Of auentures whilom that han befal And whiche of you that beareth hym best of al That is to sayne that tellen in thys case Tales of best sentence and most solace Shall haue a supper at our alder cost Here in thys place syttyng by thys post Whan that we commen ayen from Canterbery And for to make you the more mery I wol my seluen goodly with you ryde Ryght at myne owne coste and be your gyde And who that wol my iugement withsay Shall paye al that we spende by the way And yf ye vouchsafe that it be so Telle me anon wythout wordes mo And I woll early shape me therfore Thys thyng was graunted our othes swore Wyth full gladde herte and prayden hym also That he wolde vouchsafe for to do so And that he wolde ben our gouernour And of our tales iuge and reportour And sette a supper at a certayne prise And we wollen ben demed at hys deuyse In hye and lowe and thus by one assent We ben accorded to the iugement And ther vpon the wyne was fette anone We dronken and to rest wente ylke one Withouten any lenger taryeng A morowe whan they gan to spryng Vp rose our host and was our alder cocke And gadered vs al in a flocke And forthe we ryden a lytel more than paas Vnto the wateryng of saynt Thomas And there our host began hys horse arest And sayd lordes herkene yf you lest Ye wote your forwarde and I it recorde If euesonge and morowe songe acorde Lette se nowe who shall tell the fyrst tale As euer I mote drynke wyne or ale Who so is rebel to my iugement Shall paye for all that by the way is spent Nowe draweth cutte or that ye farther twyn The whiche that hath the shortest shal begyn Sir knyght ê™ he my maister and my lorde Nowe draweth cutte for that is myne acorde Cometh nere ê™ he my lady prioresse And ye sir clerke lette be your shamefastnesse Ne studyeth nat lay hande therto euery man Anone to drawe euery wyght began And shortely for to tellen as it was Were it by auenture or by shorter caas The sothe is thys the cutte fyll to the knyght Of which ful blyth and glad was euery wyght And tellen he must hys tale as it was reason By forwarde and by composytion As ye han herde what nedeth wordes mo And whan thys good man sawe y t it was so As he that wyse was and obedyent To kepen hys forwarde by hys free assent He sayd sithen I shall begyn the game What welcome cutte a goddeshame Nowe let vs ryde and herkeneth what I say And with that worde we ryden forth our way And he began wyth ryght a mery chere Hys tale anone ryght as ye shal here ¶ Thus ende the prologues of the Caunterbury tales and here foloweth the knyghtes tale ¶ Here begynneth the Knyghtes tale WHylom as olde stories tellen vs There was a duke that hyght Theseus Of Athenes he was lorde gouernour And in hys tyme suche a conquerour That greater was non vnder the son Full many a riche countrey had he won What with his wysedom and his cheualry He conquered all the reigne of Feminy That whylom was icleped Cythea And wedded the quene Ipolyta brought her home w t him in to his contre Wyth mykell glory and solempnyte And eke her yonge suster Emely And thus with victory and melody Let I thys worthy duke to Athenes ryde And all hys host in armes hym be syde And certes yf it nere to longe to here I wolde haue tolde fully the manere Howe wonnen was the reygne of Feminy By Theseus and by his cheualry And of the great batayle for the nones Betwene Athenes and Amasones And howe beseged was Ipolyta The yonge hardy quene of Cythea And of the feest y t was at her weddynge And of the tempest at her home comyng But al y t thyng I mote as nowe forbere I haue god wotte a large felde to ere And weked ben the oxen in the plowe The remenaunt of my tale is long ynowe I wyll nat letten eke non of thys rout Let euery felowe tell hys tale about And let se nowe who shall the supper wyn And there I lefte I wyll agayne begyn Thys duke of whom I make mencyoune Whan he was come almost to the towne In all hys wele and hys most pride He was ware as he cast hys eye asyde where that there kneled in the hyghe wey A company of ladys twey and twey Eche after other cladde in clothes blake But such a crye and such a wo they make That in thys worlde nys creature lyuinge That euer herde suche a waymentynge And of thys crye they nolde neuer stynten Tyll they the reynes of hys