9043.ALBIFICATION, n. LAT. A Chemical term for making white.16273.ALCALY, N. ARAB. A Chemical term for a species of Salt.16278.ALCHYMISTRE, n. FR. Alchymist. 16672.ALDRIAN, pr. n. A star on the neck of the Lion, Sp. 10579.ALE AND BRED. 13801. This oath of Sire Thopas on ale and bred was perhaps intended to ridicule the solemn vows,which were frequently made in the days of Chivalrie to a Peaco*ck, a Pheasant, or some other noble bird. See M. de Sainte Palaye, Sur l'anc. cheval. Mem. IIIme. I will add here, from our own history, a most remarkable instance of this strange practice. When Edward I. was setting out upon his last expedition to Scotland in 1306,he knighted his eldest son and several other young noble- men with great solemnity. At the close of the whole (says Matthew of Westminster, p. 454. ) allati sunt inpompatica gloria duo CYGNI vel OLORES ante regem, pha- lerati retibus aureis vel fistulis deauratis, desiderabile spectaculum intuentibus. Quibus visis, Rex vorum voVIT DEO CÆLI ET CYGNIS se proficisci in Scotiam, mortem Johannis Comyn et fidem læsam Scotorum vivus sive mortuus vindicaturus, &c. This practice is alluded to in " DUNBAR'S WISH, that the King were Johne Thomson- nis man." MS. Maitland. St. 5.I wold gif all that ever I have To that condition , so God me saif,That ye had VOWIT TO THE SWAN Ane yeir to be Johne Thomsonnis man.And so in the Prol. to the Contin. of the Canterb. T. ver. 452. the Hosteler says-I MAKE A VOWE TO THE PEco*ck, ther shall wake a foule mist.ALEGE, V. FR. To alleviate. R. 6626.ALEGEANCE, n. FR. Alleviation. C. D. 1688.ALEIS, n . FR. Alise . The Lote-tree. R. 1377.ALEMBIKES, n. pl. FR. Vessels for distilling; Stills. 16262.ALE- STAKE, n. Sax. Astake set up before an Ale- house,by way of sign. 12255.ALEVE, N. FR. An alley. 13491 .ALGATES, ALGATE, adv. SAX. Always. Toutesfois. FR.7031 , 7619.ALGEZIR, pr. n. A city of Spain. 57.ALIGHT, V. SAX. To descend. 8785.pa. t. for ALIGHTED. 985, 2191.ALISANDRE, pr. n. Alexandria, a city in Egypt. 51.ALLEGE, FR. To alledge. 9532.ALMAGEST, pr. n. 5765. The Arabs called the Mayaλn Zustaķis of Ptolemee Almagesthi, or Almegisthi, a corruption of Meyir . See D'Herbelot, in v.ALMANDRES, n. pl. FR. Almond-trees. R. 1363.ALMESSE, n. Sax. from the LAT. Gr. Eleemosyna. Alms,7191, P. 171 , col. 1 , 1. 5. ALMESSES, pl. P. 171 , col. 1 , 1, 17.ALNATH, pr. n. The first star in the horns of Aries, whence the first mansion of the moon takes its name. Sp. 11593.ALONDE, (A'londe); On land. L. W. 2164. 2402.ALONG, prep. SAX. On-long, 16398. Whereon it was along. By what it was occasioned . T. ii. 1001. On meis noughtalong thine evilfare. Thyill fare is not occasioned by me.ALOSED, part pa. FR. Praised. R. 2354.ALOUE, V. FR. To allow, to approve. 10988. His dedes are to ALOWEfor his hardynesse. P. L. 281. Therefore lords ALOWhim litle, or lysten to his reason. P. P. 76. b.ALOWE, adv. SAX. Low. C. L. 1201.ALPES, n. pl. Bulfinches. R. 658.ALS, conj. SAX. Also. 4315, 11902.-As. T. v. 367.AMALGAMING. A Chemical term for mixing of Quicksilver with any metal. 16239.AMBASSATRIE, n. FR. Embassy. 4653.AMBES AS, 4544. Two Aces, at dice. FR.AMBLING, part. pr. FR. 8264.AMENDE, V. FR. To mend. 3068, 3076.AMENUSE, V. FR. To lessen. P. 154, col. 2, 1. 35.AMEVED, part. pa. FR. Moved. 8374.AMIAS, pr. n. The city of Amiens. R. 3826.AMIDDES , prep. SAX. At, or in , the middle. 2011.AMIS, adv. SAX. Ill , badly. 11610, 17197. See MIS.AMONESTE, V. FR. To admonish, to advise. M. 112 , col. 2,1. 14. P. 170, col. 2, 1. 22.AMONG, adv. SAX. Together; at the same time; at the same place. R. 690, 3881. Du. 298. Ever among. R. 3771. Ever at the same time. Conf. Am. 114. b.AMONGES, prep. Sax. Among. 6534, 9902. See the n. on ver. 761 .AMORETTE, N. FR. An amorous woman. R. 4755. And eke as well by (r. be) AMORETTES. - Car aussi bien sont AMOURETTES. Orig. 4437.AMORILY, C. L. 1383. is perhaps put bymistake for Merily.AMORTISED, part. pa. FR. Killed. P. 151 , col. 2, l . 9.AMORWE, On the morrow. 824, 2491.AMPHIBOLOGIES, n. pl. FR. GR. Ambiguous expressions.T. iv. 1406.AN, for ON, prep. 11161. R. 2270.ANCILLE, N. LAT. A maid-servant. A. B. C. 109.ANCRE, n. FR. Anchor. R. 3780.AND, conj. SAX. If. 768, 10307, 15613, 16714.ANELACE, n . 359. See the note.ANES, adv. for ONES. Once. 4072.ANHANG, V. SAX. To hang up. 12193.ANIENTISSED, part. pa. FR. Reduced to nothing. M. 111,col. 2, 1. 59.ANIGHT, In the night. L. W. 1473.ANKER, n. SAX. An anchorite, or hermite, R. 6348.ANNUELLER, n . 16480. See the note.ANNUNCIAT, part. pa. LAT. Foretold. 14021.ANOIE, N. FR. Hurt, trouble. R. 4404.v. To hurt, to trouble. M. 108, col. 1, 1. 48.ANOIFUL, adj. Hurtful; unpleasant. M. 108, col. 1 , 1. 8.ANTEM, n. SAX. Antern. An anthem. 13590.ANTICLAUDIAN. F. ii. 478. The title of a Latin poem by Alanus de Insulis. See ALAIN.GLOSSARY. 455ANTILEGIUS, pr. n. Antilochus. Du. 1064.ANTIPHONERE , n. LAT. GR. A book of Antiphones, or Anthems. 13449.ANVELT, n. SAX. An anvil. Du. 1165.ANY, adj. SAX. Either; One of two. 7115. -It usually sig- nifies one of many.APAIDE. part. pa. FR. Paid, satisfied. 1870, 9439.APAIRE, V. FR. See APEIRE.APE, n. SAX. Metaphorically, a fool. 3389, 16781. The monke put in the mannes hode an ape, And in his wife's eke. 13370. The monk made a fool of the man, and of his wife too. Win ofape. 16993. See the note.APEIRE, V. FR. To impair; to detract from. 3149. Our state it APEIRES. P. L. 290.-To be impaired; to go to ruin. T. ii. 329.APERT, adj. FR. Open. P. 161 , col. 1 , 1. 39. Prive and apert. 6696. In private and in publick.APIES for OPIES, n. pl. FR. Opiates. L. W. 2659.APPALLED, part. pa. FR. Made pale. 10679, 13032.APPARAILE, V. FR. To prepare. L. W. 2462.APPARENCE, n. FR.APPERCEIVE, V. FR.An appearance. 11577.To perceive. 8476.APPERCEIVINGS, n. pl. Perceptions. 10600.APPETITE, V. FR. To desire, to covet. L. W. 1580.APPOSE, V. FR. To object to; to question. 7179, 15831. It seems to be a corruption of Oppose.APPROVER, N. FR. An informer. 6925.APPRENTISE, n. pl. FR. Apprentices, novices. R. 687.AQUEINTABLE, adj. FR. Easy to be acquainted with. R. 2213.AQUITE, v. Fr. To pay for. 6742.ARACE, V. FR. To draw away by force. 8979.ARANDE, n. Sax. Amessage. T. ii. 72.ARAYE, n. FR. Order. 8138. -Situation. 6484, 13300.-- Clothing. 6509. - Equipage. 8821.- , v. FR. To dress. 3689. -To dispose. 8837.ARBLASTERS, n. pl. FR. Arbalestres. Engines to cast darts, &c. R. 4196.ARCHANGEL, . R. 915. The herb so called; a dead nettle.Gloss. Urr.-In the Orig. it is Mesange, the bird which we call a Titmouse,ARCHEBISHOP, n. SAX. LAT. An Archbishop. 7084.ARCHEDEKEN, n. SAX. LAT. An Archdeacon. 6884.ARCHEDIACKE, n. FR. Archdeacon. C. D. 2136.ARCHEWIVES, 9071. Wives of a superior order.ARDURE, n. FR. Burning. P. 168, col . 1 , 1. 17.AREDE, V. SAX. To interpret. Du. 289. See Rede.ARERAGE, 1. FR.AREISE, U. SAX.Arrear. 604.To raise. P. 159 , col. 1 , 1. 23.ARESONE, v. FR. Arraisonner. To reason with. R. 6220.Arrest, constraint. 9158. Delay. L. W. 806.To stop. 829.ARESTE, n. FR.V. FR.ARETTE, V. FR.ARGOIL, N. FR.ARIETE, pr. n. Aries, one of the signs in the Zodiac. T. iv.1592. T. v. 1189.To impute to. 728. P. 159, col . 1, 1. 69.Potter's clay. 16281 .ARISTOTLE, pr. n. 10547. A treatise on Perspective, under his name, is mentioned by Vincent of Beauvais, in the XIII. century. Spec. Histor. L. iii. c. 84. Extat etiam liber, qui dicitur Perspectiva Aristotelis.ARIVAGE , N. FR. F. i. 223. as Arivaile.ARIVAILE, n. FR. Arrival. F. 451.ARK, n. LAT. A part of the circumference of a circle. 4422.ARME, n. T. ii. 1650. may perhaps be put for defence,security.ARMLES, adj. SAX. Without an arm. 14209.ARM-GRETE, adj. SAX. As thick as a man's arm , 2147.ARMIPOTENT, adj. LAT. Mighty in arms. 1984.ARMORIKE, pr. n. Basse Bretagne, in France, called an- tiently Britannia Armorica. 11041.ARMURE, n. FR. Armour. M. 113, col. 1 , 1. 25.ARN, pl. n. of AM. v. SAX. Are. 4706, 8218.ARNOLDE OF THE NEWE TOWNE, pr. n. of a Physician Chemist of the XIII. Century. 16896. See Fabric. Bibl.Med. El. in. v. ARNALDUS VILLANOVANUS.AROUME, F. ii. 32. seems to signify At large. AROWME OR MORE UTTER. Remote. deprope. seorsum. Prompt. Parv.A'ROW; in a row; probably from the FR. Rue. Succes- sively. 6836. R. 7606.ARSMETRIKE, n. LAT. Arithmetick. 1900. See the note.ARTE, V. LAT. To constrain. T. i . 389. C. L. 46.ARTELRIES, n. pl. FR. Artillerie. M. 113, col. 1 , 1. 25.As, adv. Sax. Alɲ. Al so . Omnino sic. As fast. T. v.1640. Very fast. As swith. 5057, 16404.immediately. See the n. on ver. 3172.ASCAUNCE. See the n. on ver. 7327.Very quickly;ASHEN, n. pl. Sax. Ashes. 1304. T. ii. 539.ASLAKE, V. SAX. To slacken; to abate. 1762. 3553.ASPE, N. SAX. A sort of poplar. 2923. L. W. 2637.ASPEN, adj. Of an asp. 7249.Rough, sharp. T. iv. 827. Bo. iv. pr. 7.Sharpness. Bo. iv. pr. 4.ASPIE, V. FR. To espie. 13521.ASPRE, adj. FR.ASPRENESSE, n.ASSAUT, n. FR.ASSEGE, n. FR.ASSETH. R. 5600.Assault. 991 .Siege. 10620.Sufficient, enough. Assez. Orig. P. P. fol. 94. b. And if it suffice not for ASSETH.ASSISE, n. FR. Situation . R. 1238.ASSOILE, V. FR. To absolve; to answer. 9528. C. L. 1284.Assoileth. imp. m. 2. perf. pl. 9528.ASSOMONED, part. pa. Summoned. C. L. 170.ASSURE, v. FR. To confide. T. i. 681 .ASTERTE, v. SAX. To escape. 1597. 6550.-To release. 6996.Asterte for Asterted. part. pa. 1594.ASTONED, 8192, ASTONIED. 11651. part. pa. FR. Confounded,astonished.ASTRELABRE, n. FR.ASTROLOGIEN, n. FR.Astrolabe. 3200.Astrologer. Ast.ASWEVED, part. pa. SAX. Stupified , as in a dream. F. ii. 41.ASWOUNE. In a swoon. 3821,6. 10788. T. iii. 1098.Adounhefell all sodenly IN SWOUNE.AT, ATTE, prep. SAX. See the n. on ver. 12542. At after souper. 10616, 11531. As soon as supper was finished.At day. 13169. At break of day. At on. 4195, 8313. Of one mind.ATTAKE, v. SAX. To overtake. 16024." for ATAKEN. part. pa. 6966.A'THRE; In three parts. 2935.ATTAMED, part. pa. FR. Entamé. Opened; Begun. 14824.-Tasted, felt. C. D. 596. - Disgraced. C. D. 1128.ATTEMPRE, adj. FR. Temperate. 14844. M. 107, col . 1 , 1. 34.ATTEMPRELY, adv. FR. Temperately. 13192.ATTOUR, n. FR. Head- dress. R. 3718.ATTRY, ATTERLY, adj. SAX. Poisonous, pernicious. P. 159,col. 2 , 1. 9.A'TWINNE, 3589. A'Two, P. 167, col. 1, 1. 46. In two, asunder.ATYZAR. See the n. on ver. 4725.AVALE, V. FR. To lower; to let down. 3124.-To fall down.T. iii. 627.AVANCE, V. FR. To advance; to profit. 246. T. v. 434,AVANT, n. FR. Boast. 227.AVANTAGE, N. FR. Advantage, 2449.AVANTE, V. FR. To boast. 5985.AVAUNT, adv. FR. Forward. R. 3958, 4790.AUCTORITEE, n. LAT. A text of Scripture; or of some respectable writer. See the n. on ver. 6858.-and ver.5583. 6790.AUCTOUR, n. LAT. A writer of credit. 6794.Becoming. R. 1263.See n. on ver. 9080.Adventure. 846.AVENAUNT, adj. FR.AVENTAILE, n. FR.AVENTURE, n. FR.AVERROIS, pr. n. 435. Ebn Roschd, an Arabian Physician of the XII. century. See D'Herbelot, in v. RoscHD, and the authors mentioned in n. on ver. 433.AUGHT, n. SAX. Apipt. Any thing. T. iii. 468. It is sometimes used as an adverb. If that the childes mother were AUGHT she. 5454. Can he OUGHT tell a merry tale or tweie? 16065.AUGHT, pa. t. of OwE. T. iii. 1801. as OUGHT.AUGHT-WHERE, adv. SAX. Any where. L. W. 1538.AUGRIM, a corruption of Algorithm. See n. on ver. 3210.AVICEN, pr. n. 434. 12823. Ebn Sina, an Arabian phy- sician ofthe x. century. See D'Herbelot, in v. SINA, and the authors mentioned in n. on ver. 433.AVIS, n. FR. Advice. 1870. The king at his Avys sent messengers thre. P. L. 285.456 GLOSSARY.AVISAND, part. pr. Observing. C. D. 1882.AVISE, V. FR. To observe. T. ii . 276. Aviseth you. imp.m. 2 perf. pl. Look to yourselves; take care of your- selves. 3185.AVISION, n. FR. Vision. 15120, 9.AUMBLE, n. FR. An ambling pace. 13814.AUMENER, n. FR. Aumoniere. A purse. R. 2087.AUMERE, n. R. 2271. Aumere of silke. Bourse de soy.Orig. It seems to be a corruption of AUMENER.AUNTRE, V. FR. Corruption of AVENTURE. To adventure.4207.AUNTROUS, adj. Adventurous. 13837.AVOUTERER, AVOUTRER, n. FR. An adulterer. P. 167, col. 1 ,1. 7. 6954.AVOUTERIE, AVOUTRIE, n. Adulterie. 6888.9309.Avow, n. FR. Vow. 2239. 2419 .AURORA. Du. 1169. The title of a Latin metrical version of several parts of the Bible by Petrus de Riga, Canon of Rheims, in the XII. century. Leyser, in his Hist. Poet.Med. Evi, p. 692-736. has given large extracts from this work, and among others the passage which Chaucer seems to have had in his eye. See p. 728.Aure Jubal varios ferramenti notat ictus.Pondera librat in his. Consona quæque facit.Hoc inventa modo prius est ars musica, quamvis Pythagoram dicant hanc docuisse prius.AUTER, n. FR. Altar. 2294.AWAITE, n. FR. Watch. 7239. 17098 .AWAITING, part. pr. Keeping watch. 7634.AWAPED, part. pa. SAX. Confounded, stupified . T. i. 316.L. W. 814.AWAYWARD, adv. SAX. Away. 17211.AWREKE, V. SAX. To revenge. 10768. R. 278.AXE, U. SAX. To ask. 3557.AXING, n. Request. 1828.AY, adv. SAX. Ever. 7406.AVEL, N. FR. Grandfather. 2479.AYEN, adv. & prep. P. 166, col. 1 , 1. 56. as AGAIN.AYENST, prep. P. 169, col. 1 , 1. 15. as AGAIN.AYENWARD, adv. SAX. Back. T. iii. 751.B.BA, v. 6015, seems to be formed from BASSE, V. FR. To kiss.BACHELER, N. FR. An unmarried man. 9150.-A Knight:3087. 3465.-One who has taken his first degree in an University. 11438.BACHELERIE, n. FR. Knighthood; 17074. The Bachelerie.8146. The Knights.BADE, pa. t . of BEDE. 6706. 7449.BADDER, Comp. d. of BAD. adj. SAX. Worse. 10538.BAGGE, v. To swell; to disdain . Sk. Rather, perhaps,to squint. Du. 624.BAGGINGLY, adv. R. 292. seems to be the translation of en lorgnoyant; squintingly.BAILLIE, n. FR. Custody, government. R. 4302. 7574.BAITE, v. SAX. To feed; to stop to feed. T. i. 192. C. L. 195.BALANCE, n. FR. Doubt, suspense. R. 4667.-I dare LAY IN BALANCE All that I have. 16079. I dare wager all t. I. h.BALE, n. SAX. Mischief, sorrow. 16949.BALES, C. L. 80. r. BALAIS. pr. n. FR. A sort of bastard Ruby.BALKES, n. pl. SAX. The timbers of the roof. 3626.BALLED, adj. Smooth as a ball; bald. 198. 3520.BANDON, n. FR. See Du Cange. in v. ABANDONS. To her bandon. R. 1163. To her disposal. A son bandon. Orig.BANE, n. SAX. Destruction . 1099.BARBE, n. A hood, or muffler, which covered the lower part of the face, and the shoulders. T. ii. 110. See Du Cange, in v. BARBUTA.BAREN, pa. t. pl. of BERE. v. SAX. Bore. 723.BARGAINE, N. FR. Contention. R. 2551.BARGARET, n. FR. Bergerette. A sort of song. F. L. 348.BARME, n. SAX. The lap. 10945. 14750. BARME- CLOTH,3236. An apron.BARRE, N. FR. A bar of a door. 552.-A stripe. 331.BARREINE, adj. SAX. Barren. 8324.BASILIco*k, n. A Basilisk. P. 166 , col. 1 , 1. 60.BASSE, N. FR. A Kiss. C. L. 797.BASTING, part. pr. Sewing slightly. R. 104.BATAILED, part. pa. FR. Embattled. R. 4162.BATHE for BоTHE. 4085. 4189.v . SAX. 15273. We should rather say to bask.BAUDE, adj. FR. Joyous. R. 5674.BAUDERIE, BAUDRIE, n. Pimping. 1928. T. iii. 398. Keeping a bawdy-house. 6887.BAUDY, adj. Dirty. 16103. With BAUDY cote. Lydg. Trag.B. ix. f. 36. b.BAYARD, pr. n. FR. Originally, a Bay-horse; a horse in general, 16881. T. i. 218.BAY-WINDOW, C. L. 1058. A large window; probably so called , because it occupied a whole bay, i. e. the space between two cross-beams.BE, prep. SAX. By. 2577.BE for BEEN, part. pa. SAX. 60. 7611. 9245.BEAU SEMBLANT, FR. Fair appearance. C. L. 1085.BEAU SIRE, FR. Fair Sir; a mode of address. R. 6053.BEELEDDE, part. pa. SAX. Covered with blood. 2004.BEBLOTTE, v. SAX. To stain . T. ii. 1027.BECKE, V. FR. To nod. 12330. 17295.BECLAPPE, v. SAX. To catch. 15477.BEDAFFED, part. pa. Sax. Made a fool of. 9067. See DAFFE.BEDE, v. SAX. To order, to bid. -To offer. 8236. 9658. T. v.185. To pray. R. 7374. To bede his necke. T. iv. 1105.To offer his neck for execution.BEDOTE, . SAX. To make to dote; to deceive. L. W. 1545.See DOTE.BEDREDE, adj. SAX.BEDREINTE, part. pa.577.Confined to bed. 7351. 9168.Drenched, thoroughly wetted. C. L.BEEN, n. pl. SAX. Bees. 10518.BEFILL for BEFELL, pa. t. of BEFALL. v. SAX. 10007.BEFOREN, BEFORNE, adv. et prep. Sax. Before.BEGILED, part. pa. FR. Beguiled . 12208.BEGON, part. pa. of BEGO. v. Sax. Gone. Wel begon.6188. R. 5533. In a good way. Wo begon. 5338. 11628.Far gone in woe. Worse begon. T. v. 1327. In a worse way. With gold begon. R. 943. Painted over with gold;à or paintes. Orig.BEGONNE, part. pa. of BEGINNE, v. SAX. Begun. 11341 .BEHALVE, n. SAX. Half; side, or part. T. iv. 945.BEHESTE, n. SAX. Promise. 4461, 2.BEHETE, V. SAX. To promise. 1856.BEHEWE, part. pa. SAX. Coloured. T. iii. 216. See HEWE.BEHIGHTE, V. SAX. To promise. P. 154, col. 2, 1. 42.part. pa. Promised. 11100.BEHIGHTEN, pa. t. pl. Promised. 11639.BEHOVE, N. SAX. Behoof, advantage. R. 1090.BEJAPED, part. pa. SAX. Tricked. 19853. Laughed at.T. i. 532.BEKNOWE, v. SAX. To confess. 1558. 5306.BEL AMY, FR. Good friend. 12252 .BELEVE, n. SAX. Belief. His beleve. 3456. His creed.BELLE, adj. fem. FR. Fair. T. ii. 288.BELLE CHERE, FR. Good cheer. 13339.BELLE CHOSE, FR. 6029 , 6092.BELLE ISAUDE, F. iii. 707. The fair Isaude; the mistress of Tristan. She is called Isoude. L. W. 254.BELLE, V. SAX.BELMARIE, pr. n.BELOUS, n. SAX.BEMES, n. pl. SAX.BEN, inf. m. SAX.To roar. F. iii. 713.See n. on ver. 57.Bellows. P. 154, col. 1, 1. 8.Trumpets. 15404. R. 7605.To be. 141. 167.pr. t. pl. Are. 764. 820. 945.part. pa. Been. 361. 465.BENCHED, part. pa. Furnished with benches. L. W. 204.BENDE, n. FR. A band; or horizontal stripe. R. 1079.BENDING, n . Striping; making of bands, or stripes. P. 155,col. 2 , 1. 30.BENE, n. SAX. A bean. 9728. And al n'as wurth a BENE.R. G. 497.BENEDICTE! LAT. An exclamation, answering to ourGLOSSARY. 457Bless us! It was often pronounced as a Trisyllable,Bencite! 15399. T. i. 781. iii. 758.862.BENIGNE, adj. FR. Kind. 8973.BENIME, V. SAX. To take away. P. 158, col. 2, 1. 25.BENISON, n. FR. Benediction . 9239.BENOMEN, part. pa , of BENIME. Taken away. R. 1509.BENT, n. SAX. The bending, or declivity of a hill. 1983.BERAINED, part, pa. SAX. Rained upon. T. iv. 1172.BERDE, n. SAX. Beard. To make any one's berde; to cheat him. See n. on ver. 4094.BERE, N. SAX. A bear. 2060.v. SAX. To bear; to carry. To bere in, or on hand;To accuse falsely. 5040. 5975. To persuade falsely. 5814,5962. To bere the belle. T. iii. 199. To carry the prize.n. SAX. A bier. 2906. -A pillow-bear. Du. 254.BERING, n . SAX. Behaviour. P. 155, col. 1, 1. 40.BERME, N. SAX. Yest. 16281.BERNARD, pr. n. 436. a Physician of Montpelier in the XIIth Century. See the authors mentioned in n. on ver.433.- pr. n. L. W. 16. St. Bernard, Abbot of Clairvauxin the xith Century. Our author alludes to a proverbial saying concerning him. Bernardus ipse non vidit om- nia. See Hoffman, in v.BERNE, n. SAX. A barn. 3258.BESANT, n. FR. A piece of gold, so called because first coined at Byzantium, now Constantinople. Sk. R. 1106.BESEKE, v. SAX. To beseech. 920.BESET, BESETTE, part. pa. SAX. Placed, employed. 3299.7534.BESEY, part. pa. of BESEE, v. SAX. Beseen. Evil hesey,8841. Ill- beseen; of a bad appearance. Richely besey,8860, of a rich appearance.BESHET, part. pa. SAX. Shut up. R. 4488. T. iii . 603.BESHREWE, v. SAX. To curse. 6426, 7.BESIDE, prep. SAX. By the side of. 5597. 6002.BESMOTRED, part. pa. Sax. Smutted. 76.BESPET, part. pa. SAX. Spit upon. P. 152, col. 1 , 1. 33.BESTADDE, BESTAD, part. pa. SAX. Situated. 5069. It is sometimes used in an ill sense, for Distressed. R. 1227.BESTE, n. FR. A beast. 1978.adj. sup. SAX. Best. 1808. 11843.BESY, adj. SAX. Busy. 2855.BET, BETTE, adv. comp. for BETTER. 7533. 13362.BETAKE, V. SAX. To give. 3748. To recommend to. 8037.BETAUGHT, pa. t. Recommended to. R. 4438. See the n.on ver. 13852.BETE, v. SAX. To prepare, make ready. To bete fires.2255. 2294. To make fires.-To mend; to heal. To betenettes, 3925. To mend nets. To bete sorwe, T. i. 666.To heal sorrow.v. FR. To beat. 4206.BETECHE, v. as BETAKE. See the n. on ver. 13852.BETH, imp. m. 2 pers. pl. SAX. Be ye. 7656. 17239.BETID, BETIDDE, pa. t. & part. of BETIDE, v . SAX. Hap- pened. 7773. T. ii . 55.BETOKE, pa. l. of BETAKE. Recommended. 16009.BETRAISED, part. pa. FR. Betrayed. Thei have BETRAISED thee. P. L. 255.BETWIX, BETWIXEN, prep. SAX. Between. 2134.BEWEPE, V. SAX. To wepe over. T. i. 763.BEWREY, BEWRIE, v. SAX. To discover. 5193. 9747. T. ii. 537.BEYE, v. SAX. To buy. 16762. See ABEYE.BEYETE, part. pa. SAX. Begotten. T. i. 978.BIALACOIL, pr. n. FR. Bel- accueil. Courteous reception.R. 2984. & al. The same person is afterwards called Faire welcoming. R. 5856.BIBBED, part. pa. LAT. Drunk. 4160.BIBLE, n. FR. Any great book, 16325. F. iii. 244.BICCHEL BONES. See the n. on ver. 12590.BIDDE, v. as BEDE. 3641.BIE, v. SAX. To suffer. 5749. See ABEYE,BIGINE, pr. n. FR. Beguine. A nun, of a certain order.R. 6861 , 7368. See Du Cange, in v. Beghina.BIKER, N. SAX. A quarrel. L. W. 2650.BILDER, n. SAX. A builder. The bilder oke. A. F. 176.The oak used in building.BILL, N. A letter. 9811.BIMENE, v. SAX. To bemoan. R. 2667.BINT, for BINDETH. C. M. V. 47, 8.BIRDE for BRIDE , n. SAX. R. 1014.Hire chere was simple, as BIRDE in bour. i. e. as bride in chamber.Simplefut comme une ESPOUSEE. Orig.BISMARE, n. SAX. Abusive speech. 3963. And bold, and abiding, BISMARES to suffer. P. P. 108. b.BIT, for BIDDETH, 187. 10605.BITORE, N. FR. A bittern. 6554.BITRENT, part. pa. Twisted; carried round. T. iii. 1237.iv. 870. Perhaps from the SAX Betnymian. Cir- .cumdare.BIWOPEN, part. pa. of BEWEPE. Drowned in tears. T. iv.916.BLANCMANGER, n. FR. 389. seems to have been a very dif- ferent dish in the time of Chaucer, from that which is now called by the same name. There is a receipt for making it in Ms. Harl. n. 4016. One of the ingredients is, "the brawne ofa capon, tesed small. ”BLANDISE, V. FR. To flatter. P. 154, col. 2, 1. 34.BLANCHE FEVERE, T. i. 917. See Cotgrave, in v. " Fievres blanches. The agues wherewith maidens that have the greenesickness are troubled; and hence; Il a les fievres blanches: Either he is in love, or sick of wantonness."C. N. 41. I am so shaken with THE FEVERS WHITE.BLE, n. SAX. Colour. Magd. 391 .BLEE, pr. n. 16024. 16952. A forest in Kent. Ur.BLEINE, n. SAX. A pustule. R. 553.BLEND, v. SAX. To blind, to deceive. T. ii. 1496.BLENT, pa. t. of BLEND. T. v. 1194.part. pa. 9987. 16545.pa. t. of BLENCH, v . SAX. Shrinked, started aside.1080. And so perhaps it should be understood in ver.3751. and T. iii. 1352.BLERED, part. pa. Sax. In its literal sense is used to de- scribe a particular disorder of the eye, attended with soreness and dimness of sight: and so perhaps it is to be understood in ver. 16198. But more commonly, inChaucer, a man's eye is said to be blered metaphorically,when he is any way imposed upon. 17201. R. 3912. See also ver. 3863.BLEVE, V. SAX. To stay. T. iv. 1357.BLIN, v. SAX. To cease. 16639.BLISSE, V. SAX. To bless. 8428.BLIVE, BELIVE, adv. SAX. Quickly. 5973.7102.BLOSME, n. SAX. Blossom. 3324.v. To blossom. 9336.BLOSMY, adj. Full of blossoms. 9337.BOB UP AND DOWN, pr. n. of a town in the road to Canter- bury. 16951. It is not marked in the common maps.BOBANCE, n. FR. Boasting. 6151 .BOCHE, N. FR. Bosse. A swelling; a wen or boil. Bo. iii.pr. 4.BODE, BODEN, part. pa. of BEDE, v. SAX. Bidden, com- manded. 6612.BODE, pa. t. of BIDE, v. SAX. Remained. T. v. 29.n. Sax. Astay, or delay. An. 120.Anomen. A. F. 343.BODEKIN, n. SAX. A dagger. 3958.BOECE, pr. n. 6750. 15248. Boethius. His most popular work De consolatione Philosophiae was translated by Chaucer certainly before 1381 , (See L. W. 425. ) and pro- bably much earlier. The reflections on Predestination, in T. iv. 966-1078. of which there is no trace in the Filostrato, are almost entirely taken from Bo. v. pr. 3.Several other passages of the same work, which our author has copied , have been pointed out in the notes on ver. 743. 2923.BOISTE , n. FR. A box. 12241.BOISTOUS, adj. SAX. Boisterous; rough. 17160.BOISTOUSLY, adv. Roughly. 8667.BOKELER, n. FR. A buckler. 112.BOKELING, part. pr. FR. Buckling. 2505.BOKET, n. SAX. A bucket. 1535.BOLAS, n. Bullace; a sort of plumb, or sloe. R. 1377.BOLE ARMONIAC. 16258. Armenian earth. FR. GR.458 GLOSSARY.BOLLEN, part. pa. of BOLGE, v. SAX.BOLT, n. SAX. An arrow. 3264.Straight as an arrow.BONE, n. SAX.a bone. 9492.BORAS, n. FR.BORD, N. FR.bord. 5342.BORDE, n. SAX.Swollen. B. K. 101.Bolt-upright. 13246.A boon, petition. 2671. He bade hem all He made a request to them all.Borax. 632. 16258.A border; the side of a ship. 3585. OverBORDEL, 2. FR.A table. 52.A brothel. - Bordel- women. P. 169,col. 2 , 1. 26. whor*s.BORDELLERS, n. pl . Keepers of bawdy-houses. R. 7084 ,BOREL, n. FR. Bureau. Coarse cloth of a brown colour.See Du Cange, in v. BURELLUS. In ver. 5938, it seems to signifie clothing in general.adj. made of plain, coarse stuff. 11028.-Borel folk.7454, 6. Borel men. 13961. Laymen. So in P. P. 50.Burel clerks is probably put for Lay clerks.BORWE, n. SAX. A pledge. Hath laid to borwe. 1624.Hath pledged. Have here my feith to borwe. 11546.Have here my faith for a pledge. Seint John to borwe.10910. St. John being my security.BOSARD, n. FR. A buzzard; a species of Hawk, unfit for sporting. R. 4033.BOSSE, n. FR. A protuberance. 3266.Bost, n. Sax. Pride, boasting. 14105.adv. Aloud. He cracked BOST. 3999. He spake thise wordes BOST. P. L. 275.BOTE, n. SAX. Remedy; Help; Profit. 426. 13396.v. SAX. To help. P. 155, col. 2, 1. 46.pa. t. of BITE, v. SAX. Bit. 14519. His swerd best BOTE. P. L. 243.BOTELES, adj. SAX. Bootless; remediless. T. i. 783.BOTEL, BOTELLE, n. FR. Bottle. 7513. 12820.BOTERFLIE, n. Sax. A butterflie. 15280.BOTHE, adj. SAX. Two together. Our bothe labour. T. i.973. The labour of us two together. Nostrum amborum labor. In T. iv. 168. Ed. Ca. reads your bother love, which inight lead one to suspect that bother was the ancient genitive case of BоTHE, as Aller was of Alle . See the Essay, &c. n. 27.conj. is generally used to copulate two members of a sentence; but sometimes more. See ver. 992.And rent adoun bothe wall , and sparre, and rafter.- And ver. 2300.To whom both heven, and erthe, and see is sene.So the Greeks sometimes used Αμφότερον.Od. 6. 78. Αμφότερον κυδος τε, και αγλαίη, και ονείας.BOTHUM, n. FR. Bouton. A bud, particularly of a rose.R. 1721. et al.BOUGERON, n. FR. A sodomite. R. 7072.BOUGHTON UNDER BLEE, pr. n. of a town in Kent. 16024.BOUKE, n. SAX. The body. 2748.BOULTE, v. SAX. To sift, to separate the flour of wheat from the bran. 15246.BOUN, adj. SAX. Ready. 11807. And bade hem all to be BOWNE, P. P. 10. b.BOUNTEE, n. FR. Goodness. 8033, 10163.BOURDE, N. FR. Ajest. 17030.BOURDE, v. Fr. To jest. 12712.BOURDON, n. FR. A staff. R. 3401. 4092.BOURE, n. SAX. A house; a chamber. 3367. 13672.Bowe, n. Sax. A bow, 108. A doggefor the bowe. 6951 .9888. A dog used in shooting.Boxe, n. Ablow. L. W. 1386.BRACER, n. FR. Armour for the arm. 111.BRADWARDIN, pr. n. 15248. Thomas Bradwardine, Arch- bishop of Canterbury in 1349. His book De causa Dei,to which our author alludes, is in print. See Tanner, in v. BRADOWARDINUS.BRAIDE, n. SAX. A start. L. W. 1164. At a BRAIDE. R. 1336. Tantost. Orig.V. SAX. To awake; to start. 4283. 6381. See ABRAIDE. Out ofhis wit he braide. 11339. 14456. He ran out of his senses. In ver. 5257 , it signifies to take off. See also F. iii. 588.BRAKET, n. BRIT. Bragod. A sweet drink made of thewort of ale, honey, and spice. 3261. It is still in use in Wales. Richards, in v. Bragod.BRASIL, N. A wood used in dyeing, to give a red colour.15465. This passage of Chaucer is a decisive proof, that the Brazil- wood was long known by that name before the discovery of the country so called in America. See Huetiana, p. 268. In the inventory of the effects of Henry V. Rot. Parl. 2 H. VI. m. 20. is the following article. " Graundes peces du Bracile, pris vi. s. vii d."BRATT, n. SAX. A coarse mantle. 16349.BRECH, n. SAX.BREDE, n. SAX.broad. In F. iii.BREME, adj. SAX.BRIM. P. L. 244.Breeches. 12882.Breadth. 1972. In brede. T. i. 531. A- 132. it seems to be put for bride.Furious. 1701. full scharply and fullBRENNE, v. SAX. To burn. 2333.BRENT, pa. t. & part. Burnt. 2427. 2959.BRENNINGLY, adv. SAX. Hotly. 1566.BRERES, n. pl. FR. Briars. 1534.BRESTE, v. SAX. To burst. 1982. 11071.BRET-FUL, adj. 689. The sense is much more clear than the etymology.BRIBE, N. FR. Properly, what is given to a beggar; What is given to an extortioner, or cheat. 6960.BRIBEN, inf. m. FR. To beg. 4415. or perhaps, To steal.See Rot. Parl. 22 E. IV. n. 30. Have stolen and BRIBED Signetts (Cygnets) . And so in P. P. 115. b. a bribour seems to signifie a thief; as bribors, pilors, and pikehar- neis, are classed together; and still more plainly in Lydg. Trag. 152.Who saveth a thefe , whan the rope is knet, -With some false turne the bribour will him quite.See also Antient Scottish Poems, p. 171. st. 7. 1. 3.BRIBOURES. 6949. Upon second thoughts, I believe that Iwas wrong in adopting this word from Ms. C. I. and that we should rather read with other Mss."Certain he knew of briberies mo. "See the n. on ver. 2469.BRIDALE, N. SAX. A marriage-feast. 4373.BRIDDES, n. pl. SAX. Birds. 10925.BRIGE, n. FR. Contention . M. 118, col. 1 , 1. 4.BRIKE, N. SAX. Breach; Ruin. 14700.BRIMME, adj. R. 1836. T. iv. 184. as BREME.BROCAGE, n. A treaty by a broker or agent. 3375. R. 6971.BROCHE, N. FR. Seems to have signified originally the tongue ofa buckle or clasp; and from thence the buckle or clasp itself. 3265. 8131. T. v. 1660. But see ver. 160.It probably came by degrees to signifie anysort ofjewel.BROCHE JUELL . Monile, armilla. Prompt. Parv. See NOUCHE.BROIDED, part. pa. FR. Braided; woven. 1051.BROKKING, part. pr. Throbbing; quavering. 3377.BROMEHOLME, pr. n. A priory in Norfolk. 4284. The roode ofBromholme is mentioned in P. P. 24.BRONDE, n. FR. A torch . 9651.BROSTEN, part. pa. of BRESTE. 3827.BROTEL, adj. SAX.BROTELNESSE, N. Brittle. 9155. M. 114, col. 2, 1. 45.Brittleness. 9155.BROTHERHED, n. SAX. Brotherly affection. 12972.BROUDED, part. pa. FR. Brodé. Embroidered. 14387.BROKEN, inf. m. SAX. To brook; enjoy; use. 10182. 15306.BUCKES HORNE. A buck's horn. 3387. To blow the buckes horne is put for any useless employment.BUFFETTE, n. FR. A blow. P. 151 , col. 2, 1. 46.BUGLE- HORN, n. A drinking- vessel made of horn. 11565,Gloss. Ur. derives it from Buculæ cornu. The Gloss, to Anc. Scott. Po. explains Bougle to mean a Buffalo. Ihave been told that in some parts of the North a Bull is now called a Boogle.BUMBLE, . SAX. To make a humming noise. In ver.6554. it is used to describe the noise made by a bittern.BURDOUN, n. FR. Bourdon. A humming noise; the bass in musick. 675. 4163.BURIELS, n. pl. SAX. Burying-places . 15654.BURNED, part. pa. FR. Burnished. 1985.BURNEL THE ASSE. 15318. See the note. The story sup- poses, that the priest's son, when he was to be ordained,GLOSSARY. 459directed his servant to call him at co*ck- crowing, and that the co*ck, whose leg he had formerly broken, having overheard this, purposely refrained from crowing at his usual time; by which artifice the young man was suf- fered to sleep till the ordination was over.BURNETTE, n. FR. Brunette. Cloth dyed of a brown colour. R. 226. 4756. See Du Cange in v. Burnetum.BUSK, n. FR. A bush. R. 54. 102.BUTTE, BUT, adv. & conj. SAX. But; Sed. 4824.-Unless;Nisi. 13115. 1 n'ere BUT lost. Non essem nisi perdita.15942. 16069.-Only. 11349. which that am BUT lorne.BUT, prep. SAX. Without. Gloss. Ur. I cannot say that I have myself observed this preposition in Chaucer, but I may have overlooked it. The Saxons used it very fre- quently; and how long the Scottish writers have laid it aside, I am doubtful. It occurs repeatedly in Bp. Doug- las. BUTspot or falt. p. 3. 1. 53. Poete BUT pere. p. 9. l. 19.BUT and BEN. p. 123. 1. 40. Without and within; Butanand binnan; originally, I suppose, Bi utan and biinnan. By and with are often synonymous.BUXOME, adj. SAX. Obedient; civil. 13107. 13172.BUXUMLY, adv. SAX. Obediently. 8062.By, prep. Sax. has sometimes the signification of IN. By the morwe. 16965, In the morning, or day- time. See the note. By his life. R. 5955. In his life-time. It is sometimes used adverbially. By and by. 1013. 4141 .Near, hard by. BY AND BY. Sigillatim. Prompt. Parv.See R. 4581. These were his wordes by and by. i. e. Seve- rally; distinctly. And so perhaps this phrase should be understood in the passage above quoted.BYFORNE. See BEFORNE.BYLEVE, v. SAX. To stay. 10897. T. iii. 624 .BYRAFT, part. pa. of BYREVE, v. SAX. Bereved; taken away. 1363.BYWORD, N. SAX. A proverb. T. iv. 769.C.CACCHE , v. To catch. P. 166, col. 1 , 1. 57.CADENCE, n. FR. F. ii. 114. See the n. on ver. 17354. and Jun. Etymolog. in v.CAIRRUD, pr. n. of a city in Bretagne. 11120.CAITIF, n. & adj. FR. Chetif. A wretch; wretched. 1719.1948.CALCINATION, n. FR. A chemical process, by which bodies are reduced to a calx. 16272.CALCULED, pa. t. FR. Calculated. 11596.CALEWEIS, R. 7093. is probably mis-written. The Orig.has La poire du CAILLOUEL. 12468. Cotgrave says, that Caillouet is the name ofa very sweet pear.CALIDONE, pr. n. 12539. It should be Lacedomie. See the n. on ver. 12537.CALIOPHIA, pr. n. F. iii. 182. We should rather read CALYPSA, with the two Bodl. MSS. for Calypso.CALLE, n. FR. A species of cap. 6600. T. iii. 775.CAMAILLE, N. FR. A camel. 9072.CAMELINE, n. FR.CAMUSE, adj. FR.A stuff made of camel's hair. R. 7367.Flat. 3932. 3972.CAN, v. SAX. To know. 4467. 5638. See CONNE.CANANEE, adj. FR. Cananean. 15527.CANE, pr. n. Cana in Galilee. 5593.CANEL, n. FR. Canal. Channel. Du. 943.CANELLE, n. FR. Cinnamon. R. 1370.CANEVAS, n. FR. Canvas. 16407.CANON, 12824. The title of Avicenna's great work. See D'Herbelot, in v. Canun.CANTEL, n. SAX. A fragment. 3010.CAPEL, n. LAT. A horse. 17013, 4. And gave him CAPLES to his carte. P. P. 109.CAPITAINE, n. FR. A captain. 12516.CAPITOLIE, n. LAT. The Capitol at Rome. 14621 , 3.CAPPE, n. LAT. A cap, or hood. To set a man's cap. 588.3145. To make a fool of him.CAPTIF, adj. FR. Captive. T. iii . 383.CARDIACLE, N. FR. GR. A pain about the heart. 12247.CARECTES, n. pl. LAT. GR. Characters. P. P. 61.CARFE, pa. t. of CARVE, v. SAX. Cut. 14519.CARLE, N. SAX. A churl; a hardy country fellow. 547.CARMES, n. pl. FR. Carmelite Friars. R. 7462.CAROLE, n. FR. A sort of dance. 1933.V. FR. To dance. 2204. In caroling. 16813. In dancing.CARPE, V. To talk. 476. By CARPING oftonge; By speech.P. P. 566.CARRAINE, n. FR. A carrion; dead or putrified flesh.2015. 14542.CARRIKE, N. FR. A large ship. 7270.CARTE, n. SAX. A chariot. 2024.CARTER, n. SAX.CAS, n. FR. Cas.By chance.A charioteer. 2024.Chance. 846. Upon cas. 3661. T. 1. 271 .n. FR. Casse. A case; quiver. 2360.CASSIODORE, pr. n . M. 111 , col. 1 , 1. 8. Cassiodorus; a Ro- man Senator and Consul. A. C. 513. Several of his works are extant. See Fabric. Bibl. Lat. and Bidl. Med. Æt.CAST, N. SAX. A contrivance, 3605. 2470.CASTE, v. To throw. T. iii. 712. L. W. 1931.-To contrive.M. 120, col. 1, 1. 23.CASTELOIGNE, pr. n. Catalonia, in Spain. F. iii. 158.CASUEL, adj. FR. Accidental. T. iv. 419.CATAPUCE, N. FR. A species of spurge. 14971 .CATEL, N. FR. Goods; valuable things of all sorts. 542.3977. 4447.CATERWAWED. 5936. To gon a caterwawed seems to sig- nify the same as to go a caterwawing; or caterwawling,as it has been called by later writers.CATON, pr. n. See the n. on ver. 3227.CAUGHT, pa. t. et part. of CATCH. 8986. 11824.CAVILATIOUN, n. FR. Cavil. 7718.CECILE, CECILIE, pr. n.CEISE , R. 7258. CESE.Cecilia. 15664. 15686.A. F. 481 , are misprinted for SEISE, V. FR. To seize; to lay hold of.CELERER, n. LAT. Celerarius. The officer in a monastery who had the care of the provisions. 13942.CELLE, n. LAT. A religious house. 172. It seems to be put for a man's head. 13978. See also 1378.CELSITUDE, n. FR. Highness. C. L. 611 .CENSER, n. FR. An incense- pot. 3340.CENSING, part. pr. FR. Fumigating with incense. 3341.CENTAURIE, pr. n. of an herb. 14969.CERCLE, V. FR. To surround. R. 1619.CERCLES, n. pl. FR. Circles. 2039.CERIAL, adj. FR. Belonging to the species of oak called Cerrus. LAT. Cerro. ITAL. Cerre. FR. 2292.CERTAIN, adj. FR. is used sometimes as a substantive. Ounces a certain. 16244. A certain ofgold. 16492. i . e. Acertain number of ounces; a certain quantity of gold.CERTAIN, CERTES, adv. Certainly. 3495. 6790.CERUSE, n. FR. White lead. 632.CESED, part. pa. for SEISED. C. M. 87. is used in a legal sense. To that he be cesed therewith; Till that he be possessed thereof; Till he have seisen thereof.CESSE, V. FR. To cease. T. ii. 483.CHACE, V. FR. To chase; to pursue. 8217. 8269.CHAFE, V. FR. To grow warm or angry. P. 161 , col. 1 , 1. 64.CHAFFARE, N. SAX. Merchandize. 4558. 13215.v. SAX. To merchandize. 4559.CHAIERE, N. FR. A chair. 14531. The chair, or pulpit, of a professor or preacher. 7100.CHALONS, 4138. See the note.CHAMBERERE , n. FR. A chamber-maid. 5882. 8695.CHAMPARTIE, N. FR. A share of land; A partnership in power. 1951. Lydgate has the same expression. Trag.139. B. viii . 17.CHANTEPLEURE, n. FR. A sort of proverbial expression for singing and weeping successively. An. 323. See Lydg.Trag. St. the last; where he says that his book is 64 Lyke Chantepleure, now singing now weping. "In MS. Harl. 4333. is a Ballad, which turns upon this expression. It begins; Moult vaut mieux pleure chante que nefait chante pleure.CHANTERIE, n. FR. An endowment for the payment of apriest, to sing mass agreeably to the appointment of the founder. 512. There were thirty-five of these Chanteries460 GLOSSARY.established at St. Paul's, which were served by fifty-four Priests. Dugd. Hist. pref. p. 41.CHAPMAN, n. SAX. A merchant or trader. 13184, 6.CHAPMANHEDE, n . SAX. The condition of a chapman or tradesman. 13168.CHAR, N. FR. A chariot. 2140. 14366 .CHARBOUCLE, n. FR. A carbuncle. 13800.CHARGE, N. FR. A load, burthen; business of weight. It n'ere no charge. 2289. It were no harm. Ofwhich there is no charge. 10673. From which there is no consequence to be expected. Of that no charge. 16217. No matter for that.V. FR. To weigh, to incline on account of weight.F. ii. 237.-Which chargeth not to say. T. iii. 1582. Which it is of no importance to say.CHARGEANT, particip. pr. Burthensome. M. 111 , col. 2,1. 49. P. 162, col. 1. 1. 56.CHARMERESSE, n . FR.CHASTELAINE, n. FR.a castle, R. 3740.An enchantress. F. iii. 171 .The wife of a Chastelain, or lord ofCHASTIE, V. FR. To chastise . R. 6993.CHAUNTECLERE, pr. n. of a co*ck. 14855.CHEKERE, n. FR. A chess-board. Du. 660.CHEES, pa. t. of CHESE , v. SAX. Chose. 9471. 10039.CHEFFIS. R. 7091. We should read Cheses. The Orig.has fromages.CHEKE. Du. 659. A term at chess, to give notice to the opposite party, that his king, if not removed, or guarded by the interposition of some other piece, will be made prisoner. It is derived originally from the Persian Shah, i. e. King; and means, Take care of your king.See Hyde, Hist. Shahilud. p. 3, 4.CHEKELATOUN, 13664. See the note.CHEKEMATE, orsimply MATE, is a term used at chess, when the king is actually made prisoner, and the game conse- quently finished. The Persian phrase is Sháh mát, i. e.The King is conquered. T. ii. 754. Du. 659. 660. See Hyde, Hist. Shahilud, p. 152.CHELAUNDRE, n. FR. A goldfinch . R. 81 .CHEPE, V. SAX. To cheapen; to buy. 5850.n. Cheapness. 6105. F. iii. 884.pr. n. Cheapside in London. 756. 4375.CHERCHE, N. SAX. A church. 2762.CHERE, n. FR. Countenance; appearance. 8114. 8117.- Entertainment; good cheer. 13257.CHERICE, V. FR. To cherish. 14438.CHERISANCE, n. FR. Comfort. R. 3337.CHERL, N. SAX. A man of mean birth and condition. 6740.7764.CHERLISH, adj. Illiberal. 11827.CHES, N. FR. The game of chess. 11212.CHESE, V. SAX. To choose. 6480. 11398 .for CHESETH. 6497.CHESTE, N. LAT. A coffin . 7905.N. Debate. P. 158, col. 2, 1. 57.CHESTEINE, n. FR. The chesnut tree. 2924.-The chesnut fruit. R. 1375.CHEVACHIE, N. FR. An expedition. See the n. on ver. 85.and ver. 16999.CHEVALRIE, N. FR. Knighthood; the manners, exercises,and valiant exploits, of a knight. 45. 2108. 2186.CHEVALROUS, adj. Valiant. T. v. 802.CHEVE, V. FR. To come to an agreement, or conclusion .Yvel mote he CHEVE. 