Chapter III: Part 3

The prive wommen were asent, That scholden ben of his assent: Hire ragges thei anon of drawe, And, as it was that time lawe, She hadde bath, sche hadde reste, And was arraied to the beste. Bot with no craft of combes brode Thei myhte hire hore lockes schode, 1750 And sche ne wolde noght be schore For no conseil, and thei therfore, With such atyr as tho was used, Ordeinen that it was excused, And hid so crafteliche aboute, That noman myhte sen hem oute. Bot when sche was fulliche arraied And hire atyr was al assaied, Tho was sche foulere on to se: Bot yit it may non other be, 1760 Thei were wedded in the nyht; So wo begon was nevere knyht As he was thanne of mariage. And sche began to pleie and rage, As who seith, I am wel ynowh; Bot he therof nothing ne lowh, For sche tok thanne chiere on honde And clepeth him hire housebonde, And seith, “My lord, go we to bedde, For I to that entente wedde, 1770 That thou schalt be my worldes blisse:” And profreth him with that to kisse, As sche a lusti Lady were. His body myhte wel be there, Bot as of thoght and of memoire His herte was in purgatoire. Bot yit for strengthe of matrimoine He myhte make non essoine, That he ne mot algates plie To gon to bedde of compaignie: 1780 And whan thei were abedde naked, Withoute slep he was awaked; He torneth on that other side, For that he wolde hise yhen hyde Fro lokynge on that foule wyht. The chambre was al full of lyht, The courtins were of cendal thinne, This newe bryd which lay withinne, Thogh it be noght with his acord, In armes sche beclipte hire lord, 1790 And preide, as he was torned fro, He wolde him torne ayeinward tho; “For now,” sche seith, “we ben bothe on.” And he lay stille as eny ston, Bot evere in on sche spak and preide, And bad him thenke on that he seide, Whan that he tok hire be the hond.

He herde and understod the bond, How he was set to his penance, And as it were a man in trance 1800 He torneth him al sodeinly, And syh a lady lay him by Of eyhtetiene wynter age, Which was the faireste of visage That evere in al this world he syh: And as he wolde have take hire nyh, Sche put hire hand and be his leve Besoghte him that he wolde leve, And seith that forto wynne or lese He mot on of tuo thinges chese, 1810 Wher he wol have hire such on nyht, Or elles upon daies lyht, For he schal noght have bothe tuo. And he began to sorwe tho, In many a wise and caste his thoght, Bot for al that yit cowthe he noght Devise himself which was the beste. And sche, that wolde his hertes reste, Preith that he scholde chese algate, Til ate laste longe and late 1820 He seide: “O ye, my lyves hele, Sey what you list in my querele, I not what ansuere I schal yive: Bot evere whil that I may live, I wol that ye be my maistresse, For I can noght miselve gesse Which is the beste unto my chois. Thus grante I yow myn hole vois, Ches for ous bothen, I you preie; And what as evere that ye seie, 1830 Riht as ye wole so wol I.”

“Mi lord,” sche seide, “grant merci, For of this word that ye now sein, That ye have mad me soverein, Mi destine is overpassed, That nevere hierafter schal be lassed Mi beaute, which that I now have, Til I be take into my grave; Bot nyht and day as I am now I schal alwey be such to yow. 1840 The kinges dowhter of Cizile I am, and fell bot siththe awhile, As I was with my fader late, That my Stepmoder for an hate, Which toward me sche hath begonne, Forschop me, til I hadde wonne The love and sovereinete Of what knyht that in his degre Alle othre passeth of good name: And, as men sein, ye ben the same, 1850 The dede proeveth it is so; Thus am I youres evermo.” Tho was plesance and joye ynowh, Echon with other pleide and lowh; Thei live longe and wel thei ferde, And clerkes that this chance herde Thei writen it in evidence, To teche how that obedience Mai wel fortune a man to love And sette him in his lust above, 1860 As it befell unto this knyht.

Forthi, my Sone, if thou do ryht, Thou schalt unto thi love obeie, And folwe hir will be alle weie.

Min holy fader, so I wile: For ye have told me such a skile Of this ensample now tofore, That I schal evermo therfore Hierafterward myn observance To love and to his obeissance 1870 The betre kepe: and over this Of pride if ther oght elles is, Wherof that I me schryve schal, What thing it is in special, Mi fader, axeth, I you preie.