bridell henten What folke be ye y t at myn home coÌ„myng Perturben so my feest with cryeng Quod Theseus Haue ye so great enuy Of myne honour that thus coÌ„playne cry Or who hath you mysbode or offended Nowe telleth me yf it may be amended And why that ye be clothed thus in blake The oldest lady of them all spake Whan she had swowned with adeedly chere That it was ruthe for to se and here She sayd lorde to whom fortune hath yeue Vyctory and as a conquerour to lyue Nought greueth vs your glory and honour But we beseke you of mercy and socour And haue mercy on our wo and distresse Some drope of pyte through thy geÌ„tylnesse Vpon vs wretched wymen let thou fall For certes lorde there nys none of vs all That she ne hath be a duchesse or a quene Nowe be we caytyses as it is well isene Thanked be fortune and her false whele That non estate assureth for to be wele Now certes lorde to abyde your presence Here in this temple of the goddesse ClemeÌ„ce We haue be waytyng all this fourtenyght Helpe vs lorde sythe it lyeth in thy myght I Wretche that wepe and wayle thus whylom wyfe to kyng Campaneus That starfe at thebes cursed be y e day And all we that ben in thys aray And maken all thys lamentacyon We losten all our husbondes at that town whyle that the syege there aboute laye And yet the olde Creon wel awaye That lorde is nowe of Thebes cyte Fulfilled of yre and of iniquite He for dispyte and for hys tyranny To done the deed bodyes vyllanye Of all our lordes whiche that ben slawe Hath all the bodyes on an heape ydrawe And wyll nat suffre hem by none assent Neyther to be buryed ne to be brent But maketh houndes to eate hem in dyspyte And w t that worde wythout more respyte They fallen grosly and cryen pytously Haue on vs wretched wymen some mercy And let our sorowe synke in thyn hert This gentle duke down froÌ„ his hors stert Wyth hert pytous whaÌ„ he herde hem speke Hym thought that hys herte wolde breke Whan he sawe hem so pytous and so mate That whylom were of so great astate And in hys armes he hem
wynter space Vnder Alla kyng of Northumberlonde That was ful wyse worthy of hys honde Agayne the Scottes as men may wel here But tourne I wol agayne to my matere Sathan that euer vs wayteth to begyle Sawe of Custaunce al her perfectioun And cast anon how he might quyte her wyle And made a yong knight y t dwelt in the toun Loue her so hotte of foule affectioun That verily hym thought y t he shulde spyll But he of her ones might haue his wyll He woeth her but it aueyled nought She wolde do no synne by no wey And for dispyte he compassed in his thought To maken her on shamfull dethe to dey He wayteth whan the constable is awey And priuely on a nyght he crepte In to Hermegildes chambre whyle she slept Wery forwaked in her orisons Slepeth Custaunce and Hermegylde also This knight through Sathans teÌ„ptacions Al softely is to the bedde ygo And cut the throte of Hermegylde a two And layde y e blody knyfe by dame CustauÌ„ce And went his waye ther god yeue him myschaunce Sone after cometh y e coÌ„stable home agayne And eke Alla that kynge was of that lande And sawe hys wyfe dyspytously yslayne For whych he wepte and wronge his hande And in the bedde the blody knyfe he fonde By dame CustaÌ„ce alas what myght she say For very wo her wytte was al away To kynge Alla was tolde al this myschauÌ„ce And eke the tyme where in what wyse That in a shyppe was fouÌ„den this CustauÌ„ce As here before ye han herde me deuyse The kynges herte for pyte gan aryse when he sawe so benygne a creature Fal in dysease and in mysaduenture For as y e laÌ„be towarde hys death is brought So stante this innocent beforne the kyng This fals knight y t hath this tresoÌ„ wrought Bereth her on haÌ„d y t she hath don this thing But nathelesse there was great mornyng Amonge the people sayd they can not gesse That she had done so great a wyckednesse For they han sene her euer so vertuouse And louyng Hermegylde right as her lyfe Of this bare witnesse eueryche in that house Saue he that Hermegyld slow w t hys knyfe This geÌ„tle kyng hath caught a great motyfe Of this wytnes thought he wold enquere Deper in thys case the trouth to lere Alas Custaunce thou hast no champion Ne fyght canst thou not so welaway But he that starft for our