Chapter XXIII: Part 23

The king behield his hevynesse, And of his grete gentillesse 730 His doghter, which was fair and good And ate bord before him stod, As it was thilke time usage, He bad to gon on his message And fonde forto make him glad. And sche dede as hire fader bad, And goth to him the softe pas And axeth whenne and what he was, And preith he scholde his thoghtes leve. He seith, “Ma Dame, be your leve 740 Mi name is hote Appolinus, And of mi richesse it is thus, Upon the See I have it lore. The contre wher as I was bore, Wher that my lond is and mi rente, I lefte at Tyr, whan that I wente: The worschipe of this worldes aghte, Unto the god ther I betaghte.” And thus togedre as thei tuo speeke, The teres runne be his cheeke. 750 The king, which therof tok good kepe, Hath gret Pite to sen him wepe, And for his doghter sende ayein, And preide hir faire and gan to sein That sche no lengere wolde drecche, Bot that sche wolde anon forth fecche Hire harpe and don al that sche can To glade with that sory man. And sche to don hir fader heste Hir harpe fette, and in the feste 760 Upon a Chaier which thei fette Hirself next to this man sche sette: With harpe bothe and ek with mouthe To him sche dede al that sche couthe To make him chiere, and evere he siketh, And sche him axeth hou him liketh. “Ma dame, certes wel,” he seide, “Bot if ye the mesure pleide Which, if you list, I schal you liere, It were a glad thing forto hiere.” 770 “Ha, lieve sire,” tho quod sche, “Now tak the harpe and let me se Of what mesure that ye mene.” Tho preith the king, tho preith the queene, Forth with the lordes alle arewe, That he som merthe wolde schewe; He takth the Harpe and in his wise He tempreth, and of such assise Singende he harpeth forth withal, That as a vois celestial 780 Hem thoghte it souneth in here Ere, As thogh that he an Angel were. Thei gladen of his melodie, Bot most of alle the compainie The kinges doghter, which it herde, And thoghte ek hou that he ansuerde, Whan that he was of hire opposed, Withinne hir herte hath wel supposed That he is of gret gentilesse. Hise dedes ben therof witnesse 790 Forth with the wisdom of his lore; It nedeth noght to seche more, He myhte noght have such manere, Of gentil blod bot if he were. Whanne he hath harped al his fille, The kinges heste to fulfille, Awey goth dissh, awey goth cuppe, Doun goth the bord, the cloth was uppe, Thei risen and gon out of halle.

The king his chamberlein let calle, 800 And bad that he be alle weie A chambre for this man pourveie, Which nyh his oghne chambre be. “It schal be do, mi lord,” quod he. Appolinus of whom I mene Tho tok his leve of king and queene And of the worthi Maide also, Which preide unto hir fader tho, That sche myhte of that yonge man Of tho sciences whiche he can 810 His lore have; and in this wise The king hir granteth his aprise, So that himself therto assente. Thus was acorded er thei wente, That he with al that evere he may This yonge faire freisshe May Of that he couthe scholde enforme; And full assented in this forme Thei token leve as for that nyht.

And whanne it was amorwe lyht, 820 Unto this yonge man of Tyr Of clothes and of good atir With gold and Selver to despende This worthi yonge lady sende: And thus sche made him wel at ese, And he with al that he can plese Hire serveth wel and faire ayein. He tawhte hir til sche was certein Of Harpe, of Citole and of Rote, With many a tun and many a note 830 Upon Musique, upon mesure, And of hire Harpe the temprure He tawhte hire ek, as he wel couthe. Bot as men sein that frele is youthe, With leisir and continuance This Mayde fell upon a chance, That love hath mad him a querele Ayein hire youthe freissh and frele, That malgre wher sche wole or noght, Sche mot with al hire hertes thoght 840 To love and to his lawe obeie; And that sche schal ful sore abeie. For sche wot nevere what it is, Bot evere among sche fieleth this: Thenkende upon this man of Tyr, Hire herte is hot as eny fyr, And otherwhile it is acale; Now is sche red, nou is sche pale Riht after the condicion Of hire ymaginacion; 850 Bot evere among hire thoghtes alle, Sche thoghte, what so mai befalle, Or that sche lawhe, or that sche wepe, Sche wolde hire goode name kepe For feere of wommanysshe schame. Bot what in ernest and in game, Sche stant for love in such a plit, That sche hath lost al appetit Of mete, of drinke, of nyhtes reste, As sche that not what is the beste; 860 Bot forto thenken al hir fille Sche hield hire ofte times stille Withinne hir chambre, and goth noght oute: The king was of hire lif in doute, Which wiste nothing what it mente.

Bot fell a time, as he out wente To walke, of Princes Sones thre Ther come and felle to his kne; And ech of hem in sondri wise Besoghte and profreth his servise, 870 So that he myhte his doghter have. The king, which wolde his honour save, Seith sche is siek, and of that speche Tho was no time to beseche; Bot ech of hem do make a bille He bad, and wryte his oghne wille, His name, his fader and his good; And whan sche wiste hou that it stod, And hadde here billes oversein, Thei scholden have ansuere ayein. 880 Of this conseil thei weren glad, And writen as the king hem bad, And every man his oghne bok Into the kinges hond betok, And he it to his dowhter sende, And preide hir forto make an ende And wryte ayein hire oghne hond, Riht as sche in hire herte fond.