Now lest, my Sone, and I schal seie: For yit ther is Surquiderie, Which stant with Pride of compaignie; Wherof that thou schalt hiere anon, To knowe if thou have gult or non 1880 Upon the forme as thou schalt hiere: Now understond wel the matiere.

Surquiderie is thilke vice Of Pride, which the thridde office Hath in his Court, and wol noght knowe The trowthe til it overthrowe. Upon his fortune and his grace Comth “Hadde I wist” fulofte aplace; For he doth al his thing be gesse, And voideth alle sikernesse. 1890 Non other conseil good him siemeth Bot such as he himselve diemeth; For in such wise as he compasseth, His wit al one alle othre passeth; And is with pride so thurghsoght, That he alle othre set at noght, And weneth of himselven so, That such as he ther be nomo, So fair, so semly, ne so wis; And thus he wolde bere a pris 1900 Above alle othre, and noght forthi He seith noght ones “grant mercy” To godd, which alle grace sendeth, So that his wittes he despendeth Upon himself, as thogh ther were No godd which myhte availe there: Bot al upon his oghne witt He stant, til he falle in the pitt So ferr that he mai noght arise.

And riht thus in the same wise 1910 This vice upon the cause of love So proudly set the herte above, And doth him pleinly forto wene That he to loven eny qwene Hath worthinesse and sufficance; And so withoute pourveance Fulofte he heweth up so hihe, That chippes fallen in his yhe; And ek ful ofte he weneth this, Ther as he noght beloved is, 1920 To be beloved alther best. Now, Sone, tell what so thee lest Of this that I have told thee hier.

Ha, fader, be noght in a wer: I trowe ther be noman lesse, Of eny maner worthinesse, That halt him lasse worth thanne I To be beloved; and noght forthi I seie in excusinge of me, To alle men that love is fre. 1930 And certes that mai noman werne; For love is of himself so derne, It luteth in a mannes herte: Bot that ne schal me noght asterte, To wene forto be worthi To loven, bot in hir mercy. Bot, Sire, of that ye wolden mene, That I scholde otherwise wene To be beloved thanne I was, I am beknowe as in that cas. 1940

Mi goode Sone, tell me how.

Now lest, and I wol telle yow, Mi goode fader, how it is. Fulofte it hath befalle or this Thurgh hope that was noght certein, Mi wenynge hath be set in vein To triste in thing that halp me noght, Bot onliche of myn oughne thoght. For as it semeth that a belle Lik to the wordes that men telle 1950 Answerth, riht so ne mor ne lesse, To yow, my fader, I confesse, Such will my wit hath overset, That what so hope me behet, Ful many a time I wene it soth, Bot finali no spied it doth. Thus may I tellen, as I can, Wenyng beguileth many a man; So hath it me, riht wel I wot: For if a man wole in a Bot 1960 Which is withoute botme rowe, He moste nedes overthrowe. Riht so wenyng hath ferd be me: For whanne I wende next have be, As I be my wenynge caste, Thanne was I furthest ate laste, And as a foll my bowe unbende, Whan al was failed that I wende. Forthi, my fader, as of this, That my wenynge hath gon amis 1970 Touchende to Surquiderie, Yif me my penance er I die. Bot if ye wolde in eny forme Of this matiere a tale enforme, Which were ayein this vice set, I scholde fare wel the bet.

Mi Sone, in alle maner wise Surquiderie is to despise, Wherof I finde write thus. The proude knyht Capaneus 1980 He was of such Surquiderie, That he thurgh his chivalerie Upon himself so mochel triste, That to the goddes him ne liste In no querele to beseche, Bot seide it was an ydel speche, Which caused was of pure drede, For lack of herte and for no nede. And upon such presumpcioun He hield this proude opinioun, 1990 Til ate laste upon a dai, Aboute Thebes wher he lay, Whan it of Siege was belein, This knyht, as the Croniqes sein, In alle mennes sihte there, Whan he was proudest in his gere, And thoghte how nothing myhte him dere, Ful armed with his schield and spere As he the Cite wolde assaile, Godd tok himselve the bataille 2000 Ayein his Pride, and fro the sky A firy thonder sodeinly He sende, and him to pouldre smot. And thus the Pride which was hot, Whan he most in his strengthe wende, Was brent and lost withouten ende: So that it proeveth wel therfore, The strengthe of man is sone lore, Bot if that he it wel governe. And over this a man mai lerne 2010 That ek fulofte time it grieveth, Whan that a man himself believeth, As thogh it scholde him wel beseme That he alle othre men can deme, And hath foryete his oghne vice. A tale of hem that ben so nyce, And feigne hemself to be so wise, I schal thee telle in such a wise, Wherof thou schalt ensample take That thou no such thing undertake. 2020

