his kunnynge may â—uffise The morow cam alla gan hym dresse And eke his wyf this Emperour for to mete And forth they riden in ioye and in gladnesse And when she saw her fader in the strete She lightith doun and fallith hym to fete Fader quod she your yonge child Custaunce Is now ful â—ken out of your remembraunce I am your doughter Custaunce quod she That whilom ye haue sent in to furrye It am I fader that in the salt see Was put alone and dampned forto dye Now gode fader mercy I you crye Sâ—â—d me nomore in to hethenesse But thankith my lord here of his kyndenesse Who can the piteous ioye telle all Betwix hem thre sithenes they be thus met But of my tale make an ende I shal The day goth faste I may no lenger lette Thise glad folk to dyner be y sette In ioye and blisse at mete I lete hem duelle A thousand fold more than y can telle This child Maurice was sith Emperour I maad be the Pope and liuyd cristynly To cristis chirche dede he gret honour But I lete al thyse storyes passe by Of Custaunce is my tale specially In olde romaynes gestes men may wel fynde Mauricius lyf I bere it not in mynde Than kyng alla whan he his tyme say With Custaunce his holy wyf so swete To engelond ben they come the righte way Where as they liuen in ioye and in quyete But lityl whyle it lasted I you behete Ioye of this worlde but a tyme it wol abyde Fro day to nyght it chaungith as the tyde Who liueth euer in suche delite a day That ne meued is eyther in conscience Or ire or talent or â—um kynnys affray Enuye or pryde or passioun or offence I ne sey but for the ende of this sentence That lityl whyle in ioye or plesaunce Lastith the blisse of alla with Custaunce For deth that takith of hye lowe his rente When passid was a yeer as I gesse Out of this world this kyng alla is went For whom Custaunce hath ful gret heuynesse Now pray we to god his soule blesse And dame Custaunce finally to say Toward the toun of rome goth hir way To rome is come this holy creature And fyndeth her frendis there hole and sound Now is she scapid al her auenture And when she hir fadir hath y founde Doun on her knees fallith to grounde Wepynge in herte for tendernesse blithe She herieth god a hundred thousand sithe In vertu and in holy almes dede They liuen alle and neuer a sonder wende Til deth departed hem this lif they lede And farith now wel my tale is at an ende Now Ihesus crist that of his myght may sende Ioye aftir woo gouerne vs in his grace And kepe vs alle that been in this place ¶ Here endith the man of lawis tale ¶ And begynneth the squyeris prolog OVr hoost in his stiroppis stondith anon And saide godemen herkeneth euerichon This was a thristy tale for the nonys Sire parissh preest quod he for goddis bonys Tel vs a tale as was thy forward yore I se wel that lernyd men in lore Conne moche good be goddis dignite The Parson hym answerde benedicite What eylith the man so sinfully to swere Oure oste answerde Iankyn be ye there I smelle a lollere in the wynd quod he Now good men quod our host herkneth me Abidith for goddis digne passioun For we shul haue now a predicacion This lollare wol preche vs here sumwhat Nay be my fader soule that shal he nat Sayde the squyer he shal not here preche He shal no gospel glose here ne teche Whe leue alle in the grete god quod he He wolde sowe sum difficulte Or speynh cokyl in our clene corn And therfore oâ—te I warne the beforn My ioly body shal a tale telle And I shal clynke zow so mery a belle That it shal wakyn al this company But it shal not be of philosophy Ne of phisik ne termes queynte of lawe There is but litil latin in my mawe ¶ Here begynneth the Squyers tale AT surrey in the lond of Tartarye There dwellid a kyng þ t warrid on russy Thorow whiche ther dyde many a doughty man This nobyl kyng was clepid Cambuscan Whiche in his tyme was of so greet renoun That ther was nowhere in no region So excellent a lord in alle thing He lackid nought that longed to a kyng As of the secte of whiche he was born He kepte his lay to whiche he was sworn And therto he was hardy wyse and riche Pitous iust and alwey y liche Soth of his worde benignâ— and honorable Of his corage as ony tentir stabil Yong fressh and strong in armys desirous As ony bacheler dwellyng in his hous A fair ê‘sone he was and fortunate And kepte alwey a ryal astaat That ther was nowhere suche a man This nobil kyng this tartir Cambuscan He hadde two sonys on alphete his wyf Of whiche the eldest highte Algarsyf That othir sone was clepid Camballo A doughter hadde this worthy kyng also That yongest was and highte Canace But forto telle you of hir beaute It lith not in my tunge ne in my connyng I dar not take