The billes weren wel received, Bot sche hath alle here loves weyved, 890 And thoghte tho was time and space To put hire in hir fader grace, And wrot ayein and thus sche saide: “The schame which is in a Maide With speche dar noght ben unloke, Bot in writinge it mai be spoke; So wryte I to you, fader, thus: Bot if I have Appolinus, Of al this world, what so betyde, I wol non other man abide. 900 And certes if I of him faile, I wot riht wel withoute faile Ye schull for me be dowhterles.” This lettre cam, and ther was press Tofore the king, ther as he stod; And whan that he it understod, He yaf hem ansuer by and by, Bot that was do so prively, That non of othres conseil wiste. Thei toke her leve, and wher hem liste 910 Thei wente forth upon here weie.

The king ne wolde noght bewreie The conseil for no maner hihe, Bot soffreth til he time sihe: And whan that he to chambre is come, He hath unto his conseil nome This man of Tyr, and let him se The lettre and al the privete, The which his dowhter to him sente: And he his kne to grounde bente 920 And thonketh him and hire also, And er thei wenten thanne atuo, With good herte and with good corage Of full Love and full mariage The king and he ben hol acorded. And after, whanne it was recorded Unto the dowhter hou it stod, The yifte of al this worldes good Ne scholde have mad hir half so blythe: And forth withal the king als swithe, 930 For he wol have hire good assent, Hath for the queene hir moder sent. The queene is come, and whan sche herde Of this matiere hou that it ferde, Sche syh debat, sche syh desese, Bot if sche wolde hir dowhter plese, And is therto assented full. Which is a dede wonderfull, For noman knew the sothe cas Bot he himself, what man he was; 940 And natheles, so as hem thoghte, Hise dedes to the sothe wroghte That he was come of gentil blod: Him lacketh noght bot worldes good, And as therof is no despeir, For sche schal ben hire fader heir, And he was able to governe. Thus wol thei noght the love werne Of him and hire in none wise, Bot ther acorded thei divise 950 The day and time of Mariage.

Wher love is lord of the corage, Him thenketh longe er that he spede; Bot ate laste unto the dede The time is come, and in her wise With gret offrende and sacrifise Thei wedde and make a riche feste, And every thing which was honeste Withinnen house and ek withoute It was so don, that al aboute 960 Of gret worschipe, of gret noblesse Ther cride many a man largesse Unto the lordes hihe and loude; The knyhtes that ben yonge and proude, Thei jouste ferst and after daunce. The day is go, the nyhtes chaunce Hath derked al the bryhte Sonne; This lord, which hath his love wonne, Is go to bedde with his wif, Wher as thei ladde a lusti lif, 970 And that was after somdel sene, For as thei pleiden hem betwene, Thei gete a child betwen hem tuo, To whom fell after mochel wo.

Now have I told of the spousailes. Bot forto speke of the mervailes Whiche afterward to hem befelle, It is a wonder forto telle. It fell adai thei riden oute, The king and queene and al the route, 980 To pleien hem upon the stronde, Wher as thei sen toward the londe A Schip sailende of gret array. To knowe what it mene may, Til it be come thei abide; Than sen thei stonde on every side, Endlong the schipes bord to schewe, Of Penonceals a riche rewe. Thei axen when the ship is come: Fro Tyr, anon ansuerde some, 990 And over this thei seiden more The cause why thei comen fore Was forto seche and forto finde Appolinus, which was of kinde Her liege lord: and he appiereth, And of the tale which he hiereth He was riht glad; for thei him tolde, That for vengance, as god it wolde, Antiochus, as men mai wite, With thondre and lyhthnynge is forsmite; 1000 His doghter hath the same chaunce, So be thei bothe in o balance. “Forthi, oure liege lord, we seie In name of al the lond, and preie, That left al other thing to done, It like you to come sone And se youre oghne liege men With othre that ben of youre ken, That live in longinge and desir Til ye be come ayein to Tyr.” 1010 This tale after the king it hadde Pentapolim al overspradde, Ther was no joie forto seche; For every man it hadde in speche And seiden alle of on acord, “A worthi king schal ben oure lord: That thoghte ous ferst an hevinesse Is schape ous now to gret gladnesse.” Thus goth the tidinge overal.

Bot nede he mot, that nede schal: 1020 Appolinus his leve tok, To god and al the lond betok With al the poeple long and brod, That he no lenger there abod. The king and queene sorwe made, Bot yit somdiel thei weren glade Of such thing as thei herden tho: And thus betwen the wel and wo To schip he goth, his wif with childe, The which was evere meke and mylde 1030 And wolde noght departe him fro, Such love was betwen hem tuo. Lichorida for hire office Was take, which was a Norrice, To wende with this yonge wif, To whom was schape a woful lif. Withinne a time, as it betidde, Whan thei were in the See amidde, Out of the North they sihe a cloude; The storm aros, the wyndes loude 1040 Thei blewen many a dredful blast, The welkne was al overcast, The derke nyht the Sonne hath under, Ther was a gret tempeste of thunder: The Mone and ek the Sterres bothe In blake cloudes thei hem clothe, Wherof here brihte lok thei hyde. This yonge ladi wepte and cride, To whom no confort myhte availe; Of childe sche began travaile, 1050 Wher sche lay in a Caban clos: Hire woful lord fro hire aros, And that was longe er eny morwe, So that in anguisse and in sorwe Sche was delivered al be nyhte And ded in every mannes syhte; Bot natheles for al this wo A maide child was bore tho.