16693. Ill may he end. See ver.4172. Ye, they shal have the flour ofYVEL ENDING.CHEVESAILE, n. FR. A necklace. R. 1082. The word does not occur in the Orig. in this place, but it is used in ver. 21897.Et pour tenir la CHEVESSAILLE Deuxfermeaux d'or au col luybaille.CHEVETAIN, n. FR. Chieftain. 2557.CHEVISANCE, n. FR. Anagreement for borrowing ofmoney.13259. 13277. 13321 .CHICHE, adj. FR. nigg*rdly, sparing. R. 5588.CHICHEVACHE. See the n. on ver. 9064.CHIDERESSE, n. SAX. A female scold. R. 4266.CHIDESTER, N. SAX. A female scold. 9409.CHIERTEE FR. Tenderness; affection. 5978. 13266.CHIKE, 7. SAX. A chicken. R. 541.CHIMBE, N. SAX. The prominent part of the staves beyond the head of a barrel. 3893.CHIMBE, V. To sound in consonance, like bells. 3894.CHIMENEY, N. FR. A chimney. T. iii. 1147.CHINCHE, adj. as CHICHE, R. 5998. Conf. Am. 109. b.CHINCHERIE, N. nigg*rdliness. M. 116, col. 2, L. 63.CHIRCHE, n. SAX. A church. 12263.CHIRCHEREVE, n . SAX. A church-warden. 6889.CHIRCHHAWE, n. Sax. A church-yard . P. 169 , col. 1 , 1. 54.CHIRK, V. SAX. To chirp , as a sparrow. 7386.ICHIRKING, n. A disagreeable sound. 2006. F. iii. 853.CHIT for CHIDETH. 16389.CHIVACHEE, n. as CHEVACHIE. 16999.CHIVER, V. SAX. To shiver. R. 1732. B. K. 231.CIERGES, n. pl. FR. Wax- tapers. R. 6248.CIPIOUN, pr. n. Scipio. R. 10.CIPRIS, pr. n. Venus. F. ii. 10.CIRCES, pr. n. for CIRCE, 1946.CITEE, n. FR. A city . 941 .CITOLE, n. FR. A musical instrument. 1961. Sir John Hawkins, in his very curious History of Musick, v. 2.p. 106. n. supposes it to have been a sort of Dulcimer,and that the name is a corruption of the LAT. Cestella.Beside the passage which he has quoted from Gower,Conf. Am. 178. it is mentioned again in fol. 189. among the instruments which sowned lowe. See also Du Cange,in v. CITOLA, and M. de la Ravaliere, Poësies du Roy de Navarre. T. i. p . 248.CITRIN, adj. FR. Of a pale yellow, or citron-colour. 2169.CITRINATION, n. A chemical term. Arnoldus in Rosario MS. 1. 1. c. 5. Citrinacio nihil aliud est quam completa albedinis digestio, nec albedo est aliud quam nigredinis ablatio. Gloss. Carpent, in v.CLAMBEN, pa. t . pl. of CLIMB, v. SAX. F. iii. 1061 .CLAPERS, n. pl. FR. Rabbet- burrows. R. 1405.CLAPPE, V. SAX. To knock repeatedly. 7163, 6. -To talk fast. 9076.CLAPPETH, imp. m. 2 pers. pl. 9076.CLAPPING, n. Noisy talking. 8875.CLAPSED. Clasped . 275.CLARRE, N. FR. Wine mixed with honey and spices, and afterwards strained till it is clear. 1473. 9717. It was otherwise called Piment; as appears from the title of the following receipt, in the Medulla Cirurgia Rolandi.MS. Bod. 761. fol. 86. " Claretum bonum, sive pigmentum.-Accipe nucem moschatam, cariofilos, gingebas, macis,cinamomum , galangum; quæ omnia in pulverem redacta distempera cum bono vino cum tertiâ parte mellis: post cola per sacculum, et da ad bibendum. Et nota, quod illud idem potest fieri de cerevisiâ." And so in R. 5967.Clarré is the translation of Piment. Orig. 11453.CLATTEREDEN, pa. t. pl. of CLATTER, v. SAX. 2425.CLAUDIAN, pr. n. His poem De raptu Proserpinæ is alluded to in v. 10106. See also F. i . 449. iii. 419.CLAUSE, n. FR. An end, or conclusion. T. ii. 728.CLAW, . SAX. To stroke. T. iv. 728. He CLAWED him on the back. 4324. He stroked him on the back, to encourage him. To claw on the gall, 6522. signifies the same as To rub on a sore place.CLED for CLAD. T. iii . 1527.CLENENESSE, n. SAX. Purity. 7465. 7492.CLEPE, V. SAX .CLERGIE, n. FR.CLERGIAL, adj.To call. 3432.-To name. 4611.The clerical profession. 6859.Learned. 16220.CLERGION, n. Ayoung clerk. 13433.CLERK, N. FR. A person in holy orders. P. 169, col. 1 , 1. 44.-A man of learning. 482.-A student at the university.3199. 6109. THE CLERK OF OXENFORDE. See his CHA- RACTER, ver. 287-310.CLEVES, n. pl. SAX. Rocks. L. W. 1468. See CLIFFE.CLIFFE, N. SAX. A rock. L. W. 1495.CLIFTE, n. SAX. A cleft. 7727.CLIKET, N. FR. A key. 9991 , 5, 7.CLINKE, V. FR. To ring. 12926.v. neut.CLIPPE, V. SAX.To tinkle. 12598.To cut hair. 3324. -To embrace. 10287.CLIPSY, adj. As if eclipsed . R. 5349.GLOSSARY. 461CLOBBED, adj. SAX. Like a club. 13904.CLOISTRE, N. FR. A cloister. 7681.-An inclosure. 15511.CLOMBEN, pa. t. pl. of CLIMB, v. SAX. 3636.CLOSER, n. FR. An inclosure. R. 4069.CLOTE- LEFE. A leaf of the bur-dock, or clote-bur. 16045.CLOTERED, part. pa. SAX. Clotted. 2747.CLOUE-GILOFRE. See the note on ver. 13692.CLOUTES, n. pl . SAX. Small pieces. 9827.CLUM, 3639. This word seems to be formed from the SAX.v. Clumian. Mussitare, murmurare; to express the mumbling noise, which is made by a congregation in accompanying prayers, which they cannot perfectly repeat.COAGULAT, part. pa. LAT.co*ckES BONES. 16958. 17340.Curdled. 16279.A corruption of a familiar oath, which appears undisguised in ver. 12629.COD, n. SAX. A bag. 12468.COFRE, N. FR. A chest. 300. 8461.COGGE, n. SAX. A co*ck-boat. L. W. 1479. See Du Cange,in v. CoGo.COILONS, n. pl. FR. testicl*s. 12886.COINE, n. FR. Apiece of money. 9044.A quince.COINT, adj. FR.R. 1373.Neat; trim. C. D. 1824.co*kE, n. LAT. A cook. See his CHARACTER, ver. 381, 9.co*kENEY. See the n. on ver. 4206.co*kEWOLD, N. A cuckold. How this word has been formed is difficult to say, but probably it has some rela- tion to the FR. Cocu. In the best MSS. of the CANTER- BURY TALES it is constantly spelled as above; and is always, I believe, to be pronounced as a trisyllable. See ver. 3154. 3226. 6796. 7198. 10130. 12316. The author of the Remedie of Love, ver. 288. seq. pretends, that the true orthographie of this word is co*kcold, according to amost absurd etymologie, which he has there given of it;an additional proof, if any were wanted, that the Reme- die ofLove was not written by Chaucer.COL. See the n. on ver. 15221 .COLD, V. SAX. To grow cold. 5299.COLER, n. FR. A collar. 3239. T. V. 1659.COLERED, part. pa. Collared; wearing collars. 2154.COLLATION, n. FR. A conference. 8201.COLLINGES, n. pl. FR. Embraces round the neck. T. L. ii. 340.COLTISH, adj. SAX. Playful as a colt. 9721.COLUMBINE, adj. LAT. Belonging to a dove; dovelike.10015 .COMBRE- WORLD, n. An incumbrance to the world. T. iv. 279.COMBUST, adj. LAT. Burnt. 16279. A term in astrology,when a planet is not more than 8° 30′ distant from the sun. T. iii. 718.COME for COMETH, 15710.COMMENSAL, n. FR. Acompanion at table. T. L. i. 319.COMMUNE, n. FR. Commonalty. 7946.COMMUNES, n. pl . Commoners; common people. 2511.COMPAIGNABLE, adj. FR. Sociable. 12934.COMPANE for COMPAGNE. 3709. See the note.COMPAS, N. FR. A compass; a circle. The trine compas.15513. The Trinity; an appellation borrowed, as it seems, from the common emblem of that mystery, acircle circ*mscribing a triangle . -Contrivance. F. i. 461 .iii. 80.COMPASMENT, n. L. W. 1414.COMPASSING, n. 1998. }Contrivance.COMPASS, V. To contrive. L. W. 1412. He COMPASSED his thought. 5011. He contrived in his thought.COMPENABLE, adj. FR. 14878. as COMPAIGNABLE.COMPERE, n. FR. A gossip; a near friend. 672. 4417.COMPLIN, n. Fr. Complie. Even- song; the last service of the day. P. 154, col . 2 , l . 68. —Singing, in general. 4169.COMPOWNED, part. pa. Composed; put together. L. W. 2574. F. ii. 521.COMPTE, n. FR. Account. R. 5026.CONCETE, n. FR. Conception; apprehension. Bo. iii. pr. 10.CONDESCENDE, v. FR. To yield. 10721 .CONDISE, n. pl. Fr. Conduits. R. 1414.CONFECTURE, n. FR. Composition. 12796.CONFUSE, adj . FR. Confounded. 2232. 15931. He became 80 CONFUSE, he conneth not loke. P. P. 47. b.CONJECTE, V. FR. To project. R. 6928.CONISAUNCE, n. FR. Understanding. R. 5465.CONJURE, V. FR. To adjure. 13574.CONNE, v. SAX. To know; to be able. I shal not CONNE answere. M. 118, col. 1 , l. 55. I shall not know how, or be able, to answer. Thou shalt never-CON knowen. R. 7135.Thou shalt never be able to know.-To conne thank;to be pleased, or obliged; Sçavoir gré. FR. 1810 , 3066.To conne maugré. R. 4559. To be displeased; Sçavoir mal gré. Orig.CONSEIL, n. FR. Counsel. 9237.CONSENTANT, part. pr. FR. Consentant of this cursednesse.12210. Consenting to t. c.CONSERVE, V. FR. To preserve. 15855.CONSISTORY, N. FR. signifies usually an Ecclesiastical Court;but in v. 12096. 12191. any court of justice.CONSTABLERIE, n. FR. A ward, or division of a castle,under the care of a constable. R. 4218. See Du Cange,in v. CONSTABULARIUS CASTRI.CONSTANTINE, pr. n. See the n. on ver. 9684.CONTEKE, N. SAX. Contention. 2005. T. V. 1478.CONTENANCE, n. FR. Appearance; pretence. 4419. 16732.CONTRACT, part. pa. LAT. Contracted. P. 153, col. 2 , l. 18.CONTRARIAUNTES, part. pr. is used in the plural number,according to the French custom. T. L. i. 319. b. Oppos ing; contradicting.CONTRARIE, V. FR. To contradict, 6626.CONTRARIOUS, adj. FR. Opposite. 6280. Perverse. 6362.CONTRARY, N. FR. Adversary. 1861 .CONTREFETE, v. FR. To counterfeit; imitate. 130. 15327.CONTROVE, V. FR. To invent. R. 4249. 7547.CONTUBERNIAL, adj. LAT. Familiar. P. 163, col. 2, 1. 69.CONTUNE for CONTINUE. R. 4354. 5205 , 5332. This is one of those licences for the sake ofrime, of which see the n.on v. 8915. Our author seems to have been ashamed of it, as I do not recollect to have met with it in the CAN- TERBURY TALES. Lydgate has been less scrupulous. See Trag. 2. b. 14. b. 24. b.COPE, n. FR. Cape. A cloak. 13955.COPPE, n. SAX. The top of any thing. 556. F. iii. 76.CORAGE, n. FR. Heart. 22.-Inclination. 9130.- Spirit;courage, 1947. 8096.CORBETTES, n. pl. FR. Niches for statues. F. iii. 214.CORDETH for ACCORDETH. T. ii. 1043.CORDEWANE, n. FR. Cordouan. Spanish leather, so called from Corduba. 13662.CORDILERES, n. pl . FR. Cordeliers. An order of Friars, so called from their wearing a cord for a girdle. R. 7461 .CORINNE, pr. n. An. 21. What author is meant, I cannot say. One can hardly suppose that Chaucer had met with that poem of the antient Corinna, the contempo- rary of Pindar, which was entitled ' ETTA EI ONCαis (Fragm. ex Apollonio Dyscolo, ap. Maittair. de Dialect.p. 429. 1. 4. ) nor do I know that any fictitious work upon the War of Thebes has ever been set forth under her name. She is mentioned by Propertius (2 EL. 3. v. 21. )and by Statius ( Sylv. V. Carm. 3. v. 158. ) but neither of them takes notice of her having written on the affairs of Thebes.A bagpipe. F. iii. 128.CORNEWAILE, pr. n. Cornouaille, in Bretagne. R. 4250.CORNICULERE, n. LAT. An officer in the Roman Govern- ment. 15837. See Pitisc. Lex. Ant. Rom. in v. Cornicu- larius.CORNMUSE, n. FR.CORNY, adj. SAX. Strong of the corn, or malt. 12249. 12390.COROUNE, n. FR. A crown, or garland. 2292. 15689.CORPS, n. FR. Body. 12238. 13836.CORPUS, n. LAT. Body. Corpus Domini. 13365. God'sbody. Corpus Madrian. 13898.CORRIGE, V. FR. To correct. Bo. iv. pr. 4. pr. 7.CORRUMPABLE, adj. FR. Corruptible. 3012.CORRUMPE, V. FR. To corrupt. 2748.CORSE, v. SAX. To curse. T. iii. 1707.CORSEINT, N. FR. A holy body; a Saint. C. D. 940. The CORSAYNT and the kirke. P. L. 44.CORVEN, part. pa. of CARVE, v. SAX. Cut, 2698.COSIN, n. FR. A cousin, or kinsman. It is sometimes used adjectively. 744. 17159. Allied; related462 GLOSSARY.COSINAGE, n. FR. Kindred. 13339.COSTAGE, N. FR. Cost, expence. 5831. 9002.COSTEIE, v. Fr. To go by the coast. B. K 36.COSTLEWE, adj. Costly. P. 155, col. 2, 1. 23.COSTRELL, n. A drinking-vessel. L. W. 2655.Cange, in v. COSTRELLUS.COTE, n. SAX. A cottage. 8274.See Du➖➖➖n. FR. A coat. 8789.--COTE- ARMURE; A coat worn over armour; upon which the armorial ensigns of the wearer were usually embroidered. 1018. 2142.COTIDIEN, adj. FR. Daily. It is used as a substantive for Aquotidien ague. R. 2401.COUCHE, V. FR. To lay. 16620.COUCHED, part. pa. Laid. 16668. COUCHED with perles.2163. Laid, or trimmed with pearls.COUD, COUDE, pa. t. of CONNE. Knew; was able. 94, 5.See the Essay, &c. n. 35. It is used as a participle pa.P. 171, col. 1, 1. 46. So that instead of always in the note, I should have said generally.COVEITE, V. FR. To covet. R. 6173.COVENABLE, adj. FR. Convenient; suitable. P. 148, col. 1 ,1. 12.COVERCHIEFS, n. pl. FR. Head-cloaths, 455.COVERCLE, n. FR. A pot-lid. F. ii . 284.COVERT, adj. FR.COVINE, n. FR.COULPE, . FR.Secret; covered. R. 6149.Secret contrivances. 606. R. 3799.A fault. P. 153, col. 2, 1. 23.COUNT, V. FR. To account; to esteem. 4054. 4190.COUNTERPEISE, n. FR. A counterpoise; a weight which balances another. T. iii. 1413.v. FR. To counterpoise. F. iii. 660.COUNTERPLETE, v. FR. To plead against. L. W. 476.COUNTERWAITE, v. FR.1. 65.COUNTOUR, n. FR. Comptoir. A compting house. 13143, -Compteur. An arithmetician. Du. 435.To watch against. M. 112, col. 2,361. See the note.COUNTRETAILLE, n. FR. A tally answering exactly to another. Hence echo is said to answer at the countre- taille. 9066.COURE, V. FR. To sit crouching, like a brooding hen.R. 465.COURTEPY. See the n. on ver. 292.COURT-MAN. 9366. A courtier. Homme de Cour. FR.COUTH, COUTHE, pa. t. of CONNE. Knew; was able. 392.R. 753.part. pa. Known. 14. 8818.COWARDISE, N. FR. Want of courage. Cowardie, 2732.R. 2490. As to the etymology of the adj. from which this word has been formed, I think the opinion of Twysden and Somner, Gloss, ad X. Script. v. Fridwite,much the most probable, who derive it from the BARB.LAT. Culum vertere; to turn tail, or run away. See Du Cange, in v. CULVERTA, and CULVERTAGIUM, who rejects the opinion above mentioned, but without sug- gesting any thing so plausible. Culvert, as it is written in the oldest and best French MSS. that I have seen,mighteasily be corrupted, according to the French mode ofpronunciation, into Couart and Couard.I have somewhere seen the French language seriously charged with indelicacy for its frequent and wanton use of the word cul in composition; nor can the charge be said to be groundless. Beside the numerous instances which will occur to every body, I suspect that this mono- syllable makes part of a common and solemn term in our Law, importedoriginally from France. Culprist seemsto meto have been a vulgar name for a prisoner; a person taken by that part which is most exposed in running away. Holinshed has expressed the same idea more delicately. Vol. iii. p. 842. The prentisis were CAUGHT BY THE BACKS and had to prison. And so it is expressed in " Ancient Scottish Poems, " p. 182. ver. 15.Yet deid [ death] sal TAK HIM BE THE BAK.COYE, V. FR. To quiet, to sooth. T. ii. 801.CRAFTESMAN, n. SAX. A man of skill. 1899.CRAKE, V. FR. To crack. 3999.CRAKEL, V. SAX. To quaver hoarsely in singing.9724. C. N. 119.CRAMPISH, V. FR. To contract violently, as the cramp does. An. 170.CRATCHING, n. SAX. Scratching. 2836.CRASED, part. pa. FR. Ecrasé. Broken. 16402.CREANCE, n. FR. Faith; belief. 5335.V. FR. To borrow money. 13219, 33 , 96.CREATE, part. pa. LAT. Created . P. 150, col. 2, L. 63.CRENCLED, part. pa. Crincled; circularly formed. L. W. 2010. Perhaps from the ISLAND. Krynge. Circino, gyro.CREPIL, n. SAX. A cripple. T. iv. 1458.CREVASSE, N. FR. A chink, or crevice. F. iii. 996.CRIANDE, part. pr. of CRIE, v. FR. Crying. R. 3138.CRIPS. F. iii. 296. as CRISPE.CRISIPPUS, pr. n. 6259. I find the title of a work in Mont- faucon, Bibl. p. 513. to which Chaucer may possibly allude. Chrysippi, discipuli Euthymii, in Joannem enco- mium.-and again p. 1314. Chrysippi Presbyteri laudatio S. Joannis Baptista. It is not likely that a Panegyrist on the Baptist might be led by his rage against Herodias to say some harsh things of women in general.CRISPE, adj. LAT. Curled. 5886.CROCE, N. SAX. A cross. 6066.CROIS, n. FR. A cross. 12885.CROMES, n. pl. SAX. Crumbs. 15528.CROMMED, part. pa. Sax. Stuffed, crammed. F. iii. 1039.CRONE, n. SAX. An old woman. 4852. Kronie; Ovis vetula.Kilian.CROPE, CROPEN, part. pa. of CREPE, v. SAX. Crept. 4257.11918.CROPPES, n. pl. SAX. The extremities of the shoots of vegetables. 7. Now in the crop. 1534. Now at the top.Croppe and rote. T. ii. 348. Root and branch; the whole of a thing.CROSSELET, n. FR.CROUCHE, v. SAX.CROUDE, V. SAX.A crucible. 16585.To sign with the cross. 9581.To shove together. 4716.CROUKE, N. SAX. An earthen pitcher. 4156.CROUN, n. FR. signifies Head. 4039. 4097.CROUPE, N. FR. The ridge of the back. 7141.CROWES FEET. T. ii. 404. The wrinkles which spread from the outer corners of the eyes. Spenser describes this mark of old age in the same manner, Ecl. 12.And bymine eie the crow his claw doth wright.CROWNED, part. pa. Wearing a crown.10840. Sovereign malice.Crowned malice.CRULL, adj. SAX. Curled. 81. 3314.CUCURBITE, N. LAT. A gourd; a vessel, shaped like agourd, used in distillation. 16262.CULPONS, n. pl. FR. Shreds. 681. Logs. 2869.CULVER, n. SAX. A dove. L. W. 2307.CUPPE, n. FR. A cup. Withouten cuppe he drank all his penance. 11254. He took large draughts of grief; he made no use of a cup, but drank out of the pot.CURATION, n. FR. Cure; healing. T. i. 792. Bo. i. pr. 6.CURE, n. FR. Care. I do no cure. L. W. 152. I take no care.CURFEW-TIME, 3645. according to the Conqueror's edict, is said to have been 8 h. P. M. Walsingham, speaking of an event on the 2d of September, 1311. mentions 9 h. as the hora ignitegii. It probably varied with the seasons of the year.CURIOUS, adj. FR.CURTEIS, adj. FR.CUSTOMER, adj. FR. Accustomed. R. 4936.CUTTE, CUT. 837. 847. 12727. seq. See the n. on ver. 837.Careful. 13156. R. 6578.Courteous. 99. 6869.D.DAFFE, N. SAX. A fool . 4206. Thou dotest, DAFFE, quod she, dull are thy wittes. P. P. 6. b.DAGGE, n. A slip, or shred. R. 7212.DAGGED, part. pa. Cut into slips. P. 155 , col. 2, 44.DAGGING, n. slitting; cutting into slips. P. 155, col. 2, 33.DAGON, n. A slip, or piece . 7333.DAMASCENE, pr. n. The country about Damascus. 14013.pr. n. 435. Joannes Mesue Damascenus, an Arabian Physician , in the vinth and ixth century. See Fabric. Bibl. Gr. t. xiii. p. 256.GLOSSARY. 463DAME, n. FR. LAT. Domina. Mistress, Lady. 7387. 7451.-Mother. 3260.DAMPNE, V. FR. To condemn. 5530. 5652.DAN, n. FR. LAT. Dominus. Lord; was a title commonly given to Monks. 12973. 13935, 6. See the n. on ver.9684. It is also prefixed by Chaucer to the names of other persons of all sorts. Dan Arcite. 2893. Dan Bur- nell. 15318. Dan Caton. 14977.DANCE, N. FR. The olde dance. 478. 12013. The old game.See R. 4300. T. iii. 696. The French have the same phrase. Elle sçait assez de la vieille danse. Cotgrave.DANGER, N. FR. A dangerous situation. In danger. 665.See the note; and R. 1470. -Coyness; sparingness. R. 1147. T. ii. 384. With danger. 6103. Sparingly.DANGEROUS, adj. Difficult; sparing. 519. 5733.DANTE, pr. n. 6708. 14771. L. W. 360. F. i. 450. See the n.on ver. 6710. and Gloss. in v. LAVENDER.DAPPLE-GRAY. 13813. The colour which is called in FR.Pommelé. See ver. 618.DARE, V. SAX. To stare. 13033.DARES, pr. n. of a supposed Historian of the Trojan war.F. iii. 379. Du. 1070.DARREINE, V. FR. Desrener. LAT. Derationare. To con- test. 1611. 1633.DART, N. SAX. A spear, or javelin. The dart is sette up for virginitee. 5657. There is an allusion to the same custom in Lydg. Trag. 26.And oft it happeneth, he, that hath best ron,Doth not the spere like his desert possede.DASEN, pr. t. pl. of Dase, v. SAX. Grow dim- sighted.16980.DAUNT, V. FR. To conquer. P. 152 , col. 1 , 1. 10. R. 4764.That ne with love may daunted be. Orig. 4444. Quipar amours ne soit domptez.DAWE, v. SAX. To dawn. 1678. 9716.DAWENING, n. SAX. Day-break. 14888. L. W. 2183.Dawes, n. pl. for DAYES. 11492. The Saxon 3 is frequently expressed by w as well as by y.DAYE, n. SAX. Day; Time. 9012. At my day. 16495. At the day appointed to me. To graunt him dayes of the remenant. 11879. To permit him to pay the remainder at certain days, by instalments.DEAURAT, part. pa. LAT. Gilded. B. K. 598.DEBATE, V. FR. To fight. 13797.DEBONAIRE, adj. FR. Courteous. M. 118, col. 2, 1. 37.Gentle. Bo. i. m. 5.DECOPED, part. pa. FR. Cut down. R. 843.DECORATE, pr. n. Decoratus. Bo. iii. pr. 4.DEDE, V. SAX. To grow dead. F. ii. 44.part. pa. Dead. 7090.DEDLEY, adj. SAX. Devoted to death. 11352. Bo. v. pr. 6.DEDUIT, n. FR. Pleasure. 2179.DEFAIT, DEFAITED, part. pa. FR. Wasted. T. V. 618.DEFAME, n. FR. Infamy. 14467.V. FR. To make infamous. 3149.Defaute, n. FR.Defects. 7392.Want. Bo. iii. pr. 3. Defautes, pl.DEFENDE, V. FR. To forbid. 7416. 16938.-To ransom. R. 7088.DEFENCE, n. FR. Prohibition. T. iii. 138.DEFINISHE, V. FR. To define; to make a definition of.Bo. v. pr. 1.DEGREE, n. FR. A stair, or set of steps. R. 45. - Rank in life. 9901.DEIDEN, pa. t. pl. of DEYE, v. SAX. Died. 7483.DEINE for DEIEN, inf. m. of DEYE, U. SAX. To die. L. W. 1179.DEINOUS, adj. FR. Disdainful. 3930.DEINTEE, n. FR. Value; a thing of value. Hath deintee.4559. Values highly. Told no deintee of. 5790. Set no value upon. It was deintee. 8988. It was a valuable thing. See also T. ii. 164.DEINTEOUS, adj. Choice; valuable. 8141.DEIS, N. FR. See the n. on ver. 372.DEL, n. SAX. A part. Never a del. 3066. Not a bit. Every del. 3369. Every part.DELE, V. SAX. To divide. 7831.DELIBERE, V. FR. To deliberate. M. 118, col. 2, 1. 12. T. iv. 169.DELICACIE, N. FR.DELICES, n. pl. FR.Pleasure. 14597.Delights. 15471.DELIE, adj. FR. Delié. Thin; slender. Bo. i. pr. 1.DELIT, N. FR. Delight. 7457.DELITABLE, adj. FR. Delectable. 7938. 8075.DELIVER, adj. FR. Nimble. 84. Conf. Am. 177. b.DELIVERLY, adv. Quickly. 15422.DELIVERNESS , n. FR. Agility . M. 110, col. 1, 1. 66.DELVE, v. SAX. To dig. 538.DELUVY, N. LAT.DEMAINE, V. FR.n. FR.Deluge. Bo. ii . pr. 6.To manage. F. ii. 451.Management. 14583.DEME, V. SAX. To judge. 1353 .DEMONIAK, n. FR. One possest by a devil. 7822.DENT, n. SAX. Astroke. F. ii. 26. See DINT.DENWERE, n. Doubt. Sk. This interpretation suits well enough with the only passage in which I have found this word. T. L. i. 323. b. but I should be glad to see some other instance of the use of it.De par dieuxjeo assente. 4459. In God's name I agree.DEPART, V. FR. To part; to distribute. 7796.DEPEINT, part. pa. FR. Painted. 12884.DEQUACE, v. To shake down . q? T. L. ii. 327. b.DERE, V. SAX. To hurt. 1824. 10554. 14007.adj. SAX. Dear. 2455.DERELING, n. SAX. Darling. 3791.DEREWORTH, adj. Sax. Precious; valued at a high rate.Bo. ii. pr. 1.DERNE, adj. SAX. Secret. 3200. 3297.DERRE, comp. of DERE. Dearer. 1450. T. i. 174.DES, F. iii. 270. AS DEIS.DESCENSORIE, n. FR. A vessel used in Chemistry for the extraction of oils per descensum. 16260.DESCRIVEN, inf. m. FR. To describe. 10354.DESIROUS, adj. FR. Eager. 10337.DESOLAT, part. pa. LAT. Abandoned; distressed. 6285.DESPITE, n. FR. Malicious anger. 949.DESPITOUS, adj.DESPITOUSLY, adv.DESPOILE, V. FR.Angryto excess. 6340.Angrily. 8411 .To undress. 8250.DESTREINE, V. FR. To vex; to constrain. 1818. 17110.DESTRER, N. FR. A war-horse. LAT. Dextrarius. 13841.DESTRIE, DESTRUIE, v. FR. To destroy. 1332. 17110.- C. D. 1605. Descried should be Destried.DETERMINAT, part. pa. LAT. Fixed; determined. 7041.DETTELES, adj. Free from debt. 584.DEVE, adj. SAX.DEVINING, n. FR.DEVISE, n. FR.Deaf. 15754.Divination. 2523.Direction. 818. R. 1974.V. FR. To direct; to order. 1418. 1427.-To relate.7486. 7928.-At point devise. 3689. A point devisé. FR.With the greatest exactness.DEVOIR, N. FR. Duty, 2600. Wele thei stode and did ther DEVERE. P. L. 331.DEY, n. See the n. on ver. 14852.DEYE, U. SAX. To die. 6987. 7210 .DEYER, n. SAX. ADyer. 364.DIAPRED, part. pa. FR. Diversified with flourishes, &c.2160. R. 934.DICHE, v. SAX. To dig; to surroundwith a ditch. L.W. 708.DIDE for DIEDE. 6547.- pa. t. of Do. v. SAX. 3421. DIDEN, pa. t. pl. 7073. 12901 .DIE, v. SAX. To tinge. R. 1705.DIETE, n. FR. Daily food. 437.DIFFAME, n. FR. Bad reputation. 8416. 8606. See DEFAME.DIGESTABLE, adj. LAT. Easy to be digested. 439.DIGESTIVES, n. pl. FR. Things to help digestion. 14967.DIGHT, V. SAX. To dispose. 14447.- To dress. 6349. 17261 .See ver. 10235.DIGNE, adj. FR. Worthy. 2218. 5198. -Proud; disdainful . 519.DIKE, V. SAX. To dig; to make ditches. 538.DILATATION, n. FR. Enlargement. 4652.DINT, n . SAX. as DENT. Thonder-dint. 5858. T. V. 1504.A stroke of thunder.DIOSCORIDES, pr. n. of a Greek writer on Plants, whose work is extant. 432.464 GLOSSARY.DISARRAY, N. FR. Disorder. P. 168 , col. 1 , 1. 62.DISAVAUNCE, v. FR. To drive back. T. ii . 511.DISAVENTURE, n. Fr. Misfortune. T. iv. 297.DISBLAME, V. FR. To clear from blame. T. ii. 17.DISCOMFITURE, n. FR. Defeat. 1010.DISCOMFORT, n. FR. Displeasure. 11208.DISCOMFORTEN, v. FR. To discourage. 2706.DISCOVERTE, adj. FR. At discoverte. P. 162 , col. 2, 1. 51.Uncovered. A descouvert.DISDEINOUS, adj. FR. Disdainful. R. 7412.DISENCRESE, n. FR. Diminution. B. K. 203.v. neut. FR. To decrease. Bo. v. pr. 6.DISFIGURE, n. FR. Deformity. 6542.DISHERITED, part. pa. FR. Disinherited; stripped of pos- sessions. 2928. L. W. 1063.DISHEVELE, part. pa. Fn. With hair hanging loose. 685.Deschevelé.DISJOINT, n . FR. A difficult situation. 2964. 13341.DISOBEISANT, part. pa. FR. Disobedient. A. F. 429.DISORDEINED, part. pa. FR. Disorderly. P. 165, col. 2, 1. 5.DISORDINATE, adj. LAT. Disorderly. P. 168. col. 1 , 1. 14.DISORDINAUNCE, n. FR. Irregularity. F. i. 27.DISPARAGE, n. FR. A disparagement. 8784.DISPENCE, n. FR. Expence. 443. 6845.DISPERANCE, n. FR. Despair. T. ii . 530.DISPITOUS, adj. Angry to excess. 518. See DESPITOUS.DISPLESANCE, n. FR. Displeasure. R. 3436.DISPONE, V. LAT. To dispose. Bo. iv. pr. 6.DISPORT, N. FR. Deport. Sport; diversion. 777.บ. To divert. T. iii. 1139.DISPREISING, part. pa. FR. Undervaluing. M. 116, col. 1, 1. 34.DISPUTISON, n. FR. Dispute. 9348. 11202. The clergie of the south made a DISPUTESOUN. P. L. 300.DISRULILY, adv. Irregularly. R. 4900.DISSIMULE, V. FR. To dissemble. 17296.DISSIMULINGS, n. pl. FR. Dissemblings. 10599.DISSONED, part. pa. FR. Dissonant. R. 4248.DISTAINE, V. FR. To discolour; to take away the colour.T. ii. 840. L. W. 274.DISTINCT, V. LAT. To distinguish. R. 6199.DISTINGUED, part. pa. FR. Distinguished. Bo, ii. pr. 5.DISTOURBLED, pa. t. FR. Disturbed. R. 1713.DISTREYNE, n. FR. To constrain. P. 148, col. 2, 1. 25. See DESTREINE.DISTROUBLE, v. FR. To disturb. P. 148, col. 1 , 1. 22. Du. 524.DISTURNE, V. FR. To turn aside. T. iii. 719.DITE, V. FR. To dictate; to write. R. 6786.DITES, n. pl. FR. Sayings, ditties. F. ii. 114.DITUS, pr. n. Dictys Cretensis. F. iii. 379.DIVERSE, adj. FR. Different. 4631." v. To diversify. T. iii. 1758 .DIVINE, n. for Divinity. R. 6488.DIVINISTRE, N. FR. A divine. 2813.Do, v. SAX. See the Essay, &c. n. 37.for DoN, part. pa. M. 120, col . 1, 1. 34.DOAND, part. pr. Doing. R. 2708.DOGEREL, adj. derived , I suppose, from Dog; so that Rime- dogerel in ver. 13853. may be understood to mean what in French might be called Rime de chien. See Cotgrave,in v. CHIEN. " Chose de chien; A paultrie thing; atrifle; trash, trumperie. "DOGGE FOR THE BOWE. 6951 , 9888. Adeg used in shooting.DOKE, n. SAX. A duck. 3576.DOLE, n. SAX. as DEL. R. 2364.--, n. FR. Grief, mourning. R. 2959.DOLVEN, part. pa. of DELVE, v. SAX. Buried. 4070.DOMBE, adj. SAX. Dumb. 776.DOME, n. SAX. Judgement, opinion . 10989.DOMESMAN, n. Sax. Ajudge. 14408.DONET, n. A grammar; the elements of any art; from Ælius Donatus, a Roman Grammarian, whose introduc- tion to the Latin language ( inter Gramm. Vet. Putsch. p.1735. ) was commonly read in schools. T. L. ii. fol. 338.Then drave I me among drapers, my DONET to lerne.P. P. 23. b.DONмOW, pr. n. 5799. See the note; and P. P. 44. b.DONNE, DON. adj. Sax.908. A. F. 334.Of a brown or dun colour. T. ii.DORMANT, part. pr. FR. Fixed; ready. 355. Les vaisseaux qui là dormoient à l'ancre. Froissart, v. iii . c. 52.DORTOUR, n. FR. A dormitory, or common sleeping- room . 7437.DOSEIN, n. FR. A dozen. 580.DOSSER, n. FR.iii. 850.A basket to be carried on the back. F.DOTE, v. SAX. To be foolish, through age or otherwise.9315. 16451.DоTH, imp. m. 2 per. pl. of Do. 6631. Do ye.DOUCED. F. iii. 131. may perhaps be a corruption ofDoucete,which is the name of a musical instrument, in a poem of Lydgate's. MS. Bodl. Fairf. 16." There were trumpes and trumpetes," Lowde shallys and DOUCETES. "DOUGHTREN, n. pl. SAX. Daughters. 41835.DOUTANCE, n. FR. Doubt. T. iv. 963.DOUTE, V. FR. To fear. R. 1089.DOUTELEES, DOUTELES, adv. Without doubt. 2669. 4511 .DOUTOUS, adj. Doubtful. T. iv. 992.D'outre mere. FR. From beyond sea. Du. 253.DOWAIRE, n. FR. Dower. 8724.DRADDE, DRAD, pa. t. & part. of DREDE, v. SAX. Feared.15483. 7945.A sack full of draffe.DRAF, n. SAX. Things thrown away, as unfit for man's food. 17346.DRAF- SAK. 4204 .DRAFTY, adj. SAX.DRAGGES, n. pl. FR.Of no more value than draffe. 13851.Drugs. 428.DREDE, n. SAX. Fear; Doubt. Withouten drede. 4449.Without doubt. Out ofdrede. 5313. Out of doubt.DREDEFUL, adj.DREDELES, adv.v. SAX. To fear. 2595. DRED. pa. t. 8056. for DRAD.Timorous. 1481. 11621.Without doubt. T. i . 1035.DREINT, pa. t. & part. of DRENCHE . Drowned. 11690. 3520.DRENCHE, v. SAX. To drown. 3617.v. neut. SAX. To be drowned. 3521. 5343.DRERINESSE, n. Sax. Sorrow. R. 4728.DRERY, adj. SAX. Sorrowful. T. i. 13.DRESSE, V. FR. To address; apply. 8883.DRETCHE, v. act. SAX. To vex; to trouble. T. ii. 1471.DRETCHED, part. pa. Oppressed; troubled. 14893. Conf.Am. 79.DRETCHE, v. neut. Sax. To delay. T. ii. 1264. iv. 1446.Conf. Am. 178.DRETCHING, N. Delay. T. iii. 855.DRIE, v. SAX. To suffer. R. 4390. 7484. T. v. 264. 296.DRIFE, V. SAX. To drive. R. 1874.DRINKELES, adj. SAX. Without drink. T. ii. 718.DRONKELEW, adj. SAX. Given to drink. 7625. 12429. P.P.41.DRONKEN, part. pa. of DRINK, v. SAX. Drunk. 7481.DROUGH, pa. t. of DRAW, v. SAX. Drew. T. V. 1557. L. W. 1457.DROVY, adj. SAX. Dirty. P. 165, col. 1 , 1. 63.DRUERIE, n. FR. Courtship; gallantry. 13823. R. 844.- Amistress. R. 5064. See Du Cange, in v. Drudaria.The reader may perhaps be not displeased to see the fol- lowing description of a Drut, or Lover, by Guillem Aesmar a Provençal poet. MS. Crofts. fol. ccxvIII.Ben paoc ama drut, qi non es gelos ,Et paoc ama, qi non est airos,Et paoc ama, qi non es solettis ,Et paoc ama, qi non fa tracios;Mais vaut d amor qi ben est enveios Un dolz plorar non fait qatorze ris.Qant eu li quier merce en genoillos ,E la mi colpa et mi met ochaisos,Et I aigua m cur aval per mer lo vis,Et ela m fai un regard amoros,Et eu li bais la bucha els ols amdos,Adonc mi par un ioi de paradis.DRUGGE, V. SAX. To drag. 1418.DUBBED, part. pa. SAX . Created a knight. P. 164, col. 1 ,1. 24. The phrase is derived from the stroke, with asword or otherwise, which was always a principal cere- mony at the creation of a knight. At Dubban, Island.signifies to strike. This stroke in French was called La colée. See L'Ordene de Chevalerie, par Hue de Tabarie,GLOSSARY. 465ver. 244. seq. published by M. Barbazan. 1759. and Du Cange, in v. ALAPA MILITARIS.DUETEE, n. FR. Duty; what is due to any one. 6934. 6973.DULLE, v. act. SAX. To make dull. 16561 .v. neut. SAX. To grow dull. R. 4792.Dun is in the mire. 16954. See Ray's Proverbial Similies,p. 219. As dull as Dun in the mire. I suppose Dun was a nickname given to the Ass, from his colour, as well as Burnell. See the n. on ver. 15318.DURE, V. FR. To endure. 1362. 11148.DURESSE, n. FR. Hardship; severity. R. 3547.DUSKED, pa. t. SAX. Grew dark, or dim. 2808.DUTEE. 3062. as DUETEE.DWALE, N. SAX. A sleeping-potion. 4159. C. L. 998.EMPLASTRE, V. FR. To plaister over. 10171.EMPLIE, v. To infold; to involve. Bo. v. m. 1. Implicat.Orig.EMPOISONER, n. FR. A poisoner. 12828.EMPRESSE, v. neut. FR. To crowd. 9452. 16539.EMPRISE, n. FR. Undertaking. 2542.EMPTE, V. SAX. To empty. 16209.ENBATTELLED, part. pa. FR. Indented, like a battlement.14866.ENBIBING, part. pr. LAT. Imbibing. 16282.ENBOSED, part. pa. FR.Du. 353.Embosqué. Sheltered in a wood.ENBOSSED, part. pa. FR. Embossé. Raised. L. W. 1198.ENBRACE, V. FR. To take hold of. 8288.DWELLINGS, n. pl. SAX.DWINED, part. pa. SAX.Delays. Bo. i. m. 1. Moras. Orig.Wasted. R. 360.E.EARED, part. pa. Ploughed. F. i. 485. See ERE.EBRAIKE, adj. Hebrew. 4909.ECCLESIAST, n. An ecclesiastical person. 710. - The book of Ecclesiastes, or Ecclesiasticus. 6233.ECHE, adj. SAX. Elce. Each one, every one, of any num- ber. 39. 662. 1134.v. SAX. To add. F. iii. 975,-Toadd to; to encrease T. i. 706.EDIPPE, pr. n. Œdipus. T. iv. 300.EFFECT, n. FR. Substance. 7033. 9272.EFT, adv. SAX. Again. 1671. 5212. 10945.EFTSONE, EFTSONES, adv. SAX. Soon after; presently.3489. 5329. 6390 .EGALITEE, N. FR. Equality. P. 169, col. 1 , 1. 5.EGER, EGRE, adj. FR. Sharp. P. 148, col. 2 , 1. 60. R. 217.EGGE, v. SAX. To incite. P. 169, col. 1 , 1. 68.EGGEMENT, n. SAX. Incitement. 5262.EGGING, n. 10009. as EGGEMENT.EGREMOINE, n. FR. Agrimony. 16268.EIRE for AIRE. 3473.EISEL, n. SAX. Vinegar. R. 217. But see Br. Ro. cxIV.Vynegar aysell other alegar.—And cxv. Vynegar other aysell.ELAT, part. pa. LAT. Elated. 14173.ELDE, n. SAX. Old age. 6797. 10054.v. SAX. To make old. R. 391 , 2.—v. neut. Togrow old. R. 395.ELENGE, adj. Strange. 6781. See the note; but I much distrust the etymology there proposed from Gloss. Ur.In ver. 13152, it seems to signify Dull, Chearless; as in P. P. 111. b. Hevy- chered I yede, and ELENGE in herte.And so perhaps it should be understood in the passages quoted from C. N. 115. and P. P. 3 b. and 46 b.ELENGENESSE, n. R. 7406. in the Orig. Soucy; Care;trouble.ELFE, n. SAX. A witch. 5174.-A faery. 6455.ELF-QUENE, n. Queen of elves or faeries. 6442. 13720, 4.ELI, pr. n. 7472. seems to be put for ELIE. See 1 Kings, c. 19.ELIE, pr. n. Elijah. 7698. The Carmelites pretend that Elijah was the founder of their order.ELISEE, pr. n. Elisha, the disciple of Elijah. 7698.ELLES, adv. SAX. Else. 377. 1153. Elles what. F. iii. 651.Elleswher. 2115. 13520. Elsewhere.Faery-like; fantastick. 16219. 16310.- seems to signifie shy, reserved.Any thing else.ELVISH, adj. SAX.In ver. 13633, it EMBELISE, V. FR. To beautifie. L. W. 1735.EMBOLDE, V. FR. To make bold. C. L. 1147.EMBOYSsem*nT, n. FR. Ambush. M. 112, col. 2, 1. 65.EMBROUDED, part. pa. FR. Embroidered. 89. L. W. 119.EME, n. SAX. Uncle. T. ii. 162.EMFORTH, prep. SAX. Even with. EMFORTH my might.2237. Even with my might; with all my power. EмM- FORTH my wit. T. ii. 243. To the utmost of my understanding. It is a corruption of efenfopo, which occurs at length in P. P. 66. b. EVENFORTH with thyselfe, and 108. b. He did equitiefor all , EVENFORTH his power.EMPEIRE, V. FR. To impair; hurt. 10072.EMPERICE, n. FR. Empress. 6828. 11360.ENBRAUDE, V. FR. To embroider. L. W. 2340.ENCENSE, n. FR. Incense. 2279.V. FR. To burn incense. 15863. To burn incense to. 15880.ENCHAUFING, n. FR. Heat. P. 168, col. 1 , 1. 17.ENCHESON, n. FR. Cause; occasion. 10770. M. 116 , col. 2, 1. 48.ENCORPORING, part. pr. FR. Incorporating. 16283.ENDELONG, prep. Sax. Along. 2680. 11304. -adv. Length- ways. 1993.ENDETTED, part. pa. FR. Indebted. 16202.ENDITE, V. FR. To dictate; relate. 2743.ENDOUTE, V. FR. To doubt; to fear. R. 1664.ENDRIE, v. SAX. To suffer. C. L. 727. 941 .ENEE, pr. n. Æneas. 4484.ENEIDOS, pr. n. Virgil's Eneis. 15365.ENFAMINED, part. pa. FR. Hungry. L. W. 2418.ENFECTE, V. FR. To infect. 16441.part. pa. Infected. C. L. 217.ENFORCE, V. FR. To strengthen. 5922.ENFORCED, part. pa. Constrained by force. P. 169, col . 2, 1. 18.ENFORTUNE, V. FR. To endow with a certain fortune.C. M. 106.ENGENDRURE, n. FR. Generation, 5716. 5719.ENGINED, part. pa. FR. Racked; tortured. 15066.ENGLUTING. 16234. Rather ENLUTING. Stopping with clay.ENGREGGE, V. FR. To aggravate. P. 169, col . 2, 1. 32.ENGREVE. V. FR. To hurt. R. 3444.ENHAUNSE, V. FR. To raise. 1436.ENHAUNSED, part. pa. Raised. 9248.ENHORT, V. FR. To exhort. 2853.ENLACED, part. pa. FR. Entangled. Bo. v. pr. 1.ENLANGOURED, part. pa. FR. Faded with languor. R. 7399.ENLEVEN, num. SAX. Eleven. 17317.ENLUMINE, V. FR. To illuminate. 7909.ENOINT, part. pa. FR. Anointed. 2963.ENSELED, part. pa. FR. Sealed up; kept secret . T. v. 151 .ENSPIRE, V. FR. To inspire. 6.ENSURE, V. FR. To assure. 12077. 12971 .ENTAILE, n. FR. Shape. R. 162. 3711.ENTAILED, part. pa. FR. Carved. R. 140.ENTALENTE, V. FR. To excite. Bo. v. pr. 5.ENTEND, V. FR. To attend. 5857. 11001 .ENTENDEMENT, n. FR. Understanding. T. iv. 1696.ENTENTE, n. FR. Intention. 1489.ENTENTIF, adj. FR. Attentive. 9165.ENTERCHANGEDEN, pa. t. pl. FR. Exchanged. T. iii. 1374.ENTERMEDLED, part. pa. FR. Intermixed . R. 906.ENTERMETE, V. FR. To interpose . 6416. R. 2966.ENTERPART, v. FR. To share. T. i. 593.ENTETCHED, part. pa. FR. Entaché. It is applied indiffer- ently to things and persons marked, or endowed, with good or bad qualities. Entetched and defouled with yvel.Bo. iv. pr. 3. Stained and defiled with evil.-The best entetched. T. v. 832. Endowed with the best qualities.ENTREE, n. FR. Entry. 1985.ENTREMEES, n. pl. FR. Choice dishes served in betweenthe courses at a feast. Cotg. " R. 6831.ENTRIKE, V. FR. To deceive. R. 1642.To intangle. A. F. 403.ENTUNED, part. pa. FR. Tuned. 123.ENTUNES, n. pl. FR. Songs; tunes. Du. 309.ENVENIME, V. FR. To poison. 6056.ENVENIMING, n. Poisoning. 9934.ENVIE, V. FR. To vie; to contend. 5724. Du. 406.H H466 GLOSSARY.ENVIRON, adv. FR. About. C. L. 1031. Conf. Am. 139. b.V. FR. To surround. R. 7067.ENVOLUPED, part. pa. FR. Wrapt up. 12876.ENVYNED. See the n. on ver. 344.Epistolis, LAT. Epistles. 4475.EQUIPOLENCES, n. pl. FR. Equivalents. R. 7126.ER, adr. SAX. Before. 3787. - Before that. 4193. 2639.ERANDE, n. SAX. A message; an errand. Du. 134.ERE, . FR. To plough. 888.EREOS for EROS, pr. n. GR. Love. 1376.ERKE, adj. SAX. Weary; sick. R. 4867.ERLY, adv. SAX. Early. 811. 2491.ERME, V. SAX. To grieve. 12246.ERMEFUL. See the n, on ver. 12236.ERMIN, adj. Armenian. 14344.ERNEST, n. SAX. Zeal; studious pursuit of any thing.L. W. 1285.ERNESTFUL, adj. Serious. 9051. T. ii . 1727.ERRATIKE, adj. FR. Wandering; applied to the Planets.T. v. 1811.ERRAUNT, part. pr. FR. Strolling; applied to a thief.17173 ERS, ERSE, n. SAX. The fundament 3732. 7272.ERST, adv. superl. of ER. First. 778. At erst. At first;for the first time. 8861. 15732. 13624. -It is sometimes redundant. Long erst or. 12596. Long before.ERTHELES, adj. SAX. Without earth. T. iv. 770.ESCHAUNGE, n. FR. Exchange. T. iv. 146.ESCHEVE, ESCHUE, v. FR. To shun; to decline. 9686.C.N. 114.ESCULAPIUS, pr. n. 431. A book of Medicine, under his name, is mentioned by Fabric. Bibl. Gr. t . i. p. 56. n. *.ESE, . FR. Pleasure. 5709.v. To accommodate. 2196.ESED, part. pa. 2672. See the n. on ver. 29.Esem*nT, n. Relief. 4177. 4184.ESIE, adj. Gentle; light. Esie sighes. T. iii . 1369. which passage Lord Surry has copied. Songes, &c. p. 12. “ And easy sighes, such as folkes draw in love. "ESTER, comp. d. Lighter. Of esier avail. C. L. 116. Of lighter, or less value.ESILICH, adv. Gently. T. i. 317.ESPERUS, pr. n. Hesperus; a name of the Planet Venus.B. K. 613.ESPIAILLE, n. FR. Spying; private watching. 6905. M. 112,col. 2 , 1. 65.ESPIRITUELL, adj. FR. Spiritual; heavenly. R. 650. 672.ESSOINE, n. FR. A legal excuse. P. 149, col . 2 , 1. 45.ESTAT, ESTATE, n. FR. State; condition. 203. 524.-Ad- ministration of government. 7600.ESTATELICH, adj.ESTRES, n. pl. FR.Stately. 140.The inward parts of a building. 1973.4293. R. de la R. 13267. Car il sçet de l' Hostel les estres.ETERNE, adj. LAT. Everlasting. 1306.ETHE, adj. SAX. Easy. R. 3955. T. v. 850.EVANGILES, n. pl. FR. Gospels. 5086.EVEN, adj. SAX. Equal. An even-cristen. P. 155, col. 1 ,1. 30. 159, col. 2, 1. 57. A fellow-christian.EVENLIKE, adj. SAX. Equal. Bo. iv. m. 6.adv. Equally. Bo. iv. pr. 2.EVER, adj. SAX. Always. Ever in on. 1773. 3878. Conti- nually in the same manner. Ever lenger the more.10718. 11772. See P. 170, col. 1 , 1. 30. where this elliptical phrase is expressed at length.EVERICH, adj. SAX. Every one ofmany. 373. 2194.Each oftwo. 1188. 2098. 2101. 6986.Ew, n. SAX. Yew. 2925.EXALTAT, part. pa. LAT. Exalted. 6286.EXAMETRON. 13985. is explained by the context to signifie a verse ofsixfeet. It usually signifies the Heroic verse,but here, I suppose, must be understood to mean the Iambic, in which the antient Tragedies were " communly versified."EXECUTOUR, n. FR. Executioner. 7592.EXECUTRICE, n. FR. A female executioner. T. iii. 618.EXORCISATIONS, n. pl. FR. Exorcisms; conjurations.F. iii. 173.EXPANS YERES. 