to say This PalamoÌ„ whaÌ„ he these wordes herd Dispytously he loked and answerd Whether sayest thou this in ernest or in play Nay quod Arcite in ernest by my fay God helpe me so me lyst full yuell to pley This PalamoÌ„ gan knyt his browes twey It were ê™ he to the no great honour To be false ne for to be traytour To me that am thy cosen and thy brother I sworne full depe and eche of vs to other That neuer for to dyen in the payne Tyll that the dethe departe vs twayne Neyther of vs in loue to hyndre other Ne in none other case my leue brother But that thou shuldest truly further me In euery case as I shulde further the This was thyn othe and myn also certayn I wote it well thou darst it not withsayn Thus arte thou of my counsell out of doute And nowe thou woldest falsly ben aboute To loue my lady whom I loue and serue And euer shall tyll that myn herte sterue Nowe certes false Arcite thou shalt not so I loued her fyrst and tolde the my wo As to my counsell and to my brother sworne To further me as I haue tolde beforne For whiche thou art thounden as a knyght To helpen me yf it lye in thy might Or els arte thou false I dare well sayne This Arcite full proudly spake agayne Thou shalt ê™ he be rather fals than I And thou arte false I tell the vtterly For paramour I loued her fyrst or thou what wilt thou sayn thou wist it nat or now Whether she be woman or goddesse Thyne is affection of holynesse And myne is loue as to a creature For whiche I tolde the myne auenture As to my cosyn and my brother sworne Suppose that thou louest her byforne Wost thou not well the olde clerkes sawe That who shall gyue a louer any lawe Loue is a gretter lawe by my pan Than maybe yeuen to any erthly man And therfore posityfe lawe and suche decre Is broken all day for loue in eche degre A man more nedes loue maugre hys herd He may nat fleen it though he shulde be deed All be she mayde wydowe or wyfe And eke it is not lykely all thy lyfe To stonden in her grace nomore shall I For well thou wodst thy selfe verely That thou and I be dampned to prison Perpetuall vs gayneth no raunson We stryuen as did the houndes for y e bone That faughte al day yet her part was non Ther cam a cur while y t they wer so wroth And bare away the bone from hein bothe And therfore at kynges court my brother Eche man for hym selfe there is non other Loue if thou lyst for I loue and ay shall And sothly lefe brother thys is all Here in thys prison more we endure And eueryche of vs taken hys auenture Gret was the strife betwix hem twey If that I had leyser for to fry But to theffect It happed on a day To tell it you shortly as I may A worthy duke that hyght Perithous That felowe was to duke Theseus Syth thylke day y t they were chyldren lyte Was come to Athenes hys felow to visyte And for to play as he was wonte to do For in this worlde he loued no man so And he loued hym as tenderly agayne So well they loued as olde bokes sayne That wheÌ„ that one was deed sothly to tell His felow went sought hym downe in hell But of that story lyst me not to write Duke Perithous loued well Arcite And had hym know at Thebes yere by yere And fynally at request and prayere Of Peithous withouten any raunson Duke Theseus let hym out of pryson Frely to you whither hym lyst ouer all In suche agyfe as I you tellen shall Thys was the forewarde playnly to endyte Betwyx duke Theseus and hym Arcite That yf so were that Arcite were yfounde Euer in hys lyfe by daye nyght or stounde In any countre of thys duke Theseus And he were caught it was accorded thus That wyth a swerde he shulde lese hys heed There nas none other remedy ne reed But taketh hys leaue and homward hym sped Let hym beware hys necke lyeth to wedde Howe great sorowe suffreth nowe Arcite The death he feleth through hys herte smyte He wepeth wayleth and cryeth pyteously To sleen hym selfe he wayteth priuely And sayd alas the daye that I was borne Nowe is my preson worse then beforne Nowe is me shappen eternally to dwell Not in purgatory but in hell Alas that euer I knewe Perithous For els had I dwelt wyth Theseus I fetered in hys prison euer mo Then had I be in blysse and not in wo Onely the syght of her whom that I serue Though that I neuer her grace maye deserue wolde haue suffysed ryght ynough for me O dere cosyn Palamon quod he Thyne is the victory of thys auenture Full blysfull in prison mayst thou endure In prison Nay certes but in paradyse well hath fortune to the tourned the dyse That hast the syght of her and I thabsence For possible is sythnes thou hast her presence And arte a knyght a worthy man and able That by some case syn fortune is chaungeable Thou mayst some tyme to thy desyre attayne But I that am exiled and barayne Of all grace and in so great dyspeyre That ther nys water erth fyre ne eyre Ne creature that of hem maked is That maye me heale or done comforte in thys well ought I sterue in wanhope and dystresse Farwell my lyfe my lust and my gladnesse Alas why playnen men so in comune Of purueyaunce of God or of fortune That yeueth hem full ofte in many a gyse well bette then hem selfe can deuyse Some man desyreth to haue rychesse That cause is of her murdre or sycknesse And some man wolde out of hys prison fayne That in hys house is of hys meyne slayne Infinite harmes bene in thys matere we wote not what thynge we prayen here we faren as he that dronke is as a mouse A dronken man wote well he hath an house But he wote nat whych the ryght waye thyder And to a dronken man the waye is slyder And certes in thys worlde so faren we we seken fast after felicite But we go wronge ful ofte truly Thus may we saye al and namely I That wenden and had a great opinion That yf I myght scape fro prison Thâ—â— had I bene in ioye and parfyte he le There nowe I am exiled fro my wele Syth that I maye not sene you Emely I nam but deed there nys no remedy ¶ Vpon that other syde Palamon when that he wyst Arcite was gone Such sorowe he maketh that the great tour Resowned of hys yellynge and clamour The pure fetters on hys shynnes grete were of hys bytter salte teares wete Alas ê™ he Arcite cosyn myne Of all our stryfe god wote the frute is thyne Thou walkest nowe in Thebes at large And of my wo thou yeuest lytle charge Thou mayst syth thou hast
shal not scapen one That Troyan is and for the great feere He durst not that ye dwelte lenger there what woll ye more o louesom lady dere Let Troye and troyans fro your herte pace Dryue out y t bytter hope make good chere And clepe ayen the beaute of your face That ye wyth salte teeres so deface For Troye is brought in suche a ieopardye That it to saue is nowe no remedye And thynketh wel ye shal in grekes fynde A more parfyte loue er it be nyght Then any troyan is and more kynde And bet to seruen you woll done hys myght And yf ye vouchsafe my lady bryght I woll ben he to seruen you my selue Yea leauer then be lorde of Greces twelue And wyth y t worde he gan to waxen reed And in hys speche a lytel whyle he quoke And cast asyde a lytell wyth hys heed And stynte a whyle afterwarde he woke And sobrely on her he threwe hys loke And sayd I am al be it to you no ioye As gentyll a man as any wyght in Troye For yf my father Tydeus he seyde Ilyued had I had ben er thys Of Calcidony and Arge a kynge Creseyde And so hope I that I shal be ywys But he was slayne alas the more harme is Vnhappely at Thebes all to rathe Polymyte and many a man to scathe But herte myne sythe that I am your mā And ben the fyrst of whome I seche grace To serue you as hertely as I can And euer shall whyle I to lyue haue space So that er I departe out of thys place Ye woll me graunt that I maye to morowe At better leyser tell you of my sorowe what shulde I tell hys wordes y t he seyd He spake ynough for o daye at the mest It preueth well he spake so that Creseyde Graunted on the morowe at