I finde upon Surquiderie, How that whilom of Hungarie Be olde daies was a King Wys and honeste in alle thing: And so befell upon a dai, And that was in the Monthe of Maii, As thilke time it was usance, This kyng with noble pourveance Hath for himself his Charr araied, Wher inne he wolde ride amaied 2030 Out of the Cite forto pleie, With lordes and with gret nobleie Of lusti folk that were yonge: Wher some pleide and some songe, And some gon and some ryde, And some prike here hors aside And bridlen hem now in now oute. The kyng his yhe caste aboute, Til he was ate laste war And syh comende ayein his char 2040 Two pilegrins of so gret age, That lich unto a dreie ymage Thei weren pale and fade hewed, And as a bussh which is besnewed, Here berdes weren hore and whyte; Ther was of kinde bot a lite, That thei ne semen fulli dede. Thei comen to the kyng and bede Som of his good par charite; And he with gret humilite 2050 Out of his Char to grounde lepte, And hem in bothe hise armes kepte And keste hem bothe fot and hond Before the lordes of his lond, And yaf hem of his good therto: And whanne he hath this dede do, He goth into his char ayein. Tho was Murmur, tho was desdeign, Tho was compleignte on every side, Thei seiden of here oghne Pride 2060 Eche until othre: “What is this? Oure king hath do this thing amis, So to abesse his realte That every man it myhte se, And humbled him in such a wise To hem that were of non emprise.” Thus was it spoken to and fro Of hem that were with him tho Al prively behinde his bak; Bot to himselven noman spak. 2070 The kinges brother in presence Was thilke time, and gret offence He tok therof, and was the same Above alle othre which most blame Upon his liege lord hath leid, And hath unto the lordes seid, Anon as he mai time finde, Ther schal nothing be left behinde, That he wol speke unto the king.

Now lest what fell upon this thing. 2080 The day was merie and fair ynowh, Echon with othre pleide and lowh, And fellen into tales newe, How that the freisshe floures grewe, And how the grene leves spronge, And how that love among the yonge Began the hertes thanne awake, And every bridd hath chose hire make: And thus the Maies day to thende Thei lede, and hom ayein thei wende. 2090 The king was noght so sone come, That whanne he hadde his chambre nome, His brother ne was redi there, And broghte a tale unto his Ere Of that he dede such a schame In hindringe of his oghne name, Whan he himself so wolde drecche, That to so vil a povere wrecche Him deigneth schewe such simplesce Ayein thastat of his noblesce: 2100 And seith he schal it nomor use, And that he mot himself excuse Toward hise lordes everychon. The king stod stille as eny ston, And to his tale an Ere he leide, And thoghte more than he seide: Bot natheles to that he herde Wel cortaisly the king answerde, And tolde it scholde be amended. And thus whan that her tale is ended, 2110 Al redy was the bord and cloth, The king unto his Souper goth Among the lordes to the halle; And whan thei hadden souped alle, Thei token leve and forth thei go. The king bethoghte himselve tho How he his brother mai chastie, That he thurgh his Surquiderie Tok upon honde to despreise Humilite, which is to preise, 2120 And therupon yaf such conseil Toward his king that was noght heil; Wherof to be the betre lered, He thenkth to maken him afered.