redempcion And bonde Sathan yet lyth there he laye So be thy stronge champion thys daye For but yf Christ on the myracle kyth without gylt thou shalt be slayne aswyth She set her doune on knees thus she sayde Immortal god that sauedest Susanne Fro false blame and thou mercyful mayde Marye I meane doughter to saynt Anne Byforne whose chylde angels synge Osanne Yf I be gyltlesse of thys felonye My socoure be or els shal I dye Haue ye not sene somtyme a pale face Amonge a prees of hym that hath ben lad Toward his deth wher as him get no grace And such a colour in his face hath had That meÌ„ might know his face y t was bystad Amonges al the faces in that route So standeth Custaunce loketh her aboute O quenes lyuynge in prosperite Duchesses and ye ladyes euerychone Haue some routh on her aduersite An emperours doughter stante alone She hath no wiÈt to whoÌ„ to make hermone O bloode royal that stondeth in this drede Farre ben thy frendes at thy great nede Thys Alla kyng hath such compassioun As gentle herte is ful of pyte That from hys eyen ran the water doun Nowe hastely do fette a boke quod he And yf thys knyght wol swere how that she Thys woman llowe yet wol we vs auyse whom that we wol shal ben our iustyse A breton boke wrytten wyth Euangeles was fette and theron he swore anone She gylty was and in the meane whyles An hande hym smote on the necke bone That downe he fyl atones as a stone And both hys eyen brast out of hys face In syght of euery body in that place A voyce was herde in generall audience That sayd Thou hast dysclandred gyltles The doughter of holy chyrch in hye presence Thus hast thou done yet I holde my pees Of this maruayle agast was al the prees As dysmayde folke they stoden euerychone For drede of wreche saue Custaunce alone Great was y e drede eke the repentauÌ„ce Of hem that hadden wrought suspection Vpon thys sely innocent Custaunce And for thys myracle in conclusion And by Custaunces mediation The kynge and many another in that place Conuerted was thanked by goddes grace This false knight was slayn for his vntroth By iudgement of Alla hastely And yet CustauÌ„ce had of his death gret roth And after this Iesus of hys mercy Made Alla wedden ful solempnely Thys holy mayde that is so bryght shene And thus hath christ made CustauÌ„ce a quene But who was woful yf I shulde not lye Of thys weddyng but Donogelde no mo The kynges mother full of tyranny Her thought her cursed hert brast a two She wolde not her sonne had do so Her thought a despyte that he shulde take So straunge a creature vnto hys make Me lyst not of the chaffe ne of the stree Make so longe a tale as of the corne what shulde I tel of the royalte Of y e mariage or whych course goth besorne who bloweth in a trompe or in an horne The frute of euery tale is for to saye They eaten and drynken daunce and playe They gon to bedde as it was skyl ryght For though y e wyues ben ful holy thynges They must take in pacience anyght Such maner necessaries as ben pleasynges To folke that han wedded hem with rynges And lay a lytel her holynesse asyde As for the tyme it may none other betyde On her he gatte a man chylde anone And to a byshoppe and to hys constable eke He toke hys wyfe to kepe when he is gone To Scotlandwarde hys fo men for to seke Now fayre CustaÌ„ce y t is so humble meke So longe is gone wyth chylde tyl that styl She halte her chaÌ„bre abyding Christes wyl The tyme is come a man chylde she bare Mauricius at fontstone they hym calle This constable doth forth come a messanger And wrote to hys kynge y t cleped was Alle Howe that thys blysful tydynge is byfal And other tydynges nedeful for to say He taketh the letter forth he goth his way Thys messanger to done hys anauntage Vnto the kynges mother rydeth swythe And salueth her ful fayre in hys langage Madame quod he ye maye be glad blythe And thanketh god an huÌ„dred thousand sythe My lady quene hath chylde wythouteÌ„ doute To ioye and blysse of all thys reygne aboute Lo here the letters sealed of thys thynge That I mote beare in al the hast I may Yf ye wol ought vnto your sonne the kynge I am your seruaunt both nyght and