hys request For to speake wyth hym at the leest So that he nolde speake of suche matere And thus she to hym sayd as ye mowe here As she that had her herte on Troylus So fast that there maye it none arace And straungely she spake and sayd thus O Diomede I loue that ylke place There I was borne Ioues for thy grace Delyuer it soone of all that doth it care God for thy myght so leue it well to fare That grekes wold her wrath on Troy wrek Yf that they myght I knowe it wel ywys But it shall naught befallen as ye speke And god to forne and farther ouer thys I wote my father wyse and redy is And that he me hath bought as ye me tolde So dere I am the more vnto hym holde That Grekes ben of hygh condition I wote eke wel but certayne men shal fynde As worthy folke wythin Troy toun As connyng as parfyte and as kynde As ben betwyxtr Orcades and Inde And that ye coude well your lady serue I trowe eke well her thanke for to deserue But as to speke of loue ywys she seyde I had a lorde to whome I wedded was The whose myne herte was all tyll he deyde And other loue as helpe me nowe Pallas There in myne herte nys ne neuer was And that ye ben of noble and hygh kynrede I haue well herde it tellen out of drede And that doth me to haue so great a wonder That ye woll scorne any woman so Eke god wote loue and I ben fer asonder I am dysposed bet so mote I go Vnto my death playne and make wo what I shall after done I can not say But trewly as yet me lyst not play Myne herte is nowe in tribulatioun And ye in armes besy daye by daye Herafter when ye wonnen haue the toun Perauenture then so it happen may That when I se that I neuer ere say Then woll I werke y t I neuer ere wrought Thys worde to you ynoughe suffysen ought To morow eke wol I spekē wyth you fayne So that ye touchen naught of thys matere And when you lyst ye may come here againe And er ye gone thus moche I saye you here As helpe me Pallas wyth her heere 's clere Yf that I shulde of any greke haue routhe It shulde be your seluen by my trouthe I saye not therfore that I wol you loue Ne say not nay but in conclusioun I meane well by god that syt aboue And therwythall she caste her eyen doun And gā to sigh said Troilus Troy toun Yet bydde I god in quyete and in reste I maye you sene or do myne herte breste But in effecte and shortly for to saye Thys Diomede all freshly newe agayne Gan preasen on and faste her mercy praye And after thys the soth for to sayne Her gloue he toke of which he was ful fayne And fynally when it was woxen eue And all was well he rose and toke hys leue The bryght Venus folowed aye taught The way there brode Phebus downe alight And Cythera her chare horse ouer raught To whyrle out of the lyon yf she myght And Signifer hys candels sheweth bryght when that Creseyde vnto her bedde wente wythin her fathers fayre bryght tente Retournyng in her soule aye vp downe The wordes of thys sodayne Diomede Hys great estate and peryl of the towne And that she was alone and had nede Of frendes helpe and thus be gan to brede The cause why the soth for to tell She toke fully purpose for to dwell The morow came and goostly for to speke This Diomede is come vnto Creseyde And shortly leste that ye my tale breke So wel he for hym selfe spake and seyde That all her syghes sore downe he leyde And fynally the sothe for to sayne He lefte her the great of all her payne And after this the storye telleth vs That she him yaue the fayre baye stede The whiche she ones wan of Troylus And eke a broche and that was lytel nede That Troylus was she yaue this Diomede And eke the bet from sorowe him to releue She made him weare a pencell of her sleue I fynde eke in stories els where whan through the body hurte was Diomede Of Troylus tho wepte she many a teere whā that she sawe his wyde woundes blede And that she toke to kepen him good hede And for to healen him of his smerte Men sayn I not that she yaue him her herte But trewly the storie telleth vs There made neuer woman more wo Than she whan that she falsed Troylus She sayd alas for nowe is clene ago My name in trouthe of loue for euermo For I haue falsed one the gentyllest That euer was and one the worthyest Alas of me vnto the worldes ende Shal neyther ben ywritten nor ysonge No good word for these bokes wol me shēde Irolled shall I ben on many a tonge Throughout y e worlde my bel shal be ronge And women moste woll hate me of all Alas that suche a caas me shulde fall They wol sayne in as moche as in me is I haue hem done dishonour welaway Albe I nat
queynt a sweuen That I wolde by processe of tyme Fonde to put this sweuen in ryme As I can best and that anon This was my sweuen now it is done ¶ Explicit MY mayster c. whan of Chryst our kynge was asked what is trouth or sothfastnesse He not a worde answered to that askynge As who sayeth no man is all true I gesse And therfore though I hyght to expresse The sorowe and wo that is in maryage I dare not wryten of it no wyckednesse Lest I my selfe fall efte in suche dotage I woll not say how that it is the chayne Of Sathanas on whiche he gnaweth euer But I dare sayne were he out of his payne As by his wyll he wolde be bounden neuer But thylke doted foole that eft hath leuer Ychayned be than out of prison crepe God let hym neuer fro his wo disceuer Ne no man hym bewayle though he wepe But yet lest thou do worse take a wyse Bet is to wed then bren in worse wyse But y u shalt haue sorow on thy flesh thy lyfe And bē thy wyues thral as sayn these wise And if that holy wrytte may not suffyse Experience shall the teache so may happe Take the waye leuer to be take in Fryse Than efte to fall of weddyng in the trappe This lytle wryt prouerbes or fygures I sende you take kepe of it I rede Vnwyse is he that can no we le endure Yf thou be syker put the not in drede The wyfe of Bathe I praye you y t ye rede Of this mater that we haue on honde God graunt you your lyfe frely to lede In fredome for foule is to be bonde ¶ Explicit The assemble of foules THe lyfe so shorte y e craft so longe to lerne Thassaye so harde so sharpe the cōquering The dredful ioy alway that flyt so yerne All this mene I by loue that my felynge Astonyeth with his wondrefull werkynge So sore iwys that whan I on him thynke Nought wet I wel whether I flete or sink For al be that I knowe not loue in dede Ne wot how that he quyteth folke her hyre Yet happeth me full oft in bokes rede Of his myracles and of his cruell yre There rede I well he wol be lorde and syre I dare not sayne his strokes be sore But god saue suche a lorde I can nomore Of vsage what for lust what for lore On bokes rede I oft as I you tolde But wherfore I speke all this nought yore Agone it happed me to beholde Vpon a boke was ywrytten w t letters olde And thervpon a certayne thynge to lerne The longe day ful fast I rad and yerne For out of olde feldes as men sayth Cōmeth al this newe corne fro yere to yere And out of olde bokes in good fayth Cōmeth all this newe science that men lere But now to purpose as of this matere To rede forth it gan me so delyte That al that day me thought it but lyre This boke of which I make mencyon Entytled was ryght thus as I shall tell Tullius of the dreame of Scipion Chapiters seuen it had of heauen and hell And erth and soules that therin dwel Of which as shortly as I can it treate Of his sentence I woll you sayne the great Fyrst telleth it whan Scipion was come In Affryke how he meteth Massynysse That hym for ioye in armes hath ynome Than telleth he her speche and all the blysse that was betwixe hem tyll y e day gan mysse And howe hys auncestre Affrykan so dere Gan in his slepe that nyght tyll him apere Than telleth it that from a sterry place Howe affrikan hath hym Cartage shewed And warned him beforne of al hys grace And sayd him what man lered eyther leude That loueth comune profyte wel ytheude He shulde