11587. "In this and the following verses,the Poet describes the Alphonsine Astronomical tables by the several parts of them, wherein some technical terms occur, which were used by the old astronoiners,and continued by the compilers of those tables. Collect years are certain sums of years, with the motions of the heavenly bodies corresponding to them, as of 20, 40, 60,&c. disposed into tables; and Expans years are the single years, with the motions of the heavenly bodies answering to them, beginning at 1 , and continued on to the smallest Collect sum, as 20, &c. A Root, or Radix,is any certain time taken at pleasure, from which, as an era, the celestial motions are to be computed. By Pro- porcionel convenientes are meant the Tables of Propor- tional parts. " Gloss. Ur. "Argument in astronomy is an arch wherebywe seek another unknown arch propor- tional to the first. " Chambers.EXPECTAUNT, part. pr. FR. Waiting. R. 4571.EXPLEITE, V. FR. To perform. R. €174.EY, n. SAX. An egg. 14851. 16274. But as it were a grypes eye. Conf. Am. 22.interj. 10165.EYEN, n. pl. SAX. Eyes. 152. 201.EYRE for AIR. F. ii . 419.EYRISH, adj. Aerial, belonging to the air. F. ii. 424. 457.F.FABLE, N. FR. Idle discourse. R. 1439. 6603.FACONDE, n. FR. Eloquence. A. F. 558.adj. Eloquent. Du. 926. A. F. 521.FAERIE, N. FR. The nation of Faeries. 6441. See the note.-Enchantment; the work of Faeries. 9617. 10515. King ofFaeric. 13101 , 8. Quene of Faerie. 10190. Contree of Faerie. 13731.FAIN, adj. SAX. Glad. 13241. Than was I as FAYNE as foule offayre morowe. P. P. 47. b.adv. Gladly. 9949.FAINE, V. FR. To feign; to dissemble. R. 3089. To swinke and travail he not faineth. R. 5685. He does not feign,or pretend, only to labour; i. e. he labours seriously.FAIREHEDE, N. SAX. Beauty. R. 2484.FAITOUR, N. FR. Alazy, idle fellow. P. P. 32. b. 33. b. Fai- tard, Faiteor, un paresseux, piger. Lacombe.FALDING, n. 392. 3212. "A kind of coarse cloth. SK."He derives it from the A. S. Feald, plica. However that may be, Helmoldus (Chron. Slav. 1. 1 , c. 1 , ) speaks of indumenta lanea, probably coarse enough, quæ nos appellamus FALDONES; and Fallin in Irish, according to Lhuyd, signifies a mantle. Giraldus Cambr. (Topog.Hibern. dist. 3, c. 10. ) describes the Irish as clothed in phalingis laneis, vice palliorum. "FALDYNG CLOTH.Amphibalus. Birrus. " Prompt. Parv. " ROW CLOTH,as FALDYNG and other lyke. Endromis. Amphibalus."Ibid. See Du Cange, in v. AMPHIBALUS.FALL for FALLEN, part. pa. P. 149, col. 1 , 1. 44.FALSEN, V. FR. To falsifie. 3175.-To deceive. R. 5416.FALWE, adj. SAX. Yellow. 1366 .FALWES, n. pl . SAX. Harrowed lands. 6238.FAMULAR, adj. LAT. Domestick. 9658.FAN, n. See the n. on ver. 16991 .FANDE, pa. t. of FINDE, v. SAX. Found, R. 2707.FANE, n. Aweatherco*ck. 8872. C. D. 79.FANTASIE, n. FR. Fancy. 9451 .FANTOME, n. FR. Any false imagination. 5457. Et dirent plusieurs qu'ils avoient été EN FANTOSME. Froissart, v. i.c. 63.FARCE, V. FR. Farder. To paint. R. 2285.FARDEL, n. FR. A burthen. R. 5683.FARE, V. SAX. To go. 1397. 12985. Tofare wel; To speed;to be happy. 2437.FAREN, FARE, part. pa. 7354. 7364. 13129.FARES for FARETH, 4021 .FARING, part. pr. 11244. 13948.FARE, n . seems to have been derived from the French v.Faire , whenever it can be interpreted by the word Ado.See ver. 1811. This hote FARE. ver. 3997. For which the wardein chidde and made FARE. ver. 4989. What amounteth all this FARE? ver. 13193. Betwixt us twoGLOSSARY. 467nedeth no strange FARE. T. iv. 532. And leve this nice FARE. In other instances it follows the sense of the Saxon v. Fare, as in the compound words Welfare,Thoroughfare, &c.FARME, N. SAX. Food; a meal. C. D. 1750. See Spelman,in v. Firma.FARSE, V. FR. Farcir. To stuff. 233.FATHE, n. F. iii. 1050. See LATHE.FAUTE, n. FR. Want. 10757.FAWE, adj. SAX. Glad. 5802. as FAIN.FAY, n. FR. Faith. 3284.FAYRE, adj. SAX. Fair. 204. 234.adv. Fairly; gracefully. 94. 275.FEBLESSE, n. FR. Weakness. T. ii. 863.FECCHE, V. SAX. To fetch. 6942. 7136.FEE, n. SAX. Money. 6212. In R. 6044. it seems to signifie inheritable possessions in contradistinction to money, or moveables.FEFFE, V. FR. To infeoff; to present. T. v. 1688. C. L. 932.FEINE, V. FR. To feign. 738.FEL, adj. SAX. Cruel; destructive. 7584. 13758.FELAW, n. SAX. Fellow; companion. 6967.FELAWSHIP, n. Sax. Company. 476.FELAWSHIPE, v. To accompany. Bo. iv. m. 1. pr. 3.FELDE, n SAX. A field. 1524.FELDEN, pa. t. pl. of FELLE, v. SAX. Felled; made to fall.R. 911.FELE, adj. SAX. Many. 8793. C. L. 191.v. SAX. To feel. 6088. To have sense. 11039. To perceive. 15623.FELL, N. SAX. Skin. T. i . 91.FELONIE, n. FR. All sorts of criminal violence. 1998.FELOUN, adj. FR. Cruel. R. 3250.FEMINIE, pr. n. The country of Amazons. 868. See the note.FEMININITEE, n. FR. Womanhood. 4780.FEND, n. SAX. An enemy; the devil. 5200. 7030.FENDLICHE, adj. Devilish . 5171 , 5203.FENNE, n. 12824. The name of the Sections of Avicenne's great work, entitled Canun. See CANON.FEOFFED, part. pa. FR. Infeoffed. 9572.FER, adv. SAX. Far. 4013. 5078.FERRE, Comp. 48. 1852. 2062. Further.FERREST, superl. 496. Furthest.FERD, FERED, part. pa. of FERE. Terrified. 15392 , 16392.T. ii. 124.FERDE, pa. t. of FARE. 1374. 3457. 10775.FERDEN, pa. t. pl. 1649. 2119.FERE, n. SAX. A companion; a wife. T. iv. 791. In fere.4748. 4814. Together; in company.for FIRE. R. 2471. T. i . 229.n. SAX. Fear. 2346. 6604.v. SAX. To terrifie. T. iv. 1483.FERFORTH, FERFORTHLY, adv. SAX. Far forth. 962. 4992.FERLY, adj. SAX. Strange. 4171 .FERMACIE for PHARMACIE, n. FR. A medicine. 2715.FERME, n. FR. A farm. 253.FERMERERE, n. LAT. Infirmarius. The officer, in areligious house, who had the care of the infirmary.7441. Du Cange, in v.FERNE, adv. SAX. Before. 10570. See the note.FERS, adj. FR. Fierce. 1600.n. Du. 654. seq. The piece at chess next to the king, which we and other European nations call the queen; though very improperly, as Hyde has observed.Pherz, or Pherzan, which is the Persian name for the same piece, signifies the King's Chief Counsellor, or General. Hist. Shahilud. p. 88, 9.FERTHING, n. SAX. A farthing; any very small thing. No ferthing- ofgrese. 134. Not the smallest spot of grease.FEST, n. SAX. Fist. 12736.FESTE, n. FR. Feast. 10375.FESTEYING, part. pr. FR. Feasting. 10659.FESTLICH, adj. Used to feasts. 10595.FECCHE, N. SAX. A vetch. T. iii. 938.FETE, N. FR. Work. 8305.FETISE, adj. Well made; neat. 157.FETISELY, adv. Neatly; properly. 124. 3205.FETTE, FET, part. pa, of FECCHE, 821. 2529. 5087.FEY, n. FR. Faith. L. W. 2508.FEYRE, N. FR. A fair, or market. 5803.FIAUNCE, n. FR. Trust. R. 5481 .FIDEL, N. SAX. A fiddle. 298.FILL for FELL, pa. t. of FALL. 1105. 2668.FINCH, N. SAX. A small bird. To pull a finch. 654. was aproverbial expression , signifying, To strip a man, by fraud, ofhis money. &c. See R. 5983.If I maygripe a riche man,I shall so pulle him, if I can,That he shall in a fewe stoundes Lese all his markes and his poundes.- Our maidens shall eke plucke him so,That him shall neden fethers mo.-See also R. 6820.Withoute scalding they hempulle.FIND, v. SAX. To find; to supply. 12471. See the n.FINT for FINDETH, 4069. 15686.FINE, FIN, n. FR. End. 4844. 9980.V. FR. To cease. 6718. R. 1797.adj. FR. Offine force. T. v. 421. Of very necessity.FIT, n. SAX. A division, or short portion ofa poem. 13816,See Gloss. Percy, in v.FITTINGEST, adj. sup. Sax. Most fitting. A. F. 551.FIXE, adj. FR. Fixed. 11594. 16247.FLAIE for FLEY, pa. t. of FLEE. Flew. C. N. 213.FLAINE, part. pa. of FLAIE, v. SAX. Flaied, or flead. P. 155, col. 2, 1. 62.FLAMBE, n. FR.FLATOUR, n. FR.Flame. T. v. 302.A flatterer. 15331. Conf. Am. 154. b.FLAWE, adj. Yellow; from the LAT. Flavus. C. L. 782. Gloss. Ur.FLECKED, adj. Spotted. 9722. 16033.FLECKERING, part. pr. 1964. See FLICKER.FLEE, v. neut. SAX. To Fly. 6102. 10436 .FLEEN, n. pl. SAX. Fleas. 16966.FLEME, U. SAX. To banish. 17131. R. 6781.FLEMED, part. pa. 15526.FLEMER, n. Banisher. 4880.FLETE, v. SAX. To float; to swim. 2399.for FLETETH. 4883.FLETING, part. pr. 1958.FLICKER, v . neut. SAX. To flutter. P. 166, col. 2, 1. 8.T. iv.1221 .FLIT, v. neut. SAX. To Fly. P. 154, col. 2. 1. 3. R. 5359.Ellefuit. Orig.v. act. R. 1812. To remove. 8.FLITTED, part. pa. Removed; shifted. T. v. 1543.FLITTERING, part. pr. Floating. Bo. iii. m. 9. Fiuitan- tis. Orig.FLO, n. SAX. An arrow. 17213. FLONE. pl. B. K. 469.FLOCKMEL, adv. SAX. In a flock. 7962.FLOREIN, pr. n. A species of gold coin. 12704.FLOTERY, adj. SAX. Floating. See the n. on v. 2885 FLOTTE, v. Bo. iii . pr. 11. as FLETE.V. FR. To float. Bo. iii. pr. 11.FLOURELES, adj. Without flower. C. D. 1860.FLOURETTE, n. FR. A small flower. R. 891 .FLOYTING. 91. Playing on the flute. See the note.FOINE, V. FR. To make a pass in fencing; to push. 1656. 2552.FOISON, n. FR. Abundance. 3165. 4924.FOLED, part. pa. Sax. Foaled. 7127.FOLEHARDINESS, n. FR. Rashness. Bo. i. pr. 3.FOLE- LARGE, adj. M. 117, col. 1, 1. 26. P. 165. col. 1 , 1. 56.Foolishly liberal.FOLIE, n. FR. Folly. 3148. 1800.FOLILY, adv. Foolishly. 9277. 15896.FOLWE, V. SAX. To follow. 530. 6165.FOLY, adj. Foolish. R. 5006. 5085.FOND, adi. SAX. Foolish. R. 5366.pa. t. of FIND. 3819. 10121.FONDE, v. SAX. To try. 4767. 9284. T. iii. 1161 FONG, V. SAX. To take. 4797.FONNE, n. SAX. A fool. 4087.v. To be foolish. C. L. 458.FONT- STONE, n. SAX. A font for baptizing. 5143.FOR, prep. SAX. Pro. LAT. Pour. FR. It is frequently prefixed to verbs in the infinitive mode, in the French HH 2468 GLOSSARY.manner. For to tellen . 73. For to don. 78. Pour dire;Pour faire. For to han ben. 754. Pour avoir été. —It sometimes signifies Against. For percing ofhis herte.13791. Against, or to prevent, piercing. For steling of the Rose. R. 4229. Against stealing. See P. P. 31.Some shall sow the sacke for sheding of the wheate. i. e.to prevent shedding.FOR, conj. SAX. Quia. LAT. Pour ce que. FR. Because that. FOR him luste to ride so. 102. FOR she wolde virtue plese. 8092. FOR I teche. 12374.-incomposition, has various powers. It is most com- monly intensive of the signification of the word with which it is joined; as in Fordronken , Fordry, Forfered,&c., sometimes privative , as in Forboden, Foryete; and sometimes only communicative of an ill sense, as in For- faite, Forfare, Forjuged, &c.For, FR. and Ver, BELG. have similar powers in com- position.FORBERE, v . SAX. To abstain. R. 4751.FORBODEN, part. pa. of FORBEDE, v . SAX. Forbidden. P. 166, col. 1 , 1. 32. R. 6616.FORBRAKE, pa . t . Broke off. Bo. iv. pr. 1. Abrupi. Orig.FORBRUSED, part. pa. FR. Sorely bruised. 14532 .FORCE, n. FR. Noforce. 7771. No matter. I do no force.6816. I care not. I do no force of your divinitee. 7094.I care not for your divinity. No force of deth. 8968.No matter for death. They yeve noforce. R. 4826. They care not. " Defruit avoir ne fait force. " Orig.FORCUTTE, V. SAX. To cut through. 17289.FORDO, V. SAX. To do away; to ruin. 13057.FORDON, FORDO, part. pa. Undone. 11866. 17239.FORDRIVE ( Fordriven) , part. pa. SAX. Driven away.R. 3782.FORDRONKEN, part. pa. SAX. Very drunken. 3122. 12608.FORDRY, adj. SAX. Very dry. 10723.FORDWINED, part. pa. Sax. Wasted away. R. 366.FORE, ( Foren), part. pa. of FARE, v. SAX. Gone. R. 2710.prep. Sax. is seldom used by itself. In composition it has the power of Before.FOREIN, n. L. W. 1960. A jakes. Gloss. Ur. from SK.The context seems rather to require that it should signifie An outward court, or garden.FOREWETING, n. SAX. Foreknowledge. 15249.FOREWOTE, FOREWETE, v. SAX. To foreknow. 15240.FORFAITE, V. FR. To misdo. P. 152, col. 1 , 1. 19.FOREFARE , v. SAX. To fare ill. R. 5388.FORFERED, part. pa. SAX. Much afraid. 10841. T. iv. 1411 .FORGIFTE, N. SAX. Forgiveness. L. W. 1851.FORGON, inf. v. SAX. To omit; to lose. 9959. 17244.FORGROWEN, part. pa. Sax. Overgrown. F. L. 45.FORJUGED, part. pa. FR. Wrongfully judged . B. K. 275.FORKERVE, V. SAX. To carve, or cut through. 17289.FORLAFT, part. pa. SAX. Left off entirely. 12017.FORLESE, v. SAX. To lose entirely. P. 164, col. 2, 1. 37.FORLETE, v. SAX. To give over; to quit. P. 148, col. 1 , 1. 49.FORLORE (Forloren) , part. pa. SAX. Utterly lost. 3505.FORLOYNE, n. FR. Forlonge. A term of the chase, which signifies that the gameis far off. Du. 386.FORME, adj. SAX. First. Adam oureforme father. M. 109,col. 2, 1. 2.FORMEST, adj. sup. Sax. First. Du. 890.FORMELL, A. F. 371. is put for the female of any fowl;more frequently for afemale eagle. See ver. 445. 535.FORPINED, part. pa. Sax. Wasted away; tormented.205. 1455.FORSAKE, v. SAX. To denie. Bo. ii. pr. 3, 4.FORSHAPEN, part. pa. SAX. Transformed. T. ii . 66.FORSHRONKE ( Forshronken) , part. pa. Sax. Shrunk up.F. L. 358.FORSLEUTHE, FORSLOUTHE, FORSLUGGE, v. SAX. To losethrough sloth. 15102. P. 162 , col. 1 , 1. 28.FORSONGEN, part. pa. Sax. Tired with singing. R. 664.FORSTER, N. FR. Aforester. 117.FORSTRAUGHT, part. pa. Sax. Distracted . 13035.FORTHBY, adv. SAX. Forward by. 13499. 13532.FORTHER, V. SAX. To further; to advance. T. ii. 1368.FORTHINKE, v. SAX. To grieve; to vex. 9780. T. ii. 1414.FORTHOUGHT, pa. t. of FORTHINKE, R. 1671 .FORTHREN, inf. m. of FORTHER, T. v. 1706.FORTHY, conj. SAX. Therefore. 1843.FORTRODEN, part. pa. of FORTREAD, v. SAX. Trodden down.P. 150 , col. 1 , 1. 53.FORTUIT, adj. FR. Accidental. Bo. v. pr. 1 .FORTUNE, V. FR. To make fortunate. 419. To give good or bad fortune. 2379.FORTUNOUS, adj. Proceeding from fortune. Bo. ii. pr. 3, 4.FORWAKED, part. pa. Sax. Having waked long. 5016.FORWANDRED, part. pa. SAX. Having wandered long- R. 3336.FORWELKED, part. pa. SAx. Much wrinkled. R. 360.FORWEPT, part. pa. Having much wept. C. D. 1833.FORWERED, part. pa. Sax. Worn out. R. 235.FORWERIE, adj. SAX. Very weary. R. 3336.FORWORD, (Foreword), n. SAX. A promise, or covenant.831 , 854.FORWOUNDED, part. pa. Sax. Much wounded. R. 1830.FORWRAPPED, part. pa . Wrapped up, 12652. P. 153, col. 1, 1.35.FORYELDE, v. SAX. To repay. 8707. L. W. 457.FORYETE, v. SAX. To forget . 1884.FORYETTEN, part. pa. 3055.FOSTER, n. FR. R. 6329. as FORSTER.FOSTRED, part. pa. of FOSTER, v. SAX. Nourished. 8916 , 9.FOSTRING, n. Nutriment. 7427.FOTE- HOT. 4858. Immediately. See the n. and add to the instances there quoted. Du. 375.FOTE MANTEL. 474. means, I suppose, a sort of riding-petti- coat, such as is now used by market-women.FOTHER, n. SAX. A carriage- load; an indefinite large quantity. 532. 1910.FOUDRE, n. FR. Lightning. F. ii. 27.FOULE, n. SAX. A bird . 10463.FOUND, pa. t. of FIND. Supplied. 12471. See the n.FOUNDE, v. An. 244. as FONDE.FOUNDRED, pa. t . of FOUNDER, V. FR. Fell down. 2689.FOWERTIE, num. SAX. Forty. R. 5733.FOXERIE, n. Foxish manners. R. 6795.FRA for FRO, prep. Sax. From. It is sometimes used adverbially. Til andfra. 4037. To and fro. 2850.FRAINE, U. SAX. To ask. T. v. 1226.FRAKNES, n. pl. SAX. Spots, freckles. 2171.FRANCHISE, N. FR. Frankness; generosity. 9861. 11828.FRANK, n. A denomination of French money; answeringat present to the Livre Tournois. 13111.FRANKELEIN, n. FR. See his CHARACTER. ver. 333-362. and the n. on ver. 333.FRAUGHT, V. SAX. To freight, load a ship. 4591 .FRE, adj. SAX. Willing; unconstrained. 854.-At liberty.5631 -Liberal, bountiful. 13106. 13462.FREDOM, n. SAX. 46. 17075. as FRANCHISE.FREELTEE, n. FR. Frailty. 5674,5.FREGIUS for PHRYGIUS. Du. 1070.FREMDE, FREMED, adj. SAX. Strange. 10743. T. ii. 248. To frend ne to FREMED. P. P. 79.FRENETIKE, adj. FR. Frantick. T. v. 206.FRENSEIE, n. FR. A frenzy. T. i. 728.FRERE, n . FR. A Frier. See his CHARACTER.271. and P. P. 12. a. b.ver. 208-FRESHE, V. FR. To refresh. R. 1513.FRET, N. FR. A band. L. W. 225,8 . F. L. 152.FRET, FRETTE , part. pa. FR. Fraught, filled . R. 4705. L. W. 1115. C. L. 124. or, perhaps, Wrought in a kind offret- work. A sort of Blazon is called Frette. In R. ver.4705. And through the fret full offalshede-we should read-A trouthe fret full offalshede.FRETE, V. SAX. To eat, devour. 2070.FRETING, part. pr. 2021.FRETTE (Freted), part. pa. 4895.FREYNE, V. SAX. 13530. 15901. as FRAINE.FRISE, pr. n. Friezland. R. 1093.FRO YE. T. i. 5. From you. Ye is put for You, that Fro ye mayrime, in appearance at least, with joye and Troye.So in ver. 7038. say ye rimes to praye. See more ofthese double rimes in the n. on ver. 674. and add the following passages , in which the (thee) , being the eleventh and last syllable of the verse, is to be pronounced without any accent.GLOSSARY. 469Ver. 10987. aloue the rimes to youthe.16131. to the 16762. hie the sothe.swithe.FROTE, V. FR. To rub. 3746. T. iii. 1121.Without wrinkle. R. 860.Averse. R. 4940.Fruitful. 17384.FROUNCELES, adj. FR.FROWARD, adj. SAX.FRUCTUOUS, adj. FR.FRUITESTERE, n . SAX. Afemale seller of fruit. 12402.FUL-DRIVE, part. pa. Fully driven, completed. 12402.FULKE (f. FOLKE) , n. SAX. People. F. i. 73.FULSUMNESSE, n. SAX. Satiety. 10719.FUMETERE , pr. n. of a plant; Fumitory. 14969. FUMARIA-purgat bilem et humores adustos. Ray's Synopsis.FUMOSITEE, n. FR. Fumes arising from excessive drink- ing. 10672. 12501.FUNDAMENT, n. Fr. Foundation. 7685.FURIAL, adj. FR. Raging. 10762.FUSIBLE, adj. FR.Fy, interj. FR.Capable of being melted. 16324.7509. I sayfy. 4500. I crie shame.G.GARBE, V. FR. To talk idly; to lye. 3510. 15072. Gabbe Iofthis? Bo. ii. pr. 5. Num id mentior?GACIDES. F. iii . 116. is probably a misprint for Eacides;though I do not know that Chiron had any right to that title.GADLING, n. SAX. An idle vagabond. R. 938.GADRED, part. pa. SAX. Gathered. 4379.GAILER, n. FR. Gaoler. 1476.GAILLARD, adj. FR. Brisk, gay. 3336. 4365.GAITRE- BERIES. 14971. Berries of the dog-wood tree; Cor- nus fœmina.GALAXIE, pr. n. Themilky way; a tract in the heaven so called. F. ii. 428.GALE, V. SAX. See the n. on ver. 6414.GALFRIDE, pr. n. Geoffrey of Monmouth. F. iii. 382.Geoffrey Vinsauf. C. L. 11. See GAUFRIDE.GALICE, pr. n. A province of Spain. 468. The famousshrine of St. James at Compostella was in Galicia.GALINGALE, pr. n. Sweet cyperus. 383.GALLIEN, GALIAN, pr. n. Galen. 433. 12240. See the notes.GALOCHE, n. FR. A shoe. 10869.GALPE, V. SAX. To gape, to yawn. 16984.GALPING, part. pr. Gaping, yawning. 10664.GALWES, n. pl. SAX. The gallows. 6240. 14652.GAN, pa. t. of GINNE, v. SAX. Began. 11153. GANNEN, pl.T. ii. 194.GAR, v. SAX. To make. 4130.GARDEBRACE, n. FR. Armour for the arm. C. D. 1554.GARGATE, n. FR. The throat. 15341.GARISOUN, R. 3249. Seems to be used as a v. To heal. The Orig. has Garison , a n. Healing, recovery.GARNEMENT, n. FR. A garment. Magd. 354.GARNER, N. FR. A granary, or store-room. R. 1148. 6810.GARNISON, n. FR. A guard, or garrison. M. 107. , col. 2,1. 68. R. 4204.GASTNESS, n. SAX. Gastliness. Bo. iii. pr. 5.GATE, GATTE, pa. t. of GET, v. SAX. Gate; Begate. R. 2692. L. W. 2561.n. SAX. Away. Went hergate. R. 3332. Went her way.GATISDEN, pr. n. 436. John Gatesden, author ofa medical work, entitled Rosa Anglicana, in the XIVth Century.See Tanner, in v.GAT-TOTHED, 470. See the note.GAUDE, n. FR. Jest. 12323. T. ii. 351 .GAUDES, pl. Ridiculous tricks. P. 161, col. 1 , 1. 45.GAUDED. 159. See the note.GAUFRIDE, pr. n. 15353. See the note.GAURE, v. To stare. 3825. 5332. For them , that GAURED and cast on me their sight. Lydg. Trag. B. ix. f. 22. b.GAWAIN, pr. n. nephew to King Arthur, by his sister,married to King Lot. So says the British History,which goes under the name of Geoffrey ofMonmouth;and I believe it will be in vain to look for any more authentic genealogist of all that family. He is there called Walganus. The French Romancers, who have built upon Geoffrey's foundations, agree in describing Gawain as a model of knightly courtesy. To this hisestablished character our author alludes in ver. 10409.and in R. 2209.GAYLER, N. FR. 1472. as GAILER.GEANT, n. FR. Giant. The Crane the geant. A. F. 344.GEAR, n. F. L. 26. See GERE.GENDE, for GENT. B. K. 127.GENELON, pr. n. of one of Charlemaigne's officers, who, by his treachery, was the cause of the defeat at Roncevaux,the death of Roland, &c. for which he was torn to pieces by horses. This at least is the account of the author who calls himself Archbishop Turpin, and of the Ro- mancers who followed him; upon whose credit the name of Genelon, or Ganelon, was for several centuries asynonymous expression for the worst of traitors. Our author alludes to his treachery, ver. 14699. 15233. and to his punishment, ver. 13124. See also Du. 1121 .GENT, adj. FR. Neat, pretty, 3234. 13645.GENTERIE, n. FR. Gentility. 6728.GENTIL, adj. FR. in its original sense means Well-born;of a noble family. 6735. R. 2194. Il y avoit un Cheva- lier, Capitaine de la ville; -point gentilhomme n'estoit:-et l'avoit fait, pour sa vaillance , le Roy Edouard Che- valier. Froissart, v. ii. c. 77.-It commonly put for Civil; liberal; gentlemanlike.Gentillesse, n. FR. follows the significations of GENTIL.GEOMANCIE, n. FR. Divination by figures made on the earth. P. 160, col. 1 , 1. 27.GERE, n. SAX. All sorts of instruments; of Cookery. 554.of War. 2182. of Apparel. 8248. of Chemistry. 16263. In hir quainte geres. 1533. In their strange fashions.GERIE, GERFUL. 1538. 1540. Changeable. Probably from the FR. Girer. To turn round. GIERFUL. T. iv. 286.GERLOND, n. FR. A garland. 668. The name of a dog. 15389.GESSE, V. SAX. To guess. 2595. 3467.GEST, n. SAX. Aguest. 8214.GESTE, v. See the n. on ver. 17354.GESTES, n. pl. Lat. Actions; adventures. T. ii. 1349.The Roman gestes. 10158. See the note.GESTOUR, n. A relater of gestes. See the n. on ver. 13775.GET, n. FR. Geste. Fashion; behaviour. 684. See thenote. With that false get. 16745. With that cheating contrivance.GETHE, for GOETH. L. W. 2143.GIE , v. SAX. To guide. 15604. 15627.GIGGES, n. pl. F. iii. 852. Irregular sounds, produced by the wind, &c. Gigue, FR. signified a musical instrument,like a fiddle; and from thence a sort of light tune.Menage, in v. It is probably a word of Teutonic origi- nal. See Junius.GILBERTIN, pr. n. An English Physician of the xth Century. See Fabricius Bibl. Med. Et. in v. GILBERTUS DE AQUILA.GILOUR, n. FR. A deceiver. 4319.GILT, part. pa. Sax. Gilded; of the colour of gold .L.W. 230.GILT, n. SAX. Guilt. 5969.GILTE-LES, adj. SAX. Free from guilt. 1312. 1314.GILTIF, adj. SAX. Guilty. 5088. Conf. Am. 62. b.GIN, n. FR. Engine; contrivance. 10442. 16633.GINGIBER, n. FR. Ginger. R. 1369.GINNE, V. SAX. To begin. T. v. 657.GIPCIERE, n. FR. A pouch or purse. 359.GIPE, n. FR. An upper frock, or cassock. R. 7214.GIPON, n. FR. A short cassock. 75. 2122.GIRDE, v. SAX. To strike; to smite. 14464. This word isperhaps the original of Gride, in Spenser. See Obs. on Sp. v. ii. p. 62.GIRDELSTEDE, n. SAX. The waist; the place of the girdle.R. 826.GIRLES, n. pl. Sax.female. 666.Young persons, either male orGIRT, part. pa. of GIRDE. Thurgh girt. 1012. Smitten through.GISARME, N. FR. A battle-ax. R. 5978. See Du Cange, in v. Gisarma.GISE, n. FR. Guise; fashion. 2127. At his owen gise. 665.In his own manner; as he would wish.GITE, n. FR. A gown. 3952 , 6141 .470 GLOSSARY.GITERNE, n. FR. A guitar. 3333. 4394.GITERNING, n. Playing on a Giterne. 3363.GLADE, V. SAX.GLADER, n.To make glad. 11280. 14817 .One that maketh glad. 2224.GLADSOM, adj. SAX. Pleasant. 14784.GLASE for GLOSE, v. T. v. 469.v. SAX. To put glass into windows. Du. 323.GLASINGE, n. Glass-work. Du. 327.GLE, n. SAX. Mirth. 13769.-Musick. T. ii. 1036. GLEES,pl. Musical instruments. F. iii. 119.GLEDE, . SAX. A burning coal. 3379. GLEDES, pl. 3881 .Sparks offire.GLEIRE, n. FR. The white of an egg. 16274.GLENT, pa. t. Glanced. T. iv. 1223.GLEVE, n. FR. Glaive. Alance. C. L. 544.GLIMSING, n. Glimmering. 10257 .GLITEREN, pr. t. pl. of GLITTER, v. SAX. 979.GLODE, pa. t. of GLIDE, v . SAX. 10707. 13832. She GLODE forth, as an adder doth . Conf. Am. 105.GLOMBE, U. SAX. To look gloomy. R. 4356.GLOSE, n. FR. Acomment or interpretation. 7374.v. To comment, or interpret. 5609. 5701. - To speak tenderly. 10225.-To flatter. 6091. 16983.GLOTON, n. FR. A. glutton. R. 4307.GLOWEDEN, pa. t. pl. of GLOW, v. SAX. 2134.GNARRE, N. SAX. A hard knot in a tree. 551 .GNAT, n. SAX. is put for any little, worthless thing. 5929.17204.GNIDING, part. pr. SAX. Rubbing. 2506.GNOFFE, n. 3188. " An old cuff; a miser. " Gloss. Ur. Iknow not upon what authority.GNOWE, pa. t. of GNAWE, v. SAX. 14758.Go, v. SAX. means sometimes To walk, in contradistinction to riding. 1353. 2254.(Gon), part. pa. T. ii. 795.GOBBET, n. FR. A morsel; a bit. 698.GOD, n. SAX. God toforne. R. 7294. T. i. 1060. God going before. Deo favente.-Goddes armes two. 6415. 12588.Goddes bones. 12629. 12906. Vulgar oaths-A Goddes kichel. 7329. See the note. A' Goddes half. 5632. See HALFE.GODE, GOOD, n. SAX. Wealth; goods. 7534, 5.GODE- LES, adj. Without money or goods. 13220.GODELYHEDE, n . SAX. Goodness. R. 4604. T. iii. 1736.GODENESS, n. SAX. At godeness. R. 1453. At advantage.And so we should read in R. 3462. where the Editt. have At gode mes. The Orig. has en bon point.GODSIB, n. SAX. A gossip; a godfather. P. 167, col . 2 , 1. 58.GOFISH, adj. Foolish. T. iii. 585. from the FR. Goffe; Dull,stupid.GOLD, n. A flower, commonly called A Turnsol. 1931.Gower says, that Leucothea was changedInto a floure was named GOLde,Which stont governed ofthe sonne.Conf. Am. 121. b.GOLD-HEWEN, adj. S▲x. Of a golden hewe, or colour. 2502.GOLDSMITHRIE, n. SAX. Goldsmith's work. 2500.GOLET, n. FR. The throat, or gullet. R. 7096.GOLIARDEIS. See the n. on ver. 562.GOMME, n. FR. Gum. L. W. 121.GON, inf. m. SAX. To go. 2512. So mote I gon. 3116. 11089.So may Ifare well. So mote I ride or go. 7524. So may Ifare well, riding or walking, i . e. in all my proceedings.See Go.-pr. t. pl. 771. 2604. 2965.part. pa. Gone. 4437. 5137.GONFANON, n . FR. A banner, or standard. R. 1201. 2018.GONG, N. SAX. A little-house; a jakes. P. 167, col. 1 , 1. 36.GONNE, n. A gun. L. W. 637. F. iii. 553.GONNEN, GONNE, pa. t. pl. of GINNE. 11230. 15985.GORE, n. See the n. on ver. 3237. since which it has been suggested to me by a learned person , whom I have not the honour to know, that Gore is a common name for aslip of cloth or linen, which is inserted in order to widen a garment in any particular place. GOOR OF A CLOTH.Lacinia. Prompt. Parv. See also the Glossary to Ken- net's Paroch. Antiq. in v. Gore. This sense will suitvery well with the context of ver. 3237, but hardly, Ithink, with that of ver. 13719; unless we suppose, that gore is there put for shirt, because shirts have usually gores in them. The expression would certainlybe very aukward, and unlike Chaucer's general manner, but in this place, the Rime of Sire Topas, he may be supposed to have taken it purposely from one of those old Ro- mances, which are the objects of his ridicule. See the n. on ver. 13845.GOSE for GOES. C. D. 1286. Goeth.GOSPELLERE, n. Sax. Evangelist. R. 6887.GOSSOMER, n. A thin cobweb-like substance which flies about in the air. 10573.GOST, n. SAX. Spirit; mind. 5679.GOTH, imp. m. 2 pers. pl. Go ye. 2560. 14200.GOVERNAILLE, n. FR. Government, steerage. 9068.GOUNE-CLOTH. 7829. 7834. Cloth enough to make a gown.GOURD, n. A vessel to carry liquor; perhaps so called from its shape. 17031 , 40.GOWER, pr. n. T. v. 1855. An eminent English poet, to whom Chaucer directs his Troilus and Creseide. Some circ*mstances relating to him are touched upon in the Essay, &c. n. 55. the Discourse, &c. §. XIV. xv. n. 15, 16.and in the notes, p. 202.GRACE. n. FR. Favour. 3071. Sory grace. 6328. Harde grace. 16133. Misfortune. T. i. 713.So full of sorowe am I, sothe to sayne,That certainly no more harde grace May sit on me, for why? there is no space.So Hercules, ap. Euripid. Hę. M. 1250.Γεμω κακων δη, κ' ουκέτ' εσθ' όπη τέθη.The criticism of Longinus, sect. XL. is perhaps equally applicable to both passages.With harde grace. 7810. is to be understood as spoken,in a parenthesis, of the Cherl; Misfortune attend him!See WITH. Save your grace. M. 108. col. 2, 1. 59. With yourfavour. Sauve votre grace.GRACIOUS, adj. FR. Agreeable. 3693. Graceful. 8489.GRAME, N. SAX. Grief. 16871. Anger. T. iii. 1030.Felle it to gode or GRAME. P. L. 327.GRAMMERE, n. FR. Grammar. 13466.GRAND MERCIE, FR. Great thanks. 8964.GRANE, N. FR. A grain; a single seed. T. ii. 1028.GRANGE, n. FR. A Farm-house. 3668.GRAPINEL, n. FR. A grappling- iron. L. W. 640.GRATCHE, R. 7368. "is perhaps the same with Graithe, if not mistaken for it." Gloss. Ur. See GREITHE,Orig. has s'AOURNE comme beguyne.TheGRAVE, V. SAX. To carve; to engrave. T. ii. 47. T. iii. 1468.(Graven). part. pa. Buried. 6647. 11288.GRAUNSON, pr. n. C. M. V. ver. ult. See An account of the works ofChaucer, &c. in this vol. p. 446.GRE, n. FR. Pleasure; satisfaction, from Gratus, LAT.To receive in gre. 4679. 9027. To take kindly. The gre.2735. The prize. See the note.-From Gradus, LAT. it signifies A step, or degree. 9249.GREDE, n. SAX. Agreedy person. R. 6002.v. BARB. LAT. To cry. C. N. 135.GREIN, n. FR. Grein de Paris. R. 1369. de Paradis.Orig. Grains of Paradise; a sort of spice. The same are meant in ver. 3690. —Grain ofPortingale. 15465. A sort of scarlet-dye, called Kermes, or Vermillion.GREITHE, V. SAX. To prepare, make ready. 4307. 14512.GRENEHED, n. SAX. Childishness. 4583.GRESE, n. FR. Grease. 135, 6069.GRETE for GREDE, v. R. 4116.GRETTE, pa. t. of GRETE, v. SAX. Greeted; saluted. 5471.8828.GREVES, n. pl. SAX. Groves. 1497. R. 3019.GRILLE, adj. R. 73. f. Horrible. GRYMM. GRYLAND HORRYBLE.Horridus. Prompt. Parv.GRINT for GRINDETH, 5971.GRINTE, pa. t. of GRIND, v. SAX. Ground. Grint with his teeth. 7743. Gnashed with h. t.GRINTING, n. Grinding; gnashing. P. 150, col. 2, 1. 37.GRIS, 7. FR. A species of Furr. See the n. on ver. 194.GRISLY, adj. SAX. Dreadful. 1973. 6318.GLOSSARY. " 471GROCHE, V. SAX. To grutch; to murmur. 3861. 6025.GROFF, adj. SAX. Flat on the ground. 951. 13605. R. 2561 .GROINE, n. FR. The snowt of a swine. P. 149, col . 2, 1. 29.Ahanging lip. T. i. 350.v. To hang the lip, in discontent. R. 7099.GRONE, V. FR. To groan. To grunt. 7411.GRONT, pa. t. 14627. Groaned.GROPE, v . SAX. To search; to examine by feeling.7399. 7723.GROT, n. Acoin, worth four-pence. 6874. 7546.GROUNDEN, part. pa, of GRIND. 16243.GROYNING, n. 2462. Discontent. See GROINE.GUERDON, n. FR. Reward; Recompense. 7460.8759.v . To reward. P. 152, col. 1 , 1. 55.GUERDONLES, adj. Without reward. B. K. 400.GUIDO, pr. n. L. W. 1462. GUIDO DE COLUMPNIS. F. iii.381. Guido dalle Colonne, of Messina in Sicily, a lawyer and poet, died about 1290. Quadrio, vol . ii . p. 160. His History of the Trojan war, to which our author refers,was written in Latin, and finished in 1287. See the n.on ver. 15147. I have there intimated my suspicion,that he translated it, for the most part, from a French Romance of Benoit de Sainte More. However that may have been, Guido's work is certainly the original, from which the later writers ofthe middle ages have generally taken their accounts of Trojan affairs. It was translated into Italian in 1324 by Filippo Ceffi , a Florentine. Qua- drio, vol. vi. p. 475. A French translation is also extant, in which it is said to be translatée en François premierement du commandement du Maire de la cité de Beauvais, en nom et en honneur de Karles le roy de France, l'an mil ccc. quatre vingtz. MS. Reg. 16. F. ix.This is probably the French translation mentioned by Lydgate in the Prologue to his Boke of Troye, which is a mere paraphrase in verse of Guido's history, with some digressions and additions of his own. Lyd- gate's work was finished, as he tells us himself at the end, in 1420.H.HABERGEON, n. FR. A diminutive of Hauberg, a coat of mail. 76. 13790.HABILITEE, n. FR. Ability. C. L. 1044.HABITACLES, n. pl. FR. Places of habitation. F. iii. 104.HABITE, V. FR. To dwell. R. 660.HABUNDANT, part. pr. FR. Abundant. 7935.HACKENAIE, n. FR. An ambling horse, or pad. R. 1137.HACKING, n. FR. Cutting in pieces. F. iii. 213.HADDEN, pa. t. pl . of HAVE. 375. 762.HAF, pa. t. of HEVE, v. SAX. Heaved, raised. 2430.HAIE, HAY, n. FR. A hedge. R. 54. 3007.HAILE, n. SAX. Health; welfare. 4087.HAILES, pr. n. of an Abbey in Gloucestershire. See the n.on ver. 12587.HAIRE, n. FR. A hair.cloth. 15601. R. 438.HAKENEY, n. FR. 16027. as HACKENAIE.HAKETON, n. FR. A short cassock, without sleeves. 13789.HALDEN for HOLDEN, part. pa. of HOLD. 4206.HALFE, n. SAX. A side; a part. A' Goddes half. 5632.Du. 370. On God's part; with God's favour. A' this halfe God. T. L. i. 325. b. On this side of God. Four halves. 3481. Four sides.HALI, pr. n. 433. An Arabian Physician. Fabric. Bibl. Gr.t. xiii. p. 17.HALKE, N. SAX. A corner. 11433. 15779.HALPE, pa. t. of HELP, v. SAX. 14052. R. 1911 .HALS, n. SAX . The neck. 4493.HALSE, V. SAX. See the n. on ver. 13575.HALT, pa. t. of HOLD, v. SAX. Held, or kept. 5141 .for HOLT, i. e. Holdeth. Du. 621.HALTE, V. FR. To go lamely. Du. 622.HAME for HOME, n. SAX. 4030.HAMELE, V. SAX. To hamstring; to cut off. T. ii. 964.HAMERS, n. pl. SAX. Hammers. Du. 1164.HAN, inf. m. of HAVE, v . SAX. 754. 1048 , 2109.pr. t. pl. 931. 1022. 7581.HANSELINES, P. 155, col. 2, 1. 50. appears from the context to mean a sort ofbreeches.HAPPE, n. SAX. Chance. 13168. Bo. v. pr. 1 .v. To happen. 587. 6467.HARD, adj. SAX. Hard. Harde grace. 7810. 16133. Mis- fortune. See GRACE. It is used adverbially. 9879. 13133.HARDE, v. SAX. To make hard. 10559.HARDELY (Hardily) , adv. FR. Boldly. 10147. adv. SAX.Certainly. 7867. 7901. 9186. T. v. 673.HARDING, n. SAX. Hardening. 10557.HARIE, V. FR. To hurry. To harie and drawe. P. 149, col.2, 1. 64.HARIED, part. pa. Hurried. 2728. Ils seroient hâriez en grand manere. Froissart, v. i. c. 225.HARLOT, N. See the n. on ver. 649.HARLOTRIES, n. pl. Ribaldries. 563.HARNEIS, n. FR.HARNEISE, v. FR.HAROW, interj. FR.Armour. 1615. Furniture. 5718.To dress. R. 2648 .See the n. on ver. 3286.HARPOUR, n. FR. A harper. T. ii. 1030. In the Act of Resumption, 28 H. vi. there is a proviso in favour of John Turges, Harpour with the Queen, for the reversion of an annuity of 10 Marks, after the death of William Langton, Minstrell.HARWED, p. t. of HARWE, v. SAX. See the n. on ver. 3512.HASARDOUR, N. FR. A Player at Hazard; Agamester. 12530.HASARDRIE, N. FR. Gaming, in general. 12524.HASELWODE. T. iii. 892. V. 585. 1174. All these passagesplainly allude to the same proverbial saying, which appears to have been used in scorn or derision of any improbable hope or expectation. Why it was so used,is beyond my reach to discover. It may be proper how- ever to mention that in T. iii. 892. MS. Harl. 3943. reads- Haselwode is shaken;-and that the passage, T. v. 1174.is an imitation of the following in the Filostrato. See Essay, &c. n. 62.Ma pandero seco tacitamente Ride de cio che Troylo dicea- Chel si fusse sembiante facea Di credèrlo , e dicia, di mungibelo Aspetta il vento questo tapinello.HASTIF, adj. FR. Hasty. 3545.HASTIFLY, adv. Hastily. 13546.HATE, v. SAX. To be named. R. 38.HAUBERK, N. FR. A coat of mail. 13792.HAVEN, inf. m. of HAVE, v. SAX. Bo. iv. pr. 2. It is more commonly abbreviated into HAN.HAUNCE, V. FR. To raise, to enhance. B. K. 431.HAUNT, n. FR. Custom; practice. 449.HAUNTE, V. FR. To practise . P. 164. col. 2. 1. 4.HAUNTEDEN, pa. t. pl. 12398. Practised, frequented.HAUTEIN, adj. FR. Haughty. 3739.-Loud. 12264.—A hau- tein faucon. L. W. 1118. A high- flying hawk; Faulcon haultain. FR.HAVOIR for AVOIR, n. FR. Wealth. R. 4720.HAWE, n. SAX. A hawthorn- berry. 6241. T. iii. 856 -Afarm-yard. 12789. A church-yard. P. 165 , col. 1, 1. 10.HAWEBAKE, 4515. See the note.HE, pron. SAX. is often prefixed in all its cases to proper names emphatically, according to the Saxon usage. He Moises. 10564. He Tityus. T. i. 787. See the n. on ver.9594. HE is also frequently used for Ir in all cases.7550. 7838. 9737. See the n. on ver. 9594.HED, n . SAX. Head. On his hed. 1346. On pain oflosing his head. See the note.HEDDE for HIDDE ( Hidden . ) L. W. 208.HEGGES, n. pl. SAX. Hedges. 15224.HEISUGGE. A. F. 612. Curruco, a little bird, which is supposed to hatch the Cuckow's egg, and to be destroyed by the young Cuckows. Sp.HELE, V. SAX. Helan. To hide. 6531. R. 6882.Hælan. To heal; to help. 1250. 10955.Health. 3104. 4237.v. SAX.-n. SAX.Helpless. T. v. 1592.Elysium. C. L. 119.HELELES, adj.HELISE, pr. n.HELMED, part. pa. FR. Armed with an helmet. 14376.T. ii. 593.HELOWIS, pr. n. 6259. Eloisa , the mistress of Abelard.See a summary of their history in Rom. de la Rose, ver.9172-9247.HEM, obl. c. pl. ofHE. Them. See HIM; and Essay, &c. n. 28.472 GLOSSARY.HEMSELF, HEMSELVE, HEMSELVEN. See SELF.HENCHMEN, n . pl. Pages. F. L. 252. See a note on the Midsummer Night's Dream of Shakespeare. Act. ii. Sc. 2.Last. Edit.HENDE, HENDY, adj. SAX. Civil; courteous. 6868. 3199.HENEN. 4031. HENNE. 2358. 3887. HENNES. R. 4922.HENS. 12621. adv. SAX. Hence.HENG, pa. t. and part. of HANG, v. SAX. 360. 678. 9757.HENNESFORTH, adv. SAX. Henceforth. 10972.HENTE, V. SAX. To take hold of; to catch. 906. 7082.HENT, pa. t. and part. 700. 6899. 1583.HEPE, n. SAX. Aheap. To hepe. T. iii. 1770. Bo. iv. pr. 6.Together; in a heap.-The fruit of the Dog-rose. 13677.HERAUD, n. FR. A herald. 2535.HERBERGAGE, n, FR. Lodging. 4327.HERBERGEOURS, n. pl. FR. Providers of lodgings; Har- bingers. 5417.HERBERWE, N. SAX. An inn; a lodging. 767. 4143.-The place of the Sun. 11347. In ver. 405. (see the note) it rather means, I think, A harbour.-HERBER. T. ii. 1705.F. L. 49. An arbour.v. SAX. To lodge. R. 6145.HERD, HIERDE, n. Sax. A keeper. 605. 15660.- HERDE- GROMES. F. iii . 135. Shepherd- boys.HERDES, n. pi. Coarse flax. Herde, fibra lini. Kilian. R. 1233.That not ofhempe ne heerdis was.So this ver. is written in Ms. Hunter.only-elle nefut de bourras.The Orig. hasHERE for HIRE, pron. 2059. 3691. 4880. and in other places,forthe sake ofthe rime.HERE, adv. SAX. In this place.in composition, signifies this, without including any idea ofplace. Hereagaines. 3041. Against this. Here- beforn. 1586. Before this.v. SAX. To hear. 2347.HERD, HERDE, pa. t. and part. 221. 955. 1597.HERDEN, pa. t. pl. 15382.HERE, N. SAX. Hair. 677.HEREN, adj. Made of hair. 12670.HERKING, part. pr. of HERKE, v. SAX. Hearkening. 10392.HERMES, pr. n. 16902. A chemical treatise under his name is extant in the Theat. Chemic. t. iv. See Fabric. Bibl.Gr. L. i. c. 10. HERMES BALLENUS. F. iii . 183. Whether adifferent person from him just mentioned, I cannot tell.HERNE, n . SAX. A corner. 11433. 16126.HERONEKE, n. FR. A hawk made to flie only at the heron.T. iv. 413. L. W. 1118.HERONSEWES, n. pl. FR. Young Herons. 10382. See the note.HERTE for HURT, v. SAX. Du. 883.n. SAX. Heart. Herte-blood. 6300. 12836. Heart's blood. Herte-spone. See the n. on ver. 2608 .HERTELES, adj. Without courage. 14914.HERTLY, adj. Hearty. 10319.HERY, V. SAX . To praise . 8492. 13548.HERYING, n. Praise. 13389.HESTE, n. SAX. Command. 12574.-Promise. R. 4475. 7.HET, HETTE, pa. t . of HETE, v. SAX. Heated. A. F. 145.HETE, V. SAX. To promise. 2400. 4754. To be called. Du.200. See HIGHTE.HETHENESSE, n. SAX. Country of Heathens. 49. 5532.HETHING, n. SAX. Contempt. 4108. All is thy HETHING fallen upon thee. P. L. 273.HEVE, v. SAX. To heave, to raise. 552.-v. neut. Το labour. T. ii . 1289.HEVED, N. SAX. Head. F. ii. 42. Every virtue in myheved.So I apprehend this line should be read, instead of in me heved.HEVEN-QUENE, n. SAX. The queen of heaven; the Virgin Mary. 16557.HEW OF LINCOLN, pr. n . 13614. See Discourse, &c. §. xxxII.HEWE, v. SAX. To cut. 1424.- v. neut. C. L. 980. T. L. i. 325. b. He that heweth tohie, with chippes he may lese his sight. So Conf. Am. 18. b.Full ofte he heweth up so hye,That chyppes fallen in his eye.HEWE, N. SAX. Colour; appearance. 10901. T. ii. 21.HEWED, part. pa. Coloured. 11557.HEXT, adj. superl. Sax. Highest. C. D. 345. Hegh, Heghest,Heghst, Hext. In the same manner Next is formed from Negh.HIDOUS, adj. FR.HIDOUSLY, adv.Dreadful. 3520.Terribly. 1703.HIE, v. SAX. To hasten. 10605. C. D. 1550.n. Haste; diligence. In, or On hie, 2981. 4629. T. iv.1385. In haste.·HIGHE, adj. SAX. High. In high and low. 819. 5413.See the n. on ver. 819.HIERDESSE, n. SAX. A shepherdess. T. i. 654. See HERDE.HIGHEN, F. iii. 1062. is perhaps miswritten for Highe.HIGHT, N. SAX. Highth. 