Appolinus whan he this knew, For sorwe a swoune he overthrew, 1060 That noman wiste in him no lif. And whanne he wok, he seide, “Ha, wif, Mi lust, mi joie, my desir, Mi welthe and my recoverir, Why schal I live, and thou schalt dye? Ha, thou fortune, I thee deffie, Nou hast thou do to me thi werste. Ha, herte, why ne wolt thou berste, That forth with hire I myhte passe? Mi peines weren wel the lasse.” 1070 In such wepinge and in such cry His dede wif, which lay him by, A thousend sithes he hire kiste; Was nevere man that sih ne wiste A sorwe unto his sorwe lich; For evere among upon the lich He fell swounende, as he that soghte His oghne deth, which he besoghte Unto the goddes alle above With many a pitous word of love; 1080 Bot suche wordes as tho were Yit herde nevere mannes Ere, Bot only thilke whiche he seide. The Maister Schipman cam and preide With othre suche as be therinne, And sein that he mai nothing winne Ayein the deth, bot thei him rede, He be wel war and tak hiede, The See be weie of his nature Receive mai no creature 1090 Withinne himself as forto holde, The which is ded: forthi thei wolde, As thei conseilen al aboute, The dede body casten oute. For betre it is, thei seiden alle, That it of hire so befalle, Than if thei scholden alle spille.

The king, which understod here wille And knew here conseil that was trewe, Began ayein his sorwe newe 1100 With pitous herte, and thus to seie: “It is al reson that ye preie. I am,” quod he, “bot on al one, So wolde I noght for mi persone Ther felle such adversite. Bot whan it mai no betre be, Doth thanne thus upon my word, Let make a cofre strong of bord, That it be ferm with led and pich.” Anon was mad a cofre sich, 1110 Al redy broght unto his hond; And whanne he sih and redy fond This cofre mad and wel enclowed, The dede bodi was besowed In cloth of gold and leid therinne. And for he wolde unto hire winne Upon som cooste a Sepulture, Under hire heved in aventure Of gold he leide Sommes grete And of jeueals a strong beyete 1120 Forth with a lettre, and seide thus:

“I, king of Tyr Appollinus, Do alle maner men to wite, That hiere and se this lettre write, That helpeles withoute red Hier lith a kinges doghter ded: And who that happeth hir to finde, For charite tak in his mynde, And do so that sche be begrave With this tresor, which he schal have.” 1130 Thus whan the lettre was full spoke, Thei haue anon the cofre stoke, And bounden it with yren faste, That it may with the wawes laste, And stoppen it be such a weie, That it schal be withinne dreie, So that no water myhte it grieve. And thus in hope and good believe Of that the corps schal wel aryve, Thei caste it over bord als blyve. 1140

The Schip forth on the wawes wente; The prince hath changed his entente, And seith he wol noght come at Tyr As thanne, bot al his desir Is ferst to seilen unto Tharse. The wyndy Storm began to skarse, The Sonne arist, the weder cliereth, The Schipman which behinde stiereth, Whan that he sih the wyndes saghte, Towardes Tharse his cours he straghte. 1150

Bot now to mi matiere ayein, To telle as olde bokes sein, This dede corps of which ye knowe With wynd and water was forthrowe Now hier, now ther, til ate laste At Ephesim the See upcaste The cofre and al that was therinne. Of gret merveile now beginne Mai hiere who that sitteth stille; That god wol save mai noght spille. 1160 Riht as the corps was throwe alonde, Ther cam walkende upon the stronde A worthi clerc, a Surgien, And ek a gret Phisicien, Of al that lond the wisest on, Which hihte Maister Cerymon; Ther were of his disciples some. This Maister to the Cofre is come, He peiseth ther was somwhat in, And bad hem bere it to his In, 1170 And goth himselve forth withal. Al that schal falle, falle schal; Thei comen hom and tarie noght; This Cofre is into chambre broght, Which that thei finde faste stoke, Bot thei with craft it have unloke. Thei loken in, where as thei founde A bodi ded, which was bewounde In cloth of gold, as I seide er, The tresor ek thei founden ther 1180 Forth with the lettre, which thei rede. And tho thei token betre hiede; Unsowed was the bodi sone, And he, which knew what is to done, This noble clerk, with alle haste Began the veines forto taste, And sih hire Age was of youthe, And with the craftes whiche he couthe He soghte and fond a signe of lif. With that this worthi kinges wif 1190 Honestely thei token oute, And maden fyres al aboute; Thei leide hire on a couche softe, And with a scheete warmed ofte Hire colde brest began to hete, Hire herte also to flacke and bete. This Maister hath hire every joignt With certein oile and balsme enoignt, And putte a liquour in hire mouth, Which is to fewe clerkes couth, 1200 So that sche coevereth ate laste; And ferst hire yhen up sche caste, And whan sche more of strengthe cawhte, Hire Armes bothe forth sche strawhte, Hield up hire hond and pitously Sche spak and seide, “Ha, wher am I? Where is my lord, what world is this?” As sche that wot noght hou it is. Bot Cerymon the worthi leche Ansuerde anon upon hire speche 1210 And seith, “Ma dame, yee ben hiere, Where yee be sauf, as yee schal hiere Hierafterward; forthi as nou Mi conseil is, conforteth you: For trusteth wel withoute faile, Ther is nothing which schal you faile, That oghte of reson to be do.” Thus passen thei a day or tuo; Thei speke of noght as for an ende, Til sche began somdiel amende, 1220 And wiste hireselven what sche mente.