into a blysfull place wende There as the ioye is wythouten any ende Than asked he yf folke that here bene dede Haue lyfe and dwellyng in another place And Affrikan sayd yee without any drede And howe our present lyues space ment but a maner deth what way we trace And rightful folke shul gone after they dye To heauen and shewed hym the Galaxie Than shewed he him the lytle erth y e here is To regarde of the heuens quantyte And after shewed he him the nyne speris And after that the melodye herde he That cometh of thylke speres thrise thre That welles of musyke bene and melodye In thys worlde here and cause of armonye Than sayd he him sens erth was so lyte And ful of turment and of harde grace That he ne shulde him in this worlde delyte That tolde he hym in certayne yeres space That euery sterre shuld come into his place Ther it was first and al shuld out of minde That in thys worlde is done of al mākinde Than prayed hym Scipion to tel hym al The waye to come into that heuen blysse And he sayd Fyrst know thy selfe immortal And loke aye besely that thou werch wisse To comune profite and thou shalt not misse To come swyftly vnto that place dere That full of blysse is and of soules clere And brekers of the lawe sothe to sayne And lykerous folke after that they ben dede Shul whirle about y e world alway in paine Tyl many a worlde be passed out of drede And than foryeuen al her wycked dede than shullen they come to that blysful place To whych to comen God sende the grace The day gan faylen and the derke nyght That reueth beestes from her besynesse Berafte me my boke for lacke of lyght And to my bedde I gan me for to dresse Fulfylled of thought and besy heuynesse For both I had thing which that I nolde And eke I ne had that thyng that I wolde But fynally my spyrite at laste For wery of my labour al that daye Toke reste that made me to slepe faste And in my slepe I mette as that I laye Howe Affrikan ryght in the selfe araye That Scipion hym sawe before that tyde was come stode ryght at my beddes syde The wery hunter slepyng in hys bedde To wodde ayen hys mynde goth anone The iuge dremeth how hys plees be spedde The carter dremeth howe his cartes gone the rych of golde y e knight fyght w t his fone The sycke mette he drynketh of the tonne The louer met he hath hys lady wonne Can I not sayne yf that the cause were For I had radde of affrikan beforne That made me to mete that he stode there but thus sayd he thou hast the so wel borne In lokynge of myne olde boke al to torne Of whych Macrobie rought not a lyte That somdele of thy labour wolde I quyte Citherea thou blysful lady swete That w t thy fyre brōde dauntest whā y e lest That madest me thys sweuen for to mete be thou my helpe in this for thou maist best As wysely as I seygh the north north west whan I began my sweuen for to write So yeue me myght to ryme
her husbande auaunt hym of hys rychesse and hys money dyspraysynge y e power of hys aduersaryes she spake and sayd in thys wyse Certes dere syr I graunt you that ye be ryche myghty and that y e rychesse is good to hem that haue well gotten hem and that well can vse hem For ryght as the body of a man may not lyue wythout the soule no more may it lyue with out the temporel goodes and by ryches may a man get hym great frendes And therfore sayeth Pamphillus Yf a nerthes doughter he sayth be riche she may chefe of a thousand men whyche she woll take to her husbande for of a thousande one woll not forsake her ne refuse her And thys Pamphillus sayeth also Yf thou be ryght happy that is to say yf thou be ryche thou shalte fynde a greate nombre of felowes frendes And yf thy fortune chaūge farewel frendshyp felowshyp for thou shalte be alone wythout any cōpany but yf it be the companye of poore folke And yet sayeth thys Pamphillus more ouer that they that bene bonde and thrall of lynage shall be made worthye and noble by the rychesses And ryghte so as by the rychesses there come many goodnesses ryghte so by pouertie come there many harmes and yuels for greate pouertie cōstrayneth a man to do many yuels And therfore calleth Cassiodor pouertye the mother of ruyne that is to saye the mother of ouerthrowynge or of fallynge downe And therfore sayeth Peter Alfonce One of the greatest aduersyties of thys worlde is when a free man by kynde or of byrth is constrayned by pouerty to eat the almesse of hys enemye And the same sayeth Innocent in one of hys bokes He sayeth that sorowfull and myshappy is the condicion of a poore begger for yf he aske not hys meate he dyeth for honger and yf he aske he dyeth for shame and algates necessite constrayneth hym to aske And therfore sayeth Salomon that better is to dye then for to haue suche pouerte And as the same Salomon sayeth Better it is to dye of bytter deth then for to lyue in suche wyse By these reasons that I haue said vnto you by many other reasons that I coulde say I graunt you that rychesses ben good to hem y t getten hem well and to hem that wel vsen tho rychesses And therfore wol I shewe you howe ye shal behaue you in gatherynge of rychesses and in what maner ye shullen vse hem Fyrst ye shall get hem wythout great desyre by good leyser sokynglye and not ouerhastelye for a man that in to desyrynge to get rychesse habandoneth hym fyrste to thefte and to all other yuels And therfore sayeth Salomon He that hasteth hym to besely to waxe ryche he shall be none innocent He sayeth also that the rychesse that hastely cometh to a man sone and lyghtly goeth and passeth from a man but that rychesse that cometh lytel lytel wexeth alwaye and multiplyeth And syr ye shall gette rychesse by your wyte and by your trauayle vnto your profyte and that wythout wronge or harme doynge to any other persone For the lawe sayeth there maketh no mā him selfe riche yf he do harme to an other wyght thys is to say that nature defendeth and forbyddeth by ryghte that no man make hym selfe ryche vnto the harme of an other person And Tullius sayeth that no sorowe ne no drede of death ne nothing that maye fall vnto a man is so moche ayenst nature as a man to encreace hys owne profyte to the harme of an other mā And though the great myghty mē get rychesses more lyghtly then thou yet shalte thou not be ydell ne slowe to do thy profyte for thou shalte in all wyse flye ydelnesse For Salomon sayeth y e ydelnesse teacheth a man to do many yuels And the same Salomon sayeth that he that trauayleth and besyeth hym to tylth his lāde shall eate breed but he that is ydell casteth hym to no besynesse ne occupacion shal fal in to pouerte and dye for honger And he that is ydell and slowe can neuer fynde couenable tyme for to do hys profyte For there is a versyfyer sayeth that the ydel man excuseth him in wynter bycause of the greate colde and in sommer bycause of the heete For these causes sayeth Caton waketh and enclyne you net ouer moche for to slepe for ouer moche reste nourysheth and causeth many vyces And therfore sayeth saynt Ierom do some good dedes that the deuell whyche is our enemye ne fynde you not vnoccupyed for the dyuel ne taketh not lyghtly vnto his wer kynge suche as he fyndeth occupyed in good werkes Then thus in gettynge rychesses ye must flye ydelnesse And afterward ye shul vse the rychesses whyche ye haue gote by your wyte and by youre trauayle in suche maner that men holde you not to scarce ne to sparyng ne foole large that is to say ouer large a spēder For ryghte as men blame an auaricious mā bycause of hys scarcite and chynchery in the same wyse is he to blame that spendeth ouer largelye And therfore sayeth Caton Vse sayeth he the rychesses that thou haste gotten in suche maner that men maye haue no mater ne cause to call the nother wretche ne chynche For it is greate shame to a man to haue a poore herte and a ryche purse He sayeth also the goodes that thou haste gote