1892. On hight. 1786. seems to signify-aloud; in a high voice. En haut. FR.HIGHTE, V. SAX. See the n. on ver. 1016.HIM, obl. c. of HE, is often used alone in that reciprocal sense, which is generally expressed by the addition of the adj. Self. 3052. Than hath he don his frend, ne him,no shame, i. e. nor himself. As he him laid. 1380. And clad him. 1411. And bare him. 1449.It is also frequently put without the usual preposition.Him to grete shame. 17209. To great shame of him.Shefalleth him to fete. 5524. She falleth at the feet of him. She swore him. 6543. She swore to him. Hem and Hire are used in the same manner.HIMSELF, HIMSELVE, HIMSELVEN. See SELF.HINDEREST, superl. d. of HIND, adv . SAX. Hindmost. 624.HINE, n. SAX. A servant in husbandry; a hind. 605.n. Bal. Vil. 35. should probably be Hiene. The gall of an hyena was used to cure a certain disorder of the eye. Plin . N. H. L. 29 , c. 38.HIPPOCRAS, pr.n. Hippocrates. 433. See the note.HIR, pron. poss . SAX. Their. See Essay, &c. p. xlvi .HIRE, obl. c. of SHE. pron. SAX. is often put for Herself.139. 4869. and without the usual preposition. 11057. See HIM.pron. poss. SAX. Her. See Essay, &c. p. xlvi.HIRESELF, HIRESELVE, HIRESELVEN. See SELF.HIRS, pron. poss. SAX. Theirs. 7508. See the Essay, &c. n. 29.HISTORIAL, adj. FR. Historical. 12090.Ho, interj. FR. commanding a cessation of any action.Seethe n. on ver. 2535. and I believe o in that verse is put for Ho, and not for Oyez. See the C. L. ver. 270.HOCHEPOT, N. FR. A mixture of various things shaken together in the same pot. M. 112 , col. 1 , 1. 10. Hutspot.BELG.HOKER, n. SAX. Frowardness. 5717.HOKERLY, adv. Frowardly. P. 159, col. 2, 1. 11 .HOLD, N. SAX. A fort, or castle. 4927.v. SAX. To keep. To hold in honde. T. V. 1370. To keep in suspence. T. V. 1614. 1679. To amuse in order to deceive.HOLDEN, part. pa. Obliged. 5717. T. iii . 1265.HOLE, HOL, adj. SAX. Entire; whole; sound. 6952. 7615.HOLLY, adv. Entirely; wholly. 5793.HOLOUR, n. SAX. A whor*monger. 5836. P. 166, col. 2, 1. 7.HOLT, n. SAX. A grove, or forest. 6 T. iii. 352.for HOLDETH. 9224. 9386.HOMLY, adj. SAX. Domestick. 9666. -Plain; simple. 7425.HOMLINESSE, n. Sax. Domestick management. 8305.- Familiarity. M. 118 , col. 1 , 1. 10.HONDE, n. SAX. A hand. An honde-brede. 3809. An hand's breadth. Withouten honde. T. iii. 188. Withoutbeing pulled by any hand. -HONDEN, pl . R. 6665.HONEST, adj. FR. means generally, according to the French usage, Creditable; honourable. 246. 13491. Becoming aperson of rank. 8302. 9902.HONESTETEE, HONESTEE, n. FR. Virtue. 8298. -Decency.14630.-Good manners. 6849.HONG, v. SAX. To hang. 12724.HONT, n. SAX. Du. 385. as HUNT.HONY-SWETE, adj. SAX. Sweet as honey. 9270.HOPE, V. SAX. To expect. 4027. See the note.HOPPESTERES, n. pl. SAX. Dancers. 2019. See the note.HORD, N. SAX. Treasure. 13014.-A private place, fit for the keeping of treasure. P. 165, col . 2, I. 16.GLOSSARY. 473HORE, HOOR, adj. SAX. Hoary; grey. 7764. 9335.HOROWE, adj. SAX.HORRIBLETE, n. FR.HORS, n. pl. SAX.HORSE, adj. SAX.Foul. C. M. 52.Horribleness. R. 7285,Horses. 5867. 7141. 13563.Hoarse. Du. 347.HORSLY, adj. 10508. is applied to a horse, as manly is to a man.HOSPITALERS, n. pl. LAT. Religious persons, of both sexes,who attended the sick in hospitals. P. 167 , col. 1, 1. 59.-Knights Hospitalers, of different orders. R. 6693. See Du Cange, in v. Hospitalarius.HOST, N. FR. An army. 14486.HOSTELERE, N. FR. An inn-keeper. 4358. 15035.HOSTELRIE, N. FR. An inn, or lodging-house. 23.HOSTILEMENTS, n. pl. Household furniture. Bo. ii. pr. 5.HOTE, adj. SAX. Hot. 7018.HOTE, HOTEN, part. pa. of HETE. Called . 3939.HOVE, v. SAX. To hover. T. iii. 1433. T. v. 33.HOUND- FISH, n. SAX. The dog- fish. 9699.HOUNE, n. for HOUND. T. iv. 210. Thus said both here and houne, i. e. hare and hound; all sorts of people.HOUPED, pa. t. FR. Hooped, or hollowed. 15406.HOUSEL, n. SAX. The Eucharist. R. 6386.v. To administer the sacrament. R. 6437.-To ben houseled.P. 170, col. 2, 1. 69.To receive the sacrament.Howve, n. SAX. A cap, or hood. See the n. on ver. 3909.HULFERE, n. SAX. Holly. B. K. 129.HULSTRED, part. pa. Sax. Hidden. R. 6146.HUMBLEHEDE, n. SAX. Humble state. 14590.HUMBLESSE, n. FR. Humility. 4585.HUMBLING, n. A humming. F. ii . 531. Hommelen; Bom- bilari, bombum edere. Kilian. Hence our Humble-bee.HUNT, n. SAX. A huntsman. 1680. 2020.HURTLE, V. FR. To push. 2618. 4717.HUSBANDRIE, n. SAX. Thrift, economical management. 4075.HUSBOND-MAN, n. SAX. The master of the family. 7350.HUST, adj. SAX. Silent; whist. Bo. ii . m. 5.HYLDE, V. SAX. To pour. Bo. ii. m. 2.HYLLED, part. pa. Sax. Hidden. 15061. See HELE.I.I, at the beginning of a word, in the common Editt, and even in the MSS. of Chaucer, is often used to express acorruption of the Saxon prepositive particle Le; which,in this Edit. of the Canterbury Tales, (as has been said before in the Essay, &c. p. xlvi. ) is always expressed by y. All such words, therefore, occurring in the works of Chaucer not contained in this Edition, should be looked for either under y, or under their second letters.JACKE OF DOVER. 4345. See the note.JACKE FOOL. 3708. See the n. on ver. 14816.JACOBIN, pr. n. A grey-frier. R. 6338.JAKKE STRAW, pr. n. 15400. The noise made by the fol- lowers of this rebel, to which our author alludes, he had probably heard himself. It is called by Walsingham,p. 251. clamor horrendissimus, non similis clamoribus quos edere solent homines, sed qui ultra omnem æstima- tionem superaret omnes clamores humanos, et maxime posset assimulari ululatibus infernalium incolarum.Many Flemings (Flandrenses) were beheaded by the rebels cum clamore consueto. Walsingham, ibid.JAMBEUX, n. pl. FR. Boots; armour for the legs. 13804.JANE, n. A coin of (Janua) Genoa. It is put for any small coin. 8875. 13665.JANGLE, V. FR. To prate; to talk much, or fast. 10534.n. Prate; babble. 6989.JANGLER, JANGLOUR, n. A prater. 17292, 7.JANGLERESSE, n. Afemale prater. 6220. 10181.JAPE, n. SAX. A trick; a jest. 4341. 16780.v. To jest. 13623.-To cheat; to laugh at. 1731.JAPE-WORTHY, adj. Ridiculous. Bo. v. pr. 3.JAPER, n. A common jester, or buffoon. P. 161, col. 1 , 1. 43.JAPERIE, n. Buffoonerie. P. 161 , col. 1 , 1. 45.ICH, ICHE, pron. SAX. I. So the ich. 12881. So the iche.16397. So may I prosper.IDEL, adj. SAX. Idle; fruitless. In idel. 11179. P. 159,col. 2, 1. 29. In vain.IDOLASTRE, N. FR. An idolater. 10172.JEOPARD, v. To hazard; to put in danger. T. iv. 1566.JEOPARDIE, N. Danger. T. ii. 465. T. v. 1529. JEOPARDISE.Du. 666.JEREMIE, pr. n. Jeremiah. 12569.JEROME, pr. n. 6256. Our author has made much use of atreatise of St. Jerome, contra Jovinianum. See the n. on ver. 9172, and ver. 11679, and the Discourse, &c. n. 19.JESTES, n. pl. T. v. 1510. F. iii. passim. as GESTES.JEWERIE, N. FR. A district, inhabited by Jews. 13419.JEWISE, n. Judgement; punishment. 1741. 5215. It may have been formed by corruption either of the LAT.Judicium, or the FR. Justice. Conf. Am. 157. b. 158.IK, pron. SAX. I. 3862. 3865. See ICH.ILION, pr. n. The citadel of Troy. 15362.ILKE, adj. SAX. Same. 64. 3035.IMAGINATIF, adj. FR.IMPED, part. pa. SAX.Suspicious. 11406.Planted. R. 5137.IMPETREN, pr. t. pl. FR. Obtain by prayer. Bo. v. pr. 3.IMPES, n. pl. SAX.IMPORTABLE, adj. FR.Shoots of trees. 13962. R. 6293.sible. 9020.Intolerable. 14520. R. 6902.- ImposIMPORTUNE, adj. FR. Troublesome. R. 5632.IMPOSSIBLE , adj. FR. used as a substantive. 6270. T. iii. 525.IN, prep. SAX. Upon. 6350. 14500. 14545. In with. 9460.9818. Within.INCOMBROUS, adj. FR. Cumbersome. F. ii. 354.INCONSTANCE, n. FR. Inconstancy. 7540.INCUBUS. 6462. See the n. on ver. 6441 .INDE, adj. FR. Azure-coloured. R. 67.INDIGNE, adj. FR. Unworthy. 8235.INECHED, part. pa. SAX. Inserted. T. iii. 1335,INEQUAL, adj. FR. Unequal. 2273.INFORTUNAT, adj. LAT. Unfortunate. 4722.INFORTUNE, n. FR. Misfortune. R. 5551.INGOT, n. A mould for casting ingots. 16674. 16701. 16782.INHABIT, part. pa. FR. Inhabited . C. D. 1400.INHILDE, v. SAX. To pour in. T. iii. 44. See HYLDE.INJURE, n. FR. Injury. T. iii. 1020.INLY, adv. SAX. Inwardly, deeply, thoroughly. 6930. R. 397. T. iii . 1612. F. i. 31 .INNE, prep. SAX. In. 14002.IN, n. SAX. Ahouse, habitation, lodging. 3547. 5517.13372.INNED, part. pa. SAX. Lodged. 2194.INNERESTE, adj. sup. SAX. Inmost. Bo. iv. pr. 6.INNOCENT, adj. FR. Ignorant. 8150, 10840.INSELED, part. pa. FR. Attested under seal. C. D. 1014.INSET, part. pa. SAX. Implanted. Bo. ii. pr. 3.INTERMINABLE, adj. FR. Infinite. Bo. v. pr. 6.INWITTE, n. SAX. Understanding. T. L. i. 320. b.Jock, pr. n. 6065. See the note.JOCONDE, adj. FR. Joyous; pleasant. 16064.JOGELOUR, N. FR. A juggler. 7049.JOINANT, part. pr. FR. Joining. 1062.JOINE, V. FR. To enjoin. R. 2355.JOLIE ROBIN. The name of a dance. R. 7455. De la danse le beau Robin. Orig. 12864. -See T. v. 1174.JOLIF, adj. FR. Jolly; joyful. 3355. 4152.JOMBRE, v. To jumble. T. ii. 1037.JONGLERIE, n. T. v. 755. should rather be Janglerie; Idle talk. See JANGLE.JORDANES, n. pl. See the n. on ver. 12239.Jossa, interj. 4099. seems to be partly formed from the FR.ça! Come hither!Jovis, pr. n. Jupiter. T. iii . 15. F. i. 219. F. iii. 917.JOURNEE, n. Fr. A day's journey. 2740. C. D. 1945.Aday's work. R. 579.JOUSTES, n. pl. FR. Justs. C. D. 1987.JOWELES, n. pl. FR. Jewels. R. 5420.JOYE, V. FR. To enjoy. R. 5028.IPOCRAS, N. FR. Wine mixed with spices and other in- gredients; so named, because it is strained through a woollen cloth , called the sleeve of Hippocrates. 9681 .See CLARRE.IRE, n. FR. Anger. 7416.474 GLOSSARY.IROUS, adj. Passionate. 7596, 7, 8.ISAUDE, pr. n. F. iii. 707. See BELLE ISAUDE. She is called YSEUT by Bernard da Ventador. MS. Crofts.fol. LXVII.Tant trag pena d'amor,Q'anc Tristan l'amador Non sofret maior dolor Per Yseut la blonda.And so in Fabliaux, &c. T. i . p. 242. Yseut la blonde.Petrarch calls her Isotta. Trionfo d'Amore. iii. 82. Alate French writer, in what he has been pleased to style, "Histoire littéraire des Troubadours," (T. ii. p.323. ) having quoted a passage celebrating the love of "Tristan à Isault, " adds very coolly-C'est une allusion à quelque Roman; which is just as if a commentator upon Ovid should say of the epistle from Paris to Helen,that it alludes to some Greek story.IT, pron. 3 pers. neut. gend. SAX. is used instead of He and She. 3764. 5529. 13144.ITAILLE, pr. n. Italy. 8142.JUBALTARE, pr. n. Gibraltar. 5367.JUBBE, n. A vessel for holding ale, or wine. 3628. 13000.JUDICUM. 14052. The book of Judges. So Metamorphoseos is put for the Metamorphosis of Ovid. 4513. and Eneidos for the Eneis of Virgil. 15365.JUGE, N. FR. A judge. 12057. 12190.JULL , pr. n. The month of July. 10007.JULIAN, pr. n. See the n. on ver. 341.JUPARDIE, n. R. 2666. as JEOPARDIE.JUPARTIE, n. FR. Jeopardie. See the n. on ver. 16211.JUSTICE, n. FR. A judge. 15965.JUSTINIAN, pr. n. R. 6615. The law referred to is in the Code, L. XI. tit. 25. De mendicantibus validis.JUVENAL, pr. n. The Roman Satirist. 6774. T. iv. 197.K.KALENDER, n. LAT. A Calendar. 13136. -A guide, or director. L. W. 542.KALENDES, n . pl. LAT. The first day of the month; the beginning of any thing. T. ii. 7. T. v. 1633.KAYNARD. See the n. on ver. 5817.KELE, v. SAX. To cool. C. L. 775.KEMBED, KEMPED, part. pa. SAX. Combed. 2291. 2136.KEMELIN, n. SAX. A tub. 3548.KENELM, pr. n. 15116. See the note.KEPE, n. SAX. Care; attention. 4162. 8934.v. To take care. 2240. 2962.KERCHEF, n. 6600. a corruption of COVERCHIEF.KERNELS, n. pl. FR. Battlements. R. 4195.KERS, n. SAX . Water-cresses. Of paramours ne raught he not a kers. 3754. He cared not a rush for love.CRESSE is used, in the same sense, in T. L. i. 320. and ii. 332. b.KERVER, n. SAX. A carver. 1901 .KESSE, U. SAX. To kiss. 8933. R. 2610.KESTE, pa. t. Kissed. 10664.KETCHE, v. T. iii. 1381. as CACCHE.KEVERE, . FR.recover.To cover. In T. i. 918. it signifies toKICHEL, n. SAX. Alittle cake. 7329. See the note.KID, KIDDE, pa. t. and part. of KITHE. Made known; dis- covered. 9817. T. i . 209. R. 2172 .KIKE, V. SAX. To kick. 6523.KIN, n. SAX. Kindred. By my fader kin. 9389. 16297.Bymy father's kindred.adj. Of the same nature. 5557.KIND, n. SAX. Nature. 17130. T. i. 238.KINDLY, adv. Naturally. 5984.KINREDE, n. Kindred. M. 113, col. 2 , 1. 33.KIRTEL, n. SAX. Atunic, or waistcoat. 3321. 11884. In kirtels and none other wede. R. 778. Qui estoient en pure cottes. Orig. 775.KITHE, V. SAX. To shew; to make known. 5056. 7191.Ne kithe hire jealousie. 11060. Nor shew to her any jealousie.KITHED, part. pa. 16522. See KID.KITTE, pa. t. SAX. Cut. 6304.KNAKKES, n. pl. Sax. Trifling tricks. 4049. The word seems to have been formed from the knacking, or snap- ping, ofthe fingers, used by jugglers. See Cotgrave, in v..Matassiner des mains, and Niquet.-Trifling words.P. 161, col. 1, 1. 49.KNAPPE, n. A short sleep; a nap. R. 4005.KNARRY, adj. SAX. Full of gnarres, or knots. 1979.KNAVE, n. SAX. A servant; properly, a boy-servant. 2730.13240.-A knave-child. 5135. 8320. Amale child .- This boie knave. R. 3849. Ce garçon. Orig.KNEDDE, part. pa. of KNEDE, v. SAX. Kneaded. R. 4811.KNEEN, KNENE, n. pl. SAX. Knees. C. D. 294. 436.KNET, part. pa. R. 2092. as KNIT.KNIGHT, n. SAX. Aservant; generally, a servant in war;a soldier. M. 117, col. 2, 1. 31. 15851.-A dubbed knight.See his CHARACTER, Ver. 43-78.KNIGHTHODE, n. Valour. 14560.KNIT, part. pa. Sax. Joined; bound. 11298.-Agreed.11542.KNOBBES, n. pl. SAX. Excrescences, in the shape of buds,or buttons. 635. See KNOPPE.KNOPPE, N. SAX. A button. R. 1080.-A rose-bud. R. 1702.KNOPPED, part. pa. Buttoned; fastened . R. 7212.KNOTTE, N. SAX. A knot. In ver. 10715. 10721. it is used,in the sense of Nœud, FR. for the chiefpoint, or head of a matter.KNOTTELES, adj. SAX. Without a knot; without any thing to obstruct or retard the passage. T. V. 769.KNOWE for KNEE. T. ii. 1202.KNOWLECHE, v. SAX. To acknowledge. M. 118, col . 2 , 1. 45.KNOWLECHING, n. Knowledge. 16900. R. 4676.KONNING, n. F. iii. 966. as CoNNING; Cunning.KYKE, v. SAX. To look stedfastly. 3445. Kijcken. TEUT.Spectare. Kilian.L.LABBE, n. A blab; a great talker. 3509.LABBING, part. pr. Blabbing. 10302.LACED, part. pa. FR. Tied, bound. R. 3178.LACERT, n. FR. "A fleshy muscle; so termed from its having a tail like a lizard. Cota." 2755.LACHE, adj. FR. Sluggish. Bo. iv. pr. 3.LACHESSE, N. FR. Slackness; negligence. P. 162 , col. 2,1. 67.LAD, LADDE, pa. t. of LEDE, v. SAX. Led; carried. 7260.13264.LAFT, pa. t. and part. of LEVE, v. SAX. Left. 16351. L. W. 168.LAIE, n. T. i . 341. 1002. as LAY.LAIED, part. pa. of LAY, v. SAX. With orfreys LAIED, i. etrimmed. R. 1076. So this word is frequently used by Hollinshed, vol. iii. p. 1317. LAID with gold lace.-LAID ON with red silke and gold lace. -LAID ABOUT with silver lace. See COUCHED.LAINE, inf. v. SAX. To lay. R. 184.LAINERS, n. pl. FR. Straps, or thongs. 2506.LAKE, n. 13787. It is difficult to say what sort of cloth is meant. Laecken , BELG. signifies both linen and woollen cloth. Kilian.LAKKE, n. SAX. A fault; a disgraceful action. 10073— Want. 10145.LAKKE, v. To find fault; to blame. R. 284. 4804.LAMBEN, n. pl. SAX. Lambs. R. 7063.LANGURE, V. FR. To languish. 9741.LAPIDAIRE. F. iii. 262. A treatise on precious stones, so entitled; probably a French translation of the Latin poem of Marbodus de gemmis, which is frequently cited by the name of Lapidarius. Fabric. Bibl. Med. Æt. in v. MARBODUS.LAPPE, N. SAX. A skirt, or lappet of a garment. 8461 .15480. T. iii. 59. 743.LARGE, adj. FR. Spacious; free. Prodigal. 13361. At large. 2290. At liberty. Til that it was prime large.10674. Till prime was far spent.LARGELY, adv. Fully. 1910.LAS. n. FR. A lace. 394.-A snare. 1819. 1953.GLOSSARY. 475LASSE, LAS, adj. comp. SAX. Less. 4407. 13047. R. 3045.LATCHE, n. R. 1624. as LAS.LATERED, part. pa. Sax. Delayed. P. 162, col. 2 , 1. 62.LATHE, n. 4086. A barn. "It is still used in Lincolnshire.Sk." In F. iii. 1050. where the Editt. have rathe and fathe, the MSS. give the true reading-lathe.LATON, n. FR. A kind ofmixed metal. 701. of the colour of brass. 11557.LAUDE, n. LAT. Praise. 13385.LAUDES. 3655. The service performed in the fourth, or last watch of the night. Dic*ntur autem Laudes, quod illud officium laudem præcipue sonat divinam , &c. Du Cange in v. LAUS 2. The same service was often called Matins. Idem in v. MATUTINI.LAVED, part. pa. FR. Drawn; spoken of water taken out ofa well. Bo. iii. m. 12.LAVENDER, n. FR. A washerwoman, or laundress. L. W. 358. In the passage of DANTE, which is here quoted,Envy is called,LA MERETRICE, che mai dall' ospizio Di Cesare non torse gli occhi putti,Morte comune, e delle corte vizio.Inf. xiii. 64.LAVEROCK, n. Sax. A lark. R. 662.LAUNCEGAY, n. Asort of lance. See the n. on ver. 13682.LAUNCELOT DU LAKE. 15218. An eminent knight of the round table, whose adventures were the subject of a Ro- mance begun by Chrestien de Troyes, one of the oldest of the Romance- poets, and finished by Godefrois de Leigni.See Fauchet. L. ii. c. 10, 11. They have been repeatedly printed in French prose, and make a considerable part of the compilation called " Mort d'Arthur. ” His accom- plishments, as a courtier and a man of gallantry, have been alluded to before, ver. 10601. Signor Volpi, in his notes upon Dante, Inf. v. 128. has most unaccountably represented Lancilotto, as innamorato di Ginevra,moglie del Re MARCO. If there be any faith in history,Ginevra was the wife of King ARTHUR. The story in Dante, which is the occasion of Signor Volpi's note, is acurious one. It is alluded to by Petrarch, Trionfo d'Amore. iii. 82.Vedi Ginevra, Isotta, e l'altre amanti,E la coppia d'Arimino.-LAUNDE, n. FR. A plain not ploughed. 1693.LAVOURES, n. pl. FR. Lavers. 5869.LAUREAT, adj. LAT. Crowned with laurel. 7907. 14614 .LAUREOLE, n. FR. Spurge- laurel. 14969.LAURER, n. FR. Laurel. 9340.LAUS, adj. SAX. Loose. 4062. Laus. Island. Solutus. Thisis the true original of that termination of adjectives, so frequent in our language, in les or less. Consuetud. de Beverley. MS. Harl. 560. Hujus sacrilegii emenda non erat determinata, sed dicebatur ab Anglis Botalaus, i. e.sine emenda. So Chaucer uses Boteles, and other words of the same form; as Detteles, Drinkeles, Gilteles, &c.LAWE, adj. for Low. R. 5046.LAXATIF, n. FR. A purging medicine. 2758. 14949.LAY, n. SAX. Law; religious profession. 4796. 10332.LAY, N. FR. A species of poem. 9755. 11259. See the Dis- course, &c. n. 24.LAY, pa. t. ofLIE, or LIGGE. 972. LAYEN. pl. 3210.LAZAR, N. FR. A leper. 242.LECHE, N. SAX. A physician. 3902. Lechecraft. 2747. The skill of a physician.v. To heal. C. D. 852.LECHEROUS, adj. Provoking lecherie. 12483.LECHOUR, n. FR. A leacher. 6953.LECTORNE, N. LAT. A reading- desk. C. L. 1383.LEDEN, n. SAX. Language. 10749. See the note.LEDGE, v. C. L. 1065 , as ALLEGE.LEES, n. FR. A leash, by which dogs are held. P. 155, col.1, 1. 3.adj. SAX. False.out lying; truly.Withouten lees. R. 3904. WithLEFE, adj. SAX. Pleasing, agreeable. Al be him LOTHE or LEFE. 1839. Though it be unpleasing to him, or pleasing.For LEFE ne LOTHE. 13062. For friend nor enemy. He turned not-for LEVE ne for LOTHE. P. L. 286.-It some- times signifies, Pleased. I n'am not LEFE to gabbe, 3510.I am not pleased to prate; I take no pleasure in prating.LEFULL, adj. Lawful. 5619. 9322.LEGGE, SAX. To lay. 3935.V. FR. To ease. R. 5016. as ALEGE.LEIE, v. SAX. To lay. T. iii. 72.LEISER, N. FR. Leisure. 1190. 9708. Opportunity. 3292.LEITE, n. SAX. Light. Thonder-leite. Bo. i. m. 4. Lightning.LEKE, N. SAX. A leek. 3877. It is put for any thing of very small value, 16263. R. 4830.LEMES, n. pl. SAX. Flames. 14936 .LEMMAN, n. SAX. A lover, or gallant. 4238. 5337.-A mis- tress. 14069.LENDES, n. pl. SAX. The loins. 3237.LENE, adj. SAX. Lean. 289. 9727.v. SAX. To lend. 613. 3775. -To grant. 7226. 13613.LENGER, adv. comp. Sax. Longer. 14437.LENTE, pa. t. of LENE, 13284.LENTON, n. SAX. The season of Lent. P. 148, col. 2, 1. 21 .L'ENVOY, FR. was a sort of postscript, sent with poetical compositions, and serving either to recommend them to the attention of some particular person, or to enforce what we call the moral of them. The six last Stanzas of the CLERKES TALE are in many Mss. entitled, L'envoy de Chaucer à les mariz de notre temps. See also the Stanzas at the end of the Complaint ofthe Black Knight,and of Chaucer's Dreme.LEON, n. LAT. A lion. 1600.LEONINE, adj. Belonging to a lion. 14564.LEOPART, LEPARD, n. FR. A leopard. 2188. 14267.LEOS, n. GR. People. 15571 , 4.LEPANDE, part. pr. of LEPE, v. SAX. Leaping. R. 1928.LEPE, LEP, for LEPETH, 3 pers. sing. 4226. 10285.for LEPED, pa. t. 2689. C. D. 2164.pr. n. Atown in Spain. 12504.LERE, LERNE, v. SAX. To learn. 10002. 13466. -To teach.16312 .LERED, pa. t. and part. 577. 13449.LERE, N. SAX. The skin. 13786. See the note.LESE, n. FR, as LEES. In lustie lese. T. ii. 752. In Love's leash .adj. SAX. as LEES. R. 85093.v. SAX. To lose. 11672, 4.LESETH, 2 pers. pl. imp. m. 4439. Lose ye.LESING, n. SAX. A lie; a falsity. 15947. R. 4508. LESINGES,pl. 12525.LEST, LIST, LUST, n . SAX. Pleasure. 132. 192. 6215. 11124.LESTE, LISTE, LUSTE, v. To please. It is generally used,as an Impersonal, in the third person only, for It pleaseth, or It pleased. Him luste to ride so. 102. It pleased him t. r. s. Wel to drink us leste. 752. It pleased us well t. d. Ifyou lest. 830. If it please you. Me list not play. 3865. It pleaseth me not to play.adj. SAX. superl. d. Least. 2200. At the leste way.1123. At the leste. 5432. At least.for LAST. T. ii . 1330.LET, v . SAX. To leave; to omit. 1319. To leave; to per- mit. 1325. Let thyjapes be. 5824. Let the sompnour be 6871. -To cause. 2978. 5377.-To hinder. T. iii . 726.LETE, pr. n. The river Lethe. F. i . 71.LETGAME, n. SAX. A hinderer of pleasure. T. iii. 528.LETTE , n. Delay; hindrance. 8176.LETTOWE, pr. n. Lithuania. 54.LETTRED, adj. FR. Learned. R. 7691.LETTRURE, LETTERURE, n . FR. Literature. 14414. 16314.LETTUARIE, N. FR. An electuary. 428, 9683.LEVE, v. for LIVE. 7114.n. SAX. Desire; inclination. 13952.adj. Dear. 3132. Sce LEFE.v. SAX. To believe. 10079.LEVETH, imp. m. 2 pers. pl. 3090. Leveth me. Believe me.In R. 3519. Leveth is misprinted for Leseth.He leseth more than ye may doe.So this verse should be written.Plus y pert- il que vous nefaictes. Orig.476 GLOSSARY.In T. iii. 56. Leve is misprinted for Lene; and also in T. ii. 1212. and T. v. 1749.LEVELES, adj. SAX. Without leave. C. D. 74.LEVEN, n. SAX. Lightning. 5858.LEVER, comp. d. of LEFE. More agreeable. It were me lever. 10995. I hadde lever. 10037. HIRE hadde lever.5447. See also ver. 16844. 16972.LEVESELL. See the n. on ver. 4059. though I am by no means satisfied with the explanation there given of this word. The interpretation of it in the Prompt. Parv.will not help us much. " LEVECEL BEFORN A WYNDOWE OR OTHER PLACE. Umbraculum .' My conjecture with respect to the origin of the proverb, Good wine needs no bush, is certainly wrong. That refers to a very old practice of hanging up a bush, or bough, where wine is to be sold. The Italians have the same proverb, Al buon vino non bisognafrasca.LEWED, LEWDE, adj. SAX. Ignorant; unlearned. 6928.12370.- Lascivious. 10023.LEYE. v, SAX. as LEGGE. To lay. R. 4143. -To lay a wager.16064.LEVES, pr. n. Layas, in Armenia. 58. See the n. on ver. 51.LEYTE, n. SAX. Flame. P. 169. col. 1 , 1. 21. See LEITE.LIARD, pr. n. belonged originally to a horse of a grey colour. See the n. on ver. 7145.LICENCIAT, n. LAT. 220. seems to signify, that he was licensed by the Pope to hear confessions, &c. in all places,independently of the local ordinaries. See R. 6364-6472.LICHE-WAKE. See the n. on ver. 2960.LIDE, pr. n. Lydia. 14645.LIEGES, n. pl. FR. Subjects. 7943.LIEN, pr. t. pl. of LIE, or LIGGE. 16247.― part. pa. of LIE, or LIGGE. Lain. P. 170, col. 1, 1. 55.P. 172, col. 1, 1. 20.LIES, n. pl. FR. Lees of wine, &c . F. iii. 1040.LIETH, R. 4143. is misprinted for LEYETH.LIFLY, adv. SAX. Like the life. 2089.LIGEANCE, n. FR. Allegiance. 5315.LIGGE, LIE, v. neut. Sax. To lye down. 2207. 13839.LIGGING, part. pr. Lying. 1013.LIGHT, V. SAX. To enlighten. 15539. 13401.-To make light,or pleasant. 10710.v. neut. To descend; to alight. 5524, 10483.LIGNE, n. FR. Lineage; lineal descent. T. v. 1480. LIGINE.C. D. 1517. should probably be Lignee, to rime to Com- pagnee.LIGNE ALOES. T. iv. 1137. Lignum aloes; a very bitter drug.LIKE, LIKEN, v. Sax. To compare. 5951. 3. 5.v. SAX. To please. 8382. T. i . 432. Ifyou liketh. 779.If it pleaseth yon. Itliketh hem. 5679. It pleaseth them.LIKEROUS, adj. SAX. Gluttonous. 12473.-Lascivious. 6048.LIKING, part. pr. Pleasing. R. 868.n. Pleasure. 12389.LIMAILE, n. FR. Filings of any metal. 16321.LIME, V. SAX. To smear, as with bird-lime. T. i. 354.LIMED, part. pa. Caught, as with bird-lime. 6516.part. pa. FR. Polished , as with a file. F. iii. 34.LIMER, N. FR. Limier. A blood-hound. Du. 362. 5.LIME-ROD. 14694. A twig with bird-lime.LIMITATION, n. LAT. A certain precinct allowed to a Limi- tour. 6459.LIMITOUR, n. A Fryer licensed to beg within a certain district. 209. 253. 4.LIMMES, n. pl. SAX. Limbs. P. 149. col. 1 , 1. 45.LINAGE, N. FR. Family. 4270. R. 258.LINDE, n. SAX. The lime- tree. 9087. R. 1385.LISSE, n. SAX. Remission; abatement. 11550.v. neut. SAX. To grow easy. R. 3758. 4128.LISSED, part. pa. of LISSE, v . SAX. Eased; relieved. 11482 .LISTE, v. See LESTE.LISTENETH, imp. m. 2 pers. pl. of LISTEN, v . SAX. Hearken ye. 13642.LISTES, n. pl FR. Lists; a place enclosed for combats, &c.See the n. on ver. 1715.LITARGE, n . FR. White lead. 16243.LITE, adj. SAX. Little. 1195. P. 162 , col. 1 , 1. 47.LITH, N. SAX. A limb. 14381 .for LIETH. 3653. 10349.Soft; flexible. Du. 953. F. i. 119.To soften. T. iv. 754.LITHE, adj. SAX.v . SAX.LITHER, adj. SAX. Wicked. C. N. 14. In the Editt. it is Lithy. LUTHER and quede. R. G. 414. See QUADE.LITHERLY, adv. SAX. Very ill. 3299.LITLING, adj. SAX. Very little. F. iii. 133.LIVAND, part. pr. Sax. Living. C. D. 1628.LIVE, N. SAX. Life . On live. 3041. 5622. In life; A'live.Lives creature. 2397. 8779. Living creature. Lives body.F. ii. 555. Living body.See the note on ver. 405. and the sta- LODEMANAGE. 405. tute 3 Geo. I. c. 13. where Load-manage LODESTERRE. 2061. is used repeatedly in the sense of Pi- lotage.LODESMEN, n. pl. SAX. Pilots. L. W. 1486.LOFT, adv. SAX. On loft. 4697. On high; A- loft.LOGE, n. FR. A lodge; habitation. 14859.LOGGED, part. pa. FR. Lodged. 15004.LOGGING, n. Lodging. 15001.LOKE, V. SAX. To see; to look upon. Bo. iv . pr. 6. v. pr. 3.LOKEN, LOKE, part. pa. of Loke, v . Sax. Locked. 14881.R. 2092. Shut close. Conf. Am. 29. His one eye anon was LOCKE.LOLLER, n. A Lollard. See the n. on ver. 12923. and ver. 12914.LOLLIUS, pr. n. of a writer, from whom Chaucer professes to have translated his poem of Troilus and Creseide. See the note on P. 172, col. 2, 1. 23. I have not been able to find any further account of him.LONDE, n. SAX. Land. 4806. 5323.LONDENOYS. A Londoner; one born in London. T. L. i. 325.LONE, n. SAX. A loan; any thing lent. 7443.LONG, v. SAX. To belong. 2280. Longingfor his art. 3209.Belonging to his art. 10353. - To desire. L. W. 2275.16390. See ALONG.Loos, Los, n. FR. Praise. 16836. M. 117, col. 2, 1. 1. LOSES,pl. F. iii. 598.LORD, n. SAX. A title of honour, given to Monks, as well as to other persons of superior rank. 172. 13930.-In ver.830. Lordes is used in the sense of Lordings.LORDINGS, n. pl. Sirs; Masters. 763. 790. A diminutive of Lords.LORDSHIP, N. SAX. Supreme power. 1627.LORE, n. SAX. Knowledge. 8664.- Doctrine. 529. -Advice.3527.LOREL, n. SAX. A good-for-nothing fellow. 5855. Bo. i. pr.4. where it is the translation of perditissimum. Skinner supposes it to be derived from the LAT. Lurco; and in the Promptorium Parvulorum, " LOSEL, or LOREL, or LURDEN," is rendered " Lurco. " But Lurco, I apprehend,signifies only a glutton, which falls very short of our idea of a lorel; and besides I do not believe that the word was ever sufficiently common in Latin to give rise to a derivative in English. One of Skinner's friends deduces it with much more probability from the BELG.(rather SAX . ) Loren; Lost; Perditus.LORNE, part. pa. of LESE, v. SAX. Lost. 8947. Undone.10943. 13959.Los, n. SAX. Loss. 16477. T. iv. 27.LOSED, part. pa. SAX. Loosed. R. 4511 .-part. pa. FR. Praised. T. L. i. 325.LOSENGE, n. FR. A quadrilateral figure, of equal sides but unequal angles, in which the Arms of women are usually painted. R. 893. In F. iii . 227. Losynges seems to signify small figures of the same form in the fret-work of acrown.LOSENGEOUR, n. FR. A flatterer. 15332.LOTEBY, n. R. 6339. In the Orig. Compaigne. A private companion, or bed-fellow. In P. P. 14. the concubines of priests are called their Lotebies. Perhaps it may be derived from the SAX. Loute; to lurk.LOTH, adj. SAX. Disagreeable; odious. 3393.LOTHER, Comp. d. More hateful. L. W. 191.LOTHEST, superl. d. Most unwilling. 11625.LOTHLY, adj. Loathsome. 6682.LOVE-DAYES. See the n. on ver. 260. and add T. L. i. 319."Maked I not a Love-daye betwene God and mankynde,and chese a mayde to be nompere, to put the quarell at ende?"GLOSSARY. 477LOVE- DRINKE, n. Sax. A drink to excite love. 6336.LOVE- LONGING, n. SAX. Desire of love. 3349. 3679.LOVESOME, adj . SAX. Lovely. T. v. 465.LOUGH, pa. t. of LAUGH, v. SAX. Laughed. 6254. 12410.LOUKE. 4413. See the note. In P. P. 20. Wrong is called a wicked luske; and I learn from Cotgrave, that luske is a synonymous word to lowt, lorel, &c. so that perhaps Louke may be still another term for an idle, good for- -nothingfellow. See Cotg. in v. Luske, ENG. and in v.Loricard, Falourdin. FR.LOURE, v. neut. SAX. To look discontented. R. 7099.LOURING, part, pa. 6848.LOUTE, V. SAX. To bow. 14168. R. 4384. -To lurk. 15654.Low, n. for LAW. C. D. 319.LOWLYHEDE, n. SAX. Humility. B. K. 315.LUCAN, pr. n. The Roman poet. 14637.LUCE, n. LAT.LUCINA, pr. n.The fish , called a pike. 352.The Moon. 11357.LULLED, pa. t. of LULL, v. SAX. Invited to sleep. 8429.LUMBARDES, n. pl. Bankers; Remitters of money. 13297.LUNARIE, pr. n. of a herb; moon-wort. 16268.LURE, n . FR. A device used by falconers for calling their hawks. 6922. 17021.v. FR. To bring to the lure. 5997.LUSSHEBURGHES. See the n. on ver. 13968.LUST, n. See LEST.LUSTE, v. See LESTE.LUSTYHEDE, N. SAX. Pleasure, mirth. 17223. L. W. 1528.LUXURIE, . FR. Leacherie. 5345.LYNIAN, pr. n. 7910. See the note. A learned correspondent, to whom I am obliged for other useful hints, has suggested to me, that Fabricius, upon the authority of Ghilini, has placed the death of Joannes Lignanus in 1383. Bibl. Med. Et. in v. This furnishes an additional reason for believing that the Canterbury Tales were composed, or at least collected into a body, after that period.MACE, 1. FR. A club. 2126.M.MACHABE, pr. n. The books of the Maccabees. 14497. 14573.MACROBES, pr. n. R. 7. MACROBIUS. 15129. Du. 284. A. F. 111. The author of the Commentary on the Somnium Scipionis of Cicero.MADDE, v. SAX. To be mad. 3559. R. 1072.MADRIAN. 13898. See the note. I have found since that the French have a Saint called Materne. But Mr. Steevens, with much more probability, supposes, that the precious body, by which the Host swears, was that of St. Mathurin. See his story in the Golden Legende,Edit. 1527. by Winkin de Worde, 151. b. " Than toke they the precious body and enoynted it with mochereve- rence; and when they had layd it in the erth, on the morowe they came to the sepulture and founde the holy body above the erth nygh unto the same sepulture, and than were they all abashed and wyst not what to do. "It seems, the knightes, who had brought him out of France, had promised that, if he died on his journey, he should be sent back and buried " where as theyhad taken him; " and therefore his body would not stay in the ground, till it was deposited , according to promise, in France; where it afterwards worked many miracles.MAFEIE, FR. Mafoy; by my faith. T. iii. 52.MAGICIEN, n. FR. A magician. 11553.MAGIKE, n. FR. Magick. 11607. Magike naturel. 418. See the note.MAHOWND, pr. n. Mahomet. 4644. See Du Cange, in v.MAILLE, n. FR. A coat of mail. 9078.MAINTE, part. pa. B. K. 230. as MEINT.MAINTENANCE, n. FR. Behaviour. Du. 834.MAISONDEWE, FR. Maison-dieu; a hospital. R. 5619.MAISTER, N. FR. A skilful artist; a master. 11514. 11532.Maister-strete. 2904. The chief street. Maister- temple.L. W. 1014. The chief temple. Maister- tour. 10540. The principal tower.MAISTERFUL, adj. Imperious. T. ii. 756.MAISTERIE, MAISTRIE, n. FR. Skill; skilful management.3383. 6400. -Power; superiority. 6622. 9048. 11076.Love wol not be constreined by maistrie.Whanmaistrie cometh, the God of love anon Beteth his winges, and , farewel! he is gou.I cite these elegant lines , as I omitted to observe before,that Spenser has inserted them in his Faery Queen, B. 2.C. 1. St. 25. with very little alteration, and certainly without any improvement.Ne may love be compel'd my mastery;For, soon as mastery comes, sweet love anone Taketh his nimble wings, and soon away is gone.Amaistrie. 16528. A masterly operation; Un coup de maitre. For the maistrie. 165. Seethe note.MAISTRESSE, n. FR. Mistress, governess. 12040.MAISTRISE, n. FR. Masterly workmanship. R. 4172.MAKE, n. SAX. A fellow; a mate. 2558. -A husband.5667. 8716. A wife. 9175. 9696. MAKE OF METCHE. Com- par. Prompt. Parv.v. SAX. To compose, or make verses. L. W. 69.364.To solace him sometime, as I do whan I MAKE. P. P. 60.— To make a man's berde; To cheat him. See the n. on ver. 4094.MAKED, part. pa. Made. 2526.MAKE. Bo. iv. m. 7. Why MAKE ye your backes? We should read-nake, i. e . make naked. Cur inertes terga nudatis? Orig.MAKELES, adj. SAX. Peerless; without a fellow. T. i. 172.MAKING, n. Poetry. L. W. 74. MAKINGES, pl. Poetical compositions. L. W. 413. And thou mediest with MAKINGS.P. P. 60.MALAPERT, adj. Pert, forward. C. L. 737. And so we should read in T. iii. 87. with the MSS. J. K. instead of in all apert. The word seems to be evidently of French original, though I do not recollect to have seen it used by any French writer. Appert. adj. FR. signifies Ex- pert, &c. Cotgrave.MALE, N. FR. A budget, or portmanteau. 3117. 12854.MALEFICE, n. FR. Enchantment. P. 153, col. 2, 1. 47.MALE-TALENT, n. FR. Ill will. R. 274. 330.MALISON, n. FR. Malediction, curse. 16713. P. 156, col. 1 ,1. 50. I gyve it my MALISOUN. P. L. 318.MALT, pa. t. of MELT, v. SAX. Melted. T. f. 583.MALVESIE, pr. n. Malmsey-wine. See the n. on ver. 9681.MALURE, n. FR. Misfortune. C. D. 599.MANACE, n. FR. A threat. 2005.v. To threaten. 7998. 9626.MANACING, n. Threatening. 2037.MANCIPLE, n. An officer, who has the care of purchasing victuals for an Inn of Court. See his CHARACTER, ver.569-588. The name is probably derived from the LAT.Manceps, which signified particularly the superintendant ofapublic bakehouse, and from thence a baker in general.See Du Cange, in v. MANCEPS. 2. The office still subsists in several Colleges as well as Inns of Court.MANDEMENT, n. FR. Mandate. 6928.MANERE, n. FR. Carriage, behaviour. 140. 10860.-Kind,or sort. A manere Latin. 4939. A kind of Latin. Swiche a maner love-drinke. 6335. Such a sort of love- potion.Swiche maner rime. 6709.MANGONEL, N. FR. An engine used to batter walls. R. 6279.MANIE, n. FR. GR. Madness. 1376.MANNISH, adj. SAX. Human; proper to the human species.M. 112, col. 1 , 1. 25. -Masculine; proper to man, as distin- guished from woman. T. i. 284. In this last sense, when applied toa woman, it is a strong term of reproach. 5202.MANOR, n. FR. Dwelling. Du. 1004.MANSUETE, adj. FR. Gentle. T. v. 194.MANTELET, n. FR. A short mantle. 2165.MARCIAN, pr. n. Martianus Capella. 9606. F. ii. 477.adj. Martial; under the influence of Mars. 6192.MAREIS, N. FR. A marsh. 6552.MARGARITE, n. FR. A pearl. T. L. i. 315. b.MARIE, MARY, n. SAX. Marrow. 12476. Mariebones. 382.Marrow-bones.MARKET- BETER. 3934. See the note. But I am now more inclined to believe, that this word is to be understood in a sense similar to that in which the French phrases,Battre les rues-and Batteur de pavez are used. Battre478 GLOSSARY.les rues; To revel, jet , or swagger up and down the streets a'nights. Batteur de pavez; A jetter abroad in the streets. -A pavement beater. See Cotgrave, in v.Bateur. Batre. Pavé. So that " He was a market-beter attefull" may mean perhaps; -He was used to swagger up and down the market, when it was fullest: a circum- stance, which suits very well with the rest ofhis charac- ter.-MARKET DASCHAR. Circumforaneus. Prompt. Parv.MARKIS, n. FR. A marquis. 7940.for MARKISES , gen. ca. sing. 8870. In the same manner Peneus is put for Peneuses. 2066. Theseus for Theseuses. 2201. 2697. Venus for Venuses. 2274. 10586.Ceres for Cereses. 10139. Melibeus for Melibeuses. 13902.and in prose, M. 119, col. 1. 1. 50. Perhaps it might have been proper to add a mark of Apocope to the words so abbreviated . As to the present method of expressing the genitive cases of nouns ending in s, by adding another s,with a mark of Syncope, as Peneus's , Theseus's, Venus's,&c. it seems absurd, whether the addition be intended to be pronounced, or not. In the first case, the e should not be cut out; in the second, the s is quite superfluous.But the absurdity of this practice is most striking, when the genitives of monosyllable nouns are thus written;an ox's horns; an ass's ears; a fish's tail; St. James's park; notwithstanding that the e, which is thus directed to be cut out, is constantly and necessarily to be pro- nounced, as if the several words were written at length;oxes, asses, fishes , Jameses.MARKISESSE, n. FR. The wife of a Marquis. 8159. 8270 .MARTE, pr. n. Mars. 2023.MARTIRE, N. FR. Martyrdom; torment. R. 2547.V. FR. To torment. 1564.MARY, MARIE, pr. n. A vulgar oath; ByMary. 13322. 16530 MASE, n. A wild fancy. 15099. T. v. 468.v. neut. To doubt; to be confounded. 10261 .MASEDNESSE, n. Astonishment; confusion. 8937.MASELIN, n. Rather Mazerin. 13781. A drinking cup.See Du Cange, in v. MAZER.MATE, part. pa. of MATE, V. FR. Dejected; struck dead.957. R. 1739. So feble and mate, Conf. Am. 127. b.MATIRE for MATERE, n. FR. Matter. T. iv. 818.MAUGRE, MALGRE , FR. In spite of. Maugre all thy might.1609. Maugre thin eyen. 5897. Maugre hire hed. 6469.P. 169, col. 2, 1. 17.- The original of this expression appears more plainly in the following passages. I drede thou canst megrete maugre. R. 4399.Orig. 4118.With his ill will; againstCarje cuide, que me scavez Mal gré.Malgre his. R. 2386. 5953.his will; Malgré lui.MAVIS, 7. SAX. A thrush. R. 619.R. 5590. is probably a mistake for Muis, n. pl. FR.The Orig. has Cent muys defroment.5197. The Paris Muid contains something more than five quarters English.MAUMET, n. An idol. P. 163, col. 2, 1. 31.MAUMETRIE, n. The religion of Mahomet. 4656. -Idolatrie.P. 163, col. 2, 1. 34.MAWE, n. SAX. The stomach. 12930.MAY, U. SAX. To be able, physically. 2314. 3045. 8. morally.739. 2355. 6. See MowE.MAY, . SAX. A virgin. 5271. OfMary, moder and MAY.P. L. 235. 307.-A young woman. T. v. 1719.MAYDENHED, n. SAX. Virginity. 2331 .MAXIMIAN, pr. n. C. L. 798. The author of vi Elegies,which have been frequently printed under the name of Gallus. He is said by Fabricius ( Bibl. Lat. T. i. p. 297.Ed. Patav. ) to have lived under the Emperour Anasta- sius, q. I. or II.? A translation , or rather abridgement,ofthese Elegies, in English verse, is in MS. Harl. 2253.MEANELICHE, adj. SAX. Moderate. Bo. i . pr. 6. Mediocri- bus. Orig.MEBLES, n. pl. FR. Moveable goods. 9188. 16008.MEDE, n. SAX.meadow. 89.Reward. 3380. P. 164, col. 2 , 1. 65. —AMETHE, METH, n. BARB. LAT. Mead; a liquormade of honey. 2281. 3378. 3261.MEDLE, V. FR. To mix. P. 149 , col. 1 , 1. 1 .MECLEE, adj. Of a mixed stuff, or colour. 330.MEINIE, n. FR. Household attendants. 7627. 7738.-An army. 14348. 17177. Hurlewaynes meyne. Contin. of Canterb. Tales, 1. 