on me so high a thinge And also myn english eke is insufficient I muste be a clerk and a rethour excellent That knewe the colours longing to that art If I sholde discrye hir in euery part I am no suche I muste speke as I can And so be fyl this Cambuscan Hath twenty wynter bore his dyademe As he wente fro yeer to yeer y deme He leet the feste of his natiuite Done crye thorow out saray the cyte The laste Idus of Marche aftir the yeer Phebus the sonne ful ioly was and cleer For he was in his exaltacion In martis face and in his mansion In aries the hote colerik signe Ful lusty was the wethir and benigne For whiche the foulis ayens the sonne shâ—ne That for the seson and the yonge grene Wel loude song here affections Hem semyd to getyn ayen here protectiouns Agayn the swerd of wynter kene and cold And so this kyng of whiche I you told In ryal vestimentis sat on his deys With dyademe ful high in his paleys And holdith his feste solempne and riche That in this worlde was ther non it liche Of whiche yf I sholde telle al the ray Than wolde it occupye a someris day And eke it nedith not to deuyse At euery cours the ordre of her seruise I wol not telle of her strange sewis Ne of her swannys ne of her heronsewis Eke in that lond as tellen knyghtis olde Is sum mete that is ful deynte holde That in this lond men recke of it but smal Ther is noman that may reporten al I wol not tarye you for it is pryme And for it is no fruyt but los of tyme Vnto my firste tale y wol haue my recours And so befil
gan sprynge Vp roos our host and was al our cok And gadred vs alle in a flok And forth we riden lityl more than a paas Vnto the waterynge of saint Thomas And there oure hoste gan his hors areste And sayde harkeneth lordingez yf ye liste Ye woot our forward and I you recorde Yf euensong and morow song acorde Let se now who shal telle the firste tale As euyr moot I drynke wyne or ale Who so wil be rebel to my iugement Shal paye for al that is be the way spent NOw draw art or that ye further twynne Whiche shal the firste tale begynne Sire knyght quod he my maister my lord Drawith cut for that is myn accord Cometh hithir quod he my lady Prioresse And ye sire clerk let be your shamefastnesse Ne stody not ley on hond euery man Anon to withdrawe euery wight began And shortly to telle as it was Were it be auenture fortune or caas The soth is this the cut fil on the knyght Of whiche ful blithe glad is euery wight And telle hâ— moste as it was reson Be foâ—ward and be composicion As ye haue herd what nedith wordis moo And whan this good man saw that it was soo As 〈◊〉 that was wyse and obedieâ—â— To 〈◊〉 hiâ— forward be his fre assent 〈◊〉 sâ—yde sithneâ— I shal begynne the game What welcom be cut a goddis name Now lat vs ryde herkyn what I say And with that word we riden forth on the way And â—e began with right a mery chere And sayde anone his tale as ye shul here â—Here begynneth the knyghtis tale WHilom as olde story telleth vs Thâ—r was a duke that highte Theseus Of thebes he was lord and gouernour And in his tyme suche a conquerour That gretter was ther none vnder sonne Ful many a riche contre had he wonne That with his wisedom and chiualrye He conqueâ—â—â— al the regne of femenye That whilom was cleped Cithea And wedded the quene Ipolita And broughte hâ—r home in to his contre With moche glorie and solempnite And eke hir yonge suster Emelye And thus with victory and melodye Lete I this worthy duke to Athenes ryde And al his oost in armes hym besyde And certis if it nere to long to here I wolde haue tolde fully the matere How wonne was the regne of femenye Be Theseus and by his cheualrye And of the grete bataille for the nonys Betwix athenes and amasones And how beseged was Ipolita The faire lady quene of Cithâ—a And of the feste thaâ— was at hir weddynge And of the tempest at hir hom comynge But al thinge I moot as now forbere I haue god wooâ— a large feld to ere And week â—â—n the oâ—â—n in the plow The remenant of my tale is long ynow I wil not lette â—kâ— none of this rowte Let euery felow â—elle his tale aboute And let se now who shal the souper wynne And there I lefte I wâ—l agayn begynnâ— THis duke of whom I make mencion Whan he was come almost in to the toun He was waâ—â— as he cast his ye a syde In al his welthe and his most pryde Where that ther kneled in the high wey A companye of ladies twey and twey Eche aftir other clothed in clothes blake But suche a dâ—y and suche a woo they make That in this worlde nys creature lyuynge That herde suche an other weymentynge And of this cry they wolde neuer stentyn Tyl they the reynys of his bridyl hentyn What folk be ye that at myn hom comyng