Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
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A18553
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The book of fame made by Gefferey Chaucer; House of fame
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Chaucer, Geoffrey, d. 1400.
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1483
(1483)
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STC 5087; ESTC S108768
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24,106
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52
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of tynned yâ—en cler The latyn poete Virgyle That hath boâ—e vp a longe whyle The fame of Pius Eneas And next on a pyler was Of Coâ—er Venus clerk Ouyde That hath sowen wonder wyde The grete god of loue hys fame And ther he bare vp wel hys name Vpon thys pyler also hye As I myght see hyt wyth myn â—ye For whyche thys halle wherof I rede Was waxe on heyght length and brede Wel more by a thousand dele Than it was erst that saw I wele Tho saw I on a pyler by Of yron wrought ful sternly The grete poete dan Lucan That on hys sholdres bare vp than As hye as I myght see The name of Iulius and Pompee And by hym stoden alle these clerkis That wryte of Romes myghty werkis That yf I wold her names telle Alto â—onge must I dwelle And thenne vpon a pyler stode Of Sulphur lyche as he were wode Dan Claudian soth for to telle That bare vp alle the fame of helle Of Pluto and of Proserpyne That quene is of the derke pyne What shold I more telle of thys The halle was al ful ywys Of hem that writen olde gestis As ben in trees rokes nestis Werâ— alle thyse gestes for to here But it is a ful confuse matere That they of wryte and how they hyght But whyle that I behelde that syght 〈◊〉 a noyse â—â—prochen blyue 〈◊〉 fareth as bees don in an hyue Ayenst her tyme of out comyng Ryght suche a murmoryng Fye alle the world semed me Tho gan I loke aboute me and see That ther come entryng in to the halle A ryght grete company wyth alle And that of sondry regyons Of alle kyns condicions That dwelle in erthe vnder the mone Poure and ryche and also sone As they were come in to the halle They gonne on knees doun falle Before thys ylke noble quene And seyde graunte vs lady shene Ecâ—e of vs of thy grace a bone And somÌ„e of hem she graunted sone And somÌ„e she warned wel and fayâ— And somÌ„e she graunted the contrayâ— What ther grace was I nyste For of thyse folk ful wel I wyste They had good fame eche deserued Alle though they were dyuersly serued Ryght as her suster dame fortune Is wont to serue in Comune Now herkne how she gan to paye Hem that gan her of grace praye And yet lo alle thys companye Seyden soth and not a lye Madame sayd they we be Folke that here besechen the That thou graunte vs now good fame And lete our werkes haue good name In ful recompensacioun Of good werkis yeue vs renoun I warne yow quod she anon Ye gete of me good fame non By god and therfore go your wey Alas quod they and weleawey Telle vs what your cause be For me lyst not it quod she No wyght shal speke ywys Gode ne harme ne that ne thys And wyth that word she gan to calle Her messager that was in halle And bad that he shold fast gon Vpon peyne to be blynd anone For Eolus the god of wynde Iy trace ther ye shal hym fynde And byd hym bryng hys Claryon That is ful dyuerse of hys sown And it is cleped clere lawde Wyth whyche he wont is to herawde Hem that me lyst y preysed be And also byd hym how that he Brynge eke hys other claryon That hyght sklaunder in euery town In whyche he wont is to deffame Hem that mâ— lyste and do hem shame Thys Messager gan fast to goon And fonde where in a caueâ— of stoon In a contre that hyght Trace Thys Eolus wyth hard grace Helde the wyndes in dystresse And gan hem vnder hym to presse That they gonne as the beres rore He bonde and pressed hem so sore Thys messager gan fyrst crye Ryse vp quod he and fast the hye Tyl thou at my lady be And take thy clarions eke wyth the And spede the faste and he anon Toke to one that hyght Triton Hys claryon to beren tho And lete a certayn wynd go â—hat blew so hydously and hye That it left not a skye In alle the welkyn long and brood Thys Eolus nowher a bood Tyl he was come at fames fete And eke the man that