8. This obscure phrase, I think, may be understood to relate to a particular set of ghostly apparitions, which were used to run about the country at night, and were called in French La mesanie de Hellequin or Herlequin. The fullest account that Ihave seen of them is in " L'histoire de Richard sans paour, Duc de Normandie, qui fut fils de Robert le Diable." In one of his rides he meets with three black Knights, whom he engages. " Et quand les Chevaliers veirent le jeu mal party pour eux ils monterent à cheval et s'enfuyrent;-et Richard-chevaucha apres eux; et ainsi qu'il chevauchoit il apperceut une dance de gens noirs qui s'entretenoyent. Adonc luy souvint de la mesgnie de Hellequin, dont il avoit autres foys ouy par- ler." The title of the next chapter ( 4. ) is “ Cy divise de la mesgnie de Hellequin et qui il estoit." He is there said to have been a knight, who, having spent all his sub- stance in the wars of Charles Martel against the Sara- cens, lived afterwards by pillage. "Adonc il avint qu'ilmourut et fut en danger d'estre damne, mais Dieu luy fit pardon, pource que il avoit bataille contre les Sarra- zins et exaulce la foy. Si fut condamne de Dieu que pour un tems determine luy et ceux de son lignage feroient penitence et yroient toute la nuit parmy la terre,pour leurs penitences faire et endurer plusieurs maux et calamitez." The belief of such apparitions was certainly ofgreat antiquity in Normandy, as they are mentioned byOrdericus Vitalis, under the title offamilia Herlechini,in a most extraordinary story related by him, L. viii .p. 695. ann. 1091. And I suspect that in a passage quoted by Du Cange, in v. HERLININI, from Petr. Blesens Ep.14. we should read Herlikini instead of Herlinini.Gervase of Tilbery, who wrote in 1211, mentions ano- therset ofapparitions, which were called familia Arturi.Ot. Imper. Dec. ii. c. 12. "In sylvis Britanniæ majoris autminoris consimilia contigisse referuntur, narrantibus nemorum custodibus , quos forestarios-vulgus nominat,se alternis diebus circa horam meridianam, et in primo noctium conticinio sub plenilunio luna lucente , sæpissi- me videre militum copiam venantium et canum et cornuum strepitum, qui sciscitantibus se de societate et familia Arturi esse affirmant." He had just said that Arthur, not long before, had been seen in a palace,"miro opere constructo, " in a most delicious valley in the neighbourhood of Mount Etna, where he had resided " vulneribus ever since the time of his supposed death,quotannis recrudescentibus."MEINT, part. pa. of MENGE, v . SAX. Mixed, mingled.R. 2296.MEKE, adj. SAX. Meek, humble. 8017.V. To become meek. R. 3541. 3584.MELES, n. pl. SAX. Meals; dinners, &c . Du. 612.MELE-TIDE, n. Sax. Dinner-time. T. ii. 1556.MELLE, V. FR. To meddle. C. D. 536.n. for MILLE. 3921 .MEMORIE, n. FR. Remembrance. To be drawen to memorie.3114. To be recorded.And for to drawe in to memorye Her names bothe and her historye.V. To remember. 10118.Conf. Am. f. 76.MENDIANTS, n. pl. FR. Fryers of the Begging orders.7488. See the note.MENE, V. SAX.n. FR.To mean; to intend. 2065. 2218.Moyen. A mean, or instrument. 9545.Where the Orig. has mezzano; a procurer.MENES, pl. 7064. 3375.T. iii. 255.adj. Middle. 7027. 17322. But see the note on the latter verse.MENIVERE, n. FR. A sort of furr. R. 227. See the n. on ver. 193.MERCENRIKE, pr. n. The kingdom of Mercia. 15118.MERCIA, pr. n. F. iii. 139. Marsyas is probably meant;but our Poet, I know not upon what authority, has turned him into a female.MERCIABLE, adj. FR. Merciful. 13618.GLOSSARY. 479MERITORIE, adj. FR. Meritorious. P. 165, col. 2, 1. 47.MERKE, N. SAX. A mark; an image. 11192. All the merke ofAdam. 6278. All the images of Adam; all mankind.adj. SAX. Dark. R. 5339.MERLION, n. FR. Emerillon. A merlin; a sort of hawk.A. F. 339.MERVAILLE, n. Fr. Wonder, marvel. 10974.MERY, adj. SAX. Merry. 804.-Pleasant. 14972.MES. R. 3462. At gode mes should probably be At gode- ness. The Orig. has en bon point. See GODENESS.MESE, n. for MESSE. C. D. 2116.MESEL, n. FR. A leper. P. 160 , col. 2, 1. 19.MESELRIE, n. FR. Leprosie. P. 160, col. 2, 1. 24.MESSAGE, n. FR. A messenger. 8614. 8823 .MESSAGERIE, pr. n. A fictitious attendant in the Temple of Venus. A. F. 228. Boccace calls her Ruffiania.Theseida. b. vii.MESSE, n. FR. The service of the Mass. 9768.MESTE, adj. SAX. superl. d. 8006. as MOSTE.MESURABLE, adj . FR. Moderate. 437. 10676.MESURE, n. FR. Moderation. 11981.METAMORPHOSEOS. 4513. METAMORPHOSOSE. C. L. 1260.Ovid's Metamorphosis. See JUDICUM.METE, adj. SAX. Fitting; convenient. 1633.-n. SAX. Meat. 1617. During the metes space. 5434.During the time ofeating.METE BORDE, n. SAX. An eating-table. T. L. ii. 326. b.METELY, adj. Proportionable. R. 822.METE, v. SAX. To meet. 12627. -To dream. T. iii. 1350.METTE, MET, pa. t. Dreamed. 15089. 15118. I mette. 6159.Me mette. 14900. 4. I dreamed.METRICIENS, n. pl. Writers in verse. C. L. 30.MEVABLE, adj. FR. Moveable. R. 4736.MEWE, N. FR. A cage for hawks, while they mue, or change their feathers. 10957.-A cage , in general, or any sort of confinement. R. 4778. T. iii. 603. In mewe.T. i. 382. In secret.MEWET, adj. FR. Mute. In mewet. C. L. 148. Dumbly,speaking inwardly.MICHER, n. A thief. R. 6541. Lierres. Orig. 12008. My- CHYN OF PRYVELY STELYN SMALE THYNGS. Surripio.Prompt. Parv.MIGHT, pa. t. of MAY, v. SAX. Was able. 301. 1519.MIGHTEN, pl. 7985.part. pa. T. iii, 655. If godely had he might. If he had been able with propriety.——— N. SAX. Power; strength. 1152. 1858.MILKSOP, n. An effeminate fellow. 13916.MILNE- STONES, n. pl. SAX. Mill-stones. T. ii. 1384.MINDE, n. SAX. Remembrance. 1908. Conf. Am. 148. As the bokes maken MINDE.MINE, V. FR. To penetrate. T. ii. 627.MINISTRALLES, n. pl. FR. Minstrels. 10392 .MINISTRES, n. pl. FR. Officers of justice. 15049. 15064.MINISTERS. C. D. 2130. Minstrels.MINORESSE, n. R. 149. A nun, under the rule of St. Clare.Du Cange, in v. MINORISSA. It is not clear however why Chaucer has likened Hate to a Sister of this order. His original gave him no authority.MINOUR, n. FR. A miner. 2467.MINSTRALCIE, n. FR. Musick. 2199. 10582. - Musical in- struments. 17216.MIRROUR, N. FR. A looking- glass . 10446.MIRTHELES, adj. SAX. Without mirth. A. F. 592.MIs, adv. Ill; amiss. 16467. R. 3243. T. iv. 1267. It is often to be supplied to a second verb, having been ex- pressed in composition with a former. If that I mis- speke or say. 3141. That hire misdoth or saith. 13928.There is nothing missaide nor do. Du. 528.-n. A wrong. 17226.MIS-ACCOMPTED, part. pa. Misreckoned. T. v. 1184.MISAVENTURE, n. Misfortune . 6916.MIS-AVISE, v. To advise wrongly. 5812.MIS- BODEN, part. pa. of MIS- BEDE. Injured. 911 .MIS- BORNE, part. pa. of MIS- BERE. Misbehaved. M. 120 ,col. 2, 1. 19.MISCHANCE, n. FR. Misfortune. With mischance. 6916.17142. See WITH.MISCHEFE, n. FR. Misfortune. R. 6741.MISCOVETING, n. R. 196. should probably be MISCOMPTING.Mescompter. Orig.MIS-DEPARTE, v. To distribute wrongly. 4527.MISERICORDE, n. FR. Mercy; pity. 7492.MIS- ESE, n. Uneasiness. P. 150, col. 1 , 1. 10.MIS- FORYAVE, pa. t . of MIS- FORYEVE. Mis-gave. T. iv. 1426.MIS-GIED, part, pa. of MIS-GIE. Misguided. 14451 .MIS- GON, MIS- Go, part. pa. of Mis-Go. Gone wrong. 4216.4253.MIS-HAPPING, part. pr. Falling amiss. R. 5543.MIS-LEDE , v. To conduct amiss. T. iv. 48.MIS- LIVED, part. pa. Having lived to a bad purpose.T. iv. 330.MIS-METRE, v. To spoil the metre of verses, by writing or reading them ill. T. v. 1795.MIS- SATE, pa. t. of MIS SIT. Misbecame. R. 1194.MIS SAYDE, part. pa. of Mis- SAYE. Ill spoken of. R. 1260.MIS-SAYER, n. An evil speaker. R. 2231.MISSE, . SAX. To fail. T. iii. 1630.MISSE-METRE, v . See MIS-MEtre.MISTAKE, v. To take a wrong part; to transgress. R. 1540.Mesprendre. Orig.MISTERE, n. FR. Trade; occupation. 615. -Condition of life. 1342. What mistere men ye ben. 1712. What kind of men ye are. -Need. R. 5614. 6078.MISTIHEDE, n. SAX. Darkness. C. M. 71 .MISTILY, adv. SAX. Darkly. 16862.MISTRIST, v. for MISTRUST. 12303.MIS-WAIE, n. A wrong way. R. 4766.MIS-WENT, part. pa. of Mis wende.MIS-WRITE, v. To write wrong. T. v. 1794.MITAINE, n. FR. A glove. 12307, 8.Gone amiss. R. 7280.MITCHE, N. FR. A manchet; a loaf of fine bread. R. 5585.MITE, N. SAX. A small worm. 6142. 16166 .MIXEN, n. SAX. A dunghill. P. 167 , col . 2, 1. 67.Mo for ME. 8915. See the note.for MORE, adj. comp. 546. 810. 1937. -adv. comp.1354. 2073.MOCHEL, MOCHE, adj. SAX. Great, in quantity. 2354.7593, in number, 6586. 6855. in degree. 496. - adv. Much,greatly. 1118. 2852.MODER, MODRE, n. SAX. Mother. 10139. 10291.-The Ma- trix, or principal plate of the Astrolabe. Ast.MOISON, n. FR. Harvest; growth. R. 1677.MOIST, MOISTY, adj. FR. New. 459. 12249. 17009. See the n. on ver. 459.MOKEL, n. Du. 454. 861. may perhaps signifie size, magni- tude; as Michel seems to be used in that sense in P. P. 89. b. Of one MICHEL and might.MOLESTIE, n. FR. Trouble. Bo. iii. pr. 9.MOLTE, pa. t. of MELTE, v. SAX. Melted. F. ii. 414.- part. pa. T. v. 10.MONCHE, v. To chew. T. i . 915.MONE, n. SAX. The Moon. 9759.-Lamentation. 5076. 11232.MONESTE, V. FR. To admonish. R. 3579.MONIOURS, n. pl. FR. Coiners. R. 6811. In the Original it is Faulx Monnoyeurs.MONSTRE, n. FR. A monster, or prodigy. 11656. — Apattern . Du. 912.MOOD, n. SAX. Anger. 1762.MORCELS, n. pl. FR. Morsels. R. 6179.MORE, adj. comp. SAX. Greater, in quantity. 705. 785.in number. 10192. in degree. 1758. 6516. -adv. comp.1309. 2746. It is usually joined to adjectives and adverbs to express the comparative degree. 6023. 7551. 10786.MORMAL, n. See the n. on ver. 388.MORTER, n. FR. A sort of wax-light. T. iv. 1245.MORTIFIE, V. FR. To kill ( speaking of Quicksilver). 16594.MORTREWES, N. See the n. on ver. 386.MORWE, n. SAX. The morning. 2493. A'morwe. 824. 6175.In the morning. 1623. 2491. In the morning of the following day.-To-morwe, I believe, always means the following day. 782. 1612. 2241. 2404. and it includes thewhole day. To-morwe at night. 3593.MORWENING, n. SAX. The morning. 4232. 15308. MORWE.NINGES, pl. 6457.MOSEL, N. FR. The muzzle; mouth of a beast. 2153.480 GLOSSARY.MOSTE, adj. superl. SAX. Greatest, in quantity. 305. 897.in number. 10675. in degree. 2200. 10614. -adv. superl.563. 2409. It is usually joined to adjectives and adverbs to express the superlative degree. 2205. 9425.v. SAX. Must. 734. 7. MOSTEN, pl. 6024.MOTE, V. SAX. Must. 232. 1647. 8. -May. 834. 4175. MOTEN,pl. 10630. 2.n. SAX. An atom. 6450. T. iii. 1609.MOTHES, n. pl. SAX. Moths. 6142.MOTIF, n. FR. A motive, incitement. 5048. 9365.MOUGHT, pa. t. of Mowe, v. SAX. Might.MOULE, v. SAX. To grow mouldy. 4452. MOULED, part. pa.3868 .MOUN for MOWEN, pr. t. pl. of Mowe, v. SAX. May. 12868.13160.MOUNTANCE, n. FR. Amount; in value. 1572.-in quan- tity. 12797. Notfull the mountance of a mile. Conf. Am.187.MOURDANT, n. FR. The tongue of a buckle. R. 1094.MOWE, v. SAX. May; to be able. MowEN, pl. 13967. 16149.- It issometimes used in the inf. m. M. 115 , col . 1 , 1.5. Which thou shalt not move suffre. Which thou shalt notbe able to endure. To mowen suche a knight done live or die. T. ii. 1594. To be able to make such a knight to live or die.-She should not con ne mow attaine. C. D. 150. She should not know nor be able to attain.MOWE, n. FR. A distortion of the mouth. T. iv. 7. F. iii.716. What do I than but laugh and make a mowe?Lydg. Trag. 137.MOWING, n. Ability. Bo. iv. pr. 4. In the following passage it seems to be used as a GERUND. That shrewes weren dispoiled of mowing to don yvel. Ibid.MUCH, MUCHEL. See MоCHE.MUCKRE, v. SAX. To heap. T. iii. 1381.MUE, v. FR. To change. T. ii. 1258.MUET, adj. FR. Dumb, mute. T. v. 194.MULLOK, n. SAX. Dung; rubbish. 3871. 16408.MULTIPLICATION, n. FR. The art of making gold and silver. 16317.MULTIPLIE, V. FR. To make gold and silver. 16303.MUSARD, n. FR. A muser, or dreamer. R. 3256, 4034.MUSE, V. FR. To gaze. R. 1592.MYSELF, MYSELVE, MYSELVEN. See SELF.N.NA for No. 4174. See the n. on ver. 4021 .N'ADDE for NE HADDE; Had not. 10212.NAILE, . SAX. A nail. 6351. By nailes. 12222. By Goddes nailes. 12385. an oath. See the n. on ver. 12585.NAKERES, n. pl. FR. See the n. on ver. 2513.NALE, n. SAX. An ale-house. 6931. See the note. But Iam now less inclined to adopt Skinner's explanation of this word, because I observe that Ale alone is commonly put for an Ale-house, and I cannot find that Nale is ever used, except where it follows the preposition Atte. In the passage quoted from P. P. 32 b. the Cotton MS. Vesp.B. xvi. has at the ale. And so in P. P. 26 b. With idle tales at the ale. -Robert of Brunne's translation of Manuel des pechés. MS. Bodl. 2313. fol. 1.In gamys, in festys, and at the ale- fol. 38. Or yf thou leddest any manto the ale.I suspect therefore that Nale, in those few passages in which it is found, should be considered as merely a cor- ruption, which has arisen from the mispronunciation and consequent miswriting of atte nale for atten ale. See the n. on ver. 12542. A similar corruption seems to have taken place in the name of that celebrated personage in our law, Mr. John a-noke, whose original appellation,I believe, was John atten oke, as that of his constant antagonist was John atte stile. Sim. atte stile is a name in P. P. 23 b. and there are many others of the same form; as, Atte cliff, Atte- ley, Atle- well, Atte-wood, &c.That the letter n is apt to pass from the end of one word to the beginning of another, we have an instance in Newt, which has certainly been formed by corruption from An ewt, or eft; and perhaps Nedder, n. Sax. may have been forined in the same way from An adder. Theword in the Teutonic is Adder, as we write it now, with- out the initial n. The same corruptions have happened in other languages. See the notes of Signor Redi upon his Bacco in Toscana, p. 133. 4. 5. 182. 3.N'AM for NE AM; Amnot. 5730.NAME, pa. t. of NIME, v. SAX. Took. 16765.NAPPE, v. SAX. To sleep . 16958. See KNAP.NARCOTIKES, n. pl. FR. GR. Drugs causing sleep. 1474.L. W. 2659.NARWE, adj. SAX. Close, narrow. 3224. 14828. Whan they hem narwe avise. 9862. Whan they closely consider their conduct.NAS for NE WAS; Was not. 1450. 1651.NASO, pr. n. L. W. 928. 2218. P. Ovidius Naso. See OVIDE.NAT, adv. SAX. Not. 5889, 6551 .NATAL, adj. LAT. Presiding over nativity. T. iii. 150.NATHELESSE, NATHELES, adv. SAX. Not the less; never- theless. 2475. 3606.NATION, n. FR. 4701. Nation.-Family. 6650.NAUGHT, NOUGHT, n. SAX. Nothing. 758. 770.- adv. Not; not at all. 2070. 4820. It may more properly perhaps be considered as a noun used adverbi- ally. See NOTHING.NAY, adv. SAX. 8297. It seems to be used sometimes as anoun. It is no nay. 8692. 9015. It cannot be denied.v. To denie. P. 170, col. 2, 1. 20.NE, adv. SAX. Not. 9356. 10070. Ne had he ben holpen.10980. Had he not been helped.conj. SAX. Nor. 970, 1. 8847. 11795.NECE, n. FR. A niece.-A cousin. 13030. 13055.NECESSARIE, adj. FR. Necessary. T. iv. 1021.NEDE, n. SAX. Need; necessity. 4523.v. is generally used as an Impersonal. It nedeth thee nought teche. 3599. Nedeth hem no dwale. 4159.Neded nomore to hem to go ne ride. 9489.NEDEFUL, adj. Distrest, indigent. 4532.NEDELY, adv. Necessarily. 6550.NEDES, NEDE, adv. Necessarily. It is usually joined with must. 1171. 11475. 17157.NEDDER, n. SAX. An adder. 9660. NEDERS, pl. L. W. 699.NEIGHE, adj. SAX. Nigh. 3392.v. To approach; to come near. R. 1775. 2003.NEKKE, n. SAX. The neck. 5859. Nekkebone. 6488.NEMPNE, v . SAX. To name. 10632.NER, adv. SAX. Near. 10315. 12900.NERE, comp. d. Nigher. Never the nere. 16189. Never the nigher. Nere and nere. 13450. Nigher and nigher.Ferre ne nere. 1852. Later nor earlier.N'ERE for NE WERE; Were not. 17222. N'ere it. 1602.Were it not. Ne're the frendship. 16830.NERFE, n. FR. Nerve; sinew. T. ii . 642.NESHE, adj. SAX. Soft; tender. C. L. 1092 , NESCH and hard. P. L. 242 300.NETE, n. SAX. Neat- cattle. 399.NETHER, adj. comp. Sax. Lower. 3850.NETTLE IN, DOCK OUT. T. iv. 461. See RAKET.NEVEN, v. SAX. To name. 8485. 16289.NEVEW, n. FR. A nephew. - A grandson. L. W. 2648.NEWE, adj. SAX. New; fresh . 459.-adv. Newly. 7879. Newe and newe. T. iii. 116.Again and again. All newe. 9700. Of newe. 8814.Newly; lately. All newe. 13308. Anew; afresh.v. To renew. T. iii. 306.NEWED, part. pa. Renewed. M. 120, col. 1 , l . 6.NEWEFANGEL, adj. Desirous of new things. 10932. 17142.NEWEFANGELNESSE, n. Inconstancy. 10924.NEXTE, superl. d. Nighest. It generally signifies thenighest following; but sometimes the nighest preceding.F. iii. 685.N'HATH for NE HATH; Hath not. 925.NICE, adj. FR. Foolish. 5508. 6520.NICETEE, n. Folly. 4044. 17101. Do his nicetee. 5994. So the French use Fairefolie.NIFLES, n. pl. Trifles. 7342.NIGARD, n. A stingy fellow. 5915.NIGARDIE, n. Stingyness. 13102 .NIGHTERTALE. 97. Night-time. See the note.NIGHT-SPEL, n. Sax. A-night-charm. See the n. on ver. 3480.GLOSSARY. 481NILL for NE WILL; Will not. 5724. 5762.N'Is for NE IS; Is not. 976. 1679.N'ISTE for NE WISTE; Knewnot. sing. 11340. 3414. N'ISTEN for NE WISTEN; Knew not. pl. 10948.NOBLEDEST, pa. t. 2 pers. sing. of NOBLE, v. FR. Ennobledst.15508.NOBLESSE , N. FR. Dignity, splendour. 8344. 8658.NOBLEY, n. 8704. 10391. as NOBLESSE.NOCKED, part. pa. Notched. R. 942.NOIE, n. FR. Hurt; trouble. 3772.v. FR. To hurt; to trouble. R. 4416.NOISE, V. FR. To make a noise. Bo . iii . m. 6.N'OLDE for NE WOLDE; Would not. 3159. 3168.NOMBRE, n. FR. Number. 718.NOMEN, NOME, part. pa. of NIME, v. SAX. Taken. T. v.190. 514. L. W. 1016.NOMPERE, n. An arbitrator. T. L. i. 319. See the passage quoted above in v. LOVEDAIE. The sense of this word is established by the Prompt. Parv. " NowMPER OF OWM- PER. Arbiter. Sequester. " If the etymology of it were as clear, we might be able to determine which of the two methods of writing it is the best. Custom has long declared for the latter. The modern word is umpire;and in P. P. 25 b. the Editt. read an umper; but the Cotton MS. Vesp. B. xvi. has-a numper. I cannot find that any such word is used, in the same sense, in any other of the Gothic or Romance languages. It has been supposed by some to be a corruption of un pere, FR.which I can hardly believe; and perhaps the reader will be as backward to admit ofa derivation of it from the FR.Nonpair; Anodd, or third person; which an arbitrator generally is. This however is the most probable ety- mology that has occurred to me; and I see that the compiler of the Statutes for the University of Oxford (whoever hewas) had the same idea, for he expresses the word umpire, in his Latin, by Impar. Tit. xv. §. 14.Index, IMPAR, aut Arbitrator, in quâcunque causâelectus.NON, adj. SAX. Not one; none. 656. 682.adv. FR. Not. 13011. Absent or non. 8311. Whether ye wol or non. 11090.NONE, n. FR. The ninth hour of the natural day; Nine o'clock in the morning; the hour of dinner. 9767. T. v.1114. 22 , 30.NONES. For the nones. See the n. on ver. 381. and add,if necessary, the following instances, T. i. 562. ii. 1381. iv.428. L. W 295. 1068. 1114. [ There seems to be now no doubt that the original form was the Saxon for than anes. See Price's note on Warton's Hist. ofEngl. Poet.ii. 496, and Sir F. Madden's Gloss. to Syr Gawayne, &c.]NONNE, n. FR. A nun. 118.NORICE, n. FR. A nurse. 5881. Bo. ii. pr. 4. In other passages, Bo. i. pr. 3. iii. pr. 9. it is printed by mistake, Isuppose, for NORIE, n. A foster- child. Alumnus.NORTELRIE, n. Nurture; education. 3965.NOSETHIRLES, n. pl. Sax. Nostrils. 559. P. 150, col. 2, 1. 38.N'or for NE wor; Know not. 286. 3664.NOTABILITEE, n. FR. A thing worthy of observation. 15215.NOTE, N. SAX. Need; business. 4066.n. FR. A musical note. To cry by note. T. iv. 583.To cry aloud, in a high tone.NOTEMUGE, n. Nutmeg. 13693. R. 1361.NOTES, n. pl. SAX. Nuts. R. 1377 .NOT- HED; A head like a nut. See the n. on ver. 109.NOTHER, Conj. SAX. Nor, neither . 8796. 9951.N'OTHER, adj. SAX. for NE OTHER. Neither n'other. L. W. 192. Nor one nor other. He n'is in neither n'other habite.Bo. v. m. 3. Neutro est habitu. Orig.NOTHING, adv. SAX. Not; not at all. 1756. 8251.NOUCHES, n. pl. 8258. See the note. It is probable, I think,that Nouche is the true word, and that Ouche has been introduced by a corruption, the reverse of that which has been taken notice of in NALE. See Du Cange, in v.Nochia, and Nusca; and Schilter, Gloss. Teut. in v. Nuosci;from whence it appears that Nuschin, TEUT. signifies Fibula; a clasp, or buckle As these were some of the most useful instruments of dress, they were probably some of the first that were ornamented with jewels; by which means the name by degrees may have been extended, so as to include several other sorts ofjewels.The same thing may have happened in the case of the word BROCHE ( see above); which indeed seems, origin- ally, to have been a French expression for Nouche.NOVELRIES, n. pl. FR. Novelties. F. ii . 178.NOUGHT, n. & adv. SAX. See NAUGHT.NOUTHE, adv. SAX. Now. 464. T. i. 986. See the n. on ver. 464.Now, adv. SAX. Now and now. 10744. Once and again.Now adayes. 9040. 16864. In these days.NOWEL, n. FR. Christmas. See the n. on ver. 11567.NOYSAUNCE, n. FR. Offence; trespass. C. D. 255.O for Ho. 2535. See Ho.0.O, adj. for ON; One. 740. 5555. In the curious old Ballad on the battle of Lewes ( Ant. Poet. v. ii. p. 4. ) 1. 10.oferlyng should be written, I believe, oferlyng, i, e. one farthing.OBEYSANCE, n. FR. Obedience. 8378. OBEYSING. R. 3380.OBEYSANT, part. pr. FR. Obedient. 7942. OBEYSING. L. W. 1264.Funeral rites. 995.Respect. 10830.OBSEQUIES, n. pl. FR.OBSERVANCE, n. FR.OBSERVE, V. FR. To respect; to pay regard to. 13560.OCCIDENT, n. FR. The West. 4717.OCTAVIEN, pr.n. Du. 368. I do not suppose that Augustus is meant, but rather the fabulous emperour, who is asubject of a Romance entitled " Octavian imperator."MS. Cotton. Calig. A. ii. See Percy's Catalogue, n. 18.and the passage quoted from MS. Reg. 17. C. viii. in the n. on ver. 13775. The same Octavian, I apprehend,was celebrated in a piece of Arras hangings, which made part of the furniture of Henry V. and is thus described in the Inventory. Rot. Parl. 2. Hen. VI. Item I autre pece d arras D or q comence en l estorie " Le Octavion Roy de Rome. "Ocy, Ocy. C. N. 124. The nightingale's note.OERTHROW for OVERTHROW, part. pa. Sax. Overthrown.C. D. 1151.OETUS, pr. n.Or, adv. SAX.Eetes. L. W. 1436.Off. 552. 784. 2678.OFFENDED, part. pa. FR. Hurt. 2396.OFFENSIOUN, n. Offence; damage. 2418.OFFERTORIE, n. FR. A part of the Mass. 712.OFFRING, n. FR. Offering at Mass. 452. P. 155, col. i, 1. 63.OFT, OFTE, adv. SAX. Often. OFTENSITH; Oftentimes.1879. 8109.OINEMENT, n. FR.OLIFAUNT, n. FR.de la Rose, 18686.OLIVERES, n. pl FR.Ointment. 633.Elephant. 13739. See the note, and R. OLIPHANT sur sa haute eschine, &c.Olive- trees . 14042. R. 1314.OMER, pr. n. Homer. T. i. 146. F. iii . 376.ON, prep. SAX. In. On live. 3041. In life; Alive. On twelve. 7549. In twelve. On hunting. 1689. On hawking.13667. See A. prep. -Upon. On to see. 3247. To look upon. See the note; and add L. W. 2414. Lycurgus daughter, fairer on to sene-So this line is written in MS. Bodl.adj. SAX. One. After on. 343. 1783. Alike. They were at on. 4195. They were agreed. See R. 5817. T. iii.566. Ever in on. 1773, 3878. Continually. I mine on.C. D. 1019. I single; I by myself. And thus I went widewher walking MINE ONE. P. P. 40 b. Non saw but HE ONE. P. L. 44. All HIM ONE. Conf. Am. 175.ONDE, n. SAX. Zeal; malice. R. 148. Ny the and ONDE.P. L. 249.ONED, part. pa. Sax.col. 1, 1. 62.ONES, pl. of ON. 12630.are all one.Made one, united. 7550. P. 150,We three ben alle ones. We threeUnity. T. L. ii. 339.adv. SAX. Once. At ones. 767. At once; at the same time. 3470.ONHED, N. SAX.ONLY, adv. SAX.ONY, adj. SAX.OPEN-ERS, N. SAX.Al only. 13385. M. 115, col. 1, 1. 10. Solely Any. 2410.The fruit of the Medlar-tree. 3869.I I482 GLOSSARY.OPEN-HEDED, adj. Bare- headed. 6228.OPIE, n. FR. Opium. 1474.OPPRESSE, V. FR. To ravish. 11723. OPPRESSED, part. pa.11697.OPPRESSION, n. Rape. 6471. L. W. 1866.OR, adv. SAX. Er, before. 275. 1157.ORATORIE, N. FR. A chapple. 1907. A closet. 6276.ORDAL, N. SAX. Judicial trial. T. iii. 1048. See Kilian. in v. Oor-deei, and Hickes. Dissert. Epist. p. 149. It is possible however that Chaucer may have used this word in its more confined sense, for a trial by fire, or water,without considering whether such trials were practisedat Troy.ORDE, N. SAX. A point. L. W. 645.ORDERED, part. pa. Ordained, in holy orders. P. 164, col.2 , 1. 13.ORDERS FOUR, 210.ORDINANCE, n. FR.The four orders of Mendicant Friers.Orderly disposition. 8837. 11215.ORDINAT, part. pa. LAT. Orderly; regular. 9160.ORE, n. SAX. Grace; favour. 3724. See the note.OREWELL, pr. n. A sea-port in Essex. 279.ORFRAYS, n. FR. Gold- embroidery. R. 562. 869. See Du Cange, in v. Aurifrigia.ORIENT, n. FR. The east. 14320.ORIGENES, pr. n. In the list of Chaucer's works in L. W. ver. 427. he says of himself, that" He made also, gon is a grete while,Origenes upon the Maudeleine. "meaning, I suppose, a translation, into prose or verse, of the Homily de Maria Magdalená, which has been com- monly, though falsely, attributed to Origen. v. Opp.Origenis. T. ii. p. 291. Ed. Paris. 1604. I cannot believe that the Poem, entitled " The Lamentation of Marie Magdaleine," which is in all the editions of Chaucer, is really that work of his. It can hardly be considered as a translation, or even imitation , of the Homily; and the composition, in every respect, is infinitely meaner than the worst of his genuine pieces.ORISONT, N. FR. The horizon. 9671.ORLOGE, n. FR. A clock, or dial. 14860.ORPIMENT, pr. n.OTHER, adj. SAX.Amineral so called. 16291.Alter. LAT. The other of two. 1134.1137. 1277. OTHERS. gen. ca. 2736.adj. SAX. Alius. LAT. 463. 1218.conj. SAX. Or, either. 1714. 1814. 5556.OUCHE, n. 6325. F. iii. 260. See NOUCHE.OVER, prep. SAX. Above. 2045. Over all. In every case;on every side. 249. 5846. 8924.adj. SAX. Upper. 133.OVEREST, superl. d. Uppermost. 292. 16101.OVER GRET, adj. SAX. Too great. 16116 .OVER- LADDE, part. pa. Overborn. 13917. Do not the people oppresse, nor OVERLEDE. Lydg. Trag. 104.OVER- LIVE, v . SAX. To out- live. 6842.OVER MERILY, adv. SAX. Too merrily. C. L. 406.OVER-MOCHE, adj. SAX. Too great. C. L. 384.OVER- NOME, part. pa. of OVER-NIME, v. SAX. Overtaken.2802.OVER-SPRADDE, pa. t. SAX. Over-spread. 2873. T. ii . 769.OVERTE, adj. FR. Open. F ii. 210.OVERTHREW, pa. t. of OVERTHROW, v. neut. SAX. Fell down. C. D 663.OVERTHROWING, part. pr. SAX. Falling headlong. By overthrowing way. Bo. i. m. 6. Præcipiti vid . Orig.And therefore clepeth Cassiodore poverte the moder of ruine, that is to say, the moder ofoverthrowing or falling doun. M. 116. col. 1 , 1. 62.OVER-THWART, adv. SAX. Across. 1993. Du. 863.-Over against. T. iii. 686.OVER- TIMELICHE, adv. SAX. Too early. Bo. i . m. 1.OUGHT, n. SAX. Opiht. Any thing. 5158. 8471. adv.3047. See AUGHT. The difference has arisen merely from the different usages of writing A or 0 for One.pa. t. of OwE. 4331. L. W. 589. 1607.OUGHTEN, OUGHTE , pl. M. 118, col. 2, 1. 31.- From hence, as it seems, has been formed a new verb Ought,which is very commonly used in the present tense, forOwe, in both numbers. 3053. 90400. 2. 14687. M. 109,col. i. l. 38.Ought is also used as an Impers. in the pr. and pa. t.Wel ought us werke. 15482. Well behoveth it us to work.Hem oughte have gret repentance. M. 118, col. 2, 1. 20.It behoved them to have g. r.OVIDE, pr. n. 4474. 6534. 9999. M. 107, col. 1. 1. 8. Our author seems to have been well acquainted with the best part of Ovid's works. Most of the histories in his Legende ofgood women are taken from the Epistolæ Heroidum,or the Metamorphoses. That of Lucrece shews that he had read the Fasti.OUNDING, n. FR. Waving; imitating waves. P. 155, col. 2,1. 29.OURES, pr. poss. SAX. Ours. 12720. 13203. See the Essay,-& c. n. 29.OUT, interj. SAX. Away! 3823. 10240.adv. SAX. Out and out. T. ii. 739.OUTHEES, n. LAT. BARB. Outery. 2014.don brigge full hie OUTHEYS. P. L. 339.OUTRAGE, N. FR. Violence. 2014.OUTRAIE, V. FR.OUT-REDE, v. SAX.OUTRELY, adv. FR.OUT-RENNE, v. SAX.Throughout.And born to LonTo fly out; to be outrageous. 8519.To surpass in counsel. 2451 .Utterly. 12783.To out-run. 2451.OUT STRAUGHT, pа. t. of OUT-STRETCH, v. SAX. Stretched out. R. 1515.OUT-TAKEN, part. pa. Taken out; excepted. OUT- TAKEN Crist on loft . 4697. Christ in heaven being excepted.OUT- TAKE Carleon, that was in Arthure tyme. P.L. 332.OWE, v. SAX. Debeo. 3091. OWEN, pl. 7688. M. 115, col. 2, 1. 3.OWEN, OWNE, part. pa. 8380. 9664. 13126.OWHERE, adv. SAX. Anywhere. 655.OWNDIE, adj. FR. Waving. F. iii. 296.OXENFORDE, pr. n. Oxford. 3329.OYSE, pr. n. A river in Picardie. F. iii. 838.P.PACE, V. FR. To pass away. 8968. 10808. -To surpass. 576 PAGE, n. FR. A boy-child. 3970.-A boy- servant. 12975.L. W. 2035.PAIE, n. FR. Liking; satisfaction. R. 5938.v. FR. To please; to satisfie. R. 3599.- To pay. 13120.PAIDE, part. pa. Pleased. 6767. C. D. 426. - Payed. 13319, 29.PAILLET, n. FR. A couch (properly of straw) . T. iii. 230.PAINDEMAINE. 13655. See the note.PAIRE, V. FR. To impair. R. 6103. If I speke ought To PAIRE her loos, i. e. to impair their credit or reputation.So this line is written in Editt. 1542. and MS. Hunter.PALAMEDES, pr. n. B. K. 331. Not the son of Nauplius,one of the Grecian commanders at the war of Troy, but a knight of the Round table , called PALOMIDES in " Mort d' Arthur;" the unsuccessful rival of Tristan for the love of la belle Isoude. See Mort d' Arthur, B. ii. which seems to be compiled chiefly from the Roman de Tristan.PALASINS, n. pl. FR. R. 6862. Ladies Palasins; Ladies of the court. In the Orig. Palatines. See Du Cange, in v.PALATINI.PALATIE, pr. n. See the n. on ver. 65.PALE, n. A perpendicular stripe, in Heraldry. F. iii. 750.. FR. To make pale. Bo. ii. m. 3.PALEIS, N. FR. A palace. 2201. 10374.PALFREIS, n. pl. FR. Horses for the road. 2497. where Stedes are horses for battle. Ne large palfrey, esyforthe nones. L. W. 1114.PALING, 7. FR. Imitating pales. P. 155, col. 2, 1. 29.PALLADION, n. GR. The image of Pallas at Troy. T. i. 153.PALLED, part. pa. FR. Made pale. 17004.PALMERES, n. pl. See the n. on ver. 13.PALMERIE, pr. n. Palmyra in Syria. 14253.PAMPHILUS, pr. n. 11422. See the note.PAMPRED, part. pa. Pampered; made plump. C. L. 177.See Jun. Etymol. who derives it from the FR. Pampre;a vine- branch, full of leaves.PAN, pr. n. The heathen deity. Du. 512.n. SAX. The skull; the head. 1167 , 13958.PANTER, n. FR. A net. R. 1621. L. W. 131.GLOSSARY. 483PAPELARD, n. FR. A hypocrite. R. 7233.PAPELARDIE, N. FR. Hypocrisie. R. 6796.PAPER- WHITE, adj. White as paper. L. W. 1196.PAR, prep. FR. Par amour. 1157. With love. See the note. Par compagnie. 3837. For company. Par chance.12540. By chance. Par cuere. R. 4796. By heart. Memo- riter. So this line should be written.PARABOLES, n. pl. FR. Parables; the Proverbs of Solomon.6261.PARAGE, n. FR. Kindred. 5832.PARAILLE, N. FR. Apparel. 6143.PARAMOUR, PARAMOURS, n. Fr. Love; gallantry. 3354.3754, 6. 13772.-A lover, of either sex. 6036. 6954. See the n. on ver. 1157.PERAVENTURE, adv. FR. Haply; by chance. 6475.PARAUNTER, corruption of Peraventure. Du. 556. 779.PARCA, n. pl. LAT. The Fates. T. v. 3.PARCEL- MELE, adv. By parcels, or parts. P. 170, col. 1 , 1. 61.PARDE, PARDIEUX. 7257. 9110. T. ii. 759. A common FR.oath, which most of the personages in Chaucer express very frequently in English, with as little ceremony as the Greeks used their n A , and with as little meaning too. See ver. 1812. 4024. 4033. 6168. 7432.PARDONER, n. FR. A seller of pardons or indulgences.See his CHARACTER, Ver. 671-716. See also the n. on ver.710. and P. P. 2.PAREMENTS, n. pl. FR. Ornamental furniture, or clothes.See the n. on ver. 10583.PARENTELE, n. FR. Kindred. P. 167 , col . 2, 1. 53.PARFAY, FR. Parfoy. By my faith. 3681.PARFEL. R. 6228. as PARFAY.PARFIT, adj. FR. Perfect. 72. 5697.PARFITLY, adv. Perfectly. 5693.PARFOURME, V. FR. To perform. 7843. 9926.PARISHENS, n. pl. FR. Parishioners. 484.PARITORIE, n. FR. LAT. The herb Parietaria, or Pellitory ofthe wall. 16049.PARLEMENT, n. FR. An assembly for consultation . 2972.T. iv. 211.-A consultation. R. 7358.PARTEN, inf. m. FR. To take part . 9504. L. W. 465.PARTIE, n. FR. A part. 3010. 4437.-A party, in a dispute. 2659.PARVIS, N. FR. A portico before a church . Du Cange,in v. Paradisus, 1. It appears from R. 7158. Orig. 12530.that books were commonly sold Au parvis devant Notre Dame at Paris. At London, the Parvis was frequented by Serjeants at Law. See ver. 312. and Fortescue de laud.leg. Ang. c. LI. Post meridiem curiæ non tenentur; sed placitantes tunc se divertunt ad Pervisum et alibi, consu- lentes cum servientibus ad Legem et aliis consiliariis suis. There is a difference of opinion where the Parvis at London, to which the Lawyers resorted, was situated.Somner supposes it to have been in Old Palace-yard,before Westminster-hall. Gloss. in x Script . v. Triforium.But others, with more probability, think it was what Dugdale calls the Perryse ofPawles. See the notes upon Fortescue, loc. cit. When the Serjeants had dined in any of the Inns of Court, St. Paul's lay much more con- veniently for an afternoon consultation than Westmin- ster-hall.PAS, n. FR. Afoot-pace. See the n. on ver. 827. and T. ii.627. His horse-On which he rode a pas ful softely.PASS, V. FR. To surpass; to excell. 450. L. W. 1125.- To judge; to pass sentence. 3091. T. iii . 1288. L. W. 162.PASSANT, PASSING, part. pr. Excelling. 2109. 16082.PATREN, inf. m. To pray; properly, to repeat the Pater noster. R. 7195. 6794.PAVADE, n. 3927. See the note.PAUMES, n. pl. FR. The palms of the hands. T. iii. 1120.PAX. To kisse the Pax. P. 155, col. 1 , 1.63. For an account of this ceremony, see Du Cange, in v.PAYEN, adj. FR. Pagan. 2372.PAYENES, n. pl. Heathens. 4962.PAYSAUNCE, n. C. D. 1673. "Pausing or stopping, Gloss.Ur." q?PECUNIAL, adj. Pecuniary; paid in money. 6896.PRES, n. FR. Peace. 2319. When used as an interjection,6420. 6432. it signifies the same as Hold thy pees, 2670 Be silent.PEINE, n. FR. Penalty. Up peine ofdeth . 5304. See UP.- Grief; torment. 1321. 2385.-Labour. 11042.v. FR. To torture; to put to pain. 1748. She peined hire. 139. 4740. She took great pains.PEISE, V. FR. To poize; to weigh. T. iii. 1413.PELL, n. F. iii. 220. "A house; a cell. Sp. and Sk. f. apalace. Gloss. Ur." q?PELLET, n. FR. Pelotte. A ball. F. iii. 553.PENANCE, n. FR. Repentance. P. 148, col. 1 , 1. 15. -Pains to be undergone by way of satisfaction for sin. 223 5411.-Pain; sorrow. 4758. 5224. 11050.PENANT, n. FR. A person doing penance . 13940.PENCELL, n. FR. Pennoncel. A small streamer. T. v. 1043.PENIBLE, adj. FR. Industrious; pains-taking. 7428. 8590.PENITENCER, n. FR. A priest, who enjoins penance in extraordinary cases. P. 170, col. 1 , 1. 68.PENMARK, pr. n. A place in Bretagne. See the n. on ver.11113.PENNER, n. 9753. A pen- case. In the inventory of the goods of Henry V. Rot. Parl. 2 H. 6. n. 15. m. 13 is the following article: " Un penner' et 1 ynkhorn d'arg' dor- rez. " And again, m. 20. “ I pennere et 1 corne covert du velvet bloy. "PENON, n. FR. A streamer, or ensign . 980.PENS, n. pl. SAX. Pennies. 12310. 12864.PENSELL, n. R. 6280. as Pencell.PENSIFEHED, n. Pensiveness. B. K. 102.PEPER, N. LAT. Pepper. 16230. To brewe peper. R. 6028.seems to be an expression for the preparation of a hot,pungent liquour, which should burn the throats of the drinkers. In the Orig. it is-Dames les brasseront tel poivre. 11514.PEPLE, n. FR. People. 2532, 6.PEPLISH, adj. Vulgar. T. iv. 1677.PERCHE, N. FR. A pearch for birds. 14890.PERCEL, adv. B, K. 225. r. Parcel. Ed. 1542. By parcels,or parts.PERDE. F. ii. 332. as PARde.PERE, v. To appear. C. L. 55.n. FR. A peer, an equal. 4024. 10990.PEREGAL, adj. Equal. T. v.840.PEREGRINE, adj. FR. Wandering. 10742. See the note.PERELES, adj. Without an equal. B. K. 347.PERJENETE, n. A young pear. See the n. on ver. 3248.PERNASO, pr. n. Mount Parnassus. 11033.PERRIE, N. FR. Jewels; precious stones. 2938. 5926.PERSAUNT, part. pr. FR. Piercing. R. 2809.PERSE, pr. n. Persia. 14258.adj. FR. Skie- coloured; of a blewish-grey. 441 .PERSELEE, n. SAX. LAT. Parsely. 4348.PERSONE, n. BARB. LAT. A man; generally, a man of dignity. 10339.-A parson, or rector of a church. 7590.- See his CHARACTER, 479-530. PERSONER, T. L. ii. 326.PERTELOTE, pr. n. of a hen. 14876.PERTURBE, V. FR. To trouble. 908.PERTURBING, n. Disturbance. 7836.PERVINKE, n. SAX. LAT. The herb periwinkle. R. 903.PERY, n. FR. A pear-tree. 10091 .PESE, N. FR. R. 4703. as PEES.PESEN, n. pl. SAX. Peas. L. W. 648.PESIBLE, adj. Peaceable. R. 7413.PETER ALFONSE. M. 110 , col. 2, 1. 60. 111 , col. 1 , 1. 60. PIERS ALFONSE. M. 108 , col. 2, 1. 2. 112, col. 2, 1. 42. 116 col. 1, 1. 63.See the note on M. 108, col . 2, 1. 2.PETRARK, pr. n. 7907. 14331. See the note on ver. 7927.and 14253. Our author has inserted a translation ofthe 102d Sonnet of Petrarch into his Troilus and Creseide.B. i. ver. 394-421. It is not in the Filostrato. There seems to be no sufficient reason for believing that Chaucer had ever seen Petrarch. See the Discourse, &c.§. xx. n. 20.PEYTREL, N. FR. The breast- plate of a horse. 16032. P. 156,col. 1 , 1. 17.PHISIKE, N. FR. Medicine. 415. 2762. Doctour of Phisike.See his CHARACTER. 413-446.PHISIOLOGUS, pr.n. 15277. See the note. There was a larger work, with the same title, in prose, which is frequently quoted by Vincent of Beauvais.112484 GLOSSARY.PHITON, pr. n. The serpent Python. 17058, 77.PHITONESSE, n. BARB. LAT. A witch. 7092. F. iii. 171. See the n. on ver. 7092.PIE, n. FR. A mag- pie. 10963.-A prating gossip, or tell- tale. T. iii. 528. F. ii. 195.PIERRIE, n. FR. Jewels; precious stones. 14311 .PIGGESNIE. See the n. on ver. 3268 .PIGHT, pa. t. of PIKE, v. SAX. Pitched. 2691 .PIKE, v. SAX. To pitch. To pick, as a hawk does his feathers. 9885. To steal L. W. 2456. -To peep. T. iii. 60.n. Sax. A fish so called. 9293.PIKEREL, n. Sax. A young pike. 9293.PILCHE, N. SAX. A coat, or cloak, of skins. Prov. 4. Toga pellicea. Junius in v.PILER, n. FR. A pillar. 1995. Du. 739.PILLE, v. Fr. Piller. To rob; to plunder. 6944. P.164,col. 1 , 1. 25.PILLED, rather PILED, part. pa. FR. Pelé. Bald. 629. 3933.PILLOURS, n. pl. FR. Plunderers. 1009. P. 164. col. 1 , 1. 31 .PILWE, n. SAX. A pillow. T. v. 224.PILWE BERE, n. SAX. The covering of a pillow. 696.PIMENT, 7. BARB. LAT. Spiced wine. R. 6027 .--Wine mixed with honey. Bo. ii . m. 5. See CLARRE.PINCHE, V. FR. To squeeze. Ther coude no wight pinche at his writing. 328. No one coud lay hold of any flaw in his writings.PINE, n. SAX. Pain; grief. 1326. 6369.v. SAX. To torment. R. 3511.PINED, part. pa. Tortured. 15065.PIPE, v SAX. To play on a pipe. 3874. To pipe in an ivy lefe . 1840. T. L. iii . 348. is put for any useless employment;as it is now said of a disappointed man, He may go whistle. See BUCKES HORN.PISTELL, N. SAX. LAT. An epistle. 9030. - A short lesson.6603.PITANCE, n. FR. A mess of victuals. 224. It properly means an extraordinary allowance of victuals, given to Monastics, in addition to their usual commons. See Du Cange, in v. PICTANTIA.PITH, N. SAX. Marrow; strength . 6057.PITOUS, adj. FR. Merciful. 10334.-Compassionate. 8980.-Exciting compassion. 8962.PITOUSLY, adv. Pitifully. 5339. 8958.PLAGE, N. LAT. The plague. P. 159, col. 2, 1. 49.PLAGES, n. pl. LAT. The divisions of the globe. The plages ofthe North. 4963. The Northern regions.PLAIN, n. FR. A plain . 4444. 11510.adj. Simple; clear. 11032. It is often used as an adverb. 792. 5306. See PLAT.v. To make plain. T. v. 1229.PLAINE, V. FR. To complain. 5969. 11629.PLAINLICHE, adv. Plainly. T. ii . 272.PLAT, PLATTE, adj. FR. Flat; plain. 1847. 12582.-The flat of a sword. 10476. T. iv. 937. -It is often used as an adverb. 12582. All plat, i. e. Flatly. Ful plat and eke ful plain. 14675.PLATE, n. A flat piece of metal. A brest- plate. 2122.Armour for the breast. A pair of plates. 2123. Armour for the breast and back.PLAY, n. SAX. Sport; pleasure. 8906. 3047.v. To sport; to take pleasure. 12892. 12902. To act upon a stage. 3384. To play upon musical instru- ments. 3306. 