Tho forto knowe hire hol entente, This Maister axeth al the cas, Hou sche cam there and what sche was. “Hou I cam hiere wot I noght,” Quod sche, “bot wel I am bethoght Of othre thinges al aboute”: Fro point to point and tolde him oute Als ferforthli as sche it wiste. And he hire tolde hou in a kiste 1230 The See hire threw upon the lond, And what tresor with hire he fond, Which was al redy at hire wille, As he that schop him to fulfille With al his myht what thing he scholde. Sche thonketh him that he so wolde, And al hire herte sche discloseth, And seith him wel that sche supposeth Hire lord be dreint, hir child also; So sih sche noght bot alle wo. 1240 Wherof as to the world nomore Ne wol sche torne, and preith therfore That in som temple of the Cite, To kepe and holde hir chastete, Sche mihte among the wommen duelle. Whan he this tale hir herde telle, He was riht glad, and made hire knowen That he a dowhter of his owen Hath, which he wol unto hir yive To serve, whil thei bothe live, 1250 In stede of that which sche hath lost; Al only at his oghne cost Sche schal be rendred forth with hire. She seith, “Grant mercy, lieve sire, God quite it you, ther I ne may.” And thus thei drive forth the day, Til time com that sche was hol; And tho thei take her conseil hol, To schape upon good ordinance And make a worthi pourveance 1260 Ayein the day whan thei be veiled. And thus, whan that thei be conseiled, In blake clothes thei hem clothe, This lady and the dowhter bothe, And yolde hem to religion. The feste and the profession After the reule of that degre Was mad with gret solempnete, Where as Diane is seintefied; Thus stant this lady justefied 1270 In ordre wher sche thenkth to duelle.

Bot now ayeinward forto telle In what plit that hire lord stod inne: He seileth, til that he may winne The havene of Tharse, as I seide er; And whanne he was aryved ther, And it was thurgh the Cite knowe, Men myhte se withinne a throwe, As who seith, al the toun at ones, That come ayein him for the nones, 1280 To yiven him the reverence, So glad thei were of his presence: And thogh he were in his corage Desesed, yit with glad visage He made hem chiere, and to his In, Wher he whilom sojourned in, He goth him straght and was resceived. And whan the presse of poeple is weived, He takth his hoste unto him tho, And seith, “Mi frend Strangulio, 1290 Lo, thus and thus it is befalle, And thou thiself art on of alle, Forth with thi wif, whiche I most triste. Forthi, if it you bothe liste, My doghter Thaise be youre leve I thenke schal with you beleve As for a time; and thus I preie, That sche be kept be alle weie, And whan sche hath of age more, That sche be set to bokes lore. 1300 And this avou to god I make, That I schal nevere for hir sake Mi berd for no likinge schave, Til it befalle that I have In covenable time of age Beset hire unto mariage.” Thus thei acorde, and al is wel, And forto resten him somdel, As for a while he ther sojorneth, And thanne he takth his leve and torneth 1310 To Schipe, and goth him hom to Tyr, Wher every man with gret desir Awaiteth upon his comynge. Bot whan the Schip com in seilinge, And thei perceiven it is he, Was nevere yit in no cite Such joie mad as thei tho made; His herte also began to glade Of that he sih the poeple glad. Lo, thus fortune his hap hath lad; 1320 In sondri wise he was travailed, Bot hou so evere he be assailed, His latere ende schal be good.

And forto speke hou that it stod Of Thaise his doghter, wher sche duelleth, In Tharse, as the Cronique telleth, Sche was wel kept, sche was wel loked, Sche was wel tawht, sche was wel boked, So wel sche spedde hir in hire youthe That sche of every wisdom couthe, 1330 That forto seche in every lond So wys an other noman fond, Ne so wel tawht at mannes yhe. Bot wo worthe evere fals envie! For it befell that time so, A dowhter hath Strangulio, The which was cleped Philotenne: Bot fame, which wole evere renne, Cam al day to hir moder Ere, And seith, wher evere hir doghter were 1340 With Thayse set in eny place, The comun vois, the comun grace Was al upon that other Maide, And of hir doghter noman saide. Who wroth but Dionise thanne? Hire thoghte a thousend yer til whanne Sche myhte ben of Thaise wreke Of that sche herde folk so speke. And fell that ilke same tyde, That ded was trewe Lychoride, 1350 Which hadde be servant to Thaise, So that sche was the worse at aise, For sche hath thanne no servise Bot only thurgh this Dionise, Which was hire dedlich Anemie Thurgh pure treson and envie. Sche, that of alle sorwe can, Tho spak unto hire bondeman, Which cleped was Theophilus, And made him swere in conseil thus, 1360 That he such time as sche him sette Schal come Thaise forto fette, And lede hire oute of alle sihte, Wher as noman hire helpe myhte, Upon the Stronde nyh the See, And there he schal this maiden sle. This cherles herte is in a traunce, As he which drad him of vengance Whan time comth an other day; Bot yit dorste he noght seie nay, 1370 Bot swor and seide he schal fulfille Hire hestes at hire oghne wille.