vse them by measure that is to saye spende mesurably for they that foolyshly waste and dyspende the goodes that they haue when they haue no more propre of her owne then they shape hem to take y e goodes of an other man I saye then that ye shall flye auaryce vsynge youre rychesse in suche maner that men saye not that youre rychesses bene buryed but that ye haue hem in your myghte and in youre weldynge For a wyse man repreueth the auaricyous man and sayeth thus in thys verses two Wherto and why buryeth a man hys goodes by hys great auaryce and knoweth well that nedes he muste dye for death is the ende of euerye man ▪ as in thys presente lyfe And for what cause or encheson ioyneth he hym or knytteth he hym so faste vnto hys goodes that all hys wyttes mowe not dysceuer hym ne departe hym fro hys goodes and knoweth well or ought to knowe that when he is deade he shall nothynge beare wyth hym out of thys worlde And therfore sayeth saynt Augustyne that the auaricyous mā is lykened vnto hell that the more it swaloweth the more desyre it hathe to swalowe and deuoure And as well as ye wolde eschewe to be called an auaricyous man or chynche as well shulde ye kepe and gouerne you in such a wyse that men call you not foole large Therfore sayeth Tullius The goodes of thyne house ne shulde not be hydde ne kepte so close but that they myghte be opened by pyte and debonayrte that is to saye to yeue hem parte that haue greate nede Ne thy goodes shulde not be so
Mette he not that he satte vpon a tree whiche signifyed he shulde honged be Lo Adromeda that was Hectors wyfe That day that Hector shulde lefe his lyfe She dremed in the same night beforne Howe the lyfe of Hector shulde be lorne Yf that day he went vnto bataile She warned him but it might nat auayle He wente for to fyght neuerthelesse But he was slayne anon of Achilles But that tale is to long to tel And eke it is nigh day I may nat dwel Shortely I say as for conclusyon That I shal haue of this auision Aduersyte and I say farthermore That I ne tel of laxatyues no store For they ben venemous I wote it wele I hem defye I loue hem neuer a dele But let vs speke of myrthe stynte al this Madame Pertelot so haue I blys Of one thyng god hath me sent large grace For whan I se the beautie of your face Ye be so scarlet reed aboute your eyen It maketh al my drede for to dyen For also syker as In principio Mulier est hominis confusio ¶ Madame the sentence of this latyn is woman is mannes ioye and his blys For whan I fele on night your softe syde Al be it that I may not on you ryde For that our perche is made so narowe alas I am so ful of ioye and of solas That I defye bothe sweuen and dreme And with y e worde he flew down fro y e beme For it was day and eke the hennes al And with a chucke he gan hem for to cal For he had founde a corne lay in the yerde Royal he was and no more a ferde He feddred Pertelot twenty tyme And tradde her eke as oft er it was prime He loketh as he were a grymme lyoun And on his toes he romed vp and doun Him deyned not to set his fete to the grounde And chucked whan he had a corne ifounde And to him than ran his wyues al As royal as a prince in his hal Leaue I this Chaunteclere in his pasture And after wol I tel of his auenture ¶ whan y e monthe in whiche y e worlde begaÌ„ That hight Marche that god first made maÌ„ was complete and passed were also Sythe Marche began twenty dayes two Befyl that Chauntecler in al his pride His seuen wyues walkyng him besyde Caste vp his eyen to the bright sonne That in the sygne of Taurus was ironne Fourty degrees one and somwhat more He knewe by kynde and by none other lâ—â—e That it was prime crew w t a blisful steueÌ„ The sunne he sayd is clombe vp to the heuen Fourty degrees one soÌ„what more iwys Madame Pertelot my worldes blysse Herken howe this blisful byrdes synge And se the freshe floures howe they sprynge Ful is myne hert of reuel and solas But sodainly him fel a sorouful caas For euer the later ende of ioye is wo God wote worldly ioye is soone ago And if a rethore coude faire endite He in a cronycle myght sauely write As for a souerayne notabilyte Nowe euery wyse man herken to me This storie is also trewe I vndertake As is the boke of Launcelot du Lake That women holde in ful great reuerence Nowe wol I turne ayen to my sentence ¶ A col foxe ful of sleyght and iniquite That in the groue had wouned yeres thre By hygh ymagynacion a forne caste The same nyght through the hedge braste In to the yerde there ChauÌ„teclere the fayre was wonte and eke his wyues to repayre And in a bedde of wortes styl he lay Tyl it was passed vndren of the day waytyng his tyme on Chaunteclere to fal As gladly done these homycides al That in a wayte lye to murdre men O false murdrer ruckyng in thy den O newe Scariot and newe Genylion False dissymuler O greke Synon That broughtest Troy vtterly to sorowe O Chauntecler acursed be the morowe That thou in thy yerde flewe from y e bemes Thou were ful wel warned by thy dremes That ilke day was peryllous to the But what y t god afore wote must nedes be After the opynion of certayne clerkes witnesse of him that any clerke is That in schole is great altercation In this mater and great disputation And hath ben of an hundred thousande men But I ne can not boulte it to the bren As can the holy doctour saynt Austyn Or Boece or the byshop Bradwardyn whether that goddes worthy forewetyng Strayneth me nedely to do a thyng Nedely clepe I symple necessyte Or yf the fre choyce be graunted me To do that same thyng or do it nought Though god forwote it or it was wrought Or yf his wetyng strayneth neuer a dele But by necessyte condycionele I wol not haue to done of suche matere My tale is of a cocke as ye shal here That toke his couÌ„sayle of his wife w t sorow To walke in the yerde vpon the morowe That he had met the dreme as I you tolde womens counsayles ben ful ofte colde Womens counsayle brought vs fyrst to wo And made Adam fro paradise to go There as he was ful mery and well at eâ—â—â— But for I not whom I myght displease If I counsayle of women wolde blame Passe ouer I sayd it in my game Redeth authors wher they trete of such matere And what they say of women ye inowe here These ben the cockes wordes and not myne I can of women no harme deuyne ¶ Faire in the sonde to bathe her merily Lieth Perteloe and al her susters by Ayenst the sunne and Chaunteclere so free Songe meryer than the Mermayde in y e see For Phisiologus saythe vtterly Howe that they syngen wel and merily And so befyl as he cast his eye Among the wortes on a butterflye He was ware of this foxe that laye ful lowe Nothyng than lyst hym for to crowe But cried cocke cocke and vp he stert As one that was affrayde in his hert For naturally beestes desyreth to flye Fro her contrary yf he may it se Tho he neuer erst had seen it with his eye This Chaunteclere whan he gan hym espye He wolde haue fledde but the foxe anone Sayd gentil sir alas what wol ye done Be ye afrayde of me that am your frende Nowe certes I were worse than a fende Yf I to you wolde harme or villany I am not come your counsayle to espye But trewly the cause of my commyng was onely to here howe ye syng For sothly ye haue as mery a steuen As any angel hath that is in heuen Therwith ye haue of musyke more felyng Than had Boece or any that can syng My lorde your father god his soule blesse And eke your mother of her gentylnesse Haue in my house ben to my great ease And certes sir ful fayne wolde I you please But for men speken of syngyng I wol sey So mote I broken wel myn eyen twey â—â—ue you ne herde I neuer man so synge As dyd your father in the mornynge Certes