Perturbe me and my feste with cryynge Qued Theseus haue ye so gret enuye Of myn honour that thus compleyne crye Or who hath you mysboden or offended Tel me and it shal be amended And why that ye be clothed thus in blak The eldest lady of hem alle spak Whanne she hadde swowned with a dedly chere That it was rowthe to see and to here She sayde lord to whom fortune hath yeue Victory and as a conquerour to lyue Nought greueth vs your glory your honour But we beseke you of mercy and socour Haue mercy on our woo and distresse Som drope of pyte for thy gentilnesse Vp on vs wrecchid wommen let now falle For certis lord ther is non of vs alle That she ne hath be a duchesse or a quene Now be we caytifs as it is wel sene I thanked be fortune and hir fals wheel That non astat ensureth to be wee l Now certis lord to abyde your presence Here in this temple of goddis clemence We haue be waytinge al this fourtenyght Now help vs lord seth it is in thy might I wrecched wight that wepe thus Was somtyme wif of Campaneus That starf at Thebes acursid be that day And alle we that ben in this aray And make al this lamentacion We losten alle our husbondis in that toun Whiles the sege there aboute lay And yet now the olde creon wel away That lord is now of Thebes that cyte Fulfilled of Ire and iniquyte He for despit and his tirannye To do the ded bodyes vilonye Of alle our lordis whiche that ben slawe Hath alle the bodyes on an heep I drawe And wol not suffre hem be nonÌ„ assent Neyther to be buryed ne to be brent But makith houndis to ete hem in despyt And with that word withoute more respyt They fallen groflynge and crye pitously Haue on vs wrecchid wommen som mercy And let our sorow synke in thy hert This gentil duke of his courser stert With herte pitous whenne he herde hem speke Hym toughte his herte wolde breke Whan he saw hem so pitous and so mate That whilom were of so great astate And in his armes he â—em alle vp hent And hem comforted in ful good entent And swore his oth as he was trewe knyght He wolde do so ferforth his myght Vp on the tiraunt Creon hym to wreke That al the pepyl of grece sholde speke How Creon was of Theseus y serued As â—e that hath his deth wel deserued And right anon withouten more aboâ—d His baner â—e displayde and forth he rood To Thâ—bes ward and al his oste besyde No ner Athenes nolde he goo ne ryde Ne take his ese nat fully half aday But on his wey that nyght he lay And sente anon I poâ—ita the quene And Emely hir yonge sustir shene Vnto the toun of Athenes to dwelle And forth he rideth ther is nomore to telle HE rood the statu with spere and â—â—rge So shyneth in his whit baner largâ— That alle the â—eldâ—s gliteren vp and doun And he his baner bornÌ„ is his penonÌ„ Of gold â—ul riâ—he in whiche therwas I bete The Mytan whiche he wan in crete This riche duke this riche conquerour And in his oste of chiualrye the flour Tyl that he cam to Thebes and a lighte Fer in a fâ—ld there as he thoughte to fighte But shortly to speke of this thyng With Creon whiche was of thebes kyng He
As donÌ„ thyse wete brondis in her brennyng And at the brondis ende out ran anon As it were dropis blody many onÌ„ For whiche so sore agast was Emely That she was almost mad and gan to cry For she ne wiste what it signifyed But only for feer thus hath she cryâ—d And wepte that it was pyte to hâ—re And therwith al dyane gan appere With bowe in hond right as an hunteres And sayde doughter stynt thyn heuynesse Among the goddis an hyghâ— it is affermed And by eternÌ„ worde writen and confermed Thow shalt be weddid vntil one of two That haue for the so moche care and woo But vnto whiche of hem may I not telle Fare wel â—or I may no lengeâ— dwelle The fyris whiche on myn anter brenne Shul the declarer or thow go henne Thyn auenture of loue as in this caas And with that word the arowes in the caas Of the goddesse clateren faste and rynge And forth she wente made a vanysshinge For whiche this Emely astonyed was And sayde what amounteth this case I put me vnder thy protectionÌ„ Dyane and thy disposicionÌ„ And hom she goth anon the nexte wey This is the effect ther is nomore to sey And in the houre of Mars after this ARcite vnto the tempil walkyd is Of fyres of marce to do his sacrifise With alle the rightis of his paynem wyse With pyetous herte and high deuocionÌ„ Right thus to marce he sayde this orisonÌ„ O strong god that in the regnes colde Of trace honoured art and lord I holde And hast in euery regne and euery lond Of armys al the bridil in thy hond And hem fortunest as the list best deuyse Accepte of me my pyetous sacrifise Yf so be that my thought may deserue And that my myght be