The treson and the time is schape, So fell it that this cherles knape Hath lad this maiden ther he wolde Upon the Stronde, and what sche scholde Sche was adrad; and he out breide A rusti swerd and to hir seide, “Thou schalt be ded.” “Helas!” quod sche, “Why schal I so?” “Lo thus,” quod he, 1380 “Mi ladi Dionise hath bede, Thou schalt be moerdred in this stede.” This Maiden tho for feere schryhte, And for the love of god almyhte Sche preith that for a litel stounde Sche myhte knele upon the grounde, Toward the hevene forto crave, Hire wofull Soule if sche mai save: And with this noise and with this cry, Out of a barge faste by, 1390 Which hidd was ther on Scomerfare, Men sterten out and weren ware Of this feloun, and he to go, And sche began to crie tho, “Ha, mercy, help for goddes sake! Into the barge thei hire take, As thieves scholde, and forth thei wente. Upon the See the wynd hem hente, And malgre wher thei wolde or non, Tofor the weder forth thei gon, 1400 Ther halp no Seil, ther halp non Ore, Forstormed and forblowen sore In gret peril so forth thei dryve, Til ate laste thei aryve At Mitelene the Cite. In havene sauf and whan thei be, The Maister Schipman made him boun, And goth him out into the toun, And profreth Thaise forto selle. On Leonin it herde telle, 1410 Which Maister of the bordel was, And bad him gon a redy pas To fetten hire, and forth he wente, And Thaise out of his barge he hente, And to this bordeller hir solde. And he, that be hire body wolde Take avantage, let do crye, That what man wolde his lecherie Attempte upon hire maidenhede, Lei doun the gold and he schal spede. 1420 And thus whan he hath crid it oute In syhte of al the poeple aboute, He ladde hire to the bordel tho.

No wonder is thogh sche be wo: Clos in a chambre be hireselve, Ech after other ten or tuelve Of yonge men to hire in wente; Bot such a grace god hire sente, That for the sorwe which sche made Was non of hem which pouer hade 1430 To don hire eny vileinie. This Leonin let evere aspie, And waiteth after gret beyete; Bot al for noght, sche was forlete, That mo men wolde ther noght come. Whan he therof hath hiede nome, And knew that sche was yit a maide, Unto his oghne man he saide, That he with strengthe ayein hire leve Tho scholde hir maidenhod bereve. 1440 This man goth in, bot so it ferde, Whan he hire wofull pleintes herde And he therof hath take kepe, Him liste betre forto wepe Than don oght elles to the game. And thus sche kepte hirself fro schame, And kneleth doun to therthe and preide Unto this man, and thus sche seide: “If so be that thi maister wolde That I his gold encresce scholde, 1450 It mai noght falle be this weie: Bot soffre me to go mi weie Out of this hous wher I am inne, And I schal make him forto winne In som place elles of the toun, Be so it be religioun, Wher that honeste wommen duelle. And thus thou myht thi maister telle, That whanne I have a chambre there, Let him do crie ay wyde where, 1460 What lord that hath his doghter diere, And is in will that sche schal liere Of such a Scole that is trewe, I schal hire teche of thinges newe, Which as non other womman can In al this lond.” And tho this man Hire tale hath herd, he goth ayein, And tolde unto his maister plein That sche hath seid; and therupon, Whan than he sih beyete non 1470 At the bordel be cause of hire, He bad his man to gon and spire A place wher sche myhte abyde, That he mai winne upon som side Be that sche can: bot ate leste Thus was sche sauf fro this tempeste.

He hath hire fro the bordel take, Bot that was noght for goddes sake, Bot for the lucre, as sche him tolde. Now comen tho that comen wolde 1480 Of wommen in her lusty youthe, To hiere and se what thing sche couthe: Sche can the wisdom of a clerk, Sche can of every lusti werk Which to a gentil womman longeth, And some of hem sche underfongeth To the Citole and to the Harpe, And whom it liketh forto carpe Proverbes and demandes slyhe, An other such thei nevere syhe, 1490 Which that science so wel tawhte: Wherof sche grete yiftes cawhte, That sche to Leonin hath wonne; And thus hire name is so begonne Of sondri thinges that sche techeth, That al the lond unto hir secheth Of yonge wommen forto liere.

Nou lete we this maiden hiere, And speke of Dionise ayein And of Theophile the vilein, 1500 Of whiche I spak of nou tofore. Whan Thaise scholde have be forlore, This false cherl to his lady Whan he cam hom, al prively He seith, “Ma Dame, slain I have This maide Thaise, and is begrave In prive place, as ye me biede. Forthi, ma dame, taketh hiede And kep conseil, hou so it stonde.” This fend, which this hath understonde, 1510 Was glad, and weneth it be soth: Now herkne, hierafter hou sche doth. Sche wepth, sche sorweth, sche compleigneth, And of sieknesse which sche feigneth Sche seith that Taise sodeinly Be nyhte is ded, “as sche and I Togedre lyhen nyh my lord.” Sche was a womman of record, And al is lieved that sche seith; And forto yive a more feith, 1520 Hire housebonde and ek sche bothe In blake clothes thei hem clothe, And made a gret enterrement; And for the poeple schal be blent, Of Thaise as for the remembrance, After the real olde usance A tumbe of latoun noble and riche With an ymage unto hir liche Liggende above therupon Thei made and sette it up anon. 1530 Hire Epitaffe of good assisse Was write aboute, and in this wise It spak: “O yee that this beholde, Lo, hier lith sche, the which was holde The faireste and the flour of alle, Whos name Thaïsis men calle. The king of Tyr Appolinus Hire fader was: now lith sche thus. Fourtiene yer sche was of Age, Whan deth hir tok to his viage.” 1540

Thus was this false treson hidd, Which afterward was wyde kidd, As be the tale a man schal hiere. Bot forto clare mi matiere, To Tyr I thenke torne ayein, And telle as the Croniqes sein. Whan that the king was comen hom, And hath left in the salte fom His wif, which he mai noght foryete, For he som confort wolde gete, 1550 He let somoune a parlement, To which the lordes were asent; And of the time he hath ben oute, He seth the thinges al aboute, And told hem ek hou he hath fare, Whil he was out of londe fare; And preide hem alle to abyde, For he wolde at the same tyde Do schape for his wyves mynde, As he that wol noght ben unkinde. 1560 Solempne was that ilke office, And riche was the sacrifice, The feste reali was holde: And therto was he wel beholde; For such a wif as he hadde on In thilke daies was ther non.