I swynke whan that my wyt is wery it to thynke On heuen yet the sterres weren sene Although full pale ywoxen was the moone And whyten gan the orizonte shene Al eestwarde as it is wonte to doone And Phebus wyth hys rosy carte soone Gan after that to dresse him vp to fare whan Troylus hath sent after Pandare This Pandare that of al the day beforne Ne might hym comen thys Troylus to se Although he on hys heed it had sworne For with the kyng Priam alday was he So that it laye nat in his lyberte No wher to gon but on y e morowe he went To Troylus whan that he for hym sent For in hys herte he coulde wel deuyne That Troylus al nyght for sorowe woke And that he wolde tel hym of hys pyne Thys knew he well ynough wythout boke For which to chaÌ„bre streyght y e way he toke And Troylus tho sobrely he grette And on the bed ful sone he gan hym sette My Pandarus ê™ Troylus the sorowe which that I drie I may not longe endure I trowe I shal not lyuen tyl to morowe For which I wolde alwayes on auenture To the deuysen of my sepulture The forme of my mouable thou dispone Ryght as the semeth best is for to done But of the fyre and flambe funerall In which my body brennen shall to glede And of the feest and playes palestrall At my vygyle I pray the take good hede That that be wel and offre Mars my stede My sworde myn helme leue brother dere My sheld to Pallas yeue that shyneth clere the poudre iÌ„ which min hert ibreÌ„de shal turn That pray I the thou take and it conserue In a vessel that men clepeth an vrne Of golde and to my lady that I serue For loue of whom thus pytously I sterue So yeue it her and do me thys plesaunce To prayen her to kepe it for a remembrauÌ„ce For wel I fele by my maladye And by my dreames nowe and yore ago Al certaynly that I mote nedes dye The oule eke which that hyght ascaphylo Hath after me shryght al these nyghtes two god Mercury now of me wofull wretche The soule gyde and whan the lyste it fetche Pandare answerde and sayd Troylus My dere frende as I haue tolde the yore That it is folye for to sorowen thus And causelesse for which I can no more But who so wol nat trowen rede ne lore I can not sene in hym no remedye But let hym worchen with his fantasye But Troylus I pray the tel me nowe If that thou trowe er thys that any wyght Hath loued paramours as wel as thou Ye god wote fro many a worthy knyght Hath hys ladye gone a fourtenyght And he nat yet made haluendele the fare what nede is the to maken al thys care Sens day by day thou mayst thy seluen se That from his loue or els from hys wyfe A man mote twynnen of necessyte Yee though he loue her as his owne lyfe Yet nyl he wyth him selfe thus maken stryfe For wel thou wost my leue brother dere That alway frendes may not ben yfere how don thys folke y t sene her loues wedded By frendes myght as it betydeth ful ofte And sene hem in her spouses bed ybedded God wote they take it wysely fayre softe For why good hope halt vp her herte alofte And for they can a tyme of sorowe endure As tyme hem hurteth a time doth hem cure So shuldest thou endure and letten slyde The tyme and fonde to ben gald and lyght Ten dayes nys not so longe to abyde And sens she to comen the hath behyght She nyl her heste breken for no wyght For drede the not that she nyl fynde way To come ayen my lyfe that durst I laye Thy sweuenesse eke and al such fantasye Dryue out and let hem faren to mischaunce For they procede of thy melancolye That doth the fele in slepe al thys penaunce A strawe for al sweuenes signifyaunce God helpe me so I counte hem nat abeene ther wot no maÌ„ aright what dremes meene For preestes of the temple tellen thys That dreames bene the reuelations Of goddes and al 's wel they tel ywys That they bene infernales illusyons And leches sayne that of complections Proceden they of faste or glotonye who wot in soth thus what they signyfye Eke other sayne that through impressions As yf a wyght hath faste a thinge in mynde That therof cometh such auisions And other sayne as they in bokes fynde That after tymes of the yere by kynde MeÌ„ dreme that theffect goth by the mone But leue no dreame for it is not to done well worth of dremes aye these olde wyues And trewly eke augurye of these foules For feare of which meÌ„ wemen lese her liues as raueÌ„s qualm or schriching of these oules To trowen on it both false and foule is Alas alas that so noble a creature As is a man shulde drede such ordure For which with al myne herte I the beseche Vnto thy selfe that al thys thou foryeue And ryse nowe vp withouten more speche And let vs cast how forth may best be dryueÌ„ The time eke how freshly we may lyuen whaÌ„ she cometh y u which shall be right sone God helpe me so the best is thus to done Ryse let vs speke of lustye lyfe in Troye That we haue lad and forth the time dryue And eke of tyme comyng vs reioye That bryngen shal our blysse now so blyue And langour of these twyse dayes fyue we shal therwyth so foryete or oppresse That well vnneth it done shal vs duresse Thys towne is ful of lordes al aboute And truce lasten all thys meane whyle Go we playen vs in some lusty route To Sarpedon not hence but a myle And thus thou shalt the tyme wel begyle And driue it forth vnto that blysful morow That thou her se that cause is of thy sorow Nowe ryse my dere brother Troylus For certes it non honoure is to the To wepe and in thy bedde to rouken thus For trewly of o thyng trust to me If thou thus lygge a daye two or thre The folke woll wene y t thou for cowardyse The faynest sicke that thou darst not ryse This Troylus answerde o brother dere Thys knoweÌ„ folke that haue ysuffred paine that though he wepe make sorouful chere That feleth harme and smert in euery vaine No wonder is and though I euer playne Or alway wepe I am nothyng to blame Sens y t I haue loste y e cause of al my game But sens of fyne force I mote aryse I shal aryse as sone as euer I may And god to whom myne hert I sacrifyse So sende vs hastely the tenthe daye For was there neuer foule so fayne of May As I shal ben whan y t she cometh in Troye That cause is of my turment and my ioye But whyder is thy rede ê™ Troylus That we may playe vs beste in al thys toun By
Which w t your coÌ„myng home ayeÌ„ to Troy Ye may redresse and more a thousande sythe Than euer I had encressen in me ioy For was there neuer herte yet so blythe To haue his lyfe as I shall ben as swythe As I you se and though no maner routhe Can meuen you yet thinketh on your trouthe And yf so be my gylte hath dethe deserued Or yf you lyst no more vpon me se In guerdon yet of that I haue you serued Beseche I you myn owne lady fre That her vpon ye wolden write me For loue of god my right lode sterre That deth may make an ende of al my werre If other cause aught doth you for to dwel That with your letter ye may me recomforte For though to me your absence is an hell wyth pacience I woll my wo comforte And with your lettre of hope I wol disporte Now writeth swete let me thus nat playn with hope or dethe delyuereth me fro payne Iwys myne owne dere herte trewe I wote that whan ye next vpon me se So loste haue I myn heale eke myn hewe Creseyde shall nat conne knowen me Iwys myne hertes day my lady fre So thursteth aye myne herte to beholde Your beaute that vnneth my lyfe I holde I say no more all haue I for to sey To you wel more than I tell may But whether that ye do me lyue or dey Yet pray I god so yeue you right good day And fareth wel goodly fayre fresh may As ye that lyfe or dethe me may commaunde And to youre trouthe aye I me recoÌ„maunde Wyth heale suche that but ye yeuen me The same heale I shal none heale haue In you lythe whan you lyst that it so be The day in which me clothen shal my graue And in you my lyfe in you might for to saue Me fro disease of all paynes smerte And fare nowe well myne owne swete herte Le vostre T. This lettre forth was sent vnto Creseyde Of whiche her answere in affecte was thys Full pitously she wrote ayen and seyde That also sone as she myght ywis She wold come mende al that was amys