It fell so that in thilke dawe Ther was ordeined be the lawe A trompe with a sterne breth, Which cleped was the Trompe of deth: And in the Court wher the king was A certein man this Trompe of bras 2130 Hath in kepinge, and therof serveth, That whan a lord his deth deserveth, He schal this dredful trompe blowe Tofore his gate, and make it knowe How that the jugement is yove Of deth, which schal noght be foryove. The king, whan it was nyht, anon This man asente and bad him gon To trompen at his brother gate; And he, which mot so don algate, 2140 Goth forth and doth the kynges heste. This lord, which herde of this tempeste That he tofore his gate blew, Tho wiste he be the lawe and knew That he was sikerliche ded: And as of help he wot no red, Bot sende for hise frendes alle And tolde hem how it is befalle. And thei him axe cause why; Bot he the sothe noght forthi 2150 Ne wiste, and ther was sorwe tho: For it stod thilke tyme so, This trompe was of such sentence, That therayein no resistence Thei couthe ordeine be no weie, That he ne mot algate deie, Bot if so that he may pourchace To gete his liege lordes grace. Here wittes therupon thei caste, And ben apointed ate laste. 2160

This lord a worthi ladi hadde Unto his wif, which also dradde Hire lordes deth, and children five Betwen hem two thei hadde alyve, That weren yonge and tendre of age, And of stature and of visage Riht faire and lusty on to se. Tho casten thei that he and sche Forth with here children on the morwe, As thei that were full of sorwe, 2170 Al naked bot of smok and scherte, To tendre with the kynges herte, His grace scholden go to seche And pardoun of the deth beseche. Thus passen thei that wofull nyht, And erly, whan thei sihe it lyht, Thei gon hem forth in such a wise As thou tofore hast herd devise, Al naked bot here schortes one. Thei wepte and made mochel mone, 2180 Here Her hangende aboute here Eres; With sobbinge and with sory teres This lord goth thanne an humble pas, That whilom proud and noble was; Wherof the Cite sore afflyhte, Of hem that sihen thilke syhte: And natheless al openly With such wepinge and with such cri Forth with hise children and his wif He goth to preie for his lif. 2190 Unto the court whan thei be come, And men therinne have hiede nome, Ther was no wiht, if he hem syhe, Fro water mihte kepe his yhe For sorwe which thei maden tho. The king supposeth of this wo, And feigneth as he noght ne wiste; Bot natheles at his upriste Men tolden him how that it ferde: And whan that he this wonder herde, 2200 In haste he goth into the halle, And alle at ones doun thei falle, If eny pite may be founde. The king, which seth hem go to grounde, Hath axed hem what is the fere, Why thei be so despuiled there. His brother seide: “Ha lord, mercy! I wot non other cause why, Bot only that this nyht ful late The trompe of deth was at my gate 2210 In tokne that I scholde deie; Thus be we come forto preie That ye mi worldes deth respite.”

“Ha fol, how thou art forto wyte,” The king unto his brother seith, “That thou art of so litel feith, That only for a trompes soun Hast gon despuiled thurgh the toun, Thou and thi wif in such manere Forth with thi children that ben here, 2220 In sihte of alle men aboute, For that thou seist thou art in doute Of deth, which stant under the lawe Of man, and man it mai withdrawe, So that it mai par chance faile. Now schalt thou noght forthi mervaile That I doun fro my Charr alihte, Whanne I behield tofore my sihte In hem that were of so grete age Min oghne deth thurgh here ymage, 2230 Which god hath set be lawe of kynde, Wherof I mai no bote finde: For wel I wot, such as thei be, Riht such am I in my degree, Of fleissh and blod, and so schal deie. And thus, thogh I that lawe obeie Of which the kinges ben put under, It oghte ben wel lasse wonder Than thou, which art withoute nede For lawe of londe in such a drede, 2240 Which for tacompte is bot a jape, As thing which thou miht overscape. Forthi, mi brother, after this I rede, sithen that so is That thou canst drede a man so sore, Dred god with al thin herte more: For al schal deie and al schal passe, Als wel a Leoun as an asse, Als wel a beggere as a lord, Towardes deth in on acord 2250 Thei schullen stonde.” And in this wise The king hath with hise wordes wise His brother tawht and al foryive.

Forthi, mi Sone, if thou wolt live In vertu, thou most vice eschuie, And with low herte humblesce suie, So that thou be noght surquidous.

Mi fader, I am amorous, Wherof I wolde you beseche That ye me som ensample teche, 2260 Which mihte in loves cause stonde.