Whan this was do, thanne he him thoghte Upon his doghter, and besoghte Suche of his lordes as he wolde, That thei with him to Tharse scholde, 1570 To fette his doghter Taise there: And thei anon al redy were, To schip they gon and forth thei wente, Til thei the havene of Tharse hente. They londe and faile of that thei seche Be coverture and sleyhte of speche: This false man Strangulio, And Dionise his wif also, That he the betre trowe myhte, Thei ladden him to have a sihte 1580 Wher that hir tombe was arraied. The lasse yit he was mispaied, And natheles, so as he dorste, He curseth and seith al the worste Unto fortune, as to the blinde, Which can no seker weie finde; For sche him neweth evere among, And medleth sorwe with his song. Bot sithe it mai no betre be,

He thonketh god and forth goth he 1590 Seilende toward Tyr ayein. Bot sodeinly the wynd and reyn Begonne upon the See debate, So that he soffre mot algate The lawe which Neptune ordeigneth; Wherof fulofte time he pleigneth, And hield him wel the more esmaied Of that he hath tofore assaied. So that for pure sorwe and care, Of that he seth his world so fare, 1600 The reste he lefte of his Caban, That for the conseil of noman Ayein therinne he nolde come, Bot hath benethe his place nome, Wher he wepende al one lay, Ther as he sih no lyht of day. And thus tofor the wynd thei dryve, Til longe and late thei aryve With gret distresce, as it was sene, Upon this toun of Mitelene, 1610 Which was a noble cite tho. And hapneth thilke time so, The lordes bothe and the comune The hihe festes of Neptune Upon the stronde at the rivage, As it was custumme and usage, Sollempneliche thei besihe.

Whan thei this strange vessel syhe Come in, and hath his Seil avaled, The toun therof hath spoke and taled. 1620 The lord which of the cite was, Whos name is Athenagoras, Was there, and seide he wolde se What Schip it is, and who thei be That ben therinne: and after sone, Whan that he sih it was to done, His barge was for him arraied, And he goth forth and hath assaied. He fond the Schip of gret Array, Bot what thing it amonte may, 1630 He seth thei maden hevy chiere, Bot wel him thenkth be the manere That thei be worthi men of blod, And axeth of hem hou it stod; And thei him tellen al the cas, Hou that here lord fordrive was, And what a sorwe that he made, Of which ther mai noman him glade. He preith that he here lord mai se, Bot thei him tolde it mai noght be, 1640 For he lith in so derk a place, That ther may no wiht sen his face: Bot for al that, thogh hem be loth, He fond the ladre and doun he goth, And to him spak, bot non ansuere Ayein of him ne mihte he bere For oght that he can don or sein; And thus he goth him up ayein.

Tho was ther spoke in many wise Amonges hem that weren wise, 1650 Now this, now that, bot ate laste The wisdom of the toun this caste, That yonge Taise were asent. For if ther be amendement To glade with this woful king, Sche can so moche of every thing, That sche schal gladen him anon. A Messager for hire is gon, And sche cam with hire Harpe on honde, And seide hem that sche wolde fonde 1660 Be alle weies that sche can, To glade with this sory man. Bot what he was sche wiste noght, Bot al the Schip hire hath besoght That sche hire wit on him despende, In aunter if he myhte amende, And sein it schal be wel aquit. Whan sche hath understonden it, Sche goth hir doun, ther as he lay, Wher that sche harpeth many a lay 1670 And lich an Angel sang withal; Bot he nomore than the wal Tok hiede of eny thing he herde. And whan sche sih that he so ferde, Sche falleth with him into wordes, And telleth him of sondri bordes, And axeth him demandes strange, Wherof sche made his herte change, And to hire speche his Ere he leide And hath merveile of that sche seide. 1680 For in proverbe and in probleme Sche spak, and bad he scholde deme In many soubtil question: Bot he for no suggestioun Which toward him sche couthe stere, He wolde noght o word ansuere, Bot as a madd man ate laste His heved wepende awey he caste, And half in wraththe he bad hire go. Bot yit sche wolde noght do so, 1690 And in the derke forth sche goth, Til sche him toucheth, and he wroth, And after hire with his hond He smot: and thus whan sche him fond Desesed, courtaisly sche saide, “Avoi, mi lord, I am a Maide; And if ye wiste what I am, And out of what lignage I cam, Ye wolde noght be so salvage.”