And fynally she wrote and sayd then She wolde come ye but she nyste when But in her letter made she suche feestes That woÌ„der was swore she loued him best Of which he founde but botomlesse byhestes But Troylus thou mayst nowe eest west Pype in an Iuy leefe yf that the lest Thus gothe the worlde god shylde vs fro mischaunce And euery wight that meneth trouth auauÌ„ce Encreasen gan the wo fro day to nyght Of Troylus for taryeng of Creseyde And lessen gan his hope and eke his myght For which al down he in his bedde him leyd He ne ete dronke ne slept ne worde seyde Imagynyng aye that she was vnkynde For which wel nigh he wext out of his mind This dreme of which I told haue eke beforn May neuer come out of his remembraunce He thought aye well he had his lady lorne And that Ioues of hys purueyaunce Hym shewed had in slepe the signyfiaunce Of her vntrouth and his disauenture And that the bore was shewed him in fygure For whiche he for Sybille his suster sente That called was Cassandre eke all aboute And all his dreame he tolde her er he stente And her besought assoylen him the doute Of the stronge boore with tuskes stoute And fynally within a lytell stounde Cassandre him gan thus hys dreme expouÌ„de She gan first smyle sayd o brother dere If thou a soth of this desyrest to knowe Thou muste a fewe of olde stories here To purpose howe that fortune ouerthrowe Hath lordes old through which wtin a throw Thou shalt this bore know of what kynde He comen is as men in bookes fynde Diane which that wroth was and in yre For grekes nolde done her sacrifyce Ne encens vpon her aulter sette on fyre She for that grekes gonne her so dispyse wrake her in a wonder cruel wyse For with a bore as great as oxe in stall She made vp frete her corne and vynes all To slee the bore was al y e countrey reysed Amonge whiche there came this bore to se A mayd one of this worlde the best ypraysed And Meleager lorde of that countre He loued so this freshe mayden fre That with his manhode er he wolde stente This bore he slough and her y e heed he sente Of whiche as olde bokes tellen vs There rose a conteke and a great enuye And of this lorde discended Tideus By lygne or els olde bokes lye But howe this Meleager gan to dye Through his mother woll I you nat tell For all to longe it were for to dwell She tolde eke howe Tideus er she stente Vnto the stronge cyte of Thebes To claymen kyngdom of the cyte went For his felawe dan Polimites Of whiche the brother dan Ethiocles Ful wrongfully of Thebes helde y e strentgh This tolde she by processe all by length She tolde eke howe Hemonydes asterte whan Tydeus slough fyfty knightes stoute She tolde eke all the prophesies by herte And howe that seuen kynges with her route Besiegeden the cyte all aboute And of the holy serpent and the well And of the furyes al she gan hym tell Associat profugum Tydeus primo Polimidem Tidea legatum docet insidiasque secundis Tertius Hermodien canit et vates latitantes Mors furie Leuine quinto narrantur et angues Quartus habet reges ineuntes prelia septem Archynon bustum sexto ludique leguntur Dat Graios Thebes vatem septimis vmbris Octauo cecidit Tibeus spes vita pelagis Ipomedon nono moritur cum Parthonepeo Fulmine percusso decimo Canapus superatur Vndecimo lese perimunt per vulnera fratres Argiuam flentem narrant duodenis et ignem Of Archinories buryeng and the playes And how Amphiorax fyll through y e grouÌ„de Howe Tideus was slayne lorde of Argeyes And howe Hypomedon in a lytell stounde was dreynte deed Parthonepe of wounde And also howe Campaneus the proude wyth thoÌ„der dynte was slayne y e cryed loude He gaÌ„ eke tel him how that eyther brother Ethiocles and Polimites also At a scarmyshe eche of hem slough other And of Argynes wepyng and her mo And how y e town was brent she told eke tho And tho discended downe from iestes olde To Diomede and thus she spake and tolde This ylke bore betokeneth Diomede Tideus sonne that downe discended is Fro Meleager that made the bore to blede And thy lady where so she be ywis This Diomede her herte hath and she hys wepe yf thou wolte or leaue for out of doute This Diomede is in and thou arte oute Thou sayest nat soth ê™ he thou sorceresse wyth all thy false goste of prophecie Thou wenest ben a great deuyneresse Nowe seest thou nat this foole of fantasye Paynen her on ladyes for to lye Away ê™ he there Ioues yeue the sorowe Thou shalt be fals paraueÌ„ture yet to morow As wel thou
So cruel wende I not your herte ywys To slee me thus alas your name of trouthe Is nowe fordon and that is al my routhe was there none other broche you lyste lete To feffe wyth your newe loue quod he But thylke broche that I wyth teeres wete You yaue as for a remembraunce of me None other cause alas ne had ye But for dispyte and eke for that ye mente Al vtterly to shewen your entent Through which I se that clene out of your minde Ye haue me cast I ne can nor may For al this worlde within mine herte fynde To vnlonen you a quarter of a daye In cursed tyme I borne was welaway That you that done me al thys wo endure Yet loue I best of any creature Nowe god ê™ he me sende yet the grace That I may meten with this Diomede And trewly yf I haue myght and space Yet shal I make I hope his sydes blede Nowe god ê™ he that oughtest taken hede To forthren trouth and wronges to punice why nylt thou don a vengeauÌ„ce of thys vice O Pandarus that in dremes for to tryst Me blamed hast wont arte ofte vpbreyde Now mayst thou sene thy selfe yf that y e lyst How trew is now thy nece bryght Creseyde In sondry formes god it wote he seyde The goddes shewen both ioye and tene In slepe and by my dreame it is nowe sene And certaynly withouten more speche From hence forth as ferforth as I may Myne owne deth in armes wol I seche I retche nat howe soone be the daye But trewly Creseyde swete maye whom I haue with al my might yserued That ye thus done I haue it not deserued This PaÌ„darus that al these thynges herde And wyste wel he sayd as soth of this He not a worde ayen to hym answerde For sory of his frendes sorowe he is And shamed for his nece hath done amys And stante astonyed of these causes tway As styl as stone o worde ne coulde he say But at the laste thus he spake and seyde My brother dere I may do the no more what shuld I sayne I hate ywys Creseyde And god it wote I wol hate her euermore And that thou me besoughtest done of yore Hauyng vnto myne honour ne my reste Ryght no regarde I dyd al that the leste If I dyd aught that myght lyken the It is me lefe and of this treason nowe God wote that it a sorowe is to me And dredelesse for hertes ease of you Ryght fayne I wold amend it wyst I how And fro this worlde almyghty god I pray Delyuer her soone I can no more say Great was the sorow playnt of Troylus But forthe her course fortune aye gan holde Creseyde loueth the sonne of Tydeus And Troylus mote wepe in cares colde Such is this worlde who so it can beholde In eche estate is lytle hertes reste God leue vs to take it for the beste In many cruel batayle out of drede Of Troylus thys ylke noble knyght As men may in these olde bokes rede was sene hys knygthod his great might And dredelesse hys yre day and nyght Ful cruelly the grekes aye abought and alway most this Diomede he sought And ofte tyme I fynde that they mette with bloody strokes with wordes greate Assayeng howe her speares weren whette And god it wote wyth many a cruel heate Gan Troylus vpon his helme to beate But nathlesse fortune it nought ne wolde Of outher hande that eyther dyen shulde And yf I had ytaken for to write The armes of this ylke worthy man Than wolde I of his battaylles endyte And for that I to writen fyrst began Of hys loue I haue sayd as I can Hys worthy dedes who so hem lyste here Rede Dares he can tel hem al yfere Besechyng euery lady bryght of hewe And euery gentle woman