that nygh no plenty here is There were Elmes great and stronge Maples ashe oke aspe plants longe Fyne ewe popler and lyndes fayre And other trees full many a payre what shulde I tell you more of it There were so many trees yet That I shulde all encombred be Er I had rekened euery tree These trees were sette that I deuyse One from another in assyse Fyue fadome or syxe I trowe so But they were hye and great also And for to kepe out well the sonne The croppes were so thycke yronne And euery braunche in other knytte And full of grene leues sytte That sonne myght there none dyscende Lest the tender grasses shende There myght men Does and Roes yse And of squyrels full great plente From bowe to bowe alwaye lepynge Connes there were also playenge That comyn out of her clapers Of sondry colours and maners And maden many a tourneynge Vpon the freshe grasse spryngynge In places sawe I welles there In whych there no frogges were And fayre in shadowe was euery well But I ne can the nombre tell Of stremys small that by deuyse Myrthe had done come through condyse Of whych the water in rennynge Gan make a noyse full lykynge Aboute the brynkes of these welles And by the stremes ouer all elles Sprange vp the grasse as thycke yset And softe as any veluet On whych men myght hys lemman ley As on a fetherbed to pley For the erthe was full soft and swete Through moysture of the well wete Spronge vp the sote grene gras As fayre as thycke as myster was But moche amended it the place That therth was of suche a grace That it of floures hath plente That both in somer and wynter be There sprange the vyolet al newe And freshe peruynke ryche of hewe And floures yelowe whyte and rede Suche plente grewe there neuer in mede Full gaye was all the grounde and queynt And poudred as men had it peynt wyth many a freshe and sondrye floure That casten vp full good sauoure I woll not longe holde you in fable Of all thys garden delectable I mote my tonge stynten nede For I ne maye wythouten drede Naught tellen you the beaute all Ne halfe the bounte there wyth all I went on ryght hande and on lefte Aboute the place it was not lefte Tyll I had all the garden bene In the efters that men myght sene And thus whyle I wente in my playe The God of loue me folowed aye Ryght as an hunter can abyde The beest tyll he seeth hys tyde To shoten at goodmesse to the dere when that hym nedeth go no nere And so befyll I rested me Besydes a well vnder a tree whych tree in Fraunce men call a Pyne But syth the tyme of kynge Pepyne Ne grewe there tree in mannes syght So fayre ne so well woxe in hyght In all that yarde so hygh was none And spryngynge in a marble stone Had nature set the soth to tell Vnder that pyne tree a well And on the border all wythout was wrytten in the stone about Letters small that sayden thus Here starfe the fayre Narcisus Narcisus was a bachelere That loue had caught in hys daungere And in hys nette gan hym so strayne And dyd hym so to wepe and playne That nede hym muste hys lyfe forgo For a fayre lady that hyght Echo Hym loued ouer any creature And gan for hym suche payne endure That on a tyme she hym tolde That yf he her louen nolde That her behoued nedes dye There laye none other remedye But nathelesse for hys beaute So fyers and daungerous was he That he nolde graunten her askynge For wepynge ne for fayre prayenge And when she herde hym werne her so She had in herte so great wo And toke it in so great dyspyte That she wythout more respyte was deed anone but ere she deyde Full pytously to God she prayde That proude herte Narcisus That was in loue so daungerous Myght on a daye ben hampred so For loue and bene so hote for wo That neuer he myght to ioye attayne Then shulde he fele in euery vayne what sorowe true louers maken That ben so vyllaynously forsaken THys prayer was but reasonable Therfore God held it ferme and stable For Narcisus shortly to tell By auenture came to y e well To rest hym in the shadowynge A daye when he come from huntinge Thys Narcisus had suffred paynes For rennynge all daye in the playnes And was for thurst in great dystresse Of herte and of hys werynesse That had hys breth almost be nomen when he was to that wel ycomen That shadowed was with braunches grene He thought of thylke water shene To drynke and freshe hym well wythall And downe on knees he gan to fall And forth hys necke and heed out straught To drynke of that well a