worthy to serue Thy godhede that I may be on of thyn Than prey I the rewe on my pyn For that peyne and that hote fire The whiche that whilom brendist for desire Whan that thou vse dist the beaute Of feyre yong fressh venus fre And had of hir in thy armys thy wille And though the onys a tyme mys fille Whan vlcanus had caught the in his laas And fond the liggynge be his wif alas For that sorow that was in thy hert Haue rowthe as wel vp on my peynys smert I am yong and vnkonnynge as thou wost And as I trowe with loue offendid most Than euer was ony liuys creature For she that doth me al this wo endure Ne recchith neuer whether I synke or flete And wel I woot or she me mercy hete I muste with strengthe wynne here in place And wel I wot withoute help and grace Of the may not my strengthe avayle Than help me lord to morow in my batayle For thâ—t fyre that whilom brent the As wel as that fyre now brennyth me And do that I to morow haue victory Myn the trauayl and thyn be the glory Thy souereyn tempyl wil I most honouren Of ony place alwey and most labowryn In thy plesaunce and in thy craftis stronge And in thy tempyl I wil my baner honge And alle the armys of my companye And euermore vntyl that I dye Eterne fyre I wol befornÌ„ the fynde And eke to this avowe I wil me bynde My berd my heer that hangith long adoun That neuer yet felt offensioun Of â—asour ne of shere I wil the yeue And be thy trewe seruaunt whilis I lyue Now lord haue rowthe vp on my sorowis sore Yâ—ue me the victory I axe nomore The prayer stynt arcite the strong The ringis that on the tempil dore hong And eke the dores clatered so faste Of whiche arcite somwhat hym agaste The firis brende vp on the auters bright That it gan al the tempil forto light A sote smel anon the ground vp yaf And arcita anon his hond vp gaf And more encence in to the fire caste With other rightis and at the laste The statu of marce began his hanberk ringe And with that sown he herde a mornynge Ful lowe and dym and sayde victory For whiche he yaf to marce honour and glory And thus with ioye and hope wel to fare Arcite anon to his Inne is fare As fayn as fowle is of the bright sonne And right anon suche strif is there begonne For that grauntynge in heuene aboue Betwix venus goddesse of loue And Marce the sterne god armypotent That Iubiter was fayn it to stynte Tyl that the Pale Saturnus the colde That knew so many of auenturis olde Fond in his experience and art That he ful sone hath plesed euery part As soth is said â— eld hath gret auauntage In eld is bothe wisedom and vsage Men may the olde out rennâ— but not out rede Saturn anon to stynte strif and drede Al be it that it is ayens his kynde Of al this strif he can remedies fynde My dere doughter dere quod Saturne My cours that hath so wyde forto turne Hath more power than hath ony man Myn is the drenchynge in the see so wan Myn is the pryson in the derk cote Myn is the strangeling hangyng be the throte The murmur and the chorlis rebellynge The groynynge and the pryue enpoysonynge I do vengeaunce and pleyn correction Whiles I dwelle in the signe of the lion Myn is the ruyne of the high halles The fallyng of the touris and of the wallis Vp on the mynour and vp on the Carpenter I slough Sampson shakynge the pyler And myne ben the maladyes colde The grete treson and the castis olde My lokynge is the fader of pestelence Now wepe nomore I shal do my diligence That Palamon that is thyn owen knyght Shal haue his lady as thou hym behight And marce shal kepe his knight yet natheles Betwix you ther muste be somtyme pees Al be ye not of on complexion That causith alday suche diuision I am thyn al redy at thy wille Wepâ— now nomore I wil thy lust fulfille Now wol I stynte of the goddes aboue Of marce and venus goddes of loue And telle you al pleynly as I can The grete effect of whiche I began GReet was the feste in actenes that day And eke the lusty seson of may Made euery wight to be in suche plesaunce That al that moneth Iuste they daunce And spenden it in venus high seruise But be cause that they sholden arise Erly forto se the grete sight Vnto her reste wente they at nyght And on the morow when day gan sprynge Of hors and noyse harneis and claterynge Ther was in hostelries al aboute And to the Paleys ther ridith many aroute And lordis vp on stedis and Palfreys There maist thou se deuysinge of harneys So vncowthe and so riche and wel Of goldsmythrye of browderye that subtel The sheldis bright tesâ—eris and trappours Gold hewed helmes hawberkis cote armours Raymg the speris and helmes bokelyng Guydyng of sheldis with leyners lasynge There as nede is they were no thing