3333. To play a pilgrimage. 13163 , 4. To withdraw upon pretence of going on a pilgrimage.PLE, n. FR. An argument, or pleading. A. F. 485.PLEIN, adj. FR. Full; perfect. 339. 8802.PLENERE, adj . FR. Compleat. L. W. 1605.PLESANCE, n. FR. Pleasure. 9308. 9524.PLESINGES, n. pl. Pleasures. 5131 .PLETE. V. FR. To plead. T. ii . 1468.PLETING, n. Pleading. P. 149, col. 2 , 1. 48.PLIE, V. FR. To bend, or mould. 9045. 9304.PLIGHT, n . Condition. P. 164 , col . 1 , 1. 7.pa. t. and part. of PLUCK, v. SAX. Pulled; plucked.4435. 6372. 14055. R. 1745.PLIGHTE, V. SAX. To engage; to promise. 6591. 13128.-pa. t. 6633. PLIGHTEN, pl. 11640.PLITE. V. To plait, or fold. T. ii. 697. 1204. See PLIEPLITE, n. Condition; form. 16420. See PLIGHT.PLUNGY, adj. FR. Wet; rainy. Bo. iii. m. I. POLEIS, adj. FR. Of Apulia, antiently called POILE. See the n. on ver. 10509. Willamme's dogter Conversane in POYLE to wyve he nome. R. G. 413.POINT, n. FR. The principal business. 2967.-A stop, or full point. 16948. - In good point. 200. In good case. or condition. At point devise. 3689. 10874. R. 1215. With the greatest exactness. At point to brest. T. iv. 1638.In point for to brast. R. 3186. Ready to burst.POINTEL, n. FR. A style, or pencil, for writing. 7324.Bo. i. pr. I. POINTEN, inf. m. v. FR. To prick with any thing pointed.R. 1058.POKE, n . FR. A pocket. 3778.-A bag. 4276. See POUCHE.v. FR. To thrust, 4167.POLIVE, n. A pullie. 10498.POLLAX, n. SAX. A halberd. 2546. Bipennis. Prompt. Parv.POMEL, N. FR. Any ball, or round thing. The top ofthe head. 2691.POMELEE, adj. FR. Spotted with round spots like apples,dappled. Pomelee gris. 16027. Of a dapple grey colour.POPELOT, n. See the n. on ver. 3254.POPET, n. FR. A puppet. 13631 .POPINGAY, n. A parrot. 10196. 13299. Papegaut, FR.Papegacy. BELG. Papagallo. ITAL.POPPED, adj. FR. Nicely dressed. R. 1019.POPPER, n. See the n. on ver. 3929.PORE, v. To look earnestly. 5877. 7320.adj. 7518. for POURE.POREN, pr. t. pl. 16138.PORISME, n. GR. Bo. iii. pr. 10. is used in the sense of-Acorollary; a theorem deduced from another.PORPHURIE, pr. n. of a species ofmarble; Porphyrie. 16243- PORT, N. FR. Carriage; behaviour. 69. 138.PORTECOLISE , n. FR. A falling gate, a portcullis. R. 4168 PORTOS, n. See the n. on ver. 13061 .Pose, n. A rheum, or defluxion , obstructing the voice.4150. 17011. Catarrus. Corisa. Prompt. Parv.v . FR. To suppose. 1164. T. iii. 572. I POSE, I had sinned so. P P. 95. b.POSSE, V. FR. To push. L. W. 2409.POSSED, part. pa. R. 4479.POSSESSIONERS, n. pl. LAT. An invidious name for such religious communities as were endowed with lands, & c.7304. The Mendicant orders professed to live entirely upon alms.POST, n. SAX.POSTE, n. FR.A prop, or support. 214. T. i. 1001 .Power. R. 6484. 6533.POTECARY. n. FR. An apothecary, 12786.POTENT, N. FR. A crutch. R. 368. 7417. A walking stick.7358.POTENTIAL, adj. FR. Strong; powerful. F. iii. 5.POTESTAT, n. FR. A principal magistrate. 7599.POUCHE, n. FR.POUDRE, n. FR.Pocket; pouch. 3929.Powder. 16228. F. ii. 28.POUDRES, pl. 16275.POUDRE MARCHANT. 383. See the note.POVERTE, n. FR. Poverty. 6759. 6767. It is to be pro- nounced Povérte; the final e being considered as an efeminine.POULCE, n. FR. The pulse. T. iii . 1120.POULE, pr. n. St. Paul. 7229. Poules windowes. 3318 See the note.POUNSONED, part. pa. FR. Punched with a bodkin. P. 155. col. 2 , 1. 44.POUPE, v. To make a noise with a horn. 15405. 17039.POURCHACE, n. FR. To buy. 610. -To provide. 5293. T. ii.1125.POURCHAS, N. FR. Acquisition; purchase. 258. 7033.POURE, v. R. 1640. T. ii . 1708. as POKE.adj. FR. Poor. 6769. 6775.POURTRAIE, V. FR. To draw a picture. 96.POURTRAIOUR, n. A drawer of pictures. 1901 .POURTRAITURE, n. A picture, or drawing. 1917. 1970.PRACTICKE, n. Fr. Practice. 5769.PREAMBLE, n. FR. Preface. 6413.PREAMBULATIOUN, n. Preamble. 6419.GLOSSARY. 485PRECIOUS, adj. FR.PREDESTINE, n. FR.Over-nice. 5730. 9836.Predestination. T. iv. 966.PREDICATION, n. FR. Preaching; a sermon . 12279.PREES, N. FR. A press, or crowd. 5066. 6104.PREFE, PREVE, n. FR. Proof; trial . 8663. At preve. T. iii.1004. Upon trial. With evil prefe. 5829. Evil may it prove! See WITH.PREFECT. n. FR. LAT. A governour, or principal magis- trate. 15830.PREISE, n. FR. Commendation. 8902.v. FR. To commend. 8898. 9420.-To value. 9728.PRENTIS, n. FR. An apprentice. 4383. 5885.PRENTISHODE, n. Apprenticeship. 4398.PREPARAT, part. pa. LAT. Prepared. 16278.PRES, adv. Fr. Near. So I suspect this word is to be un- derstood in ver. 14143. Ofprès. i. e . at hand; close. De près. FR. Or perhaps ofprès may be put for In a prees.See PREES.PRESE, V. FR. To press, or crowd. 2582. R. 4198.PRESENT, V. FR. To offer; to make a present of. 12190.And with the wine she gan him to PRESENT. L. W. 1093.And smote his hed of, his fader to PRESENT. P. L. 18.PRESENTARIE, adj. LAT. Present. Bo. v. pr. 6.PREST, adj. FR. Ready. T. ii . 785. iii. 919.PRETEND, v. FR. To lay claim to. T. iv. 922.PRETERIT, adj. FR. Passed. R. 5011 .PREVE, V. FR. To try. 8575. 9028. -To demonstrate by trial. 10112.v. neut. To turn out upon trial. 8876.PRICK, N. SAX. A point. Bo. ii . pr. 7. F. ii. 399. -A pointed weapon. 2608.PRIKE, V. SAX. To wound. 8914.-To spur a horse;to ride hard. 16029. R. 2314.PRICKASOUR, n. A hard rider. 189.PRICKING, n. Hard riding. 191.PRIDELES, adj. SAX. Without pride. 8806.PRIE, v. To look curiously. 3458. 7320.PRIKKE, n. 5449, See PRICK.PRIME, adj. FR. LAT. First. At prime temps. R. 3373.At the first time. At prime face. T. iii. 921. At first appearance.n. The first quarter of the artificial day. T. ii.1095. Half way prime. 3904. Prime half spent. See the n. on ver. 3904. Prime large. 10674. Prime far ad- vanced. In ver. 10387. it seems to be used metaphori- cally for the season of action or business.PRIMEROLE, N. FR. A primrose. 3268. Conf. Am. 148. b.PRIMETEMPS, n. FR. Spring. R. 4747.PRIS, n. FR. Price. 817.-Praise. 67. 237. T. ii . 181. 376. Or it be prys, or it be blame. Conf. Am. 165.PRIVE, adj. FR. Private. Privé and apert. 6696. Private and publick. Privé man. 8395. A man entrusted with private business.PRIVELY, adv. Privately. 1445.PRIVETEE, N. Private business. 3454. 303.PROCESSE, n. LAT. Progress. 2969.PROFESSIOUN, n. FR. The monastic profession. 13085. R. 4910.PROHEME, n. FR. GR. A preface. 7919.PROINE, V. FR. Provigner. It seems to have signified,originally, to take cuttings from vines , in order to plant them out. From hence it has been used for the cuttingaway of the superfluous shoots of all trees; which we now call pruning; and for that operation, which birds,and particularly hawks, perform upon themselves, of picking out their superfluous or damaged feathers. In allusion to this last sense, Damian is said to proine and pike himself. 9885. Gower, speaking of an eagle, says,Forthere hepruneth him and piketh,As doth an hauke, whan him wel liketh.Conf. Am. 139.PROLLE, V. To go about in search of a thing. 16880.PROVABLE, adj. FR. Capable of being demonstrated . R. 5414.PROVENDE, n. FR. Præbenda. LAT. A prebend; a daily or annual allowance, or stipend. R. 6931. See Du Cange,in v. PRÆBENDA.PROVENDRE, n. A prebendary. T. L. ii . 326.PROVERBE, n. FR. LAT. A prudential maxim. 6233. 9441.PROVERBE, v. To speak proverbially. T. iii . 294.PROVOSTRY, N. FR. The office of Provost, or Prefect. Præ- fectura. Bo. iii . pr. 4.PROW, N. FR. Profit; advantage. 12234. 13338.PROWESSE, N. FR. Integrity. Bo iv. pr. 3.PRUCE, pr. n. Prussia. 53.adj. Prussian. 2124.PRUNED, pa. t. C. D. 1874. as PROINED.PTHOLOMEE, pr. n. 5764. 5906. See the note on ver. 5764.and 17278. and Rom. de la R. 7399. 19449.PUELLA and RUBEUS. 2047. "The names of two figures in Geomancie, representing two constellations in heaven:Puella signifieth Mars retrograde, and Rubeus Mars direct." Sp.PULCHRITUDE, n. LAT. Beauty. C. L. 613.PULLAILE, N. FR. Poultry. R. 7094.PULLED HEN. 177. See the note. I have been told since,that a hen whose feathers are pulled, or plucked off, willnot lay any eggs. If that be true, there is more force in the epithet than I apprehended.PUNICE, V. FR. To punish. R. 7187. T. v. 1706.PURE, adj. FR. Mere; very. See the n. on ver. 1281. and add these instances. Purefere. Du. 1251. Pure kind.F. ii. 316.PURED, part. pa. Purified. 5725. 11864.PURFILED, part. pa. See the n. on ver. 193.PURPOS, N. FR. Purpose; design. 6293.-Proposition in discourse. T. ii. 897.PURPRISE, n. FR. An inclosure. R. 3987.PURVEYANCE, n. FR.-Provision. 3566.Foresight; Providence. 1254, 3013.PURVEYE, V. To foresee. T. iv. 1066.- To provide. 6173.PUTERIE, N. FR. whor*dom. P. 167 , col. 1 , 1. 38.PUTOURS, n. pl. whor*mongers. P. 167, col. 1 , 1. 37.PYTHAGORAS, pr. n. Du. 1167. See the passage quoted in V. AURORA .Q.QUAD, QUADE, adj. TEUT. Bad. See the n. on ver. 4345.and ver. 13368. None quad; Nothing evil. Conf. Am. 103.QUAILE-PIPE, n. A pipe used to call quails. R. 7213.QUAIRE, N. FR. A quire of paper; a book. B. K. 675.QUAKKE, n. 4150. seems to be put for an inarticulate noise,occasioned by any obstruction in the throat.QUALME, n. SAX. Sickness. 2016.-The noise made by araven. T. v. 382.QUAPPE, V. To tremble; to quake. T. iii. 57. L. W. 865.QUARELS, n. pl. FR. Square arrows. R. 1823.QUEINT, n. See Junii Etymolog. in v.QUEINTE, adj. FR. Strange. 2335. 10553. I made of that lefe full queint. R. 3079. See ver. 11530. He made it strange.-Cunning; artful. 3605. 4049.-Trim; neat.R. 2251.pa. t. & part. of QUENCH, v . SAX. Quenched.2336. 2338, 9.QUEINTISE, n. Trimness; neatness. R. 2250.-Excessive trim- ness . P. 168 , col. 2, 1. 16. — Cunning. P. 163, col . 1 , 1. 42.QUELLE, V. SAX. To kill; to destroy. 15396. 16173.QUEME, v. SAX. To please. R. 7222. T. v. 695. Wel me QUEMETH. Conf. Am. 68.QUENE, n. SAX. A queen. 4581.-A harlot. R. 7082.QUERNE, n. SAX. A hand-mill. 14080. F. iii. 708.QUERROUR, n. FR. One that works in a stone-quarry. R. 4149.QUESTE, N. FR. A prayer or demand. F. iii. 648.QUEST MONGERS, n. pl. Packers of inquests, or juries. P. 164 , col. 2, 1. 67.QUETHE, V. SAX. To say; to declare. I quethe him quile.R. 6999. is a translation of an old technical term in thelaw; Clamo illi quietum. The original FR. has only Je quitte.QUIK, adj. SAX. Alive. 1017. R. 5056.QUIKKEST. superl. d. Speediest. The quikkest strete.11806. The most expeditious way.QUIKEN, v. SAX. To make alive. 15949.QUIKED, part. pa. Made alive. 11362.pa, t. ofthe same v. used in a neutral sense. 2337.Became alive.QUINIBLE, n. 3332. is the instrument, I suppose, which is486 GLOSSARY.called in BARB. LAT. Quinterna and Quintaria. See Du Cange, and Carpentier, in v. Quinternizare; and Mehus, Vita d' Ambr. Camald. p. 323. Lyra limbuta,quintaria, ribebd, avená, tibiisque.QUISHIN, n. FR. A cushion . T. iii. 966.QUISTRON, n. R. 886. A beggar. Gl. Ur. I rather believe it signifies a Scullion; un garçon de cuisine.QUITE, adj. FR. Free; quiet. 15916.v. FR. To requite; to pay for. 772. 3121.-To acquit.R. 3069.QUITTE, part. pa. Requited. R. 3146.QUITELY, adv. Freely; at liberty. 1794.QUOD, pa. t. of QUETHE. Said. 790. 839.QUOKE, pa. t. of QUAKE, v. SAX. Trembled; shook. 1578.14210.R.RA, n. SAX. A roe deer. 4084.RACINE, n. FR. A root. R. 4881.RAD, RADDE, pa. t. of REDE, v. SAX. Advised. A. F. 579.- Explained. Du. 281.RADEVORE, L. W. 2341. Tapestry. " Ras in FR. signifies any stuff, as Ras de Chalons, Ras de Gennes, Ras de Vore,or Vaur, may be a stuff made at such a place. " Gloss.Ur. There is a town in Languedoc, called La Vaur;but I know not that it was ever famous for tapestry.RAFLES, n. pl. FR. Plays with dice. P. 164, col . 2, 1. 51 .RAFTE, pa. t. of REVE, v. SAX. Took away. 14104, 7.RAGE, V. FR. To toy wantonly. 259. 3273.RAGERIE, n. Wantonness. 6037. 9721.RAGOUNCES. R. 1117. should probably be JAGONCES, as in the Orig. FR. The precious stones, called Jacinths, or Hyacinths.RAINES, pr. n. The city of Rennes in Bretagne. Du. 255.RAKE- STELE, n . SAX. The handle of a rake. 6531.RAKEL, adj. Hasty, rash. 17227 T. i. 1068.RAKELNESSE, n. Rashnesss. 17232.RAKET. To play raket; nettle in, dock out; seems to be used as a proverbial expression , signifying, to be incon- stant. T. iv. 461. T. L. i. 319. b. What the original of the phrase may have been is not so clear.RAMAGE, adj. FR. Wild. R. 5384.RAMMISH, adj. SAX. Rank, like a ram. 16355.RAMPE, V. FR To climb. She rampeth in myface. 13910.She rises against me; flies in my face.RAN, pa. t. of RENNE, 4103. 6552. RANNEN, pl. 2927.RAPE , adv. Quickly; speedily. R. 6516.n. Haste. Ch. wordes to his Scrivener. 7.v. SAX. To take captive. To rape and renne. 16890.To seize and plunder. See RENNE.RASIS, pr. n. 434. An Arabian Physician of the xth Cen- tury. See Fabric. Bibl. Gr. t. XIII. p. 46. in v. ALBUBECAR.RASKAILE, n. A pack of rascals. T. v. 1852.RATED, part. pa. Chidden. 3463.RATHE, adv. SAX. Soon; early. 13029. -Speedily. T. ii . 1088.RATHER, Comp. d. Sooner. 10176.RATHEST, superl. d. Soonest. B. K. 428.RATHER, adj. SAX. comp. d. Former. T. iii. 1342.RATOUNS, n. pl. FR. Rats. 12788.RAUGHT, pa. t. of Ræcan, v. SAX. Reached. 136. 2917. On his way he raught. T. ii. 447. He sprang forth on his way,pa. t. of Reccan, v. SAX, Cared; rekked. 3770. 15346.RAVENERS ( Ravinours) , n. pl. Plunderers. Bo. i. pr. 3.RAVINE, N. FR. Rapine. Foules ofravine. A. F. 323. Birds of prey.RAVISABLE, adj. FR. Ravenous. R. 7066.RAVISHING, part. pr. FR. Rapid. With a ravishing sweigh.Bo. i . m. 5. Rapido turbine. Orig. See SWEGH.RAUNSON, n. FR. Ransom. 1178.RAYED, part. pa. FR. Streaked, or striped. Du. 252.REAL, adj. FR. Royal. 1499. 15190.REALLER, Comp. d. More royal. 4822.REALLICH, adv. Royally. 380.REALTEE, n. Royalty. 4838.REBEKKE, pr. n. Rebeccah. 9578.ver. 6959.n. FR. A musical instrument. See the n. onRECHASED, pa. t. FR. Aterm in hunting. Du. 379.RECCHE, REKKE, v. SAX. To care. 2247. 4514.RECCHELES, adj. Careless. 8364.RECCHELESNESSE, n. Carelessness . P. 162, col. 2, 1. 38.RECLAIME, V. FR. A term in Falconry, for bringing the hawk to the fist, by a certain call. 17021 .RECLAIMING, n. Calling; in the sense of RECLAIME. L. W. 1369.RECOMFORT, V. FR. To comfort. 2854. M. 117, col. 2, 1. 34.RECORD, N. FR. Witness; testimony. Du. 934.RECORDE, v. FR. To remember. Bo. iii. m. 11 -In ver.1747. it seems to be used in a technical legal sense, for what is called to enter upon record in judicial proceedings.RECREANDISE, n. FR. signifies fear; cowardice; desertion of principle. R. 2107. 4038.RECREANT, adj. One who yields himself to his adversary in single combat. P. 162, col. 2, 1. 4. R. 4090. For the full import of these two words, see Du Cange, in v.RECREDENTIA.RECURE, N. FR. Recovery. B. K. 682,RECURED, part. pa. FR. Recovered. R. 4920. B. K 652.REDDE, RED, pa. t. of REDE, v. Sax. 6296 , 6303 T. v. 737.REDDOUR, N. FR. Strength; violence. Fort. 13.REDE, n. SAX. Advice; counsel. 14467. 3527.-A reed.T. ii. 1387.v. SAX. To advise. 3073. 16476.-To read. 6252.6267.-To explain. Du. 279.adj. SAX. Red. 1971. 14934.REDOUTE, V. FR. To fear. R. 2023.REDOUTING, n. Reverence. 2052.REDRESSE, V. FR. To recover. T. ii. 969.-To make amends for. 11748.REFECT, part. pa. LAT. Recovered. Bo. iv. pr. 6.REFIGURING, part. pr. FR. Figuring again. T. v. 472.REFRAIN, n. FR. The burthen of a song. T. ii. 1571.REFRAINING, n. The singing of the burthen of a song.R. 749.REFREIDE , V. FR. To cool. T. ii. 1343.REFRETE, n. The same as REFRAIN. T. L iii. 341. b. In Ber. 468. it is printed corruptly Frefreit.REFTE, RIFTE, n. Sax. A chink, or crevice. R. 2661.REFUTE, n. FR. Refuge. 5272. 15543.REGALS, n. pl. FR. Royalties. L. W. 2126.REGARD, n. FR. At regard of. P. 164, col. 2, 1. 34, 171 ,col. 2, 1. 49. With respect to; in comparison of.REGNE, n. FR. A kingdom. 868. 14190.REHETE, V. FR. Rehaiter. To revive; to cheer. R. 6509.REHETING, n. T. iii. 350. according to several MSS. " And all the reheting ofhis sikes sore. " " Some MSS. and most ofthe printed Editions read richesse instead of reheting.”Gloss. Ur. Richesse, though almost as aukward an ex- pression as the other, is more agreeable to the corre- sponding passage in the Filostrato-"Esospir che gli avea a gran dovicia❞——

and one can hardly conceive that it could come from any hand but that of the author. I can make no sense ofreheting but at the same time I must allow that it is not likely to have been inserted by way ofa gloss.REILE, v. neut. To roll. Reileth diversly. Bo. i. m. 7.Vagatur. Orig.REINES, pr. n. R. 3826. See RAINES.REJOIE, V. FR. To rejoice. T. v. 395.REKE, V. SAX. To exhale. L. W. 2601 .REKEN, v . SAX.4530.REKES, n. pl . SAX.To reckon. 3198.-To come to a reckoning.RELAIES, n. pl. FR.RELEES , n. FR.15514.RELEFE, N. SAX.Ricks (of corn ) . T. L. Prol.Fresh sets of hounds. Du. 362,Release. B. K. 333. See the n. on ver.What is left. T. L. Prol.RELIGIOUSITE, n. FR. Persons of a religious profession; the Clergy. C. L. 686.RELIKE, n. FR. A relick. 12883. RELIKES, pl. 703.REMENANT, n. FR. A remnant; a remaining part. 1571.3166.REMES, n. pl. Fr. Realms. 15142.REMISSAILS, n. pl. FR. Orts; leavings. T. L. Prol.REMORDE, V. FR. To cause remorse. T. iv. 1491. To afflict.Bo. iv. pr. 6.GLOSSARY. 487REMUABLE, adj. FR. Moveable; inconstant. T. iv. 1682.REMUE, REMEWE, REMEVE, v. FR. To remove. 11305.11532. Conf. Am. 164. b.REMUED, pa. t. 11517. R. 7432.RENABLY, adv. FR. Reasonably. 7091 .RENEGATE, n. FR. An apostate from Christianity. 5353.RENEIE, V. FR. To renounce; to abjure. 4760. 4796.RENGES, n . pl. FR. Ranks. 2596.-The steps of a ladder.3625. See the note.RENNE, V. SAX. To run. 33888. 4063. -To rend. q? 16890.RENOMEE, 2. FR. Renown. 6741. L. W. 1511.RENOVELAUNCE , n. FR. A renewing. F. ii. 185.RENOVELLE, v. F. To renew. M. 120 , col. 1 , 1. 4. P. 170,col. 2, 1. 70.RENT, v. SAX. To tear, or rend. R. 324.REPAIRE , n. FR. Resort. 6806.v. FR. To return. 10903.REPENTANT, part. pr. FR. Repenting 228 10969.REPREFE, REPREVE, n . FR. Reproof. 10080. 10137.REPRESSION, n. T. iii. 1040. seems to be put for power of repressing.REQUERE, V. FR. To require 6592.RERE, v. SAX. To raise. C. D. 468.RESCOUS, n. FR. Rescue. 2645.RESCOWE, v. FR. To rescue. T. v. 231 .RESON, n. FR. Reason. 9552. Proportion. Bo. ii. pr. 7.RESONS, n. pl. FR. Discourses. T. iii. 90.RESPITE, n. T. v. 137. may, perhaps, be put for Respect.RESPITEN, inf. m. FR. To grant a respite. 11886.- To excuse. R. 6084.RESPORT, n. T. iv. 850. is probably put for Respect.RESTE, n. SAX. Repose. 9729.v. SAX. To repose; to cease from labour. 2623.RETENUE, n. FR. Retinue. 8146. At his retenue. 6937.Retained by him.RETHOR, N. FR. LAT. An orator, or rhetorician. 10352.REVE, n. SAX. A steward, or bailiff, See his CHARACTER,ver. 589-624.―v. SAX. To take away. 4009. P. 159 , col. 1 , 1. 4.REVEL, n. FR. Entertainment, properly during the night.2719. Sport; festivity. 4400. L. W. 2242.REVELOUR, N. A reveller. 4389.REVELRIE, N. Pleasure. R. 720.REVERS, adj. FR. Contrary. 7638. 14983.REVERSE, V. FR. To overturn. R. 5468.REVERT, V. FR. To turn back. R. 7284.REVEST, V. FR. To cloath again. T. iii . 354.REW, n. A row, or line. On a rew. 2868. In a line. All by rew. 6088. See A'ROW.REWAKE, v. SAX. To waken again. T. iii. 1124.REWARD, n. FR. Regard; respect. Take reward of thin owen value. P. 149 , col. 2 , 1. 16. Have regard to t. o. v.In reward of. R. 3254. In comparison with. See REGARD.REWE, v. SAX. To have compassion. 1865. -To suffer; to have cause to repent. 3530.REWEL BONE. 13807. See the note.REVES, n. pl. F. iii . 146. Dances, in use among the Dutch.Reye. BELG. Chorea celerior, chorea in longam seriem.Kilian.REYSED. See the n. on ver. 54. " Les Gandois firent unerese sur les marches de Haynauit, et dedans le pays pil- lerent, bruslerent, etfirent moult de maux. " Mem. de la Marche, p. 384. Where a note in the margin says, " Reyse en bas Alemand signifie un voyage ou course."RIBANINGES, n. pl. R. 1077. seems to signifie Borders.RIBAUDE, n. A poor labourer. R. 5673. But the word generally implies profligacy of manners as well as mean- ness of condition. See Du Cange, in v. RIBALDUS.RIBAUDRIE, n. Ribaldry; indecent words, or actions.3864. 12258.RIBIBE, N. See the n. on ver. 6959.RIBIBLE, n. A small ribibe. 3331. 4394.RICHARD, pr. n. 15354. In the Essay, &c. n. 50. I have vindicated the character of this heroic prince from an aspersion, which was first cast upon him, I find, by Mr. Rymer, in consequence of a mistaken construction of apassage in Hoveden. I am tempted to add here the beginning of a poem, which having been composed after his death by Anselm Faydit, must stand clear of all sus- picion of having been either begged or bought.For chausa es et tot lo maior dan ,El maior dol , las! q eu ane mais agues ,Et zo, don dei toz temps plaigner ploran,M aven a dir en chantar et retraire ,De cel q era de valorz caps et paire.Li reis valenz Rizard, reis des Engles,Es morz; ai deus! cals perda et cals danz es!Can estraing moz et qan greu per audir!Ben a dur cor toz hom co po sofrir.Morz es li reis , et son passat mil an Qanc tan pros hom no fo ne nol vit res,Neia mais hom non er del sen senblant,Tan larcs, tan pros , tan ardiz, tals donaire;Q Alixandres lo reis , qe venqi Daire,No cuit qe tan dones ni tan messes ,Ni an Charles ni Artus tan valgues,Qatot lo mon sen sez, qi n vol ver dir,Als us doptar et als altres grazii.MS. Crofts. fol. cxi.RICHESSE, N. FR. Wealth. 6692. RICHESSES, pl. Riches.M. 113, col. 2, 1. 28. 114 , col. 1 , 1. 38.RIDDELED, part. pa. R. 1235, 43. Plaited. Gl. Ur. Inthe first of the places quoted, the French Orig. has-Et fut si bien cueillie et jointe,-which Chaucer has translated -Lorde! it was riddeled fetisly.RIDDEN, part. pa. of RIDE. He is ridden. 1505. They ben ridden. 1689. He had ridden. 13729.RIDE, V. SAX. He rideth him. 1693.RIDING, n. See the n. on ver. 4375.RIFE, RIVE, v. SAX. To thrust through. 9112. 12762.RIGHT, . SAX. A right, or due. At alle rightes. 1854.2102. At all points.adj. Good; true. 189.adv. Truely; rightly; exactly; completely. It is frequently joined to adjectives, as the adverbs well and full are, to augment their force. 290. 617.RIME, n. FR. A composition in rime. 13639. Hence the title of THE RIME OF SIRE THOPAS. For the original of compositions in rime, see the Essay, &c. n. 43- Rime- dogerel. 13851. See DOGEREL.RIMEYED, part. pa. FR. Composed in rime, or verse.11023. See the n. on ver. 11021.RIMPLED, part. pa. SAX. Wrinkled. R. 4495.RING, v. SAX. To make to sound. 2433. 12265.v. neut. To sound. 2602.RISE, n. SAX. Small twigs of trees or bushes. 3324. R. 1015.RISHE, n. SAX. Arush. R. 1701. T. iii. 1167.RIST for RISETH. 3688. T. ii. 812.RIT for RIDETH. 976. 17028.RIVAGE. F. i. 223. See ARIVAGE.RIVE, V. neut. SAX. To split; to fall asunder. R. 5393. 5718.RIVELING, part. pr. SAX. Wrinkling. R. 7214. Ruyffelen.BELG. Rugare. Kilian.RIVER, n. FR. See the n. on ver. 6466.R CHE, N. FR. A rock. F. iii. 26. ROCHES, pl. F. ii. 527.RODE, n. SAX. The Cross. Rode-beem. 6078. It is also called the Rode-tree; from its being made of wood.n. Sax. Complexion. 3317.RODY, adj. SAX. Ruddy. 10699.ROFE, pa. t. of RIFE. L. W. 661. 1349. ROFTE. F. i. 373.should probably be RoFE.ROGGE, v. SAX. To shake. L. W. 2697. ROGGYN OR MEVYN. Agito. Prompt. Parv.ROIGNE, N. FR. A scab , mange, &c. R. 553.ROIGNOUS, adj. FR. Scabby; rough. R. 6190. 988.ROKETTE, n. FR. A loose upper garment. R. 1240, 2. 4754.ROKING, part. pr. of ROKKE, or ROGGE, v . neut . SAX. Shak- ing; trembling. R. 1906. ROGGYN ORWAVERYN. Vacillo.Prompt. Parv.ROMAUNCES REALES. See the n. on ver. 13777.ROMBEL, N. A rumbling noise. 1981. -Rumour. 8873.ROME, V. SAX. To walk about. 7994. 11155.RONDEL, n. FR. "A rime or sonnet which ends as itbegins. Cotgrave. " L. W. 423.RONE, pr. n. Rouen in Normandy. R. 1674.pa. t. of RAIN, v. SAX. Rained. T. iii. 678.ROPEN, part. pa. of REPE, v, SAX. Reaped. L. W. 74.488 GLOSSARY.ROSALGAR. 16282. Red arsenic; a preparation of orpi ment. Chambers, in v. Realgar. It should rather per- haps have been written Rysalgar, with MS. C. 1. as the Latin nameis Risigallum.ROSEN, adj. Rosy. B.K. 657.ROSER, n. FR. A rose- bush. P. 166, col. 2, 1. 10.ROSE RED, adj. 15722. Red as a rose.ROTE, N. SAX. A root. 2. T. ii. 348.Aroot, in astrology. 4734. See EXPANS YERES.n. A musical instrument. 236. See Du Cange, in v. ROCTA. Notker, who lived in the xth century, says,that it was the ancient Psalterium, but altered in its shape and with an additional number of strings.Schilter, in v. ROTTA.n. FR. Practice. By rote. 13452, 75. By heart.Par rotine. Cotg.v. SAX. To rot . 4405.ROTEN, part pa. 3871.ROTHER, N. SAX. The rudder of a ship . C. D. 1377.ROUGHT for RAUGHT, pa. t. of RECCHE. 8561. T. i. 497.ROUKE, v. SAX. To lie close. 1310. T. v. 409. But now they RUCKEN in her nest. Conf. Am. 72.ROULE, v. nent. SAX. To roll; to run easily. 6235. Where some copies have royle. See REILE.ROUME, n. SAX. Room; space. L. W. 1997.adj. Wide; spacious. 4124.ROUMER. Comp. d. Wider. 4143.ROUNCEVALL, pr. n. See the n. on ver. 672.ROUNCIE, n. BARB. LAT. A common hackney horse. 392.See Du Cange, in v. RUNCINUS.ROUNDEL, n. FR.circular figure.Asort of song. 1531. See RONDEL. -AF. ii. 283. 290.ROUTE, n. FR. A company. 624. 9424.υ. To assemble in a company. 4960.V. FR. To snore. 3647. 4165. -To roar. F. ii . 530.ROUTHE, N. SAX. Compassion. 11824.- The object of com- passion. 11833.ROUTHELES, adj. Without compassion. T. ii. 346.Row, n. Aline of writing. F. i. 448. See REW.- adj. SAX. Rough. 3736. 16329. C. D. 772. He loked wel ROWE. R. G. 507 ROWNE, v. SAX. To whisper. 5823. 7132.RUBEUS. 2047. See PUELLA.RUBINS, n. pl. FR. Rubies. 2149.RUCKING, part. pa. of RUCKE, or ROUKE, v. SAX. Lying close. 15232.RUDDE, n. SAX. Complexion. 13657. See RODE.RUDDOCK, n. SAX. A bird, called Robin red- breast. A. F. 349.RUFUS, pr. n. 432. A Greek physician, of whose works some are extant See Fabric. Bibl. Gr. L. iv. c. 3.RUGGY, adj. Rough. 2885.RUSSEL, pr. n. The fox is called Dan Russel in ver. 15340,from his red colour, I suppose.S.SACHELLES, n. pl. FR. Small sacks. Bo. i. pr. 3.SACKED FRERES. R. 7462. Friars wearing a coarse upper garment called Saccus. Mat. Paris, ad an. 1257. Eodem tempore novus ordo apparuit Londini de quibusdam fratribus ignotis et non prævisis, qui, quia saccis ince- debant induti , FRATRES SACCATI vocabantur.SACRE, n . FR. A sacred solemnity. C. D. 2135,SADE, adj. SAX. Grave; steady. 8878. 8923.--- Sorrowful;repentant. 16345.SADLY, adv. Steadily; carefully. 2604. This messager drank sadly ale and wine. 5163. This messenger applied himself to drink a. & w.SADNESS, n. Gravity; steadiness. 8328. 9465.SAFFRON, v. Fr. To tinge with saffron. 12279.SAIE, for SEIE, pa. t . of SE, v. SAX. Saw. T. iii. 993.SALLE, v. Fr. To assail. R. 7338.SAILOURS, n. pl. R. 770. may mean Dancers, from the LAT. FR. So in P.P. 68. For I can neither saylen , ne saute, ne syng to the gyterne. The lines which Chaucer has here translated are not in the best Edit. of the Rom.de la Rose. Paris. 1735. but they are quoted by Junius,Etym. Ling. Angl. in v. Timbestere, from an Edit. of 1529.Apres y eut farcesjoyeuses,Et batelleurs et batclleuses,Qui depasse passejouoyent,Et en l'air ung bassin ruoyent,Puis le scavoyent bien recueillir Sur ung doy, sans point yfaillir.Where it is plain that the author is speaking ofjugglers rather than dancers.SAINE for SEINE, part. pa. of SE, v. SAX. Seen. R. 7445.pr. n. The river Seine. 11534.SALADE, N. FR. A sort of armour for the head. C. D. 1554.SALADES, n. pl. FR. Sallads of herbs. F. L. 412.SALEWE, SALUE , v. FR. To salute. 1494. 10405.SALUED, part. pa. 11622.SALUINGES, n. pl. Salutations. T. ii. 1568.SAMITE, n. FR. GR. A rich silk. R. 873. T. i. 109. See Du Cange, in v. EXAMITUS.SANGUIN, adj. FR. Of a blood- red colour. 441. 2170.SARLINISHE. R. 1188. should perhaps be SARSINISHE, from the FR. Sarrasinois; a sort of fine silk used for veils.See Du Cange, in v. SARACENICUM and SARACENUM. It is still called Sarcenet.SARPLERES, n. pl. Packages of a larger size than sacks.Bo. i. pr. 3. See Du Cange, in v. SARPLERIUM. Sarpillére,FR. A piece of canvas, &c. to wrap or pack up wares in.Cotgrave.SATEN, pa. t. pl. of SIT, v. SAX. 2895.SATALIE, pr. n. The ancient Attalia. 58.SAVE, N. LAT. The herb sage. 2716.SAUF, adj. FR. Safe. See VOUCHE. -Saved, or accepted.€85. 12048. 12216.SAVETE, N. FR. Safety. R. 6869.SAULE for SOULE. 4185. 4261.SAVOUR, v. neut. FR. To taste; to relish . 5753.SAVOURING, n. FR. The sense of tasting. P. 150, col. 2, 1. 34.SAVOUROUS, adj. Sweet; pleasant. R. 84.SAUSEFLEME. See the n. on ver. 627. But MS. Bodl. 2463.furnishes another etymology, which I think still more probable. " Unguentum contra salsum flegma, scabiem,&c. " See Galen. in Hippoc. de Aliment. Comment. iii.Ρ. 277. ὁ λαχην — γινεται απο ΦΛΕΓΜΑΤΟΣ ΑΛΜΥΡΟΥ και της ξανθης χολης. And again, ο άλφος -ύπο του ΦΛΕΓ.ΜΑΤΟΣ, ουχ 'ΑΛΥΚΟΥ.SAUTES, n. pl. FR. Assaults. B. K. 419.SAUTRIE, n. FR. GR. A musical string-instrument. 3213 3305. See ROTE.SAWE, N. SAX. Speech; discourse. 1528. 16159. R. 6475.- A proverb, or wise saying. 6242.SAY for SEY, pa. t . of SE, v. SAX. Saw. 6227. 9810.SCALL, n. SAX. A scale or scab. Ch. wordes to his Scri- vener. 3.SCALLED, adj. Scabby; scurfy. 630.SCANTILONE, n. FR. A pattern; a scantling. R. 7114.SCARCE, adj. FR. Sparing; stingy. R. 2329.SCARIOT, pr. n. Judas Iscariot. 15233.SCARMISHE, n. FR. A skirmish; a battle. T. ii. 934. V. 1507.SCATHE, n. SAX. Harm; damage. 448. 9048:SCATHEFUL, SCATHELICHE, adj. Pernicious. 4519. L. W. 1370.SCATHELES, adj. Without harm. R. 1550.SCLAUNDRE, n. FR. Slander. 8598. 8606.SCLENDRE, adj. Slender. 9476.SCOCHONS, n. pl. FR. Scutcheons of arms. F. L. 216.SCOLAIE, V. FR. To attend school; to studie. 304. See the note.SCRIPT, n. FR. A writing. 9571. T. ii. 1130.SCRIPTURES, n. pl. FR. Writings; books. 2046.SCRIVEN-LIKE. T. ii . 1026. Like a scrivener, or writing- master; Comme un escrivain.SEAMES, n. pl. SAX. Seams: Suturæ. P. 160, col. 2, I. 12.SECREE, adj. FR. Secret. 9783. 15646.SECRENESSE, n. Privacy. 5193.SECULER, adj. FR. Of the laity; in opposition to Clerical.9127. 15456.SEDE, v. SAX. To produce seed. R. 4344.GLOSSARY. 489SEE, n. FR. Aseat. 14155. T. iv. 1023. SEES, pl. F. iii. 120.-v. SAX. To see. God you see! 7751. God him see!4576. May God keep you, or him, in his sight! In T. ii.85. it is fuller: -God you save and see! -To look. On to see. 3247. To look on. See the note, and T. iii. 130.That Ye wolde sometime frendly on me see. That ye would sometimes look friendly on me.n. SAX. The sea. 2458. 3033. The Grete see. 59. Alearned friend has suggested to me, that the Sea on the coast of Palestine is called the Great Sea in the Bible(See Numb. xxxiv. 6, 7. Josh. xv. 12. ); which puts the meaning of the appellation in this passage out of all doubt.SEGE, n. FR. A siege. 939.SEIE, SEY, pa. t. of SEE, v. SAX. Saw. 5229, 8990. T. v.816.-part. pa. Seen. 6134.SEIGNORIE, n. FR. Power. R. 3213.SEIN, part. pa. of SEE, v. SAX. Seen. 10267.SEINDE, part. pa. of SENGE, v. SAX. Singed. 14851 .SEINT, n. FR. Ceinct. A girdle. 331. 3235.SEINTUARIE, n.. FR. Sanctuary. 12887.SEKE, v. SAX. To seek. 13. 17.v. adj. SAX. Sick. 18.SELDEN, adv. SAX. Seldom. 10125. Selden time. 8022.SELE, n. FR. A seal. 7710. SELES, pl. T. iii. 1468.SELF, SELVE, adj. SAX. answering to the BELG. Self, the FR. Méme, the LAT. Ipse, and the GR. Avros. See the Essay, &c. n. 30.-With the article prefixed it answers to the LAT. Idem, and the GоTH. Samo, from whence our Same. See ver. 2586. Inthe selve moment; In the same moment. yer. 11706. In the selve place; In the same place.These two usages of the adj. SELF, when joined to asubstantive, might be confirmed by the uniform practice ofall our writers, from the earliest times down to Shake- speare; but, as they are both now obsolete, I choose rather to take this opportunity of adding a few words to what has been said in the Essay, &c. loc. cit. upon the usage of the adj. SELF, when joined to a Pronoun; in which light only it appears to have been considered by Wallis, when he pronounced it a Substantive, answering nearly to the Latin persona.Dr. Johnson, in his Dictionary, has very rightly established the primary signification of SELF to be that of an Adjective; but, in its connexions with Pronouns,he seems rather inclined to suppose it a Substantive ,first, because it is joined to possessive, or adjective pro- nouns, as my, thy, her, &c. and secondly, because it has a plural number selves, contrary to the nature of the English adjective.The latter reason, I think, cannot have much weight,when it is remeinbered, that the use of Selves, as the plural number of Self, has been introduced into our language since the time of Chaucer. Selven, which was originally the accusative ca. sing. of SELF, is used by him indifferently in both numbers. I myselven. 9334.Ye yourselven. 9380. 12676. He himselven . 4464. 9919.The former reason also will lose its force, if the hypo- thesis, which I have ventured to propose in the Essay, &c.loc. cit. shall be admitted, viz. that, in their combinations with Self, the pronouns my, thy, her, our, your, are not to be considered as possessive or adjective, but as the old oblique cases of the personal pronouns I, thou, she, we,ye. According to this hypothesis, the use of these com- binations, with respect to the pronouns, is almost always solecistical; but not more so than that of himselfin the nominative case, which has long been authorised by con- stant custom; and it is remarkable, that a solecism of the same sort has prevailed in the French language, in which moi and toi, the obl. cases of je and tu, when combined with même, are used as ungrammatically as our my and thy have just been supposed to be, when com- bined with Self. Je l'ai vu moi -même; I have seen it myself: Tu le verras toi - même; Thou shalt see it thy- self; and so in the accusative case, moi-même is added emphatically to me, and toi-même to te.It is probable , I think, that these departures from grammar, in both languages, have been made for thesake of fuller and more agreeable sounds. Je-même,me-même, tu-même, and te-même, would certainly sound much thinner and more languid than moi- même and toi- même; and myself, thyself, &c. are as clearly prefer- able, in point of pronunciation, to Iself, meself, thouself,theeself, &c. though not all, perhaps, in an equal degree.It should be observed, that itself, where a change of case in the pronoun would not have improved the sound,has never undergone any alteration.SELLE, n. FR. Celle. Cell. C. D. 2064.SELLE for SILLE, n. SAX. A door- sill or threshold. 3820.See the note.SELVE, adj. 2586. 2862. See SELF.SELY, adj. Sax. Silly, simple; harmless. 4088. 4106. 5952.SELYNESSE, n. SAX. Happiness. T. iii. 815. 827.SEMBLABLE, adj. FR. Like. 9374.SEMBLAUNT, n. FR. Seeming; appearance. 10830.SEMELICHE, SEMELY, adj. SAX. Seemly; comely. SEME- LIESTE, superl. d. 17068.SEMELYHEDE , n. Seemliness; comeliness. R. 777 1130.SEMISOUN, n. LAT. A low, or broken tone. 3697.SEMICOPE, n. A half, or short, cloke. 264.SEN, SENE, inf. m. of SE. 1711. 2178.—part. pa. 1967. 2300.SEND for SENDETH. 4134.SENDALL, n. 442. A thin silk. See Du Cange, in v. CEN- DALUM.SENEK, pr. n. Seneca, the philosopher. 6750 , 6767. 9397.Whatis said of him in the Monkes tale, ver. 14421-14436.is taken from the Rom. de la Rose, ver. 6461-6499.SENGE, v. SAX. To singe. 5931.SENIOR, pr. n. 16918. See the note.SENTENCE, n. FR. Sense; meaning. 308. 10162.-Judge- ment. 4533.SEPTE, pr. n. 5367. Ceuta, formerly Septa, in Africa, over- against Gibraltar.SEPULTURE, n. FR. Grave, T. iv. 327.SERAPION, pr. n. 434. Joannes Serapion, an Arabian physi- cian ofthe xrth Century. Fabric. Bibl . Gr. t . XIII. p. 229.SERE, adj. SAX. Dry. R. 4749.SERGEANT, n. FR. A Squier, attendant upon a prince or nobleman. 8395.-A SERGEANT OF THE LAWE. See his CHARACTER, ver. 311-332. His name is derived fromhis having been originally a servant of the King in his law- business; Serviens ad legem, just as Serviens ad arma. The King had formerly a Serjeant in every county. Spelman, in v. SERVIENS.SERIE, n. FR. Series. 3069.SERMONING, n. FR. Preaching. 3093.SERVAGE, n. FR. Servitude; slavery. 4788. 11106 , 7.SERVAND, part. pr. of SERVE. Serving. C. D. 1627.SERVE, V. FR. To serve. 8845 -To behave to. 8516, 7.SET for SETTETH. 7564. for SETTE, pa. t . 11124.SETEWALE, n. Sax. The herb Valerian. 3207. 13691 .SETHE, V. SAX. To boil. 385.SETHE for SETHED, pa. t. 8103.SETTE, V. SAX. To place; to put. 7851. Setteth him doun.P. 170, col. 1 , 1. 10. Placeth himself on a seat. Yet sette I cas. M. 115, col. 1 , 1. 54. Yet I put the case, or suppose. To put a value on a thing; to rate. I n'olde sette his sorrow at a myte. T. iii. 902. I would not value h. s.-To sette a man's cappe; to make a fool of him. See the n. on ver. 588.pa. t. 6241.SEUREMENT, n. FR. Security, in a legal sense, 11838. SEURETEK, n. FR. Certainty. 6485. -Surety, in a legal sense. 6493.SEWE, V. FR. To follow. R. 4953.SEWES, n. pl. FR. Dishes. 10381. See the note.SEYE. See SEIE.Fell in drops. 14649.Shaded; covered with SHADDE, pa. t. of Shede, v. SAX.pa. t. of SHADE, v. SAX.shade. Du. 426.SHADOWY, adj. Sax. Unsubstantial. Bo. iii . pr. 4.SHAFT, n. SAX. An arrow . 1364.SHAL, auxil. v. SAX. is used sometimes with an ellipsis of the infinitive mode, which ought to follow it. 10912.Beth swiche as I have ben to you and shal , i. e. shall be.15771. First tell me whither I shal, i . e. shall go. T. ii.490 GLOSSARY,46. Yet all is don or shal, i. e. shall be done. See also ver. 15100. T. v. 833.SHALE, n. SAX. A shell, or husk. F. iii. 191. But all n'is worthe a nutte SHALE. Conf. Am. 66.SHALMIES, n. pl. Shalms; Musical string-instruments,otherwise called Psalteries or Sautries. F. iii. 128. See ROTE.SHAME, n. SAX. Shames dethe. 5239 10251. A death of shame; a shameful death. To York he did him lede,SCHAMES DEDE to deie. P. L. 247.SHAMEFAST, adj. SAX. Modest. 2057.SHAPE, N. SAX. Form; figure. 7040. 7052.SHAPELICH, adj. SAX. Fit; likely. 374. T. iv. 1452.SHAPEN, SHAPE, part. pa. of SHAPE, v. SAX. Formed;figured. 7045. 7096. Prepared. 1110. 1227. 1394 .SHAWE, N. SAX. A shade of trees; a grove. 4365. 6968.T. iii. 721.SHEFE, N. SAX. A bundle. A sheaf of arrowes 104. SHEves,pl. of corn. R. 4335.SHEFELD pr. n. Sheffield , in Yorkshire. 3931.SHELD, n. SAX. A shield . 2124. SHELDES, pl. French crowns, called in FR. Ecus, from their having on one side the figure of a shield. 280. 13261.SHEMERING, n. SAX. A glimmering. 4295.SHEND, v. SAX. To ruin. 5347. P. 162, col. 1, 1. 42.SHENDSHIP, N. Ruin; punishment. P. 152, col. 1 , 1. 22.SHENE, adj. SAX. Bright; shining. 1070.SHENT, part. pa. of SHEND. 5351. 9194.SHEPEN, . SAX. A stable. 2002. 6453. See the n. on ver. 2002.SHERE, V. SAX. To cut. -To shave. R. 6196.SHERTE, n. SAX. A shirt. 9859. I hadde lever than my sherte. 15126. I would give my shirt, i. e. all that I have.-It seems to mean the linen in which a new- born childis wrapped. 1568. That shapen was my dethe erst than my sherte. Compare T. iii. 734.Ofatal sustren, whiche. or any clothe Me shapen was, my destinee me sponne— and L. W. 2618.Sensfirst that day, that shapen was my sherte,Or by thefatal suster had my dome.-In T. iv. 96. Alas! that I ne had brought her in my sherte! it seems to be put for skirt ( or lap), which per- haps was the original word.SHETE, V. SAX. To shoot. 3926. R. 989.SHETES, n. pl. SAX. Sheets. 4138.SHETTE , SHET. v. SAX. To close , or shut. 15985. 16605 .SHET, pa. t . and part. 2599. 3499. So was hire herte shette in hire distresse. 5476. So was her heart overwhelmed with h. d.SHIFT, V. SAX. To divide. 5686.SHILDE, SHELDE , v. SAX. To shield. God shilde! 3427. God shield , or forbid!SHIPMAN, 7. SAX. A mariner; the master of a barge. See his CHARACTER, ver. 390-412.SHIVER, n. SAX. A small slice. 7422.SHODE, 1. SAX. The hair of a man's head. 2009. 3316.part. pa. of SHOE, v. SAX. Shod, having shoes on.R. 7463.SHOFE, pa. t. of SHOVE, v. SAX Pushed. R. 534. L. W. 2401.SHO DE, N. SAX. Harm. 13836. F i. 88.SHOPE, pa. t. of SHAPE. 7120. 11121.SHORE, part. pa. of SHERE. 13958 .SHORTE, V. SAX. To make short. P. 163, col. 1 , 1. 