draught And in the water anone was sene Hys nose hys mouth hys eyen shene And he therof was all abashed Hys owne shadowe had hym betrasshed For well wende he the forme se Of a chylde of great beaute well couth loue hym wreke tho Of daunger and of pryde also That Narcisus somtyme hym bere He quyte hym well hys guerdon there For he mused so in the well That shortly the soth to tell He loued hys owne shadowe so That at laste he starfe for wo For when he sawe that he hys wyll Myght in no maner waye fulfyll And that he was so faste caught That he hym couth comforte naught He lost hys wytte ryght in that place And deyde wythin a lytell space And thus hys waryson he toke For the lady that he forsoke Ladyes I praye ensample taketh Ye that ayenst your loue mystaketh For yf her death be you to wyte God can full well your wyle quyte WHen y t thys lettre of whych I tel Had taught me y t it was y e welle Of Narcisus in hys beaute I gan anon wythdrawe me when it fell in me remembraunce That hym betyde suche myschaunce But at the last then thought I That scathlesse full sekerly I myght vnto the welle go wherof shulde I abashen so Vnto the welle then went I me And downe I louted for to se The clere water in the stone And eke the grauell whych that shone Downe in the botome â–ª as syluer fyne For of the welle thys is the fyne In worlde is none so clere of hewe The water is euer freshe and newe That welmeth vp wyth wawes bryght The mountenaunce of two fynger hyght Aboute it is grasse spryngynge For moyste so thycke and well lykynge That it ne maye in wynter dye No more then maye the see be drye DOwne at the botome set sawe I Two cristall stones craftely In thylke freshe and fayre well But o thynge sothly dare I tell That ye woll holde a great maruayle when it is tolde wythouten fayle For when the sunne clere in syght Caste in that welle hys bemes bryght And that the heete dyscended is Then taketh the cristall stone ywys Agayne the
grace Ryght thus I say knelyng tofore her face O sterre of sterres with thy stremes clere Sterre of the see to shypmen lyght and gyde O lusty lyuyng moste plesaunt to apere whose briÈt beames y e cloudes may not hyde O way of lyfe to hem that go or ryde Hauen after tempest surest vp to ryue On me haue mercy for thy ioyes fyue O rightfull rule o bote of holynesse And lyghtsome lyne of pyte for to playne Original begynnyng of grace al goodnesse And clenest coÌ„duyt of vertue most souerayne Mother of mercy our trouble to restrayne Chambre and closet clennest of chastyte And named herbrough of the deyte O closed garden all voyde of wedes wycke Crystallyn welle of clerenesse clere coÌ„signed Fructyfyed olyue of foyles fayre and thycke And redoleÌ„t cedre most dereworthly digned Remembre on synners that to y t be assigned Or wicked fendes her wrath on hem wreche Lanterne of lyght thou her lyues leche Paradyse of plesaunce gladsome to all good Benigne braunchelet of the pyne tre Vynarie enuermayled refresher of our bote Lycour ayen al langour y t palled may not be Blysfull blomy blosome bydyng in bounte Thy mantell of mercy on our myserie sprede And er wo awake wrappe vs vnder thy wed O rody rosyer flouryng without spyne FouÌ„tayne al fylthlesse as byrel currant clere SoÌ„e drop of thy graceful dew to vs propyne O light without nebule shining iÌ„ thy sphere Medecyne to mischeues pucelle wtout pere Flambe downe the dolefull lyght of thyne influence RemeÌ„bring thy seruaÌ„tes for thy magnifyceÌ„ce Of al christen protectryce and tutele Returne of exiled put in the prescripcion To hem that erren in the pathe of her sequele To wery forwandred tent and pauylion To faynte and to freshe the pausacion Vnto vnresty bothe rest and remedye Frutefull to all tho that in her allye To hem that rennen thou arte itenerarie O blysfull brauie to knightes of thy werre To wery werkmen she is diourne denarie Mede vnto maryners that haue sayled ferre Laureate crowne stremyng as a slerre To hem that put hem in palastre for thy sake Cours of her coÌ„quest thou white as any lake O myrthe of martyrs swetter than sytole Of confessours also rychest donatyfe Vnto virgynes eternall lauriole Afore all women hauyng prerogatyse Mother and mayde bothe wydowe wyfe Of all the worlde is none but thou alone Nowe