or of a cantel of a thing But of a thing that parfyt is and stable Descendyng so tyl it be corumpabyl And therfore for his wyse purueauncâ— He hath so wel be set his ordenaunce That specifieth of thingis and progressions Sholden endure be successions And nought eternÌ„ withoute ony lye This maist thou vnderstonde and se at ye Lo the ook that hath so long a norisshynge Fro the tyme that he begynneth to sprynge And hath so long lif as ye may se Yet at the laste wastid is the tre Considereth how that the hard stoonÌ„ Vnder our feet on whiche we trede and goonÌ„ Yet wastith it as it lith be the wey The brood ryuer sumtyme wexith drey The grete townes se we wane and wende Than ye se that al thing hath an ende Of man of womman se we also That nedith in one of the termys two This is to say in yongthe or ellis in age He moot be ded the kyng as shal a page SomÌ„ in his bed somÌ„ in the depe see SomÌ„ in the large feld as ye may se Ther helpith nought alle gon that ilke weye Than may I say al thing mot nedes deye What makith this but Iubiter the kyng That is prince and cause of al thing Conuertynge vs alle vnto his propre wil For whiche it is darreyned soth to tell And for agayns it no creature a lyue Of no degre auaileth forto stryus Than is it wisedom as thynketh me To make vertu of necessite And take it whilis we may not it eschewe And thynketh that to vs alle it is due And who so grucchith he doth folye And rebel is to hym that al may gye And certeinly a man hath most honour To dien in his most excellent flour Whan he is sikir of his good name Than hath he do his frend no harm ne shame And gladder may his frend be of his deth Whan with honour so vp yolden is his breth Than whan his name appallid is for age For al foryeten is than his vasselage Than is hit best as for a worthy fame To dien whan he is best of name The contrary eke for al his wilfulnesse Why grucche we why haue we heuynesse That good arcite of cheualrie the flour Departyd is with duete and honour Out of the foule pryson of this lif Why grucchid his cosyn and his wif Of his welfare that loueth hym so wee l Can he hem thanke nay god woot neuer a deel That bothe his soule and eke hym offende And yet they mowe her lustis not amende What shal I conclude of this longe story But aftir wo I rede vs be mery And thonke Iupiter of al his grace And er we departen from this place I rede we make of sowwis two O parfit ioye lastyng euer mo And loketh now where most sorow is ynne There wil I first amende and begynne Sustir quod he this is my ful assent With al the auyse of my parlement That gentyl Palamon your owen knyght That serueth you with herte and might And euer hath do syn ye first hym knew That ye shul of your grace on hym rewe And take hym for husbond and lord Lene me your hond for this is oure accord Let se now of your wommanly pyte He is a kyngis sones brother parde And though he were a poure bacheler Syn he hath serued you so meny a yeer And hadde for you so gret aduersite It mot be considered leuyth me For gentyl mercy oughte to passe right Than sayde he thus to Palamon the knyght I trow ther nedith lityl sermonynge To make you assent to this thinge Cometh hithir takith your lady be the bonde And thus of hem bothe was made the bonde That highte matrimony or mariage Be al the counsel of the Baronage And thus with al blis and melodye Hath Palamon wedded Emelye And god that al this worlde hath wrought Sente hym his loue that he dere had bought For now is Palamon in alle wele Lyuynge in blis in riches and in hele And Emely hym loueth so tenderly And he here seruith so gentilly That ther was no word hem betwene Of ielousie or of ony othir tene Thus endith Palamon and Emelye And god saue al this companye ¶ Here endith the knyghtis tale ¶ And begynneth the Milleris prolog WHan that þ e knight had thus his tale told In al the companye nas ther yong ne old That he ne sayde it was a nobyl story And worthy to be drawe in memory And namely the gentilis euerichon Our hoost lowgh and swâ—or so mot I goon Thus vnbokelid wel is the male Let se now who shal telle another tale For trewly the game is wel begonne Now telle ye sir monk yf that ye konne Som what to quyte with the knyght his tale The Milward that for dronkyn was al pale So that vnnethis vp on is hors he sat He nolde auale nother hood ne hat Ne abyde noman for his curtesye But in Pilatis vois he gan crye And swoor be armys blood and bonys I can an nobil tale forthe nonys The whiche I wol now quyte the knyght his tale Our ost saw that he was dronke of ale And sayde abyde robyn leue brothir Sum bettir man shal telle first anothir Abyde let vs worke thriftely Be cokkis soule quod he