21 .SHOт, part. pa. of SHETTE. Shut. 3358. 3695. See the n.on ver. 3358.SHOTER, n. SAX. A shooter. A. F. 180. The yew-tree is called Shoter, because bows are usually made of it.SHOTTES, n. pl. Sax. Arrows, darts; any thing that is shot. T. ii. 58.SHOVE, SHOWVE, v. SAX. To push. 3910.part. pa. 11593.SHREWE, v. SAX. To curse. 6644. 7809.n. SAX.5947. 6087. 10302.Orig.SHREWED, adj SAX.Impios. Orig.An ill- tempered, curst man, or woman.SHREWES, pl. Bo. i. pr. 3. Pessimi.Wicked. Shreude folk, Bo. i. pr. 4.SHREWEDNESSE, n. Sax. Ill - nature. T. ii. 858.SHRIFT, N. SAX. Confession. P. 169 , col. 2 , 1. 11.SHRIFTE- FADERS, n. pl. SAX. Father- confessors. 7024.SHRIVE v. SAX. To make confession. P. 170, col. 1 , L 41.SHRIVEN. part. pa. 7022. I have ben shriven this day ofmy curat. 7677. I have made my confession t. d. tomy curate.P. 170, col. 1 , 1. 70.SHRIGHT for SHRICHETH. 2819. Shrieketh.pa. t. of SHRICH, v. SAX. Shrieked. 10731. 15368.SHROUDE, v. SAX. To hide. B. K. 148.SHULDE, pa. t. of SHAL. Should. 964. See the Essay, &c.p. xxvii. n. 35. SHULDEN, pl. 747. 3229.SHULLEN, SHULN, SHUL, ind. m. pr. t. pl. of SHAL. 3016.2766. 1823, 4. M. 111 , col. 1 , 1. 5.SIBBE, adj. SAX. Related; allied. M. 113, col. 2, L. 40.SIE for SEIE.SIFT, v. SAX.SIGH for SEIE.Saw. 11162. F. L. 194.To shake in a sive. 16409.- Saw. R. 818.SIGHTE, pa. t. of SIKE. 5455. R. 1746. Sighed.SIGNE, V. FR. To appoint. C. L. 642.SIGNIFER, n. LAT. The Zodiack. T. v. 1020.SIGNIFIAUNCE, n. FR. Signification. T. v. 1446.SIKE, adj. SAX. Sick. 426. 9165. In ver. 5976. it seems to be used, as a noun, for Sickness.v. SAX. To sigh. 2987. 11316.n. SAX. A sigh. 10812. SIKES, pl. 1922. 11176.SIKER, adj. SAX. Sure . 9264. 9582.SIKERDE, part. pa. of SIKER, v. SAX. Assured. L. W. 2126.SIKERNESSE, n. Security. 9156.SIKERLY, adv. Surely. 13084. 13213.SIMPLESSE, n. FR. Simplicity. R. 954.SIN, adv. SAX . abbreviation of SITHEN. Since. 5234. 10181.SINAMOME, n. FR. Cinnamon. 3699.SIP, n. SAX. Drink. An. 195.SIPHER, n. A cipher, or figure of o, in Arithmetic. Al- though a sipher in augrim have no might in signification of itselfe, yet he yeveth power in signification to other. T. L. ii. 333. b. There is another passage in Du. ver. 435-40.which seems to implie, that, in Chaucer's time, the numerals, commonly called Arabian, had not been long in use in this country.SIRE, n. FR. Sieur, Seigneur. A respectful title , given for- merlyto men of various descriptions, as well asto knights.Sire knight. 839. Sire clerk. 842. Sire monk. 3120. Sire man of lawe. 4453. It was so usually given to priests,that it has crept even into acts of parliament. Rot. Parl.12. and 13. E. IV. n. 14. Sir James Thekeness, Preste. 1.H. VII. p. 11. Sir Oliver Langton, Prest. Sir Robert Naylesthorp, Prest. Hence a Sir John came to be anickname for a Priest. See ver. 14816 , and the note.- Sire is sometimes put for personage. R. 4998. And melan- choly, that angry sire. -Our sire. 6295. Our husband;our goodman; as the French, in their old familiar lan- guage, use Notre sire.SIS, . FR. The cast of six; the highest cast upon a die.14579.SIT for SITTETH . 3641. 9808. It sit me not to lie. 10189. It doth not become me t. 1. 8335. 9153. It syt a kynge wel to be chast. Conf. Am. 168. b.SITHE for SITHES, n. pl . SAX. Times. 5153. 5575.SITHEN, SITH, adv. SAX. Since. 1817. 4478. 5541.SITHES, n. pl. SAX. Scythes. T. L. prol.SITTE, V. SAX. To sit. -To become; to suit with. See SгT.SITTAND, part. pr. R. 2263.SITTEN, part. pa. 1454. 6002.SKAFFAUT, N. FR. A scaffold; a wooden tower. R. 4176.SKAFFOLD, n. A scaffold , or stage. 3384.SKIE, n . SAX.SKILL, N. SAX.A cloud. F. iii. 510.SKILFUL, adj.Reason. 9028. 9552. SKILLES, pl. 10519.Reasonable. T. iii . 288. 940.SKINKE, . SAX. To pour out; to serve with drink. 9596.SKIPTE, pa. t. of SKIPPE , v. SAX. Leaped. 11714.SKOGAN, pr. n. See the Account, &c. p. 449.SKORCLE, v. SAX. To scorch. Bo. ii. m. 6.SKRIPPE, n. FR. Escharpe. A scrip. R. 7405.SLACKE, adj. SAX. Slow. 2903.SLAIN, part. pa. of SLE. 1743. 2040.SLAKE, v. SAX. To appease; to make slack. 8678. 8983.GLOSSARY. 491SLAKE, v. neut. To fail. 8013. To desist. 8581.SLAWE, part. pa. of SLE. 15020.SLE, v. SAX. To kill; to slay. 2558.SLEER, n. SAX. A killer. 2007. L. W. 1367.SLEIGHLY, adv. SAX. Cunningly. 1446 .SLEIGHT, n. SAX. Contrivance. R. 7109.SLEIGHTES, pl. R. 7121. Suche sleightes as I shall you neven. So this line should probably be written. See the Orig. ver. 12495. Neven is from MS. Hunter.SLEN, pr. t. pl. of SLE. 1569. 5384. -inf. m. 1565. 5379.SLEP, SLEPE, pa. t. of SLEPE, v. SAX. Slept. 98. 399.SLETE, n. SAX. Sleet; a mixture of R. 2651.rain and snow. 11562.SLEVELESSE, adj. T. L. ii . 334. seems to signifie idle, un- profitable; as it does still in vulgar language.SLIDER, adj. SAX. Slippery. 1266. L. W. 648.SLIDING, part. pr. Uncertain. 16200. Lydg. Trag. 99. b.Slidingfortune. Bo. i . m. 5. Lubricafortuna. Orig.SLIE, SLIGH, adj. SAX. Cunning. 3392.SLIKE for SWILKE, adj. SAX. Such. 4128.SLIT for SLIDETH. 16150.v. SAX. To cut through, to cleave. 11572.SLIVER, n. SAX. A small slice, or piece. T. iii. 1015.SLO, v. SAX. To slay. R. 1953. 4592.SLOGARDIE, n. FR. SAX. Sloth. 1044.SLOMBERINGES, n. pl . Sax. Slumberings. T. v. 246.SLOPPE, n. SAX. A sort of breeches.col. 2, 1. 50.SLOW, pa. t. of SLO. Slew. 11745. 14104.16101. P. 155,SLOWE, n. SAX. A moth. R. 4751. In the Orig. FR.Taigne.SLUGGY, adj. SAX. Sluggish . P. 162, col. 2, 1. 27.SMALISH, adj. Sax. Diminutive of Smale, or Small.R. 826.SMERTE, . SAX. To smart; to suffer pain. R. 7107.149. seems to be used as an Adverb; Smartly.P. L. Gl. v. Forthought.SMIT for SMITETH, ind. m. 3 pers. sing. 7998.SMITETH, imp. m. 2 pers. pl. Smite ye. 784.SMITHE, V. SAX. To forge, as a smith. 3760. P. P. 16 b.SMITTED for SMITTEN, part. pa. of SMITE. T. v. 1544.SMOKLES, adj. SAX. Without a smock. 8751.SMOTERLICH, adj. 3961. means, I suppose, smutty, dirty.But the whole passage is obscure.SNEWE, v. SAX. To snow; to be in as great abundance as snow. 347.SNIBBE, V. SAX. To snubb; to reprove. 525. 11000.SNOW-WHITE, adj. SAX . White as snow. 15722. 17082.SODEN, adj. SAX. Sudden. 4841.SOGET, n. FR. Subject. C. L. 93.SOIGNE, n. FR. Care. R. 3882.SOJOUR, N. FR. Stay; abode. R. 4282.SOKEN, n. SAX. Toll. 3985.SOKINGLY, adv. Suckingly; gently. M. 116, col . 2, 1. 14.See SOUKE.SOLAS, n. FR. Mirth; sport. 800. 3654.SOLEIN, adj. FR. One; single. Du. 982. -Sullen. R. 3897.SOLEMPNE, adj. FR. Solemn. 10425.SOLEMPNELY, adv. Solemnly. 276.SOLER HALL. See the n. on ver. 3988. A solere windoweoccurs in Gam. ver. 267. for the window of a loft , or garret. See before, ver. 252.SOM, adj. SAX. Some. This is all and som. 5673. This is the whole. All and some. 8817. T. ii. 1149. One and all.SOMDEL, adv. SAX. Somewhat; in some measure. 448. 3909.SOMER, pr. n. In the treatise on the Astrolabe, fol. 291. b.Chaucer professes to make use of the Kalenders of the reverent clerkes frere JOHN SOMER and frere NICHOLAS LENNE. The Kalendar of John Somur is extant in MS.Cotton,Vesp. E. vii. It is calculated for 140 years from 1367, the year of the birth of Richard II, and is said, in the introduction, to have been published in 1380, at the instance of Joan mother to the King. The Kalendar of Nicholas Lenne, or Lynne, was calculated for 76 years from 1387. Tanner in v. NICOLAUS LINENSIS. The story there quoted from Hakluit of a voyage made by this Nicholas in 1360 ad insulas septentrionales antehacEuropæis incognitas, and of a book written by him to describe those countries a gradu 54. usque ad polum , is a mere fable; as appears from the very authorities which Hakluit has produced in support of it.SOMME. T. ii. 1249. Lo! TroilusCome ridingwith his tenthe somme ifere.So this line stands in the Editt. but a Ms. quoted in Gloss. Ur. instead of tenthe has x. and MS. I. tenteth.Perhaps the original reading was xx. With his twenty some ifere, according to the Saxon mode of expression,would signifie Together with some twenty of his attend- ants. See Hickes, Gramm. A. S. p. 32, 3.n. FR. A sum. Bo. iv. pr. 2.SOMMER, n. SAX. Summer. A Sommer-game. 6230. See the note.SOMONE, SOMPNE, v. LAT. To summon. 7159. 6929, 43.SOMPNOUR, n. An officer employed to summon delinquents to appear in Ecclesiastical courts, now called an Appari- tor. See his CHARACTER, ver. 625-670.SOND, n. SAX. Sand. 15273.-n . C. D. 1147. seems to signifie a sounding line;from the FR. Sonde.SONDE, n. SAX. A message. 4808. 5469. Goddes sonde.4943. 13149. What God has sent; God's gift.SONE, adv. SAX. Soon. 12002, 4.n. SAX. A son. 79. 338. SONES, pl. 10343.SONKEN, part. pa. of SINK, v. SAX. Sunk. R. 5113.SONNE, n. SAX. The Sun. 1511. 2524.SONNISH, adj. Sax. Like the Sun, T. iv. 736. See ver.Foul with soot. 14838.11971 , 2.SOOTY, adj. SAX.SOP, n. FR. A piece of bread dipped in any sort of liquor.336. 9717. He toke a SOPPE. Conf. Am. 104.SOPHIME, n. FR. GR. A sophism, a subtle fallacy. 7881 . 10868.SORE, V. FR. Essorer. To soar. T. i. 671.SORT, n. FR. Chance; destiny, 846. T. ii. 754.SORTED, pa. t . of SORT, v. FR. Allotted. T. v. 1826,SORWE, n. SAX. Sorrow. 1221. 2824.SORY, adj. SAX. Sorrowful. 3618, 9. Sory grace. 6328.Misfortune. See GRACE, and WITH.SOTE, N. SAX. Soot. T. iii. 1200.SWOTE, adj. SAX. Sweet. 3205. 3691 .-n. FR. A fool. F. L. 101.SOTED, part. pa. FR. Fooled; besotted. 16809 .SOTEL, adj. FR. Subtle; artfully contrived. 1056.SOTH, adj. SAX. True. 4355. Certain. 3885. SOTHER, comp. d.15682.SOTHLY, adv. 1523. 1627. 1186. 1201. Truly.SOTHE, N. SAX. Truth. 3922. 6513.SOTHFASTNESS, n. SAX. Truth. 17344.SOTHERNE, adj. SAX. Southern. 17353.SOTHNESS, n. SAX. Truth; reality. 15729.SOTH- SAW, n. Veracity; true- saying. R. 6125.SOUDAN, n. A Sultan; any Mahometan Sovereign. 4597.See D'Herbelot, in v. SOLTHAN.SOUDANNESSE, n. The wife of a Sultan. 4778.SOUDED, part. pa. See the note on ver. 13509. SOWDE- METEL. Consolidum. Prompt. Parv.SOVERAINE, adj. FR. Excellent; in a high degree. 15215.SOVERAINLY, adv. Above all. 15368.SOUKE, . FR. To suck. 4155.SOUKED, part. pa. 8326.SOULED, part. pa. SAX. Endued with a soul. 15797.SOUN, n. FR. Sound; noise. 7815. 12487.SOUNDE, v. SAX To make sound; to heal. An. 245.-v. neut. To grow sound. B. K. 293.SOUNE, V. FR. To sound. 567. As fer as souneth into honestee. 13973. As far as is consonant to h. Thatsouneth unto gentillesse oflove. 10831. That is consonant to g. o. 1.SOUNING, part. pr. 277. 309.SOUPE, . FR. To sup; to take the evening-meal. 11529.SOUPEN, pl. 10611.SOUPER, n. Supper; the evening-meal. 350. 10604 SOUPLE, adj. FR. Supple; pliant. 203.SOURDE, v. FR. To rise. P. 156, col. 1 , 1. 66.492 GLOSSARY.SOURS, n. A rise; a rapid ascent. 7520, 3. F. ii . 36. 43.- The source of a stream of water. 7925.SOUTER, n. LAT. A cobler. 3902.SOWE, V. LAT. To sew. T. ii. 1201 , 3. It was usual, and indeed necessary, formerly to sew letters, when they were writtenupon parchment. But the practice continued longafter the invention of paper.v. SAX. To sow. 17346 , 7.SOWERS, n. pl. Sores; Bucks in their fourth year. Du. 429.SPAN- NEWE, adj. T. iii. 1671. seems to signifie Quite new;but why it does so, I cannot pretend to say.SPANNISHING, n. FR. Espanouissem*nt. The full blow ofa flower. R. 3633.ABarred; bolted. R. 3320.SPARE, v. SAX. To refrain. 7017. L. W. 2591.SPARETH, imp. m. 2 pers. pl. 6919. 7004.SPARANDE, part. pr. Sparing; nigg*rdly. R. 3363.SPARHAUK, N. SAX. A sparrow- hawk. 15463.SPARRE, n. SAX. wooden bar. 992.SPARRED, part. pa.SPARTHE, n. SAX. An ax, or halberd. R. 5978. See Du Cange, in v. SPARTH, SECURIS Danica.SPECES, n. pl. FR. Sorts, or kinds. 3015.SPEDE, v. FR. To dispatch. Bo. v. pr. 4, 5.SPEDEFUL, adj. Effectual. Bo. iv. pr. 4. v. pr. 4.SPEKTAKEL, N. FR. LAT. A spying glass. 6785. SPELL, n. SAX. Sport; play. 4355. See the note. -Tale, or history. 13821.SPENCE, n. FR. Despence. A store-room for wine, or vic- tuals . 7513.SPERE, n. FR. A sphere. 11592.n. SAX. A spear. 2712.SPERED. R. 2099. SPERRED. T. v. 531. as Sparred.SPERME, n. FR. GR. Seed. 14015.SPICED. 528. 6017. See the note. I have since met with apassage, in which spiced, applied to conscience , seems to signifie nice, scrupulous. Beaumont and Fletcher. Mad Lover. Act 3. When Cleanthe offers a purse, the Priestesssays," Fy! no corruptionCle. Take it; it is yours;Be not so spiced; it is good gold;And goodness is no gall to the conscience. "SPICES. P. 148, col. 1 , 1. 20. as Speces.. SPILLE, v. SAX. To waste; to throw away. 17102.- To destroy. 6480.-v. neut. To perish. 5007. 5235. SPIRE, n. A stake. T. ii. 1335. a corruption probably of Spere. SAX.SPIRED. See the n. on ver. 13733.SPITOUS, adj . FR. Despiteux. Angry; spightful. R. 979.SPITOUSLY, adv. Angrily. 3476. 5805 .SPLAIE, V. FR. Desploier . To unfold. B. K. 33.SPONE, N. SAX. Aspoon. 10916.SPONNE, pa. t. of SPINNE, v. SAX. Spun. T. iii. 735.SPORE, n . SAX. A spur. 2605.Sp*rnE, v. SAX. To strike the foot against any thing. 4278.T. ii. 797.SPOUSALLE, n. FR. Marriage. 7991. 8055.SPRAY, n. SAX. A twig, or sprig. 13700.SPREINT, part. pa. of SPRENGE, v. SAX. Sprinkled. 4842.13570.SPRINGOLDS, n. pl. Fr. Espringalle. Machines for casting stones and arrows. R. 4191. SeeDu Cange, in v. MUSCHETA.SQUAMES, n. pl. LAT Scales. 16227.SQUAIMOUS. 3337. See the note.SQUIER, N. FR. A squire. See his CHARACTER, ver. 79-100.V. To attend as a squire. 5887.SQUIERIE, n. Anumber of squires. 10607. And alle ther SQUIERIE. P. L. 241. And of his SQUIERIE gentille men auhtene. Ibid. 289.STACE, pr. n. Statius, the Roman poet. 2296.STACKE, N. SAX. A stack of wood, &c. P. 166, col. 1 , 1. 19.pa. t. of STICK, v. SAX. Stuck. R. 458.STAFF-SLING. 13758. means, 1 suppose, a sling fastened to astaff. Lydgate in his Trag. 39. b. describes David as armed " With a STAFFE SLYNGE, Voyde ofplate and mayle."STAKER, V. SAX. To stagger. L. W. 2676.STALKE, V. SAX. To step slowly. 8401. Ful thefely gan heSTALKE. L. W. 1779. And to the bedde he STALKETH stylle.Conf. Am. 32.STALKES, n. pl. SAX. The upright pieces of a ladder. 3625.STAMEN, STAMIN, n. FR. Estamine. A sort of woollen cloth.P. 171 , col. 2, 1. 25. L. W. 2349.STANT for STANDETH. 3677. 3695.STARFE, pa. t. of STERVE. Died. 935. 14141 .STARK, adj. SAX. Stiff, stout. 9332. 14376.STARLINGES, n. pl.12864.Pence of sterling money. 12841. See ver.STAUNCHE, v. FR. To stop; to satisfie. Bo. iii. pr. 3. m. 3.STELE, N. SAX. A handle. 3783.STELLIFIE, V. LAT. To make a star. L. W. 525. F. ii. 78.STENTE, V. SAX. To cease; to desist. 905.STENTEN, part. pa. 2970.STEPE, adj. 201. 755. seems to be used in the sense of deep;so that eyen stepe may signifie eyes sunk deep in the head.STERE , V. SAX. To stir. 12280.A pilot. F. i. 436.STERE, n. SAX. Ayoung bullock. 2151.-A rudder. 4868. 5253.STERELES, adj. SAX. Without a rudder. 4859.STERESMAN, n . Sax.STERNE, N. SAX. ASTERNE, adj. SAX.rudder. F. i . 437.Fierce; cruel. 2612.STERRE, N. SAX. A star. 2063.STERT, N. SAX. A leap. At a stert. 1707. Immediately.STERTE, pa. t. of STERTE , v. SAX. Leaped. 11689. Escaped';ran away. T. iv. 93.STERTING, part. pr. Leaping nimbly. 1504.STERTLING, as STERTING. L. W. 1202. 1739.STERVE, V. SAX. To die; to perish . 12799.STEVEN, n. SAX. Voice; sound. 2564. 15297.-A time of performing any action, previously fixed by message,order, summons, &c. At unset steven. 1526. Without any previous appointment. They setten steven. 4381. They appointed a time.STEWE, N. FR. A small pond for fish. 351.-A small closet.T. iii. 602. 699. STEWES, pl. Stews, baudy- houses. 12399.STEYE, v. SAX. To ascend. T. L. i. 315 b.STEYERS, n. pl. SAX. Stairs. T. L. i . 315. b.STIBBORNE, adj. Stubborn. 6038. 6219.STIKE, . SAX. To stick; pierce. 2548.STILE, n. SAX. A set of steps, to pass from one field toanother. By stile and eke by strete. 12628. Everywhere;in town and country.STILLATORIE, n. FR. A still. 16048.STILLE, adj. SAX. Quiet. 11782.STITHE, N. SAX. An anvil. 2028.STIVES. 6914. as STEWES.STOBLE-GOOS. 4349. Agoose fed on stubble-grounds.STOCKED, part. pa. Confined. T. iii . 381.STOLE, n. FR. LAT. Part of the ecclesiastical habit,worn about the neck. 9577. See Du Cange, in v.STOLA. 2.➖➖➖, N. SAX. A stool. 5870.STONDEN, part. pa. of STONDE, or STANDE, v. SAX. Stood. 9368.STONT, for STONDETH. 3921.STOPEN, part. pa. of STEPE, v. SAX. Stepped; advanced.9388. 14827.STORE. 10241. See the note.n. FR. To stock, or furnish . 13203.n. Any thing laid up for use. Hence the phrase, to tell no store of a thing. 5785. 15160. means, to consider itas of no use or importance.STORIAL, adj. FR. Historical; true. 3179.STORVEN, pa. t. pl. of STERVE . 12820,STOT, n. SAX. See the n. on ver. 617.STOTE, n. A species of weasel; a polecat. 7212 .STOUND, n. SAX. A moment; a short space of time. 1214.4005. In a stound. 3990. On a sudden. In stound. R. 1733. should probably be In a stound. The Orig. FR.has tantost. STOUNDES, pl. Times; seasons. 5868. T. iii. 1758.STOUNDEMELE, adv. Momentarily; every moment. R. 2304.T. v. 674.STOUPEN. 14827. should probably be STOPEN.STOURE, N. SAX. Fight; battle. 14376. T. iii. 1066.STRAKE, V. SAX. To proceed directly. Du. 1312. Stracken,Stricken. Tendere. Kilian.GLOSSARY. 493STRANGE, adj. FR. Foreign. 10403.-Uncommon. 10381 .He made it strange. 3978. 11535. He made it a matter ofdifficulty, or nicety.STRAUGHTE, pa. t . of STRECCHE, v. SAX. Stretched. 2918.Conf. Am. 184.STRE, n. SAX. Straw. 2920.STREIGHT, part. pa. of STRECCHE, v. SAX. Stretched.Bo. iii. pr. 1.STREINE, V. FR. To constrain. 15255.-To press closely.9627.STREITE, adj. FR. Strait. Streite swerd. 15363.STREMEDEN, pa. t. pl. of STREME, v. SAX. Streamed; flowed.T. iv. 247.STREMES, n. pl. The rays of the Sun. 1497.STRENE, n. SAX. Stock; race; progeny, 8038. R. 4859.STRENGEST- FAITHED, adj. Endowed with the strongest faith. T. i. 1008.STREPE, V. FR. To strip. R. 6818.STRETE, n . SAX. A street. 3758. The maister strete. 2904.See the note.STRIKE, N. SAX. A line; a streak. A strike offlax. 678.STRIPE, n. LAT. Stirps. Race; kindred . C. L. 16.v. 10074. as STREPE.STRODE, pr. n. T. v. 1856. The philosophical Strode, to whom, jointly with the moral Gower, Chaucer directs his Troilus, was probably Ralph Strode, of Merton College, Oxford. A. Wood, who had made the antiqui- ties of that college a particular object of his enquiries,says only of him, " RADULPHUS STRODE, de quo sic vetus noster catalogus. Poetafuit et versificavit librum elegia- cum vocat. Phantasma Rodulphi. Claruit CICCCCLXX. "Some of his logical works are said to be extant in print.Venet. 1517. 4to . Tanner, in v. STRODÆUS.STROF, pa. t. of STRIVE, v . FR. Strove; contended. 1040.STRONDE, n. SAX. A shore. 13.STROTHER, pr. n. A town in the North. 4012. See the note.STROUTE, v. To strut. 3315.SUBARBES, n. pl. LAT. Suburbs. 16125.SUBFUMIGATION, n. LAT. A species of charm by smoke.F. iii. 174.SUBGET, adj. FR. LAT. Subject. P. 171 , col. 1 , 1. 64.Sublimatorie, n. FR. LAT. A vessel used by Chemists in Sublimation, i. e. separating certain parts of a body, and driving them to the top of the vessel, in the form of avery fine powder. 16261.SUBSTANCE, n. FR. The material part of a thing. 14809.SUCKINY, N. FR. Souquenie. A loose frock, worn over their other clothes by carters, &c. R. 1232.SUE, V. FR. To follow. M. 114 , col. 2 , 1. 2.SUETON, pr. n. Suetonius, the Roman historian. 14638.SUFFISANCE, n. FR. Sufficiency; satisfaction. 492. 8635.SUFFISANT, adj. Sufficient. 1633. 3551.SUGRED, part. pa. Sweetened as with sugar. T. ii. 384.SUPPLIE, v. FR. To supplicate. Bo. iii. pr. 8.SURCOTE, n. FR. An upper coat, or kirtle. F. L. 141.SURPLIS, n. FR. A surplice. 16026.SURQUEDRIE, n. FR. Presumption; an overweening con- ceit, P. 155, col . 1 , 1. 50. 172 , col . 2, 1. 4.SURRIE, pr. n. Syria. 4554.SURSANURE, n. FR. A wound healed outwardly only.11425.SURVEANCE, n. FR. Superintendance. 12029.SUSPECT, adj FR. Suspected. 8417 , 8.n. Suspicion. 8781. 12197.SUSPECTION, n. Suspicion. 5101.SUSTER, n. SAX. Sister. SUSTREN, pl. 1021. T. iii. 734.Swa, adv. SAX. So. 4028. 4038.SWALE, pa. t. of SWELL, v. SAX. Swelled. 6549. 13490.SWAPPE, v. SAX. To throw down. T. iv. 244.-To strike off. 8462. 15834. - v. neut. To fall down. 8975.SWART, adj. SAX. Black; of a dark colour. C. D. 1862.SWATTE, pa. t. of SWETE, v. SAX. Sweated. 13706. 16028.SWEGH, n. SAX. A violent motion. 4716. Bo. i . m. 5.SWELTE, v. SAX. To die; to faint. 3703.SWELT, pa. t. 1358. 9650.SWERNE for SWEREN, pl. n. of SwERE, v. SAX. Swear.R. 4834.SWEVEN, n. SAX. A dream. 14902. 14928. SwEVENES, pl.14929. In ver. 14927. it is written Swevenis for the sake ofthe rime.SWICHE, adj. SAX. corruption of Swilke. Such. 243 487.SWINKE, n. SAX. Labour. 188.v. To labour. 187. 12808.SWIRE, N. SAX. The neck. R. 325. It is more commonly written Swere.SWITHE, adv. SAX. Quickly; immediately. 5150. 12730 .SWIVE, v. SAX. See Junii Etymolog. in v.SWOLOWE, n. SAX. A whirlpool . L. W. 1102.SWONKEN, part. pa. of SWINKE. 4233.SWOUGH, n. SAX.6381. 8976.Sound; noise. 1981. 3619 - A swoon.T.TABARD, n. 20. See the quotation from Speght's Gloss.Discourse, &c. n. 6.TABLES, n. pl. FR. A game so called. 11212.- Tables Tole tanes. 11585. See the note.TABOURE, V. FR. To drum. L. W. 354.TACHE, N. FR. A spot, or blemish. C. N. 192.TAILLAGER, n. FR. A collector of taxes. R. 6811.TAILLE, N. FR. A tally; an account scored on a piece of wood. 572.TAKE, V. SAK. To deliver a thing to another person. 5137.13334. 15691 .for TAKEN, part. pa. 1868. 10789.TAKEL, n. SAX. An arrow. 106. R. 1727.TALE, V. SAX. To tell stories. C. D. 103. And namely when they TALEN longe. Conf. Am. 27. b.- n. Speech; discourse. Bo. i. pr. 5. — Reckoning;account. Litel tale hath he told ofany dreme. 15124. He made little account of any dream.Bands of linen. 3241.TALENT, n. FR. Desire; affection . 5557. P. 151, col. 1 , 1. 25.TALING, n. Story- telling. 13364.TANE for TAKEN. C. D. 888.TAPES, n. pl. SAX.TAPINAGE, n. FR. En tapinois. Lurking; sculking about.R. 7363. Conf. Am. 93 b.TAPISER, N. FR. A maker of tapestry. 364.TAPITE, V. FR. To cover with tapestry. Du. 260.TAPPE, n. SAX. A tap, or spigot, which closes that orifice through which the liquor is drawn out of a vessel. 3890.TAPSTERE, n. SAX. A woman, who has the care of a tap in a publick-house. 241. 3356. See the n. on ver. 2019.That office, formerly, was usually executed by women.See the Adventure of the Pardonere and the Tapstere,in the Continuation of the Canterbury Tales. p. 594.Ed. Ur.TARE, pa. t . of TEAR, v. SAX. Tore. Magd. 150.TARGE, n. FR. A sort of shield. 473. 2124.TARS, n. Cloth of Tars. 2162. Tartarium. F. L. 212. Asort of silk. See Du Cange, in v. TARSICUS, TARTARINUS.TAS, n. FR. A heap. 1007. 1011 .TASSELED, part. pa. Adorned with tassels. 3251.TASTE, V. FR. To feel. 15971.-To examine. L. W. 1991.TATARWAGGES, n. pl. R. 7211. The Orig. is-Toutesfretelées de CROTES. All bedagled with dirt.TAVERNER, N. FR. The keeper of a tavern. 12619. 12641.TAURE, pr. n. The constellation Taurus. 6195.9761.TAWE, n. SAX. Tow. 3772.TECHE, v. SAX. To teach. 310.TEINE, n. 16693, 7. 16708. seems to signifie a narrow, thin,plate of metal; perhaps from the LAT. GR. Tænia.TEMPS, n. FR. Time. 16343.TENE, n. SAX. Grief. 3108. Conf. Am. 140.v. To grieve; to afflict. T. L. ii. 338 b.TERCELET, TERCELL, n. FR. The male hawk. 10818. - The male eagle. A. F. 393.TERINS, n. pl. R. 665. A sort of singi -bird, called in FTarin. See Cotgrave in v.TERMAGAUNT, pr. n. 13741. See the note.TERRESTRE, N. FR. Earthly. 9206.TERY, adj. SAX. Full of tears. T. iv. 821.TESTERES, n. pl. FR. Head- pieces. 2501,TESTES, n pl. LAT. Vessels for assaying metals. 16286.494 GLOSSARY.TESTIF, adj. FR. Head- strong. 4002.TETCH, n. as TACHE. R. 6517.TEWELL, n. FR. A pipe, or funnel. F. iii. 559.TEXTUEL, adj. FR. Ready at citing texts. 17184. 17265.THACKE, n. SAX. Thatch. C. D. 1771.v. To thump; to thwack. 7141.THAN, adv. SAX. Quàm. LAT. 219. 242.THANK, n. SAX. Thankfulness; good will. R. 2741. IN THANKE is taken more.EN plus grant GRE, sont receus. Orig.So the phrases, his thankes, hir thankes, ( see the n. on ver. 1628. ) answer to the French, son gré, leur gré.THANNE, THAN, adv. SAX. Then. 12260. 12284.THAR, v. SAX. impers. Behoveth. See the n. on vèr. 4318.THATTE, THAT, pron. dem. SAX. used as a relative. 10. 699.Thatte Seint Peter had. So this verse should be written.-That he mighte. 5456. As much as he was able; Quod potuit. It is sometimes put, not inelegantly, for the same. See ver. 194. With gris, AND THAT the finest ofthe lond. ver. 346. Of fish and flesh, AND THAT SO plenteous. ver. 3517. Shal fall a rain, AND THAT so wild and wood. See also ver. 563. 3938. 9280.THATTE, THAT, conj. SAX. Quod. LAT. 131. 226, 8.THE, prep. art. SAX. See the Essay, &c. p. xXXIV. The when prefixed to adjectives, or adverbs, in the comparative degree, is generally to be considered as a corruption ofpy, which was commonly put by the Saxons for þam,the ablative ca. sing. of the art. þat, used as a pronoun.THE merier. 716. Eo lætiús. THE more mery. 804. Eo lætiores. Of the same construction are the phrases- Yetfare they THE werse. 4348. Yetfare I never THE bet.7533.When the is repeated with a second comparative, either adj. or adv. the first the is to be understood in the sense of the LAT. Quo . See ver. 5955.The more it brenneth, the more it hath desire To consume every thing.- -Quo magis-eo magis- -And ver. 8589.And aythefurther that she was in age,The more trewe ( if that it were possible)She was to him in love and more penible.Sometimes the first the is omitted, as in the phrases, Ever lenger the werse. 3870. Ever lenger the more. 8563. See P. 170, col. 1 , 1. 30. For certes, if a man hadde a dedly wound, everthe lenger that he taried to warishe himself,the more wold it corrupt-and also the wound wold be the werse for to hele.v. SAX. To thrive. See the n. on ver. 3862.THEDOME, N. SAX. Thrift; success. 13335.THEFELY, adj. SAX. Like a thief. L. W. 1779.THENNES. THENNE, adv. SAX. Thence. 5463. 6723.THENNESFORTH, adv. SAX. From thennesforth. 13495.From that time forward.THEODOMAS, pr. n. 9594. See the note.THEOPHRAST, pr. n. 9170. See the Discourse, &c. n. 19.and the n, on ver. 9172.THER, adv. SAX. There, in that place; is frequently used in the sense of Where. 7348. 7378. 12059.THER, in composition, signifies that , without including any idea of place. See HERE. Therabouten. 939. Ther- again, 7070. Therbeforne. 2036. Therby. 7786. Ther- fore. 777. Therfro. R. 4941. Thergaine. R. 6555. Ther- of. 3781. Theron. 161. Therto. 153. Therwith. 3780.Therwithall. 568.THEWES n. pl. SAX. Manners; qualities. 8285 9416.THIDER, adv. SAX. Thither, to that place. 1265.THIDERWARD, adv. SAX. Toward that place. 2532.THILKE, adj. SAX. This same, that same. 5600. 5759.THINKE, V. SAX. To consider. 12261. It is very frequently used as an Impersonal in the pr. and pa. t. in the sense of SEEMETH, or SEEMED. Me thinketh. 3170. Him think- eth. 3614. Him thoughte, 956. Hire thoughte. 9838. How thinketh you? 7786. Hem thoughte. 8282.THINNE, adj. SAX. Slender; small. 9556. A thinne imagi- nation. Bo. iii. pr. 3. Tenui imagine. A thinne suspicion. Bo. iii. pr. 12. Tenui suspicione.THIRLE, V. SAX. To pierce through. 2712.THIS, pron. demonst. Sax. is sometimes put for the prepositive article. 12619. THISE, pl. 6142. 11508.Tно, prep. art. pl. Da. SAX. used as a demonstrative pro- noun. Those. 2315. 2353. 12482. M. 114, col. 2, 1. 42.THO, adv. SAX. Then. 2214. 2393.THOLE, V. SAX. To suffer. 7128. And what mischefe and male ease Christ for man THOLED. P. P. 65 b.THORE. R. 1853. is put for THERE, for the sake of the rime.THORPE, N. SAX. A village . 8075. 17323.THOUGHTEN, pa. t. pl. of THINKE, v . SAX. 7612.THRALL, N. SAX. A slave, or villain. P. 169, col. 1, 1. 42.THRALLE, V. To enslave. T. ii. 773.THRASTE, pa. t. of THRESTE. 12194.THRED-RARE, adj . SAX. Having the threads bare, the nap being worn away. 16358.THREMOTE. Du. 376. should be written, in two words, thre mote, as in the Bodl. MSS. Mor. n. FR. is explained by Cotgrave to signifie, among other things, the note wind- ed by a huntsman on his horne.THREPE, v. SAX. To call. 16294.THRESTE, v. SAX. To thrust. 2614. 9677- THRESWOLD, n. SAX. A threshold. 3482. 8164.THRETE, v. SAX. To threaten. L. W. 754.THRETTENE, num. SAX. Thirteen. 7841.THRIDDE, adj. SAX. Third. 1465. 2273.THRIE, THRIES, adv. SAX. Thrice. 63. 564. T. ii. 89. 1285.THRILLED for THIRLED, pa. t. of THIRLE. R. 7636.THRINGE, v. SAX. To thrust. R. 7419. T. iv. 66.THRISTE, pa. t. of THRESTE. T. iii. 1580.THRONGE, pa. t. of THRINGE. 10227.THROPES for THORPES. A. F. 350.THROSTEL, n. SAX. A thrush. 13699.THROW, N. SAX. Time. But a throw . 5373. But a little while. Any throw. 14142. Any space of time.a throw. 16409. Many times.THRUST for THURST, N. SAX. Thirst. R. 5713.ManyTHRUSTY for THURSTY, adj. SAX. Thirsty. Magd. 708.THURGн, prep. SAX. Through. 2614, 9.- By means of.1330, 1.THURGHFARE, n. SAX. A passage. 2849.THURGHOUT, prep. SAX. Throughout; quite through. 1098.2569.THURROK, N. SAX. The hold of a ship. P. 154, col . 1, 1. 54.See the note.THWITEL, N. SAX. A whittle; Cultellus. 3931.THWITTEN, part. pa. Chipped with a knife; whittled.R. 933. Bien dolé. Orig.See the note.Uncertain. 3428.TIDDE, part. pa. of TIDE, v. SAX. Happened. Thee shulde never have tidde so faire a grace. T. i. 908. So fair afortune should never have happened to thee.TIDIFE, n. 10962.TIKEL, adj. SAX.TIL, prep. SAX . To. 2067. 2966. Hire-till. 10812. To her.TIMBESTERE, n. R. 769. is supposed by Lye, ( Etym. Ling.Angl. in v.) to mean the same with Tombestere. The Orig. French has been quoted above in v. SAILOURS,which Chaucer has thus imitated.There was many a timbestere And sailours, that , I dare well swere,Ycouthe hir craftfull parfitly.The timbres upfull subtilly Thei casten, and hent hem full oft Upon a finger faire and soft,That thei nefailed never mo.According to this description , it should rather seem, that a Timbestere was a woman, ( see the n. on ver. 2019. ) who plaid tricks with timbres , basons of some sort or other, by throwing them up into the air, and catching them upon asingle finger; a kind of Balance- mistress.TIMBRES, n. pl. FR. R. 772. Basons. See TIMBESTERE.TIPET, n. SAX. A tippet. 3951 .TIPPED, part. pa. Headed; covered at the tip, or top.7319.7322.TIPTOON, n. pl. SAX. Tiptoes; the extremities of the toes.15313.TIRE, V. FR. To pluck; to feed upon, in the manner ofGLOSSARY. 495birds of prey. T. i. 788. For loke how that a goshauke TYRETH. Conf. Am. 132. b.TISSUE, n. FR. Aribband. T. ii. 639.TITE for TIDETH. T. i. 334. Happeneth.TITERING, n. Sax. Courtship. T. ii. 1744.TITLELES, adj. SAX. Without title. 17172.TITUS LIVIUS, pr. n. 11935. L. W. 1681. The Roman his- torian.To, adv. SAX. Too. 877. 996.- prep. SAX. To day. 7758. 7821. On this day. Τοmorwe. 782. 1612. On the morrow; the following day.To yere. 5750. T. iii. 242. F. i. 84. In this year.To, in composition with verbs, is generally augmenta- tive. 2611. The helmes they TO HEWEN andTO - SHREDE, i. e.hewe and cut to pieces. 2613. The bones they TO- BRESTE,i. e. break in pieces. To- BROSTEN. 2693. TO- DASHED. T. ii. 640. Much bruised. To- RENT. 12036. Rent in pieces.TO SWINKE. 12453. Labour greatly.- Sometimes the adv.ALLis added. AL-TO- RENT. 14267. ALL- TO- SHARE. R.1858. Entirely cut to pieces. ALL- TO- SHENT. Ibid. 1903.Entirely ruined.TOFORE, TOFOREN, prep. SAX. Before. M. 113, col. 1 , 1. 55.TOGITHERS, adv. SAX. Together. T. iv. 1322.TOLD, pa t. of TELL, v. SAX. Accounted. 14404.TOMEESTERE, N. SAX. Adancing- woman T. L. ii. 326. b.TOMBESTERES, pl. 12411. See the note.TOMEDES, T. ii. 1201. should be written as two words. To mede, or to medes, according to the Saxon usage, signifies for reward, in return.TONE, n. pl. SAX. Toes. 14868. F. iii. 938.TONNE GRET, adj. Of the circumference of a tun. 1996.Toos, n. pl. 13337. as TONE.TORETES, n. pl. FR. Rings. See the note on ver. 2154.TORNE, V. FR. To turn. 2320. The devil out ofhis skinne Him torne! 16742. May the devil turn him, inside out!TORNED, part. pa. 16639.TORTUOUS, adj. FR. Oblique; winding. 4722.TOTELER. n. Awhisperer. L. W. 353.TOTELAR. Susurro. Prompt. Parv.TOTTY, adj. SAX. Dizzy. 4251.TOUGH, adj. SAX. Difficult. And maketh it full tough.13309. And takes a great deal of pains. Or make it tough. T. v. 101. Or take pains about it. See also T. ii.1025. iii. 87. And make it neither tough ne queint. Du.531. Made no difficulty or strangeness.Al be it ye make it never sa tewche,To meyour labour is in vane.MS. Maitland. The mourning maiden.Will. Swane makis wonder tewche.Ibid. Peblis to the play. St. 21.TOUGHT, adj. SAX. Tight. 7849.TOUR, n. FR. Atower. 1032.TOURNET, n. R. 4164. should be written Tourette, as in MS.Hunter. A turret, or small tower.TOUT, . The backside. 3810.3851.TOWAIL, n. FR. A towel. 14663. 14671 .TOWARDES, prep. SAX. Toward. 12640.TOWEL, n. 7730. is perhaps put for TEWEL; a pipe fundament.TRACE, n. FR. A track, or path. 176. -A train. L. TRADE, pa. t. of TREAD, v. SAX. Trod. 15184.TRAGETOUR, n. F. iii. 187. as TREGETOUR.TRAIE, V. FR. To betray. F. i . 390.TRAIS, n. pl. FR. Traits. The traces, by which horses draw. 2141. T. i. 222.TRAMISSENE, pr. n.ver. 57.TRANSMEWE, V. FR. To transform. 8261. T. iv. 467.TRAPPURES, n. pl. BARB. LAT. The cloths, with which horses were covered for parade. 2501. See Du Cange, in V. TRAPPATURA.A kingdom in Africa. See the n. onTRASHED, part. pa. Betrayed. R. 3231.TRATE, n. 7164. See the note. Bp. Douglas frequently uses Trat for an old woman. Æn. vII. 416. in vultus sese transformat aniles-he renders,And hir in schape transformyt ofane trat.See also, p. 96, 28. auld trat -and p. 122, 39.TRAVE, n. FR. Travail. A frame, in which farriers put un- ruly horses. 3282.A cheat. R. 6308. 7168.TRE, n. SAX. A tree; wood. 5682. Cristes tre. 3765. The Cross.TRECHOUR, N. FR.TREDE- FOULE, N. A treader of hens; a co*ck. 13951. 15457.TREGETOUR, n. See the n. on ver. 11453.TRENCHANT, part. pr. FR. Cutting. 3928.TRENTAL, N. See the n. on ver. 7299.TREPEGET, n. FR. A military engine. R. 6279. See Du Cange, in v. TREBUCHETUM.TRESSE, n . FR. An artificial lock, or gathering of hair.1051. See Du Cange, in v. TRICA, TRECIA.TRESSED, part. pa. Gathered in a tress, or tresses. 5926.TRESSOUR, N. An instrument used in tressing the hair; or an ornament of it , when tressed. R. 568. 3717. See Du Cange, in v. TRESSORIUM.TRETABLE, adj. FR. Tractable. P. 161, col. 1 , 1. 67. L. W. 411.TRETE, V. FR. To treat; to discourse. 10534.THETEE, n. Treaty. 9566.THETIS, n. Treaty. T. iv. 64.670.adj. FR. Long and well proportioned. 152. R. 1016. 1216.TREWE, N. FR. A truce. T. iv. 1312.adj. SAX. True, faithful . 2237. 3706.TREWE- LOVE, n. 3692. See the note. Since which Mr. Steevens has very obligingly suggested to me, that there is a herb called True-love, according to Gerard, in his Herbal. Ed. 1597. p. 328. " HERBA PARIS . One-berrie,or herbe True- love-at the very top whereof come forth fower leaves, directly set one against another, in manner of a Burgunnion cross, or a true love knot; for which cause among the auncients it hath been called herbe True-love." This herb, however, to the best of my remembrance, is rather too large to be carried conveniently under the tongue.-A trewelove, of the same or an other sort , is mentioned in the concluding stanza of the Court ofLove.Eke eche at other threw the floures bright,The primerose, the violete, and the gold;So than as I beheld the royal sight ,My lady gan me sodenly behold,And with a trewelove, plited manyafold,She smote me through the very heart as blive,And Venus yet I thanke I am alive.TRIACLE, n. FR. corruption of Theriaque. A remedy, in general. 4899. 12248.TRICE, V. SAX. To thrust. 14443.TRIE, adj. 13785. f. Tried or refined. Gloss. Ur.TRILL, V. SAX.v. neut.TRINE, adj. FR.See COMPAS.To twirl; to turn round. 10630.To roll; to trickle. 7446. 13604.Triple. Trine compas. 15513. The Trinity.TRIPPE, n. 7329. evidently means a small piece of cheese.Les tripes d'un fa*got, în FR. are The smallest sticks in afa*ggot. Cotgrave.TRISTE, v. for TRUSTE. T. ii . 247.TRISTE, n. T. ii. 1534. A post or station in hunting. Cowell.This seems to be the true meaning of the word, though the etymology is not so clear.TROMPE, n. FR. A trumpet. 2176. 2513.TROMFOUR, n. Atrumpeter. 2673.TRONCHOUN, n. FR. A spear, without a head. 2617.TRONE, n. FR. A throne. 2531. 12776.TROPHEE, pr. n. 14123. See the note. It afterwards occurred to methat the reference might possibly be to the original of the Troilus and Creseide, which, according to Lydgate,was called Trophe; ( see the n. on P. 172, col . 2, 1. 23, în page 209 ofthis edit. ) but I cannot find any such passage as is here quoted, in the Filostrato.TROTULA, pr. n. 6250. See the n. on ver. 6253.TROUBLE, adj. FR. Dark, gloomy. 8341.TROUBLER, Comp. d. R. 7020.TROWANDISE. R. 3954. for TRUANDISE.TROWE, v. SAX. To believe. 7139. 7567.TRUANDISE, n. FR. Begging. R. 6664.TRUANDING. R. 6721.TULLE, V. SAX. To allure. 4132. See ver. 5597496 GLOSSARY.TULLIUS, pr. n. M. 110, col. 1, 1. 64. M. Tullius Cicero. See also R. 5286. A. F. 31.TURKEIS, n. FR. A sort of precious stone. C. L. 80.- adj. FR. Turkish. 2897. See the note.TURMENTISE, n. FR. Torment. 14435.TURVES, pl. of TURF, n. SAX. 10109.TWAINE. T. iii. 551.8526. numer. SAX.TWAY. 794. TWEY. 1696. TwEINE.Two.TWEIFOLD, adj. SAX. Double. 16034.TWIES, adv. SAX. Twice. 4346.TWIGHT, pa. t. and part. of TWITCH, v. SAX.Plucked. 7145. 10732.Pulled;TWINNE, V. SAX. Todepart from a place, or thing. 837. 12364.TWINNED, part. pa. Separated. T. iv. 476.TWIRE, v. Bo. iii. m. 2. Twireth seems to be the transla- tion of susurrat; spoken of a bird.TWIST, N. SAX. A twig. 10223.TWISTE, v. SAX. To twitch; to pull hard. 10880.TWISTE, pa. t. Twitched. 9879.V.VALENCE, pr. n. A. F. 272. Valencia in Spain. Gloss. Ur.VALERIE, pr. n. 6253. See the Discourse, & c. n. 19.VALERIE. 14638. VALERIUS. 6747. pr. n. Valerius Maximus.VALURE, n. FR. Value. R. 5236.VARIEN, inf. m. v. FR. To change; to alter. T. ii . 1621.VARIAUNT, part. pr. 16643. Changeable.VASSALAGE, N. FR.VAVASOUR, n. 362.VAUNTOUR, n. FR.Valour; courage. 3056. R. 5871.See the note.A boaster. T. ii. 724.VECKE, n. ITAL. An old woman. R. 4286. 4495.VEINE-BLODE, n. Blood drawn from a vein. 2749.VENDABLE, adj. FR. To be sold. R. 5804.VENERIE, n. FR. Hunting. 166. 2310.VENGE, V. FR. To revenge. M. 112 , col . 1, 1. 58.VENIME, n. FR. Poison; venom. 2753.VENTOUSING, n. FR. Cupping. 2749.VER. n. LAT. The Spring. T. i. 157.VERAMENT, adv. FR. Truly, 13643.VERAY, adj. FR. True. 6786.VERDEGRESE, n. FR. Verd du gris. The rust of brass; so called from its colour, a grey green. 16258.VERDITE, N. FR. Judgement; sentence. 789. A. F. 503.VERGER, n. FR. A garden. R. 3618. 3831.VERMEILE, adj. FR. Of a vermilion colour. R. 3645.VERMELET, adj. C. L. 142. as VERMEILE.VERNAGE, 9681. See the note.VERNICLE, n. 687. diminutive of Veronike. FR. A copy in miniature ofthe picture of Christ, which is supposed to have been miraculously imprinted upon a handkerchief,preserved in the church of St. Peter at Rome. Du Cange,in v. VERONICA. Madox, Form. Angl. p. 428. Testam.Joh. de Nevill. an. 1386. Item Domino Archiepiscopo Eborumfratri meo i. vestimentum rubeum de velvet cum le verouike (r. veronike) in granis rosarum desuper brondata (r. broudata) . It was usual for persons return- ing from pilgrimages to bring with them certain tokens of the several places which they had visited; and there- fore the Pardoner, who is just arrived from Rome, is represented with a vernicle, sewed upon his cappe. See P. P. 28. b.An hundred amples on hys hatte sette,Sygnes of Sinay and shelles of * Calice,And many a crouch on his cloke and kayes of Rome,And THE VERNICLE before, for men should knowe And se by hys signes, whom he sought hadde.VERNISH, V. FR. To varnish. 4147.VERRE, n. FR. Glass. T. ii . 867.VERSIFIOUR, n. FR. A maker of verses; a poet. M. 116,col. 2, 1. 45.VERTULES, adj. Without efficacy. T. ii. 344.VERTUOUS, adj. FR. Active; efficacious. 251 .VESSELL, n. FR. Vaisselle. Plate. 14154. 14310.UGLY, adj. SAX. Horrid; frightful. 8549.VIAGE, n. FR. Ajourney by sea or land. 77. 794.VICARY, n. LAT. A vicar. 17333.