syth thou may be socour to my mone O trusty turtle truefastest of all trewe O curteyse columbe replete of all mekenesse O nyghtyngale with thy notes newe O popyniay pured wyth all clennesse O laueroke of loue syngyng with swetnesse Phebus awaytyng tyll on thy brest he lyght Vnder thy wynge at domesday vs dyght O rubye rubifyed in the passyon Of thy sonne vs haue amonge in mynde O stedfast dyametre of duracion That fewe feres any tyme might thou fynde For none to him was foundeÌ„ halfe so kynde O hardy herte o louyng creature what was it but loue that made y t so endure Semely saphre depe loupe and blew ewage Stable as the loupe ewage of pyte This is to say the freshest of vysage Thou louest vnchaunged hem that serueÌ„ the And yf offence or varyeng in hem be Thou arte aye redy vpon her wo to rewe And hem receyuest wyth hert full trewe O goodly gladed whan that Gabriell wyth ioye the grette that may not be nuÌ„bred Or halfe the blysse who coude write or tell whan the holy goste to the was obumbred wherthrough fendes were bytterly encuÌ„bred O wemlesse mayde embelyshed in his byrth That man and aungel therof hadden myrth Lo here the blosme and the budde of glorie Of whiche y e prophete so longe spake beforn Lo here the same that was in memorie Of Ysaye so longe or she was borne Lo here of Dauid the delycious corne Lo here the grounde of lyfe in to bylde Becomyng man our raunsom for to yelde O glorious vyole and vyte inuyolate O firy Tytan persyng with thy bemes whose vertuous briÈtues was iÌ„ brest vrbrate That all y e world embelyshed with y e lemes CoÌ„seruatryce of kynges dukes and realmes Of Ysayes fede swete sunamyte Mesure my mourning myn own margaryte O soueraignest sought out of Syon Cockle w t golde dewe from aboue berayned Dewe bushe vnbrent fyrelesse fyre set on FlaÌ„byng with ferueÌ„te not with hete payned Duryng daysye that no wether stayned Fleece vndefouled of gentylest Iedeon And fructifyeng fayrest the yerde of Aaron The mighty arche probatyfe pisâ—yne Laughyng aurore and of peace olyue Columpne base vp bearyng from abyme why nere I connyng here to discryue Chosen of Ioseph whom he toke to wyue Vnknowyng hym chyldyng by myracle And of our manly fygure the tabernacle I haue none Englyshe conuenient dygne Myne hertes heale lady the wyth to honour Iuorie cleane therfore I wol resygne Into thyne hande tyl thou lyst socour To helpe my makynge both floryshe flour Then shulde I shewe in loue how I brende In songes makynge thy name to coÌ„mende For yf I coude before thyne excellence Syngen in loue I wolde what I fele And euer standen lady in thy presence To shewe in open howe I loue you wele And syth although your hert be made of stele To you wythouten any dysceueraunce Iay en vous tout ma fiance where myght I loue euer better beset Then in thys lylye lykyng to beholde The lace of loue the bonde so wel thou knyt That I maye se the or myne herte colde And or I passe out of my dayes olde Tofore syngyng euermore vtterly Your eyen two woll slee me sodaynly For loue I langour blyssed be such sycknesse Syth it is for you my hertely suffysaunce I can not els say in my dystresse So fayre one hath myne hert in gouernauÌ„ce And after that I begynne on esperaunce with feble entune though it thyne hert perce Yet for thy sake thys letter I do reherce God wote on musyke I can not but I gesse Alas why so that I myght saye or synge So loue I you myne owne souerayne maistres And euer shal wythout departyng Myrrour of beute for you out shuld I ryng In remembraunce eke of your eyen clere Thus ferre froÌ„ you my souerayne lady dere So wolde god your loue wolde me slo Syth for your sake I synge day by day Herte why nylte thou breake a two Syth wyth my lady dwell I ne may Thus many a roundel and many a virelay In freshe englyshe when I me layser fynde I do recorde on you to haue mynde Nowe lady myne syth I you loue and drede And you vnchaunged euer fynde in o degre whose grace ne may flye fro your womaÌ„hede Dysdayneth not for to remembre on me Myne herte bledeth for I may not you se And syth ye wotte my meanyng desyrous Plures pur moy si vous playst amorous what maruayle is though I in payne be I am departed from you my souerayne Fortune alas dont vient la destenie That in no wyse I can ne