With that he sobreth his corage 1700 And put awey his hevy chiere. Bot of hem tuo a man mai liere What is to be so sibb of blod: Non wiste of other hou it stod, And yit the fader ate laste His herte upon this maide caste, That he hire loveth kindely, And yit he wiste nevere why. Bot al was knowe er that thei wente; For god, which wot here hol entente, 1710 Here hertes bothe anon descloseth. This king unto this maide opposeth, And axeth ferst what was hire name, And wher sche lerned al this game, And of what ken that sche was come. And sche, that hath hise wordes nome, Ansuerth and seith, “My name is Thaise, That was som time wel at aise: In Tharse I was forthdrawe and fed, Ther lerned I, til I was sped, 1720 Of that I can. Mi fader eke I not wher that I scholde him seke; He was a king, men tolde me: Mi Moder dreint was in the See.” Fro point to point al sche him tolde, That sche hath longe in herte holde, And nevere dorste make hir mone Bot only to this lord al one, To whom hire herte can noght hele, Torne it to wo, torne it to wele, 1730 Torne it to good, torne it to harm. And he tho toke hire in his arm, Bot such a joie as he tho made Was nevere sen; thus be thei glade, That sory hadden be toforn. Fro this day forth fortune hath sworn To sette him upward on the whiel; So goth the world, now wo, now wel: This king hath founde newe grace, So that out of his derke place 1740 He goth him up into the liht, And with him cam that swete wiht, His doghter Thaise, and forth anon Thei bothe into the Caban gon Which was ordeigned for the king, And ther he dede of al his thing, And was arraied realy.

And out he cam al openly, Wher Athenagoras he fond, The which was lord of al the lond: 1750 He preith the king to come and se His castell bothe and his cite, And thus thei gon forth alle in fiere, This king, this lord, this maiden diere. This lord tho made hem riche feste With every thing which was honeste, To plese with this worthi king, Ther lacketh him no maner thing: Bot yit for al his noble array Wifles he was into that day, 1760 As he that yit was of yong Age; So fell ther into his corage The lusti wo, the glade peine Of love, which noman restreigne Yit nevere myhte as nou tofore. This lord thenkth al his world forlore, Bot if the king wol don him grace; He waiteth time, he waiteth place, Him thoghte his herte wol tobreke, Til he mai to this maide speke 1770 And to hir fader ek also For mariage: and it fell so, That al was do riht as he thoghte, His pourpos to an ende he broghte, Sche weddeth him as for hire lord; Thus be thei alle of on acord.

Whan al was do riht as thei wolde, The king unto his Sone tolde Of Tharse thilke traiterie, And seide hou in his compaignie 1780 His doghter and himselven eke Schull go vengance forto seke. The Schipes were redy sone, And whan thei sihe it was to done, Withoute lette of eny wente With Seil updrawe forth thei wente Towardes Tharse upon the tyde. Bot he that wot what schal betide, The hihe god, which wolde him kepe, Whan that this king was faste aslepe, 1790 Be nyhtes time he hath him bede To seile into an other stede: To Ephesim he bad him drawe, And as it was that time lawe, He schal do there his sacrifise; And ek he bad in alle wise That in the temple amonges alle His fortune, as it is befalle, Touchende his doghter and his wif He schal beknowe upon his lif. 1800 The king of this Avisioun Hath gret ymaginacioun, What thing it signefie may; And natheles, whan it was day, He bad caste Ancher and abod; And whil that he on Ancher rod, The wynd, which was tofore strange, Upon the point began to change, And torneth thider as it scholde. Tho knew he wel that god it wolde, 1810 And bad the Maister make him yare, Tofor the wynd for he wol fare To Ephesim, and so he dede. And whanne he cam unto the stede Where as he scholde londe, he londeth With al the haste he may, and fondeth To schapen him be such a wise, That he may be the morwe arise And don after the mandement Of him which hath him thider sent. 1820 And in the wise that he thoghte, Upon the morwe so he wroghte; His doghter and his Sone he nom, And forth unto the temple he com With a gret route in compaignie, Hise yiftes forto sacrifie. The citezeins tho herden seie Of such a king that cam to preie Unto Diane the godesse, And left al other besinesse, 1830 Thei comen thider forto se The king and the solempnete.

With worthi knyhtes environed The king himself hath abandoned Into the temple in good entente. The dore is up, and he in wente, Wher as with gret devocioun Of holi contemplacioun Withinne his herte he made his schrifte; And after that a riche yifte 1840 He offreth with gret reverence, And there in open Audience Of hem that stoden thanne aboute, He tolde hem and declareth oute His hap, such as him is befalle, Ther was nothing foryete of alle. His wif, as it was goddes grace, Which was professed in the place, As sche that was Abbesse there, Unto his tale hath leid hire Ere: 1850 Sche knew the vois and the visage, For pure joie as in a rage Sche strawhte unto him al at ones, And fell aswoune upon the stones, Wherof the temple flor was paved. Sche was anon with water laved, Til sche cam to hirself ayein, And thanne sche began to sein: “Ha, blessed be the hihe sonde, That I mai se myn housebonde, 1860 That whilom he and I were on!” The king with that knew hire anon, And tok hire in his Arm and kiste; And al the toun thus sone it wiste. Tho was ther joie manyfold, For every man this tale hath told As for miracle, and were glade, Bot nevere man such joie made As doth the king, which hath his wif. And whan men herde hou that hir lif 1870 Was saved, and be whom it was, Thei wondren alle of such a cas: Thurgh al the Lond aros the speche Of Maister Cerymon the leche And of the cure which he dede. The king himself tho hath him bede, And ek this queene forth with him, That he the toun of Ephesim Wol leve and go wher as thei be, For nevere man of his degre 1880 Hath do to hem so mochel good; And he his profit understod, And granteth with hem forto wende. And thus thei maden there an ende, And token leve and gon to Schipe With al the hole felaschipe.