what she be Al be it that Creseyde was vntrewe That for that gylt ye be nat wroth with me Ye may her gylt in other bokes se And gladder I wol write yf you lest Penelopes trouth and good Alcest Ne I say not thys al only for these men But moste for women that betrayed be ThrouÈ false folke god yeue heÌ„ sorow ameÌ„ That wyth her great wyt and subtylte Betrayen you and thys meneth me To speke and in effecte you al I pray Beth ware of men herkeneth what I say Go lytle boke go my lytel tragedy There god thy maker yet er that I dye So sende me might to make some comedye But lytle boke make thou none enuye But subiecte ben vnto al poesye And kysse the steppes wher as y u seest pace Of Vergil Ouide Homer Lucan Stace And for there is so great diuyrsite In englyshe and in writyng of our tonge So pray I to god that none miswrite the Ne the mysse metre for defaute of tonge And redde where so thou be or els songe That thou be vnderstonde god I beseche But yet to purpose of my rather speche The wrath as I began you for to sey Of Troylus the grekes boughten dere For thousandes hys handes maden dey As he that was wothouten any pere Saue in hys tyme Hector as I can here But welaway saue onely goddes wyl Dispytously him slough the feirse Achyl And whaÌ„ that he was slaine in this manere His lyght goste ful blisfully is went Vp to the holownesse of the seuenth spere In hys place letyng eueryche element And there he sawe wyth ful auysement The arratykes sterres herkenyng armonye wyth sownes ful of heuenysse melodye And downe from thence faste he gan auyse This lytle spotte of erth that wyth the see Enbraced is and fully gan dispise Thys wretched worlde and helde al vanite To respecte of the playne felicite That is in heuen aboue and at the last Ther he was slayn his loking down he cast And in him selfe he lough ryght at the wo Of hem that wepten for hys â—erh so fast And dampned al our werkes y t foloweth so The blynde lust whych that maye nat last And shulden al our herte on heuen cast And forth he went shortly for to tel There as Mercurie sorted him to dwel Such fyne hathe lo this Troylus for loue Such fyne hath al his greate worthynesse Such fyne hath hys estate royal aboue such fine his lust such fyne hath his noblesse Such fyne hath false worldes brotelnesse And thus began his louyng of Creseyde As I haue tolde and in thys wyse he deyde O yonge freshe folkes he or she In which y e loue vp groweth with your age Repayreth home from worldly vanite And of your hertes vp casteth the visage To thylke god that after his ymage You made and thynketh all nys but a fayre This world y t passeth sone as floures fayre And loueth him y t which that right for loue Vpon a crosse our soules for to bey Fyrst starfe rose and syt in heuen aboue For he nyl falsen no wyght dare I sey That wol his herte al
holy on him ley And sens he best to loue is and moste meke what nedeth fayned loues for to seke Lo here of paynems cursed olde rytes Lo here what al her goddes may auayle Lo here thys wretched worldes appetytes Lo here the fyne and guerdon for trauayle Of Ioue Apollo of Mars such raskayle Lo here the forme of olde clerkes speche In poetrye yf ye her bokes seche O moral Gower thys boke I directe To the and to the Philosophical Strode To vouchsafe there nede is to correcte Of your benignityes and zeles goode and to that sothfast Christ y t starfe on roode wythal myne herte of mercy euer I pray And to the lorde aright thus I speake say Thou one two and thre eterne on lyue That raignest aye in thre two and one Vncircumscript all mayst circumscryue Vs from visible and inuisible fone Defende and to thy mercy euerychone So make vs Iesus to thy mercy digne For loue of mayde mother thyne benigne ¶ Thus endeth the fyfth boke and last of Troylus and here foloweth the pyteful and dolorous testament of fayre Creseyde The testament of Creseyde ADolye seasonne tyll a careful dyte Shulde coresponde and be equiuolent Right so it was whaÌ„ I began to write Thys tragedy y t weder ryght feruent whan Aries in myddes of the lent showres of hayle can fro the north descende that scantly fro the colde I miÈt me defende Yet neuertheles wythin myne orature I stode whaÌ„ Titan had his beames bright withdrawen downe and scyled vnder cure And fayre Venus the beautye of the nyght Vprayse and set vnto the west ful ryght Her golden face in oppositiowne Of god Phebus directe discendinge downe ThrouÈout y e glasse her bemes brast so fayre That I might se on euery syde me by The northern wynde had purifyed the ayre And shedde his mysty cloudes fro the skye The froste fresed the blastes bytterly Fro pole Artike come whisking loud shyll And caused me remoue ayenst my wyll For I trusted that Venus loues quene To whom somtyme I hyght obedience My saded hert of loue she wold make grene And therupon with humble reuerence I thought to pray her hye magnifycence But for great colde as than I letted was And in my chambre to the fyre can pas Though loue be hote yet in a man of age It kyndleth nat so soone as in youtheed Of whom the blode is flowyng in a rage And in the olde the corage dul and deed Of which the fyre outward is beest remeed To helpe by phisyke where y e nature fayled I am experte for both I haue assayed I made the fyre and beaked me about Than toke I drinke my spirites to conforte And armed me wel fro the colde therout To cut the wynter night and make it shorte I toke a queare and lefte al other sporte written by worthy Chaucer glorious Of fayre Creseyde and lusty Troylus And there I founde after that Diomede Receyued had that lady bryght of hewe How Troylus nere out of his wytte abrede And wepte sore wyth visage pale of hewe For which wanhope his teares gan renewe whyle esperous reioysed him agayne Thus while in ioy he liued while in paine Of her behest he had great comfortynge Trusting to Troy y t she wolde make retour which he desyred most of al erthly thynge For why she was his onely paramoure But whan he saw passed both day hour Of her gayncome in sorowe can oppresse His woful herte in care and heuynesse Of his distresse me nedeth not reherse For worthy Chaucer in that same boke In goodly termes and in ioly verse Compyled hath his cares who wyl loke To breake my slepe another queare I toke In whych I founde the fatal desteny Of fayre Creseyde which ended wretchedly who wote if al that Chaucer wrote be trew Nor I wotte not yf this narration Be authoryzed or forged of the newe Of some poete by hys inuention Made to reporte the lamentation And woful ende of thys lusty Creseyde And what distresse she was in or she deyde whan Diomede had al his appetyte And more fulfylled of thys fayre lady Vpon another sette was al his delyte And sende to her a lybel repudy And her excluded fro his company Than desolate she walked vp and downe As some men saine in the courte as comune O fayre Creseyde the floure and a per se Of Troy Grece how were thou fortunate To chaunge in fylth al thy femynite And be with fleshly luste so maculate And go among the grekes early and late So giglotlyke taking thy soule pleasaunce I haue pyte the shulde fal such mischaunce Yet neuerthelesse what euer meÌ„ deme or say In scornful langage of thy brutelnesse I shal excuse as ferforth as I may Thy womanheed thy wisedome fayrnesse The which fortune hath put to such distresse As her pleased nothing through the gylte Of the through wicked langage to be spilte Thys fayre lady on thys wise destitute Of al comforte and consolation Right priuely wythout felowshyp or refute Disheuelde passed out of the town A myle or two vnto a mansioun Bylded ful gay where her father Calcas which thaÌ„ amoÌ„ge the grekes dwelling was whan he her sawe the cause he can enquyre Of her coÌ„myng she sayd syghyng ful sore Fro Diomede had goten his desyre He wore wery and wolde of me no more ê™ Calcas doughter wepe thou not therfore Parauenture al cometh for the best welcome to me thou arte ful dere a gest Thys olde Calcas after the lawe was tho was keper of the temple as a preest In which Venus and her sonne Cupido were honoured and hys chambre was nest To which Creseyde w t bale enewed in brest Vsed to passe her prayers for to say whyle at the last vpon a solempne day As custome was the people ferre and nere Before the noone vnto the temple went with sacrifyce deuoute in theyr manere But styl Creseyde heuy in her entent In to the church wolde not her selfe present For gyuyng the people any demyng Of her expulse fro Diomede the kyng But passed in to asecrete oratore where she myght wepe her woful desteny Behynde her backe she closed fast the dore And on her knees bare fel downe in hye Vpon Venus and Cupide angerly She cryed out and sayd in thys wyse Alas that euer I made you sacrifyce Ye gaue me ones a diuyne responsayle That I shulde be the floure of loue in Troy Now am I made an vnworthy outwayle And al in care translated is my ioye who shal me gyde who shal me now coÌ„uoy Syth I fro Diomede and noble Troylus Am clene excluded as abiecte odious O false Cupyde none is to wyte but thou And thy mother of loue that blynd goddace Ye caused me vnderstande alway and trow The seede of loue was sowem on my face aye grewe grene throuÈ your souple grace But nowe alas y t seed wyth frost is slayne And I
susteyneth is to blame Of twelue apostels one a traytour was The remenante yet good were and trewe So yf it happe men fynde percas O woman false suche good is to eschewe And deme not y t they al therfore be vntrewe I se well mennes owne falsenesse Hem causeth woman to trust the lesse O euery man ought haue an herte tendre Vnto a woman and deme her honourable where hys shape be thycke or slendre Or he be good or badde it is no fable Euery wight wote y t wytte hath resonable That of a woman he discended is Than is it shame of her to speke amysse A wicked tre good frute may non forthbring For suche the frute is as is the tre Take hede of whoÌ„ thou toke thy begynning Let thy mother be myrrour vnto the Honour her yf thou wolte honoured be Dispyse her than not in no manere Lest that therby thy wyckednesse apere An olde prouerbe sayd is in englyshe That byrde or foule is full dishonest what that he be and holde full churlyshe That vseth to defoule hys owne nest Men to say well of women it is the best And naught to dispyse hem ne depraue If they woll her honour kepe or saue The ladyes euer complayne hem on clerkes That they haue made bokes of her diffame In which they dispyse women her werkes And speke of hem great reprofe and shame And causelesse yeue hem a wicked name Thus they dispysed be on euery syde Disclaundred and blowen on full wyde Tho sory bokes maken mencion Howe women betrayde in especiall Adam Dauid Sampson and Salomon And many one mo who may reherce hem al The treyson that they haue do and shall The worlde her malyce may not coÌ„prehende As clerkes sayne for it hath none ende Ouyde in hys boke called Remedye Of loue great reprofe of women writeth wherin I trowe he dyd great folye And euery wight y t in such case him delyteth A clerkes custome is whan he endyteth Of women be it prose ryme or vers Say they be wycked all know he the reuers And y e boke scholers lerned in her chyldhede For they of women beware shulde in age And to loue hem euer be in drede Sythe to disceyue is set all her corage They say of perel meÌ„ shuld cast thauauÌ„tage Namely of suche as men haue in bewrapped For many a man by women hath mishapped No charge is what so these clerkes sayne Of all her writyng I do no cure All her labour and trauayle is in vayne For bytwene me and my lady nature shall not be suffred while y e world may dure Thus these clerkes by her cruell tyrannye On sely women kythen her maystrye Whylom for many of heÌ„ were in my cheyne Tyed and nowe for vnweldy age And vnlust may not to loue atteyne And sayne now that loue is but very dotage Thus for they hem selfe lacken corage They folke excyce by her wicked sawes For to rebell ayenst me and my lawes But maugre hem that blame women moste Suche is the force of myne impressyon That sodaynly I can fell her boste And all her wronge ymaginacion It shall not be in her election The foulest slutte in all the towne to refuse If that me luste for al that they conne musâ— But her in herte as brennyngly desyre As though she were a duchesse or a quene So can I folkes hertes set on fyre And as me lyst sende hem ioye or tene They that to women be whet so kene My sharpe persyng strokes how they smyte Shul sele know howe they kerne and byâ—e Parde this clerke this subtyll Ouyde And many an other disceyued haue be Of women as it is knowe full wyde what no men more and that is great deynte So excellent a clerke as was he And other mo that couden full well preche Betrapped were for aught y t they coude tech And trusteth well that it is no meruayle For women knowen playnly her entent They wyste howe softly they coude assayle Hem and what falsheed they in herte mente And thus they clerkes in her daunger hente wyth o venym an other is distroyed And thus these clerkes ofte were anoyed These ladyes ne these gentyls neuerthelesse were none of tho that wrought in this wyse But suche as were vertulesse They quytten thus these olde clerkes wyse To clerkes lesse ought suffyse Than to dispraue women generally For worshyp shull they none get therby If that these men that louers hem pretende To women were faythfull good and trewe And dredde hem to disceyue or to offende women to loue hem wolde not eschewe But euery day hath man an herte newe It on one abyde can no whyle what force is it suche a wight to begyle Men beare eke women vpon honde That lightly and without any payne They womeÌ„ be they can no wight wtstonde That his disease lyst to hem complayne They be so freele they may heÌ„ not refrayne But who so lyketh hem may lightly haue So be her hertes easy in to graue To mayster Iohan de Moone as I suppose Than it was a leude occupacioun In makyng of the Romance of the rose So many a slyghe ymagynacioun And perylles for to rollen vp and doun The longe processe so many a slyght cautell For to disceyue a sely damosell Naught can I say ne my wytte compreheÌ„de That arte payne and subtylte shulde sayle For to conquere and sone make an ende whan men a feble place shall assayle And sone also to venquishe a batayle Of whiche no wight may make resystence Ne herte hath none to make any defence Than mote folowe of necessyte Sythe arte asketh so great engyn payne A woman to disceyue what so she be Of coÌ„staunce be they not so barayne As that some of these clerkes sayne But they be as women ought to be Sadde constante and fulfylled of pyte Howe frendly was Medea to Iason In conqueryng of the fâ—ece of golde Howe falsely quyt he her trewe affection By whom vyctorie he gate as he wolde Howe may this man for shame be so bolde To falsen her that fro his dethe and shame Him kept and gate him so great prise name Of Troy also the traytour Eneas The faithlesse wretch how he him forswore To Dydo that quene of Cartage was That him releued of hys smertes sore what gentyllesse might she haue do more Than she with herte vnfayned to him kydde And what mischefe to her therof after betydde In my legende of natures may men fynde who so lyketh therin for to rede That othe ne behest may man bynde Of reprouable shame haue they no drede In mannes herte trouth hath no stede The soyle is nauÈt there may no trouth growe To women namely it is not vnknowe Clerkes sayne also there is no malyce Vnto womans wycked crabbydnesse O woman how shalt thou thy selfe cheuyce Sythe men of the suche harme wytnesse Beth ware women of her fykelnesse Kepe thyne owne what men clappe or crake And some of hem