• MS. Gales. Perhaps it should be Galice. See ver. 468.

VICE, n. FR. The newel, or upright centre of a winding stair-case. C. D. 1310.VIGILE, n. FR. The eve of a festival. 379.- The wake, or watching of a dead body. T. v. 305. Seethe n. on ver. 2960.VIGILIE, n. LAT. as VIGILE. 6138.VILANIE, n. FR. Any thing unbecoming a gentleman. 70.6733.VINOLENT, adj. LAT. Full of wine. 6049. 7513.VIRELAYE, N. FR. 11260. "A round, freeman's song. "Cotgrave. There is a particular description of a Virlai,in the Jardin de plaisance. fol. xii. where it makes the decima sexta species Rhetorice Gallicane.VIRGILE, pr. n. 7101. L. W. 924. F. i. 449.VISAGE, V. FR. To front; to face a thing. 10147.VISE, n. 1987. In MS. A. veze. Perhaps we should read rese, a Saxon word signifying violence, impetuosity. See T. iv. 350. where (according to Gloss. Ur. ) instead of rage some MSS. have rees; and the Prol. to the Contin. ofthe Cant. T. ver. 498. 548. If this correction be admitted , we must also read in the next line rese for rise, with MS. A. VITAILLE, N. FR. Victuals. 3551. 7935.VITELLON, pr. n. 10546. See the note.UNBETIDE, V. SAX.UNBODIE, V. SAX.UNBOKEL, V. FR.To fail to happen. Bo. v. pr. 6.To leave the body. T. v. 1549.To unbuckle; to open. 17337.UNCE, n. FR. LAT. Ounce. 16722. 16734.UNCOMMITTED, part. pa. A. F. 518. Office uncommitted of anoyeth. Compare ver. 16534, 5.UNCONNING, part. pr. Ignorant. 2395.n. Ignorance. B. K. 608.UNCOVENABLE, adj. Inconvenient. Bo. iv. pr. 6.UNCOUPLE, v. To go loose; Metaphor from hounds. 14420.UNCOUPLINGE, n. Letting loose. Du. 377.UNCOUTH, part. pa. Unknown. See COUTH. -Uncommon;not vulgar; elegant. 10598. T. iii . 1803. F. L. 276. C. D. 93.UNCOUTHLY, adv. Uncommonly. R. 584.UNDEPARTABLE, adj. Not capable of departing. R. iv. pr. 3.UNDERFONG, v. SAX. To undertake. R. 5709.UNDERGROWE, part. pa. Undergrown; of a low stature. 156.UNDERLING, n. Sax. An inferior. P. 164 , col. 1 , 1. 13.UNDERMELE, n. Sax. 6457. See the note. Upon further consideration, I am rather inclined to believe, that undermele signifies the time after the meal of dinner;the afternoon . UNDERMELE. Postmeridies. Prompt. Parv.UNDERN, n. SAX. The third hour of the artificial day;nine of the clock. A. M. 15228. See the n. on ver. 8136.Till it was UNDERNE hygh, and more. Conf. Am. 103. b.UNDERNOME, pa. t. of UNDERNIME, v . SAX. Took up; re- ceived. 15711.UNDERPIGHT, pa. t . See PIGHT. He dranke, and wel his girdel underpight. 5209. He drank, and stuffed his girdle well.UNDERSPORE, v. SAX. To raise a thing, by putting a spere,or pole, under it. 3465.UNDERSTONDE, part. pa. Understood. 4940. 9559.UNDO, v. SAX. To unfold. R. 9.UNDOUBTOUS, adj. Undoubted. B. v. pr. 1. Indubitata.Orig. See DOUTOUS.UNESCHUABLE, adj. SAX. Unavoidable. Bo. v. pr. 1. Ine- vitabili. Orig.UNESE, n. Uneasiness. C. D. 867.Un- eth, Un- etHES, adv. SAX. Scarcely; not easily. 3123.7685.UNFAMOUS, adj. Unknown. F. iii. 56.UNFESTLICHE, adj. Not suitable to a feast. 10680.UNGODELY, adj. Uncivil; ungenteel. R. 3741. That I n' olde holde hire UNGODELY. Orig. Que je ne tenisse à vilaine.UNGREABLE, adj. Unpleasant; disagreeable. Bo. i. m. 1 .Ingratas. Orig.UNHELE, n. SAX. Misfortune. 12050.UNHIDE, v. To discover. R. 2168.UNJOINE, V. To separate; to disjoin. Bo. iii. pr. 12.UNKINDELY, adv. Unnaturally. 12419.UNKNOWABLE, adj. Incapable of being known. Bo. ii. m.7.Ignorabiles. Orig.UNLETTED, part. pa. Undisturbed. C. D. 1829.UNLOVEN, v. To cease loving. T. v. 1697.UNLUST, n. Dislike. P. 162, col. 1 , 1. 9.GLOSSARY. 497UNMANHODE, n.UNMIGHTY, adj.Cowardice. T. i. 825.Unable. T. ii. 858.UNPEREGAL, adj. Unequal. Bo. iii. pr. 1. Impar. Orig.UNPIN, v . SAX. To unlock. T. iii. 699.UNPITOUS, adj. Cruel. Bo. i. m. 1. Impia.UNFLITE, v. To unfold. Bo. ii. pr. 8.UNREST, n. Want of rest. 6686. -Uneasiness; trouble. 8595.UNRESTY, adj Unquiet. T. v. 1354.UNRIGHT, n. Wrong. 6675.UNSAD, adj. Unsteady. 8871.UNSCIENCE, N. Not- science. Bo. v. pr. 3.UNSELY, adj. Unhappy. 4208. 15936.UNSET, part. pa. Not appointed. 1526.UNSHETTE, pa. t. Opened. 9921 .UNSKILFULLY, adv. SAX. Without reason. Bo. iii. pr. 6.Injurid. Orig.UNSLEKKED, part. pa. Unslacked. 16274.UNSLEPT, part pa. Having had no sleep. C. D. 1834.UNSOFT, adj. Hard. 9698.UNSOLEMPNE, adj. Uncelebrated. Bo. i. pr. 3. Incelebris.Orig.UNSPERDE, part. pa. Unbolted. R. 2654.UNSTANCHEABLE, adj. Inexhaustible. Bo. ii. pr. 7. Inex- hausta. Orig.UNSTANCHED, part. pa. Unsatisfied. Bo. ii. pr. 6. Inex- pletam. Orig.UNSUFFICIENT. adj. Insufficient. 10351.UNSWELL, v. To fall after swelling. T. iv. 1146.UNTHANK, n. No thanks; ill-will. 4080. T. v. 699.UNTIL, prep. SAX. To; unto. 214.UNTIME, n. An unseasonable time. P. 171 , col. 2, 1. 20.UNTO, adv. SAX. Until. A. F. 647.UNTRESSED, part. pa. Not tied in a tress, or tresses, 2291.8255.UNTRETABLE, adj. Not admitting any treaty. Bo. ii. pr. 8.Bellum inexorabile. Orig. Πολεμος ακήρυκτος .UNTRISTE for UNTRUSTE, v. To mistrust. T. iii. 841.UNTRUST, n. Distrust. 10080.UNUSAGE, n. Want of usage. Bo. ii. pr. 7. Insolentia. Orig.UNWARE, part. pa. Unforeseen. 4847. 11668.UNWELD, adj. Unwieldy. 3884. R. 359.UNWEMMED, part. pa. Unspotted. 5344. 15605.UNWETING, part. pr. Not knowing. Unweting ofthis Dorigen. 11248. Dorigen not knowing of this.UNWETINGLY, adv. Ignorantly. 12420.UNWIST, part. pa. Unknown. T. ii. 1294. Unwist ofhim.2979. It being unknown to him. -Not knowing. T. ii. 1400.UNWIT, n. Want of wit. 16553.UNWOTE, v. SAX. To be ignorant. Bo. v. pr. 6.UNWRIE, v. To uncover. T. i. 859.UNYOLDEN, part. pa. Not having yielded. 2644. 2726.VOIDE, V. FR. To remove. 8786. 10502.-To quit; to make empty. 8682. 9689.v. neut. To depart; to go away. 11462. T. ii . 912.VOIDED, part. pa. Removed. 11507. 11613.VOLAGE, adj. FR.VOLATILE, n. FR.Light; giddy. 17188. R. 1284.Wild fowls; game. 13002.VOLUNTEE, n. FR. Will. R. 5276.VOLUFERE, n. Awoman's cap. 3241. A night-cap. 4301.VOLYPERE. KERCHER. Teristrum. Prompt. Parv. But theristrum signifies properly a veil. See Du Cange in v.VOUCHE, V. FR. Vouchen sauf. 11885. To vouchsafe.Voucheth sauf. 11355. Vouchsafe ye. As ye have made present, the king VOUCHES it SAVE. P. L. 260.UP, prep. SAX. Upon. Ther lith on up my wombe and up myn hed. 4288. There lieth one upon my belly and upon my head. Up peine. 1709. 2545. Upon pain. Upperil.6727. Upon peril.adv. SAX. Up on lond. 704. Up in the country. Up so doun. 1379. 16093. P. 151 , col . 2 , 1. 53. Upside down.The londe was tourned UP SO DOUN. Conf. Am. 37. 159.But Pandare up. T. iii. 549. An elliptical expression,ofwhich it is not easy to give the precise meaning.UPPER, comp. d. Higher. F. ii. 376.UPHAF, pa. t. of UPHEVE, v. SAX. Heaved up. 2430.UPHEPING, n. SAX. Accumulation. Bo. ii. pr. 3. Cumulum.Orig.UPON, adv. 6964. He had upon a courtpey of grene. Hehad on a courtepy, &c. Or perhaps it is an elliptical expression for He had upon him. See ver. 6141.UPPEREST, adj. superl. Highest. Bo. i. pr. 1 .UPRIGHT, adj. SAX. Strait. Upright as a bolt. 3264.Strait as an arrow. It is applied indifferently to persons lying, as well as standing. 4264. 6350. 13246. 13541. 14489.15048 .URCHON, n.URE, n . FR.Ahedge-hog. R. 3135.Fortune; destiny. B. K. 152. C. L. 634.URED, adj. Fortunate. Wel ured. C. D. 144.USAGE, n . FR. Experience; practice. 2450.USANT, part. pr. FR. Using; accustomed. 3938. P. 165,col. 2 , 1. 14.UTTER, comp. d. of Our, adv. Sax. Outward; more out.15966. T. iii. 665.UTTERESTE, superl. d. Uttermost. 8663.UTTERLY, adv. FR. Oultréement. Thoroughly; entirely.8829. L. W. 1488.UTTREN, inf. m. of Utter, v. SAX. To publish, 16302.pr. t. pl. 6103. Give out; sell.W.WADE, pr. n. 9298. See the note. -See also Cambden.Brit. 907. and Charlton's Hist. of Whitby, p. 40.v. SAX. LAT. To pass through water, without swimming. 7666.-To pass, generally. 9558. 14412. q.? WAFERERS, n. pl. Sellers of wafers; a sort of cakes. 12413 . WAFOURES, n. pl. Wafers; a sort of cakes. 3379. WAGET. 3321. See the note. But, upon the whole, I be- lieve that a light waget should be understood to mean a light blue colour.WAIMENTING, n. SAX. Lamentation. 904. 997.WAINE, n. SAX, A waggon. Bo. iv. m. 1.WAITE, V. FR. To watch. 3295.WAKE, v. SAX. To watch. 7482. C. D. 1904.WALACHIE, pr. n. Walachia. Du. 1024.WALA WA, or WA LA WA, interj. SAX. Woe! alas! 940.See the note. Wa la wa the while! 4790. Alas the time!WALNOTE, n. SAX. A walnut, i. e. a French, or foreign nut.F. iii. 191 .WALWE, v. SAX. To tumble about; to wallow. 6667. 6684.WALWING, part. pr. 3616.WAN, pa. t. ofWIN, v. SAX. Gained. 444. 7059.WANE, V. SAX. To decrease. 2080. 3027.WANG, N. SAX. A cheek- tooth . 4028.WANGER, n. SAX. A support for the cheek; a pillow. 13840.WANHOPE, n. SAX. Despair. 1251. P. 172, col. 1 , 1. 21 .WANTRUST, n. SAX. Distrust. 17230.WAPED, part. pa. SAX. Stupefied . An. 217.WARDECORPS, n. FR. Body- guard. 5941 .WARDEIN, n . FR. A warden of a College. 3997.—A guard.T. iii. 666.-A keeper of a gate. T. v. 1177. WARDEINS,pl. Guards; watchmen. 6788.WARDERERE. 4099. perhaps a corruption of the FR. Garde arriere.WARDROPE, n. FR. Garderobe. A house of office. 13502.WARIANGLES. 6990. See the note; and Cotgrave, in v. Pie and Engrouée, where he explains " the Wariangle to be a small Woodpecker, black and white of colour, and but halfe as big as the ordinary green one. "WARICE, WARISH, v . Fr. To heal. 12840. -v. neut. To recover from sickness. M. 107, col. I , 1. 22.WARISON, n. R. 1537. seems to be put for Reward. Son merite. Orig. WARYSON. Donativum. Prompt. Parv.WARNE, U. SAX. To caution; to apprize. 8949. 16058. - To refuse. R. 3652. 3730.WARNESTORE, v. To furnish; to store. M. 113, col. 1 , 1. 23.WARRIE, V. SAX. To abuse; to speak evil of. 4792. T. ii . 1619.WASHEN, part. pa . of WASH, v. SAX. 3311.WASTEL- BREDE. 147. Cake-bread; Bread made of thefinest flower; from the FR. Gasteau, a cake.WASTOUR, n. FR. A spoiler. 9409.WATE, v. SAX. To know. R. 5399.WATERING OF SEINT THOMAS. 828. A placefor watering horses, I suppose, a little out of the borough of Southwark, in the road to Canterbury. The same place, Iapprehend, was afterwards called St. Thomas a WaterK K498 GLOSSARY.ings, probably from some chapel dedicated to that Saint- It was a place of execution in Q. Elizabeth's time. Wood.Ath. Oxon. i. 229.WATLYNGE STRETE. F. ii. 431 . An old street in London.WAVE, pa. t . of WEAVE, v. SAX. Wove. L. W. 2353.WAWE, n. SAX. A wave. 1960.WAY, n. SAX. is often put for the time in which a certain space can be passed through. Afurlong way. 3637. 4197.A mile way. 13206. Any short time. -At the leste wey 16144. seems to signifie no more than At the lest. 4458.At least.-A devil way. 3136. 7824. A twenty devil way.3713. 4255. 16250.adv. Away. Do way. 3287. 15955. Do away; put away.SAX. A weaver. 364.WAYE, U. SAX. To weigh. L. W. 398.-To press with weight.L. W. 1786.WEBBE, n.WEDDE, n. SAX. A pawn, or pledge. To wedde. 1220.13353. For a pawn. And leyde TO WEDDE Normandie.R. G. 393.WEDE, n. SAX. Clothing; apparel. 8739. Under wede.13845. See the note; and R. 6359. where Under wede seems to signifie simply In my clothing.n. Sax. A weed; an useless herb. T. i. 947.WEHEE. A word to express the neighing of a horse. 4064.P. P. 36 b.WEIVE, v. SAX. To forsake. 17127. 17344. -To decline; to refuse. T. ii . 284.v. ncut. To depart. 9357. 10298.WEIVED, part. pa. Departed. 4728.WEKE, v. SAX. To grow weak. T. iv. 1144.adj. SAX. Weak. 889.WEL, adv. SAX. Well; in a good condition. 4372. WEL WAS THE WENCHE, with him mighte mete. C. D. 270. WEL WERE THEY, that thider might twin. It is joined to other adverbs and adjectives, as full and right are; and still more frequently to verbs; in the sense of the FR. bien.WELDE, v. SAX. To govern; to wield. 7529. 14583.WELDY, adj. SAX. Active. T. ii. 636.WELE, adv. for WEL. 928. 2233 .n. SAX. Wealth; prosperity . 3103. 4595, 9166.WELEFUL, adj. Productive of happiness. 4871 .WELEFULNESS, n. Sax. Happiness. Bo. ii . pr. 8,WELKE, pa. t . of WALK, v. SAX. Walked. C. D. 828.WELKED, part. pa. of WELKE, v. SAX. Withered; mouldy.5859. 12672.WELKIN, n . SAX. The sky. 9000.WELL, n. SAX. A spring. 7924. Well of vices. 4743.-of perfection . 5689.- of alle gentillesse. 10819.WELLE, v. SAX. To flow, as from a spring. T. iv. 709.WELMETH. R. 1561. seems to be put for WELLETH;Springeth.WELTE, pa. t. of WELDE. 14016.WEL-THEWED, adj. SAX. Endowed with good qualities.Bo. iv. pr. 6.WELWILLY, adj. SAX. Favourable; propitious. T. iii. 1263.WEMME, n. SAX. A spot; a fault. 10435. R. 930. Without WEMME. P. P. 98 b.WENCHE, n. SAX. A young woman. 4165. It is sometimes used in an opprobrious sense. 10076. I am a gentil woman and no wenche.WEND for WENED, pa. t. of WENE. Thought; intended.3693. 4257. WENDEN, pl. T. iv. 683, 724.WENDE, v. SAX. To go. 21. 1393.n. Sax. Guess; conjecture. B. K. 463. perhaps for WENE.WENE, n. SAX. Guess; supposition. Withouten wene. R. 574. 732. Not by supposition; certainly.v. SAX. To think; to suppose. 2197. 5893.WENT, part. pa. of WENDE. Gone. 3665. 13470 .WENTE, WENT, pa. t . of WENDE. 78. 257. Went at borde.6110. Lived as a boarder. WENTEN, pl. 822.WENT, n. A way; a passage. T. iii. 788. F. i. 182. -Aturn, in walking. T. ii . 815. T. v. 605. in bed. T. ii. 63.v. F. L. 150. for WANT.WEP, pa. t. of WEPE, v. SAX. Wept. 2823.WEPELY, adj. SAX. Causing tears. Bo. iii, m. 12.WEPEN, n. SAX. A weapon. 1593.WERCHE, n. & v. as WERKE.WERE for WEREN, ind. m. pa. t. pl. of Aм, v. SAX. 18. 41.It is sometimes used for HAD, according to the French custom, with reflected verbs. 12595. Thise riotoures- WERE set HEM in a taverne for to drinke. -S'ETOIENT mis, S'ETOIENT assis.subj. m. pa, t . sing. 89. As it were. 148. Ifon of hem were. 1159. Whether she were. 2115. Were it. 2288.It were a game.v. SAX. To wear. 2177. 2950.-To defend. 2552.n. FR. Guerre. Confusion. His herte in such aWERE is set. R. 5699. Son cueur a mys en tel GUERRE.Orig. 5289. L. W. 2675. And in a WERE gan I wexe and with myselfto dispute. P. P. 54. b.n. SAX. A wear, for catching fish. T. iii. 35.A. F. 138.WEREN, pa. t. pl. of Am, v. SAX. 28, 9. Were.WERKE, n. SAX. Work. 3311. 12274. WERKES, pl. 3308.v. SAX. To work. 3133. 3530, 1.WERNE, v. 5915. as WARNE.WERRE, n. FR. War. 47. 1673. In T. v. 1392. it seems to be used as WERE.WERREIE, V. FR. To make war against. 1546. 10324.14338.WERSE, Comp. d. of ILL, adv. Sax. Worse. 4348. 5753.comp. d. of BAD, adj. SAX. Worse. 1226. 3870.WERSTE, superl. d. of BAD. Worst. 9094. 13091.WERY, adj. SAX. Weary. 4105. 4934.WESH, pa. t. of WASH, v. SAX. Washed. 2285. 4873.WESTREN, inf. m. v. Sax. To tend toward the West.T. ii. 906.WETE, adj. SAX. Wet. 2903.v. SAX. To wet. T. iii. 1121.v. SAX.WETHER, N. SAX.3542. T. iv. 1374.To know. 7096. 10305.The weather. 10366.-A castrated ram .WETING, n. SAX. Knowledge. 1613. 6231 .WEVE, U. SAX. To weave. L. W. 2341.v. SAX. To put off; to prevent. T. ii. 1050. See WEIVE.WEX, pa. t. ofWAXE, or WEXE, v . SAX. Waxed; grew. 4232.WEXING, part. pr. Increasing. 2080.WEYEDEN Weighed. 456. See WAYE. , pa. t. pl.WHAT, pron. interrog, SAX. is often used by itself, as a sort of interjection. 856. WHAT? welcome be the cutte.-3477.WHAT? Nicholas! WHAT how? man! -3491 . WHAT?thinke on God. - See also 3900. 6496. 7820.pron. indef. Something. A little what. Bo. iv. pr. 6.Mizgov T. What for love and for distress. 1455. Partly for love and partly f. d. See 3965. 4441 , 2. F. ii. 43. Wete ye what? 10305. 17031. Do ye know something? Ne elles what. F. iii . 651. Nor any thing else. Oud' adλws Ti.when joined to a n. subst. ( either expressed or un- derstood) is a mere adj. answering to Qualis. LAT. Quel.FR. 40, 41. What they weren. 1705. What men they were. What so. 524. 6873. What that. 5602. 7113. What- soever.WHEDER, Conj. SAX. Whether. 9838. 15141 .WHELM, V. SAX. T. i . 139. To sink; to depress. WHEL- MYN A VESSELL. Supprimo. Prompt. Parv.WHENNES, adv. SAX. Whence. 12269.WHER, conj. SAX. Whether. 7032. 10893.adv. SAX. Where. 423. 899.in composition, signifies Which. See HERE andTHER. Wherefore. 8533. Wherein. 13732. Wherthrough.R. 3733. Wherwith. 304. -or What, when used interro- gatively. Wherof. 5654. Wherwith. 5713.WHETHER, adj. SAX. Which oftwo. 1858. 6816.WHETTE, part. pa. of WHET, v. SAX. Sharpened. T. v. 1759.WHICHE, pron. rel. Sax. Who. 16482. Whom. 13083.- adj. What; what sort of. 2677. 5621 , 6875.WHILE, N. SAX. Time. In this mene while. 7027. In the mean time. How he might quite hire while. 5004. How he might requite her time, pains, &c. L. W. 2225. R. 1542. God can ful wel your WHILE quite. So MS. Hunter.WHILERE, adv. SAX. Some time before. 16796.WHILKE, adj. SAX. Which. 4076. 4169.GLOSSARY. 499WHILOM, adv. SAX. Once, on a time. 861. 9121.WHINE, v. SAX. To utter a plaintive cry. 5968. See An. 158.WHITE, adj. SAX. Fair; specious. T. iii. 1573.2. To grow white. T. v. 276.WHо, pron. interrog. Sax. 1350. 1456.WHOS, gen. ca. sing. 5438.WHO, pron. rel. SAX. 3154. It is generally expressed by that.WHOS, gen. ca. sing. 7908. 9047.WHO, pron. indef. T. iii. 268.For wel thou wost, the name as yet of her Amonges the people, AS WHO SAYTH, halowed is.Where as who sayth seems to be equivalent to as one should say. See also Du. 559. In Bo. iii. pr. 4. the same phrase is used to introduce a fuller explanation of apassage; as we might use-That is to say.-WHO SO. 743.WHO THAT. 807. Whosoever. In ver. 4298. there is aphrase which I know not how to explain grammatically.But sikerly she n'iste WHO WAS WHO. See also C. D. 1305, 6.WIDE-WHERE, adv. SAX. Widely; far and near. 4556. T. iii.405. Conf. Am. 162.WIERDES, n. pl. Sax. The fates, or destinies; Parcæ.T. iii. 618.WIF, n. SAX. A wife. 2260.-A woman. 6580.WIFHOOD, n. SAX. The state of a wife. 10064.Unmarried. 9112. 9124.Becoming a wife. 8305.WIFLES, adj. SAX.WIFLY, adj. SAX.WIGHT, n. SAX. A person, male or female. 2108. 13917.4234.-A small space of time. 4281.-Weight. T. ii. 1585.A witch. 3484. WYTCH CLEPYD NYGHT MARE. Epialtes.Prompt. Parv.adj. SAX. Active; swift. 4084. 14273. Ofhem that ben deliver and WIGHT. Conf. Am. 177 b.WIGHTES, n. pl. Witches. 3479. See the note.WIKE, n, for WEKE. T. ii . 1273.WIKET. n. FR. Awicket. 9919.WIKKE, adj. SAX. Wicked. 5448. 15429.WILLIAM ST. AMOUR, pr. n. R. 6763. A doctor of the Sor- bonne in the XIIth Century, who took a principal part in the dispute between the University of Paris and the Dominican Friers. See Moreri, in v.WILLY, adj. SAX. Favourable. B. K. 628.WILN for WILLEN, pl. n. of WILLE, v. SAX. 6870. 12848.WILNE, U. SAX. To desire. 2566.WIMPLE, n. FR. A covering for the neck. It is distin- guished from a veil, which covered the head also. R. 3864.Wering a vaile, instede ofwimple,As nonnes don in hir abbey.WINDAS, n. FR. Guindal. An engine to raise stones, &c.10498.WINDE, U. SAX. To turn round. 6684.as WENDE; To go. R. 2055.WINE OF APE. 16993. See the note.WINNE. R. 3674. v. SAX. To gain. 715. 7003. To winne to.R. 3674. To attain. See L. W. 2416.WIRRY, V. SAX. Toworry. R. 6264.WIS, adv. SAX.WISE, n. SAX.Certainly. 11780. See YWIS.Manner. 1663. T. ii. 921.WISLY, adv. SAX. Certainly. 1865. 3992.WISSE, v. SAX. To teach; to direct. 6590. 6991. So God me wisse. 7440. So may God direct me. WYSSYN OR LEDYN. Dirigo. Prompt. Parv.WISTE, pa. t. of WISTE, v. SAX. Knew. 1158. 8690.WITE, v. SAX. To know. 9614. R. 7661. -To blame. 10051.14588.-To impute to. Wite it the ale of Southwark.3142. Impute it to the a. o. S. -or, Blame the a. o. S. for it. 14756.t.n. SAX. Blame. 16421.WITH, prep. SAX. is used in the sense of by. 4895. Was with the leon frette; was devoured by the lion.-In with his thought. 9460. In with hire bosom. 9818. Within his Within hire b.-With meschance. 5316. 7797. With meschance and with misaventure. 6916. With sorwe and with meschance. 4410. With sorwe. 5890. 5922. are phrases of the same import as God yeve him meschance.5334. God yeve me sorwe. 5733. They are all to be con- sidered as parenthetical curses, used with more or less seriousness. And so are the following phrases. Withevil prefe. 5829. With harde grace. 7810.grace. 12810.WITHHOLDE, v. SAX. To stop. 14002.With soryWITHHOLDEN, WITHHOLD, part. pa. Retained; detained.513. M. 107, col . 2, 1. 30. 15813.WITHSAIN, inf. m. of WITHSAY, v. SAX. 1142.WITHSAYE, WITHSEYE, v. SAX. To contradict; to denie.15915. L. W. 367.WITNESFULLY, adv. SAX. Evidently. Bo. iv. pr. 5.WITNESSE, n. SAX. Testimony; a witness. Witnesse on Mida. 6533. Witnesse on Mathew. 12568.WITTE, n. SAX. Understanding; capacity. 748. To my witte. 11187. F. ii. 194. In myjudgement.WITTES, n. pl. SAX. The senses of man. M. 114 , col. 1 , 1. 61.WIVE, n. for WIF. 1862.WIVERE , n. SAX. A serpent. T. iii. 1012.WLATSOM, adj. SAX. Loathsome. 14542. 15059.Wo, n. SAX. Woe; sorrow. 1360. 1384. Wo were us, 8015.Wher me were wo. 10893. are expressions derived from the Saxon language, in which us and me were equivalent to nobis and mihi, without the addition of the prep. to.adj. SAX. Sorrowful. R. 312. C. L. 32.WO- BEGON. 3372. 3658. Far gone in woe. See BEGON.WODE, WOOD, adj. SAX. Mad. 3507. Violent. 3517. For wode. L. W. 2409. F. iii. 657. Like any thing mad. See ver. 2952. Into the fire, that brent as it were wood.v. SAX. To grow mad. 15935. Bo. iv. m. 5.WODEWALE, R. 658. pr. n. of a bird. Widewael. BELG.Oriolus. Kilian. According to Ray, our Witwall is asort of Wood- pecker. Synop. Av. p. 43.WOL, v. auxil. SAX. To will. 42. 805. It is used sometimes by itself, the infin. v. being understood. 10810. As she to water wolde; i. e. would dissolve into w. 1093.And to the wood he wol; i. e. will go. 16453. Ful manya man hath he begiled er this, And wol; i. e. will begile.WOLDE, pa. t. Would. 144. WOLDEN, pl. 4666.—pa. t. subj.m. Wolde God! 9932,5. God wolde! Du. 665. 814. Othat God were willing! Ne wolde God! 11068. God forbid!WOLD, part. pa. Willed; been willing. M. 107, col. 1 ,1. 67, 114, col. 1, 1. 62. L. W. 1207.WOMANHEDE, n. Womanhood; the virtue of a woman.8951.WONDE, v. SAX. Wandian.L. W. 1185.To desist through fear.pa. t. C. M. V. 102. may perhaps be deduced from WINDE; to turn; to bend. See T. i. 257.The yerde is bet, that bowen wol and WINde,Than that that brest.-pa. t. of WONE. Dwelled. L. W. 2241 .WONDER, adj. Sax. Wonderful. 2075. 5465.WONE, n. SAX. Custom; usage. 337. 13434. Du. 475.- Habitation. 7687. 13730.-A heap; an assembly. R. 1673.L. W. 2159.v. SAX. To dwell. 7745.WONEDEN, pa. t. pl. Dwelled. 2929.WONED, part. pa. Wont, accustomed. T. i. 511. Du. 140.WONING, n. SAX. A dwelling. 608.WONNE, part. pa. of WINNE, v. SAX. Won; conquered.51. 59. Begotten. L. W. 2553.WONT, part. pa. ofWONE. Accustomed. Bo. iv. pr. 4.WOOD, adj. as WODE.WOODNESS, n. Madness. 3452. 12430.WORDLES, adj. SAX. Speechless. C. D. 514.WORLDES, gen. c. of WORLD, n. SAX. is used in the sense of the adj. WORLDLY. Every worldes sore. 2851. My worldes bliss. 15206.WORT, n. SAX. A cabbage. 8102. 15227.-New beer, in astate of fermentation. 16281.WORTH, v. SAX. To be; to go. C. M. 95. Wo worthe! T. ii.344,5,6. Unhappy be! or Wo be to! -To climb; to mount. 13681. T. ii. 1011.WOST for WOTEST. 1165. 1176. 6144. Knowest.WOTE, WOT, v. SAX. To know. 1142. 1262,4,5 WOT, pa. t. Knew. 4856.Wowe (rather Woe) , v. SAX. To woo. T. v. 791. L. W. 1245.кк 2500 GLOSSARY.Woxe, pa. t. of Waxe, or WeXE, v . SAX. Grew. 7703.WOXEN, part. pa. Grown. T. v. 1014.WRAIE, v. SAX . To betray; discover. T. iii. 285.WRATHEN, inf. m. v. SAX. To make angry. 17029. P. 148,col. 2, 1. 41.WRAWE, adj. SAX. Peevish; angry. 16995. WRAWE.FROWARD. ONGOODLY. Perversus. Bilosus. Prompt. Parv.WRAWNESS, n. Peevishness. P. 162, col. 1 , 1. 8.WRAY, v. 11256. as WRAIE.WRECHE, N. SAX. Revenge. 14521. 14533.WRENCHES, n. pl. SAX. Frauds; stratagems. 16549.WREST, V. SAX. To twist. B. K. 48. The nightingale with so great might hire voice began out wrest. To turnforcibly. T. iv. 1427.WRETCHES, Bo. ii. pr. 7. should probably be WRETCHED.WRETHEN, part. pa. of WRITHE. F. L. 57. Wrethen in fere; Twisted together. In Urry's Edit. it is printed- Within in fere.WREYE, v. 3503, 7. as WRAIE.WRIE, V. SAX. To cover. 7409. R. 6795.-To turn; to incline. 17211. T. ii . 906.WRIGHT, n. SAX. A workman. 616.WRINE, for WRIEN, inf. m. ofWRIE. R. 6684.WRING, U. SAX. To squeeze so as to express moisture.13706.WRITHE, v. SAX. To twist; to turn aside. 3283. T. iv. 986.WRITHING, n. A turning. 10441.WRONGE, part. pa. of WRING. His hondes wronge. T. iv.1171. Later writers have used the same expression of distress. I suppose it means to clasp the hands, and squeeze them strongly one against the other. I do not recollect a similar expression in any other language.WROTE, v. SAX. To dig with the snout, as swine do. P. 149, col. 2, 1. 30. Or like a worm, that wroteth in a tree.Lydg. Trag. 33.WROUGHT, part. pa. of WORKE, v. SAX. Made. 11184.Y.Y at the beginning of many words, especially verbs andparticiples, is merely a corruption of the Saxon Le,which has remained uncorrupted in the other collateral branches of the Gothic language. What the power of it may have been originally, it is impossible, I apprehend,nowto determine. In Chaucer it does not appear to haveany effect upon the sense of a word; so that there seems to be no necessity for inserting in a Glossary such words as yblessed . ygranted, &c . which differ not in significa- tion from blessed , granted, &c. Some, however, of this sort are inserted, which may serve at least to shew more clearly the extent of this practice in Chaucer's time.Several other words are shortly explained under this letter, of which a more full explanation may be found under their respective second letters.YA, adv. SAX. Yea. 3455. 8231. It is used emphatically with both. 4827. Ya, bothe younge and olde. 6832. Ye,bothefaire and good.YAF, pa. t. of YEVE, v. SAX. Gave. 498. 1902.YALTE for YELTE. R. 4904. Yalte him.Y-CRASED, part. pa. Du. 324. Broken.Y- DELED, part. pa. 7831. Distributed.Y- DIGHT, part. pa. T. v. 541. Adorned.Y- Do, part. pa. 2536. Done; finished .Y-DRAWE, part. pa. 946. Drawn.YE, adv. SAX. as YA. 9212. Ye wis. T. ii. 887. Yea certainly.YEDDINGES, 237. See the note. The Prompt. Parv. makes Yedding to be the same as Geste, which it explains thus.GEEST OR ROMAWNCE. Gestio. So that of yeddinges may perhaps mean of story-telling.YEDE, part. pa. of YEDE, v. SAX. Went. 13249. 16609.YEFTE, n. SAX . A gift 9185. YEFTES, pl. 2200. 9186.YELDE, v. SAX. To yield; to give. 6494. 8719. - To pay.5712. God yelde you! 7759. God reward you!YELLEDEN, pa. t . pl. of YELLE, v . SAX. 15395.YELPE, v. SAX. To prate; to boast. 2240. T. iii. 308.YELTE for YELDETH. T. i. 386.YEMAN, n. SAX. A servant of middling rank; a bailif.6962. 6977. -The KnightES YEMEN. See his CHARACTER,ver. 101-17. -THE CHANONES YEMAN. See his PROLOGUE ,ver. 16022-16187. YEMEN, pl. 2511. 2730. See the n. on ver. 101.YEMANRIE, n. The rank of Yeoman. See the n. on ver. 101.YERDE, n. SAX. A rod, or staff, 149. T. ii . 154. Under the yerde. 13027. See the note.YERE for YERES, n. pl. SAX. Years. 4919. 11125.YERNE, adj. SAX. Brisk; eager. 3257.adv. Briskly; eagerly. 6575. 12332. Early. T. iii.337. As yerne. T. iii. 151. T. iv. 112. Soon; immediately.v. To desire; to seek eagerly. T. iii . 152. T. iv. 198.YERNING, n. Activity; diligence. R. 5951. Esveil. Orig.YETEN, part pa. R. 5702. Gotten.YEVE, v. SAX. To give. 507. 613.YEVEN, YEVE, part. pa. Given. 1088. 1091. 7135.Y-FALLE, part. pa. 25. Fallen.Y-FEINED, part. pa. 8405. Lordes hestes may not ben y-feined. The commands of sovereigns may not be ex- ecuted with a feigned, pretended zeal; they must be executed strictly and fully.Y-FETTE, part. pa. 10488. Fetched.Y-FONDEN, part. pa. 10154. Found.Y-FOSTERED, part. pa. 3944. Educated.Y- FRETEN, part. pa. L. W. 1949. Devoured.Y- GETEN, part. pa. 3564. Gotten.Y-GLOSED, part. pa. 16983. Flattered.Y-GLUED, part. pa. 10496. Glewed; fastened with glew.Y-Go, part. pa. 288. Gone.Y-GRAVE, part. pa. 6078. Buried.Y-HALOWED, part. pa. L. W. 1869. Kept holy.Y-HERD, part. pa. 3736. Covered with hair.Y-HOLD, part. pa. 1309. L. W. 1952. Beholden.Y-JAPED, part. pa. 17094. Tricked; deceived.Y LESSED, part. pa. T. i. 1090. Relieved. See LISSED.Y-LICHE, Y-LIKE, adj. SAX. Resembling. 594. 1541. Equal. 2736.adv. SAX. Equally; alike. 2528. 7796.Y-LIMED, part. pa. 6516. Limed; caught, as with bird- lime.Y-LOGGED, part. pa. 14997. Lodged.Yieldeth himself. Y-MASKED, part. pa. T. iii. 1740. Mashed, or Meshed.Masche. BELG. Macula retis. Kilian.Y-MEINT, part. pa. 2172. Mingled.Y- MELL, prep. SAX. Among. 4169.Se rend, Orig.YARE, adj. SAX. Ready. L. W. 2258.YATE, N. SAX. A gate. 8889.YAVE, pa. t. of YEVE. Gave. 304. 602.Y-BE, part. pa. Been. 10275.Y- BERIED, part. pa. Buried. 948.Y- FETE, 981. See the note, and R. 837.Y-BLENT, part. pa. of BLEND. R. 1610. Blinded.Y-BLENT, part. pa. of BLENCHE. 3751. Shrunk; started aside. See the note on ver. 1080.Y-BLINT, part. pa. 3806. Blinded.Y-BORE, part. pa. of BERE. 380. Born; carried.Y- BOURDED, part. pa. Jested. A. F. 589.Y-BRENT, part. pa. of BRENNE. 948. Burned.Y-CHAPPED, part. pa. 368. Furnished with chapes. From chappe. FR.Y- CLOUTED, part. pa. R. 223. Wrapped in clouts, or rags.Y- CORVEN, part. pa, 2015. Cut. See CORVEN.Y- COUPLED, part. pa. 9095.YMENEUS, pr. n. Hymenæus. 9604.YNOUGH, YNOw, adv. SAX. Enough. 11020. 13988.YOLDEN, part. pa. of YELDE. Given. 3054.-Yielded. T. iii.1217.-Repaid. R. 4556.YONGHEDE, n. SAX. Youth. R. 351 .YORE, adv. SAX. Of a long time. 4692. 7944.-A little before. 9990.-Yore agon. 13639. Long ago. In oldetimes yore. 9016. Of time yore. 11275.YOVE, p. t. of YEVE. C. L. 683. Gave.YOURE, pron. poss. SAX. is used for YOURES. 16716. T. ii.587. L. W. 683. C. L. 855.YOURES, pron. poss. SAX. used generally, when the noun,to which it belongs , is understood , or placed before it.7495. 8379. 10911. He was an oldfelaw of youres. 12606.He was an old companion ofyours, i. e. of, or among,your companions. See the Essay, &c. n. 29.GLOSSARY. 501YOUTHEDE, N. SAX. Youth. R. 4931.YOXE, U. SAX. To hickup. 4149. YYXYN. Singullio. Prompt.Parv.Y-PIKED, part. pa . 367. Picked; spruce.Y-QUEINT, part. pa. 3752. Quenched.Y- REIGHT, pa. t. F. iii. 284. Reached.Y- REKEN. 3880. scems to be put for the old part. pr.Y- REKEND. Reeking.YREN, n. SAX. Iron. 1996. 6488.Y- RENT, part. pa. 5265. Torn.Y- RONNE, YRONNEN, part. pa. 3891. 2695. Run.Y- SATELED, part. pa. 10279. Settled; established.YSE, n. SAX, ICE. F. iii. 40.Y-SERVED, part. pa. Treated. 905.Y-SETTE, part. pa. 10487. Set; placed. Appointed. 1637.Y- SHENT, part. pa. 6894. Damaged.Y- SHOVE, part. pa. L. W. 726. Pushed forwards.Y- SLAWE, part. pa. 945. 4904. Slain.YSOPE, pr. n. M. 110, col. 2, 1. 46. So the name of the Fabulist was commonly written, notwithstanding the dis- tinction pointed out by the following technical verse.66 Ysopus est herba, sed Esopus dat bona verba. "In this and many other passages, which are quoted from Esop by writers of the middle ages, it is not easy to say what author they mean. The Greek collections of fables, which are now current under the name of Esop,were unknown, I apprehend, in this part of the world,at the time that Melibee was written. Phædrus too had disappeared. Avienus indeed was very generally read.He is quoted as Esop by John of Salisbury, Polycrat. L. vii. Ut Esopo, vel Avieno credas.But the name of Esop was chiefly appropriated to the anonymous *author of 60 fables, in Elegiac metre, which

• Several improbable conjectures , which have been made with respect to the real name and age of this writer, may be seen in the Menagiana, Vol. i. p. 172. and in Fabric. Bibl.

Lat. Vol. i . p . 376. Ed. Patav. In the edition of these fables in 1503 , the commentator, of no great authority, I confess ,mentions an opinion of some people, that " Gallerus Angeli- cus fecit hunc librum sub nomine Esopi." I suppose the person meant was Gualterus Anglicus, who had been tutor to William II. King of Sicily, and was Archbishop of Palermo about the year 1170. I cannot believe that they were much older than his time; and in the beginning of the next century they seem to be mentioned under the name of Esopus , among the books commonly read in schools, by Eberhardus Bethu- niensis in his Labyrinthus, Tract . iii . de Versificatione, v. ii.See Leyser, Hist. Poet. Med. Ævi. p. 826. About the middle of the same century ( the x1th) Vincent of Beauvais in his Speculum Histor. L. iii. c . 2. gives an account of Æsop, and a large specimen ofhis fables , quas Romulus quidam de Græco in Latinum transtulit, et adfilium suum Tyberinum dirigit. "They are all, as I remember, in the printed Romulus.Soon after the invention of printing, that larger collection of the fables of Esop was made and published in Germany,which has been mentioned in this Vol. p. 202. It is divided into vi books, to which is prefixed a life of Æsop e Græco- Latina per Rimiciumfacta. The three first are composed of the 60 Elegiac fables of the metrical Esopus, with a few trifling variations; and to each of them is subjoined a fable on the same subject in prose from Romulus. Book IV. con- tains the remaining fables of Romulus in prose only. The vth Book has not more than one or two fables which had ever appeared before under the name of Æsop. The rest are taken from the Gesta Romanorum, the Calilah u Damnah (see p. 201 , note *; and p. 202 , note ‡ ) and other obscurer authors. The vith and last Book contains 17 fables with the following title: Sequuntur fabulæ novæ Esopi ex transla- tione Remicii. There has been a great diversity of opinion among learned men concerning this Remicius or Rimicius (see Præf. Nilant. ) , while some have confounded him with thefictitious Romulus , and others have considered him as the Editor of this collection . I have no doubt but the person meant is that Rinucius whotranslated the life of Æsopby Pla- nudes and 96 of his fables , fromthe Greekinto Latin , about the middle of the xvth Century. See Fabric. Bibl. Med . Et.in v. RIMICIUS. In his translation of the Epistles of Hippo- crates , MS. Harl. 3527. he is styled in one place Verdensis,and in another Castilionensis. All the fables from Remicius which compose this vith Book, as well as the Life of Æsop,which is professedly taken from Rimicius, are to be found in this translation by Rinucius. There is an Edition of it printed at Milan about 1480; but it might very possibly haveare printed in Nevelet's collection under the title of "Anonymi fabulæ Esopicæ." I have seen an Edition of them in 1503 , by Wynkyn de Worde, in which they are entitled simply " Esopi fabulæ. " The subjects are for the most part plainly taken from Phædrus; but it may be doubted whether the author copied from the original work of Phædrus, or from some version of it into Latin prose. Several versions of this kind are still ex- tant in MS. One of very considerable antiquity has been published by Nilant, Lugd. Bat. 1709 , under the title of Fabula Antiquæ, together with another of a later date,which is pretended to have been made from the Greek by an Emperour Romulus, for the use of his son Tiberi- nus. They all shew evident marks of being derived from one common origin, like what has been observed of the several Greek collections of Esopean fables in prose(Dissert. de Babrio. Lond. 1776. ); like them too they differ very much, one from another, in style, order of fables,and manylittle particulars; and , what is most material,each of them generally contains a few fables, either invented or stolen by its respective compiler, which are not to be found in the other collections; so that it is often impracticable to verifie a quotation from Esop in the writers of Chaucer's time, unless we happen to light upon the identical book of fables which the writer who quotes had before him.I have printed in the Discourse, &c. n. 29. a fable of the co*ck and the Fox, from the French Esope of Marie,which is not to be found in any other collection that Ihave seen, and which , I suppose, furnished Chaucer with the subject of his Nonnes Preestes tale. In the same French Æsop, and in a Latin MS. Bibl. Reg. 15 A. vii,there is a fable , which, I think, might have given the hint for Prior's Ladle. "A country fellow one day laidhold ofa faery ( un folet, FR. ) , who, in order to be set at liberty, gave him three wishes. The man goes home,and gives two of them to his wife. Soon after, as they are dining upon a chine of mutton, the wife feels a long- ing for the marrow, and not being able to get it, she wishes that her husband had an iron beak ( long com li Witecocs. FR. long as the Woodco*ck) to extract this mar- row for her. An excrescence being immediately formed accordingly, the husband angrily wishes it off from his own face upon his wife's. "-And here the story is un- luckily defective in both copies; but it is easy to suppose,that the third and last remaining wish was employed by the wife for her own relief.A fable upon a similar idea, in French verse, may be seen in MS. Bodl. 1687; the same, as I apprehend, with one in the King's library at Paris ( MS. n. 7989. fol. 189. )which is entitled " Les quatre souhaits de Sainz Martin."See Fabliaux, &c. T. iii . p. 311. The vanity of human wishes is there exposed with more pleasantry than in the story just cited, but as it often happens, with much less decency.Y- sowe, part. pa. 5653. Sown.Y- SPREINT, part. pa. 2171. Sprinkled.Y- STICKED, part. pa. 1567. Sticked; thrust.Y-STORVEN, part. pa. 2016. Dead.Y-TAKE, part. pa. 3353. Taken.Y- TEYED, part. pa. 459. Tied.Y- TRESPASED, part. pa. M. 114, col. 1 , 1. 52. Trespassed.Y-VANISHED, part. pa. 6578.YVEL, adj. SAX. Bad; unfortunate. 4172. 4182. YVEL,adv. SAX. Ill. 1129. 3715.YVOIRE, n. FR. Ivory. Du. 946.Y-WIMPLED, part. pa. Covered with a wimple. 472.Y-WIS, adv. SAX. Certainly. 3277. 3705.Y-WRAKE, pa. t. T. v. 1467. Wreaked; revenged.Y-WRIE, part. pa. 2906. Covered.Z.ZEUXIS, pr. n. 11950. 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