Tryton hete And there he stode as styl as stone And here wythal ther cam anon An other huge Companye Of old folke and gan to crye Lady graunte vs now good fame And lete our werkys haue that name Now in honour and gentylnes And also god your sowle bles For we han wel deserued it Tâ—erfore is ryght that we be quyt As thryue I quod she ye shal faylle Good werkis shall you not auaylle To haue of me good fame as now But wote ye what I graunt yow That ye shal haue a shrewd name And wycked loos and werse fame Though ye good loos haue wel deseruyd Now goth your wâ—y for ye ben seruyd And thow dan Eolus quod she Take forth thy trompe anon lete see That is I cleped sklaunder lyght And blowe her loos that euery wyght Speke of hem harme and shrewdnes An stede of good and worthynes For thou shalt trompe alle the contrayre That they haue don wel and fayre Alas thought I what auentures Haue thyse sory creatures That they among alle the pres Shuld thus be shamed gyltles But what it must nedes be What dide thys Eolus but he Toke out hys black trompe of bras That fowler than the deuyl was And gan thys trompe for to blowe As alle the world shold ouer throwe Thurgh out euery regyoun Wente hys fowle trompes sown As swyft as a pelet out of a gonne Whan fyre is in to it ronne And suche a smoke gan out wende Out of the fowle trompes ende Black blo grenyssh swartysh rede As doth whan men melte lede Lo al on hye from the welle And therto one thyng saw I wel That the fer ther that it ranne The gretter waxen it began As doth the ryuer from a welle And it stank as the pyt of helle Alas thus was her shame y ronge And gyltles on euery tonge Tho cam the thyrde companye And cam vp to the deys on hye And doun on knees they fell anon And seyden they ben euerychon Folk that han ful trewly Deserued fame rightfully And prayd hyt myght be knowe Ryght as it is and forth blowe I graunt quod she for now me lyst That now your good werkis ben wyst And yet ye shal haue better loos Ryght in despyte of alle your foos Than worâ—hy is and that anone Lete now quod she thy trompe gone Thou Eolus that is so blacke And oute thyn other trompe take That hyght lawde And blowe it so That thurgh the world her fame go Alle esyly and not to faste That it be knowen at the laste Ful gladly lady myn he seyde And out hys trompe of gold he breyde Anone and set it to hys mouth And blewe it eest west and south And north as lowde as ony
agryse To see hyt pâ—ynted on the waâ— Ther sawe I eke gâ—â—uen wyth al Venus how ye my lady dâ—â—e Wepyng wyth ful woful chere Prayng Iubiter on hye To saue and kepe that nauyâ— Of that Trogean Eneas Syth that he her sone was Ther sawe I Ioues and venus kysse And graunted was of the tempest lysse Ther sawe I how the tempest stentâ— And how wyth peyne he wentâ— And pryuely toke a ryuage In the contre of Cartage And on the morow hou that he And a knyght that hyght Achâ—te Metten wyth venus that daye â—â—yng in a queynt aâ—aye As she had be an huntrresse Wyth wynde blowyng her tresse And how Eneas began to pleyne Whan he knewe her of hys peyne And how hys shippes dreynt were Or ellis y lost he nyst where How she gan hym conforte thâ— And bad hym to Cartage go And there he shold hys folke fynde That in the see were left behynde And shortly of thys thyng to passâ— She made Eneas so in grace Of Dido quene of that contre That shortly for to tellen she Becam hys loue and lete hym dâ— Alle that weddâ—â—g longeth to What shold I speke more queynt Or peyne my wordes to peynte To speke of loue it wyl not be I can not of that faâ—â—lte And eke to tellen of the manere How they fyrst acqueynted were It were a long processe to tâ—ke And ouer longe for yow to dwellâ— Ther sawe I graue how Eneas Told to Dido euery â—â—as That hym was tyd vpon the see And efte grauen was how that shâ— Made of hym shortly at a worde Her lyf her loue her lust her lord And dyde to hym alle reuerence And leyd on hym alle dyspenâ—â— That ony womman myght do Wenyng alle hyt had be soo As he her swore and hâ—rtly demed That he was good for he suche semed Alas what harme doth apparencâ— Whan it is fals in existenâ—e 〈◊〉 he to her a traytour was Wherfor she slowe her self alas Lo how a womman doth amys To loue hym that vnknowen is For euery trust lo thus it faryth It is not all gold that glaryth