that nyl not I For I wil speke or ellis go my wey Our hoost answerd tel on a deuyl wey Thou art a fool thy witte is ouercome Now herkeneth quod the myllere alle some But first I make a protestacionÌ„ That I am dronke I knowe be my soun And therfore yf I aught mys speke or say Wite it the ale of Suthwerk I you pray For I wol telle a legende and a lyf Bothe of a Carpenter and of his wif How that the clerk hath set the wrightis cappe The reue answerd and sayde stynt thy clappe Let be thy lewd dronkyn harlottrye Hit is synne and eke greet folye To appeire ony man or hym defame And eke brynge wyuys in suche a name Thow maist I nowgh of othir thyngis sayn This dronkyn Milward spak ful sone agayn And sayde leue brothir Oswold Who hath no wyf he is no cokeold But I 〈◊〉 not therfore that thou art on Ther by th gode wyuys many on Why art thou angri with my tale now I haue a wyf parde as wel as thow Yet nolde I not for the oxen in my plow Take vp on me more than ynow And deme of my self that I were one I wol beleue that I am none An husbond sholde not be inquisityf Of goddis priuitees ne of his wyf So he may fynde goddis fuson there Of the remenaunt nedith not to enquere What sholde I more say but this Millere He nolde his word for noman forbere But tolde his chorlis tale in his manere Me ouer thynketh that I shal reherce it here And therfore euery gentyl wight I pray Demeth not for goddis loue that I say Not for euyl entent but that
fend hath hym in hond Wel oughte vs worche ydelnes withstond And though men drede neuer forto dye Yet se men wel be reson doutles That ydelnesse is hotyn slogardrye Of whiche ther comyth neuer no good encrees And syn that slougthe her holdith in a lees Only forto slepe and ete and drynke And to deuouryn al that othir swynke And forto put vs from suche ydelnes That cause is of so gret confusionÌ„ I haue here doon my feithful besines Aftir the legend and translacionÌ„ Right so thy glorious lyf and passionÌ„ Thou with thy garlond wrought of rose of lilye The mene I mayde and martir saint Cecily And thou that flour art of virginis alle Of whom that Bernard list so wel to wryte To the at my firste begynnynge I calle Thou comfort of vs wreâ—chis do me endite Thy maydens deth that whan thoroâ— her merite The eterne lyf thou graunte of the fend victory As men mowe aftir rede in her story Thou mayde and moder doughter of thy sone Thou welle of mercy synful soulis to cure In whom that god of bounte chaas forto wone Thou humbil and high ouer euery creature Thou noblist so ferforth ouer natâ—re That no disdeigne thy maker had of kynde His sone in blood aâ—â— flessh to clothâ— wyndâ— Whiche in the cloister of thy blisful entrees Toke mannys shapthe the eterne loue pâ—es That of thy tryne compas lord and gâ—de is Whom heuyn and erthe and se withoute les Ay herien and thou virgine doutles Baar of thy body and dueldist mayd pure The creatour of euery creature Assemblâ—d is in the â—agnificence With mercy goodnâ—â— and suche pyte That thou that art â—he soune of excellenâ—e Not only helpist theym that praieth the But oftyn tyme oâ—â—hy benignite Ful frely or that â—â—n thyn help seche â—hou gosâ—â—eforn â—â—d art our â—oulis leche â—ow help â—hou 〈◊〉 and meke fair mayde Me flemyd wreâ—â—◠〈◊〉 this desert of gall Think on the woman of Canane that sayde That whelpis 〈◊〉 som of the cromys small That from her loâ—â—â—s table ben y falle And though thâ—t I vnworthy sone of Eue Be sâ—nful yet accepte my beleue And for that â—eith is ded withoute werkis So forto werkyn â—eue me witte and space That I be quyt from thens that most derk is O thou that art so fair and ful of grace Be myn aduocate in that high place There as withouten ende is sunge Osanne Thou cristis moder doughter dere of anne And of thy light my soule in prison lâ—ght That troublid is be thâ— cogitacion Of my body and also be the wight Of ertly lust and fals affection O hauyn of refut o saluacion Of hem that been in sorow and distresse Now help forto my work I wol me dresse Yet y pray you that redyn that I wryte For yef me that I do no diligence This ilke story besily to endite For bothe haue I the wordis and the â—â—â—tence Of hym that atte seyntis reuerence The story wroot and folowed her 〈◊〉 As ferforth as god wyl me grace seâ—â— First wolde I yow the name of saint 〈◊〉 Expoune as men may in her story se It is to say in englissh heuenys lyâ—ye For pure chastnes of virginite Or for she witnes hadde of honeste And grene of conscience and of god â—â—me The swete sauour lily was her name Or Cecily is to say the wey to blynde For she ensaumpil was be good techinge Or ellis Cecily as I writyn fynde Is ioyned