This king, which nou hath his desir, Seith he wol holde his cours to Tyr. Thei hadden wynd at wille tho, With topseilcole and forth they go, 1890 And striken nevere, til thei come To Tyr, where as thei havene nome, And londen hem with mochel blisse. Tho was ther many a mowth to kisse, Echon welcometh other hom, Bot whan the queen to londe com, And Thaise hir doghter be hir side, The joie which was thilke tyde Ther mai no mannes tunge telle: Thei seiden alle, “Hier comth the welle 1900 Of alle wommannysshe grace.” The king hath take his real place, The queene is into chambre go: Ther was gret feste arraied tho; Whan time was, thei gon to mete, Alle olde sorwes ben foryete, And gladen hem with joies newe: The descoloured pale hewe Is now become a rody cheke, Ther was no merthe forto seke, 1910 Bot every man hath that he wolde.

The king, as he wel couthe and scholde, Makth to his poeple riht good chiere; And after sone, as thou schalt hiere, A parlement he hath sommoned, Wher he his doghter hath coroned Forth with the lord of Mitelene, That on is king, that other queene: And thus the fadres ordinance This lond hath set in governance, 1920 And seide thanne he wolde wende To Tharse, forto make an ende Of that his doghter was betraied. Therof were alle men wel paied, And seide hou it was forto done: The Schipes weren redi sone, And strong pouer with him he tok; Up to the Sky he caste his lok, And syh the wynd was covenable.

Thei hale up Ancher with the cable, 1930 The Seil on hih, the Stiere in honde, And seilen, til thei come alonde At Tharse nyh to the cite; And whan thei wisten it was he, The toun hath don him reverence. He telleth hem the violence, Which the tretour Strangulio And Dionise him hadde do Touchende his dowhter, as yee herde; And whan thei wiste hou that it ferde, 1940 As he which pes and love soghte, Unto the toun this he besoghte, To don him riht in juggement. Anon thei were bothe asent With strengthe of men, and comen sone, And as hem thoghte it was to done, Atteint thei were be the lawe And diemed forto honge and drawe, And brent and with the wynd toblowe, That al the world it myhte knowe: 1950 And upon this condicion The dom in execucion Was put anon withoute faile. And every man hath gret mervaile, Which herde tellen of this chance, And thonketh goddes pourveance, Which doth mercy forth with justice. Slain is the moerdrer and moerdrice Thurgh verray trowthe of rihtwisnesse, And thurgh mercy sauf is simplesse 1960 Of hire whom mercy preserveth; Thus hath he wel that wel deserveth.

Whan al this thing is don and ended, This king, which loved was and frended, A lettre hath, which cam to him Be Schipe fro Pentapolim, Be which the lond hath to him write, That he wolde understonde and wite Hou in good mynde and in good pes Ded is the king Artestrates, 1970 Wherof thei alle of on acord Him preiden, as here liege lord, That he the lettre wel conceive And come his regne to receive, Which god hath yove him and fortune; And thus besoghte the commune Forth with the grete lordes alle. This king sih how it was befalle, Fro Tharse and in prosperite He tok his leve of that Cite 1980 And goth him into Schipe ayein: The wynd was good, the See was plein, Hem nedeth noght a Riff to slake, Til thei Pentapolim have take. The lond, which herde of that tidinge, Was wonder glad of his cominge; He resteth him a day or tuo And tok his conseil to him tho, And sette a time of Parlement, Wher al the lond of on assent 1990 Forth with his wif hath him corouned, Wher alle goode him was fuisouned. Lo, what it is to be wel grounded: For he hath ferst his love founded Honesteliche as forto wedde, Honesteliche his love he spedde And hadde children with his wif, And as him liste he ladde his lif; And in ensample his lif was write, That alle lovers myhten wite 2000 How ate laste it schal be sene Of love what thei wolden mene. For se now on that other side, Antiochus with al his Pride, Which sette his love unkindely, His ende he hadde al sodeinly, Set ayein kinde upon vengance, And for his lust hath his penance.

Lo thus, mi Sone, myht thou liere What is to love in good manere, 2010 And what to love in other wise: The mede arist of the servise; Fortune, thogh sche be noght stable, Yit at som time is favorable To hem that ben of love trewe. Bot certes it is forto rewe To se love ayein kinde falle, For that makth sore a man to falle, As thou myht of tofore rede. Forthi, my Sone, I wolde rede 2020 To lete al other love aweie, Bot if it be thurgh such a weie As love and reson wolde acorde. For elles, if that thou descorde, And take lust as doth a beste, Thi love mai noght ben honeste; For be no skile that I finde Such lust is noght of loves kinde.

Mi fader, hou so that it stonde, Youre tale is herd and understonde, 2030 As thing which worthi is to hiere, Of gret ensample and gret matiere, Wherof, my fader, god you quyte. Bot in this point miself aquite I mai riht wel, that nevere yit I was assoted in my wit, Bot only in that worthi place Wher alle lust and alle grace Is set, if that danger ne were. Bot that is al my moste fere: 2040 I not what ye fortune acompte, Bot what thing danger mai amonte I wot wel, for I have assaied; For whan myn herte is best arraied And I have al my wit thurghsoght Of love to beseche hire oght, For al that evere I skile may, I am concluded with a nay: That o sillable hath overthrowe A thousend wordes on a rowe 2050 Of suche as I best speke can; Thus am I bot a lewed man. Bot, fader, for ye ben a clerk Of love, and this matiere is derk, And I can evere leng the lasse, Bot yit I mai noght let it passe, Youre hole conseil I beseche, That ye me be som weie teche What is my beste, as for an ende.