For also browke I myn hede Ther may be vnder goodlyhede Couerd many a sherewd vyce Therfore be no wyght so nyce To take a loue only for chere Or for speche or frendely manere For thus shal euery womman fynde And swere how he is vnkynde Or fals prouyd or double was Alle thys saye I by Eneas And dido and her nece loste That louyd al to sone a ghoste Therfore I wyl saye o prouerbe That he that fully knoweth the herbe May saufly leye it to hys eye Wythouten drede that is no lye But lete vs speke of Eneas How he betrayed her alas And left her ful vnkyndly So whan she alle sawe vtterly That he wold her of trouth faylle And wende fro her in to Itaylle She began to wrynge her handes two Alas quod she that myn hert is woâ— Alas is euery man thus trewe That euery yere wyl haue a newe Yf hyt so long tyme endure Or ellis thre perauenture And thus of one he wyl haue fame In magnefyeng hys owen name Another for frenshyp seyth he And yet shal the thyrde be That is taken for delyte Lo or els for synguler prouffyte In suche wordes gan compleyne Dido of her grete peyne As me mette dremyng redyly None other auctour alege wyl I Alas quod she my swete herte Haue pyte of my sorowes smerte And sle me not go not away O woful Dido weleaway Quod she to her self tho O Eneas what wyl ye do O that loue ne oth ne your bonde That ye swore wyth your ryght honde Ne my cruel deth quod she May hold yow stylle wyth me O. haue ye of my deth pyte Y wys my owne dere hâ—rte ye Knowe ful wel that neuer yet As fer as euer I had wytte Agylte yow in thought ne in dede O men haue ye suche goodlyhede In speche and neuer a dele in trouthe Alas that euer had routhe Ony womman on a fals man Nowe I see wel and telle can We wretchyd wymmen can no arte For certayn for the more parte Thus we ben seruyd euerychone How sore ye men can grone Anon as we haue you resceyuyd Certaynly we be dysceyuyd For though your loue laste a seson Wayte vppon the conclusion And eke how ye determyne And for the more parâ— defyne O weleaway that I was born For thurgh yow my name is born â—nd myn actes red and songe Oueral thys londe in euery tonge Of wyckyd fame for ther nys No thyng so swyft â—o as she is O syth euery thyng is wyst Though it be couerd wyth the myst Eke though I myght endure euer That I haue don recouer I neuer That I ne shal be sayd alas Y shamed was thurgh Eneas And that I shal thus Iuged be Lo ryght as she hath now she Wyll done eftsones hardely Thus seyth the peple preuely But that is don is not to done But alle â—er compleynt ne her moâ—â— Cerâ—â—yn auayleth not a sâ—â—e And whan she wyst sothly â—e Was forâ—h in to hys shyp goon Sâ—e in to her chambre wâ—nte anonâ— And caâ—led for her suster Anne And beganne hâ—r to compleyne thanâ—â— And sayd that she the cause was That she so loued alas And thus counceyâ—â—yd she her to But what whan thys sayd was and dâ— Sâ—e roof hâ—r self to the herte And so deyde thurgh hâ—r smertâ— But alle the maner hou she deyde And alle the wordes how she seyde Who so to knowe hath it in purpooâ— Rede Vyrgyle in Eneydoâ— Oâ— the eâ—ystle of Ouyde What that she wrote or she deyde And nere it were to longe tâ—ndyte By god I wolde it here wryte But welawey the harme and routhe That hath betyd for suche vntrouthe As men may ofte in bookes rede And alday it is yet in dede That for to thynken it tren is Lo Demophon duk of Athenes How he forswore hym falsely And trayed Phillis wyckedly That kynges doughter was of trace And falsely gan hys terme pace And whan she wyst that he was faâ—â— She henge her self by the hals For he had don her suche vntrowthe Lo was not thys a woo and routhe Eke loke how fals and recheles Was to Breseyda Achylles And Paris to Oenone And Iason to ysyphyle And eft Iason to Medâ—a And Hercules to Dionyra For he lâ—ft her for Yolee That made hym catche hys deth parde How fals was eke Thescus That as the story telleth vs How he betrayed Adriane The deuyl be hys soule bane For had he sanged or â—owâ—id He muste haue ben all deuourid Yef that Adrian had not be And for she had of hym pyte She made hym from the deth escape And he made her a ful fals Iape For after thys wythin a whyle He left her slepyng wythin an yle Desert allone wythin the sâ—e And scale away and lete her be And toke her suster Phedâ—a tho Wyth hym and gan to shyp