be a maner connynge Of heuyn and lya in her infigurynge The heuyn is set for thought of holynes And lya for her lastinge besines Cecily may eek be said in this manere Wantyng of blyndnes for her gret light Of sapience and for her thewis clere Or ellis lo this maydens name bright Of heuyn and leos comyth of whiche be right Men mighte her wel the heuyn of pâ—pil calle Ensample of good wyse workis with alle For leos pepil in englissh is forto say And right as men may in the heuyn se The sonne and mone and sterris euery way Right so men gostly in this mayden fre Sawyn of feith the grete magnanimite And eek the clerenes hool of sapience And sondry werkis bright of excellence And right so as thyse philosophris wryte That heuyn is swift round eke brennynge Right so was faire Cecily the whyte Ful swift and besy in euery good werkyng And rounde and hool in good ê‘seuerynge And brennynge euer in charite ful bright Now haue I declared you what she hight ¶ THere endith the Second Nonnys prolog ¶ And here begynneth the tale This maiden bright Cecili as her legende saith Was comyn of romayns of nobil kynde And from her â—â—adil vp fostrid in the faith Of crist and baar his gospel in mynde She neuer seced as I writen fynde Of her praiere and god to loue and drede Besekynge hym to kepe her maydenhede And whan this mayde sholde vnto a man I weddid be that was ful of yong age Whiche that y clepid was valerian And day was come of her mariage She ful deuout and humbil in her corage Vnder her robe of gold that sat ful feyre Hadde next her flessh I clad her in an heir And whyle that the Organs made melody To god aboue thus in her herte song she O lord my body and eek my soule gy Vnwemmyd lest I confoundid be And for his loue that vp on the tre Euery seconde and thridde day she fast Ay biddynge in her orisons ful fast The nyght cam and to bedde must she goon With her husbonde as it was the manere And priuely she sayde to hym anoon O swete and welbelouyd spouse dere Ther is a counsel and ye wol it here Whiche that right fayn I wolde to you seye So that ye swere ye wil it not bewrey Valerian gan faste to her swere That for no caas ne thing that might be He sholde neuer to none bewreyen her And than at erst to hym sayde she I haue an aungel whiche that louyth me That with gret loue wher so I wake or slepe Is redy ay my body forto kepe And yf that he may felen out of drede That ye me touche or loue in vilony He right anon wil sle you with the dede And in your youthe thus shul ye dy And yf that ye in clene lif me gy He wol you loue as me for your clennes And shewe to you his ioye and his brightnes This Valerian correctid as god wolde Answerde agayn yf I shal triste the Lete me that aungel se and hym beholde And yf that it a verâ—y aungel be Than wol I do as thou hast praid me And yf thou loue anothir man for soth Right with this swerd than wol I sle you both Cecily answerde anon right in this wyse Yâ—f that you list anon right the aungel shul ye se So that ye trowe on crist and you baptise Goth forth to via appâ—a quod
she That from this toun stondith but mylis thre And to the poure folkis that there duellyn Sey hem right thus as I shal you tellyn Tel hem that I Cecili you to hem sent To shewen you good vrban the olde For secretnes and for good entent And whan that ye saint vrban haue beholde Telle hym the wordis whiche that I to you tolde And whan that he hath purgid you from synne Than shal ye se that aungel or ye twynne This Valerian is in to the place goon And right as he was taught be her lernynge He fond this holy man vrban anon Among the saintis beriels lokynge And he anon withouten taryynge Dide his message and whan that 〈◊〉 tolde Vrban for ioye gan his hondis vpholde The teris from his yen let he falle Almyghty lord O Ihesu crist quod he Sower of chastite counsellour of vâ—â—â—lle The fruyt of that seed of chastite That thou hast sowe in Cecily take to the Lo lik a bisy bee withoutyn gyle Thy seruaunt ay thyn owen thral Cecile For that spouse that she took but newe Ful lik a fers lioun she sendith here As meke as euer was ony lamb to ewe And with that word anon ther gan apere An old man yclothid in whithe clothis clere That hadde a book with lettir of gold in honde And gan before valerian forto stonde Valerian as ded fyl doun for drede Whan he this old man sawe standing so Whiche forthwith anone he herd hym rede O lorde of alle o feith o god withouten mo O cristendome and fadir of al also Abouyn al and ouyr al euerywhere Thyse wordis al with gold writen were When this was red then said this olde man Leuyst thou this thing or no say ye or nay I leue al thing quod valerian For sother thinge than this I dar wel say Vnder heuyn no wight thinke may Tho â—â—nysshed this olde man he ne wiste where And Pope Vrban hym cristened right dere Valerian goth hoom and fyndeth Cecily With ynne his chambir with an angel stond This aungel hadde of rosis and of lily Crownys two the whiche he bare in hond And first to Cecily as I vnderstond He yaf that on and than gan he take That other to valerian her make With body cleen and vnwemmyd thought Kepith ay wee l this crownys quod he Fro Paradyse to you hem haue I brought Ne neuer mo shal they roten be Ne lese her sote sauyr trustith me Ne neuer wight ne shal se hem with ye But he be chast and hate velony And thou valerian for thou so sone Assentist to goddis counsel also Say what thou list and thou shalt haue thy bone I haue a brothir quod valerian tho That in this worlde I loue noman so I pray you that my brother may haue grace To knowe the trouthe as I do in this place The aungel sayde god likith thy request And hothe with the palme of matirdome Ye shul come in to his blisful reste And with that word Tiburce his brother com And whâ—n that he the sauour vndernom Whiche that rosis and the lilyes caste He spak vnto his brother in gret haste And sayde I wonder this tyme of the yeer Whens that this swete sauour comyth so Of rosis and of lilyes that y smelle here For thogh y hadde hem in my hondis two The sauour mighte in me no depper go The swete sauour that in my herte I fynde Hath chaungid me al in another kynde Valerian sayde two crounys haue wee Snow whit and rose reed that shyneth clere Whiche that thyn yen haue no might to see And as thou smellist thourogh my prayer So shalt thou se hem leue brother dere If it so be thou wilt withouten slowthe Beleue a right and knowe verry trowthe Tiburce answerde saist thou this to me In sothnes or in dreme I herkyn this In dremys quod valerian haue we be Vnto this tyme brother myn ywis But now at erst our duelling in trouthe is How wotist thou this qd Tiburce in what wyse Quod Valerian that shal I the deuyse The aungel of god hath me the trouthe I taught Whiche thou shalt se yf thou wilt reneye The ydollis and be clene and ellis nought And of the mirakyl of thyse crounys tweye Seynt Ambrose in his prefas list forto seye Solempuli this nobil doctour dere Comendith and saith in this manere The palm of martirdom forto receyue Seynt Cecile fulfilled of goddis yefte The worlde and eek her chambir gan she weyue Witnes Cecily and Tiburces shrifte To whiche god of his bounte wolde shifte Crownys two of flouris swete smellynge And his aungel hem the crownys brynge The mayde hath brought hem to blis aboue The worlde hath wist that it is worthy certeyn Deuocion and chastite wel forto loue Tho shewde hym Cecily al open and pleyn That alle ydols been but a thing in veyn For they be dombe and therto they be deef And charged hym his ydolis forto leef Who so that trowâ—th nat this a best he is Quod tho Tiburce yf I shal not lye And she gan kisse his brest that herde this And was ful glad be couthe trouthe aspye This day I take the for myn alye Said this blissed faire mayden dere And aftir that she sayde as ye mowe here Lo right so as the loue of crist quod she Made me thy brotheris wyf right in this wyse Anon for myn alye bere take I the Syn that thou wilt thyâ— ydols dispise Go with thy bâ—other now and the baptise And make the cleen so that thou may beholde That angelis face whiche thy brothir of tolde Tiburce answerde and sayde brother dere First tel me whethir I shal and to what man To whom qd he com forth with right good chere I wyl the lede vnto the pope vrban To Vrban brother myn quod vaâ—erian Quod tho Tiburce wolt thou me thider lede Me thinketh that it were a wonder drede Ne mene ye not vrban quod he tho That is so ofte dampned to be ded And woneth in halkis alwey to and fro And dar not onys put forth his hed Men sholde hym brenne in a fire so reed Yf he were founde yf men mighte hym aspye And we also to bere hym companye And whyle we sekyn that diuinite That is hid in heuene priuely Algate bâ—ent in this worlde shal we be To whom Cecily answerde boldly Men mighte drede wel and skilfully This lif to like myn owen dere brother If this were liuynge only and non othâ—r But there is bettir lif in other place That neuer shal belost ne drede the nought Whiche goddis sone vs tolde thorow his grace That fadris sone hath al thing wrought And al that wrought is with a skilful thought The gost that from the fader gan procede Hath soulid hym withouten ony dâ—edâ— By worde and by mirakil lo goddis sonÌ„ Whan he was in this worlde declarid here That ther is other lyf there men may woon To