Mi Sone, thou schalt understonde, In love and othre thinges alle If that Surquiderie falle, It may to him noght wel betide Which useth thilke vice of Pride, Which torneth wisdom to wenynge And Sothfastnesse into lesynge Thurgh fol ymaginacion. And for thin enformacion, 2270 That thou this vice as I the rede Eschuie schalt, a tale I rede, Which fell whilom be daies olde, So as the clerk Ovide tolde.

Ther was whilom a lordes Sone, Which of his Pride a nyce wone Hath cawht, that worthi to his liche, To sechen al the worldes riche, Ther was no womman forto love. So hihe he sette himselve above 2280 Of stature and of beaute bothe, That him thoghte alle wommen lothe: So was ther no comparisoun As toward his condicioun. This yonge lord Narcizus hihte: No strengthe of love bowe mihte His herte, which is unaffiled; Bot ate laste he was beguiled: For of the goddes pourveance It fell him on a dai par chance, 2290 That he in all his proude fare Unto the forest gan to fare, Amonges othre that ther were To hunte and to desporte him there. And whanne he cam into the place Wher that he wolde make his chace, The houndes weren in a throwe Uncoupled and the hornes blowe: The grete hert anon was founde, Which swifte feet sette upon grounde, 2300 And he with spore in horse side Him hasteth faste forto ride, Til alle men be left behinde. And as he rod, under a linde Beside a roche, as I thee telle, He syh wher sprong a lusty welle: The day was wonder hot withalle, And such a thurst was on him falle, That he moste owther deie or drinke; And doun he lihte and be the brinke 2310 He teide his Hors unto a braunche, And leide him lowe forto staunche His thurst: and as he caste his lok Into the welle and hiede tok, He sih the like of his visage, And wende ther were an ymage Of such a Nimphe as tho was faie, Wherof that love his herte assaie Began, as it was after sene, Of his sotie and made him wene 2320 It were a womman that he syh. The more he cam the welle nyh, The nerr cam sche to him ayein; So wiste he nevere what to sein; For whanne he wepte, he sih hire wepe, And whanne he cride, he tok good kepe, The same word sche cride also: And thus began the newe wo, That whilom was to him so strange; Tho made him love an hard eschange, 2330 To sette his herte and to beginne Thing which he mihte nevere winne. And evere among he gan to loute, And preith that sche to him come oute; And otherwhile he goth a ferr, And otherwhile he draweth nerr, And evere he fond hire in o place. He wepth, he crith, he axeth grace, There as he mihte gete non; So that ayein a Roche of Ston, 2340 As he that knew non other red, He smot himself til he was ded. Wherof the Nimphes of the welles, And othre that ther weren elles Unto the wodes belongende, The body, which was ded ligende, For pure pite that thei have Under the grene thei begrave. And thanne out of his sepulture Ther sprong anon par aventure 2350 Of floures such a wonder syhte, That men ensample take myhte Upon the dedes whiche he dede, As tho was sene in thilke stede; For in the wynter freysshe and faire The floures ben, which is contraire To kynde, and so was the folie Which fell of his Surquiderie.

Thus he, which love hadde in desdeign, Worste of all othre was besein, 2360 And as he sette his pris most hyhe, He was lest worth in loves yhe And most bejaped in his wit: Wherof the remembrance is yit, So that thou myht ensample take, And ek alle othre for his sake.

Mi fader, as touchende of me, This vice I thenke forto fle, Which of his wenynge overtroweth; And nameliche of thing which groweth 2370 In loves cause or wel or wo Yit pryded I me nevere so. Bot wolde god that grace sende, That toward me my lady wende As I towardes hire wene! Mi love scholde so be sene, Ther scholde go no pride a place. Bot I am ferr fro thilke grace, As forto speke of tyme now; So mot I soffre, and preie yow 2380 That ye wole axe on other side If ther be eny point of Pride, Wherof it nedeth to be schrive.

Mi Sone, godd it thee foryive, If thou have eny thing misdo Touchende of this, bot overmo Ther is an other yit of Pride, Which nevere cowthe hise wordes hide, That he ne wole himself avaunte; Ther mai nothing his tunge daunte, 2390 That he ne clappeth as a Belle: Wherof if thou wolt that I telle, It is behovely forto hiere, So that thou myht thi tunge stiere, Toward the world and stonde in grace, Which lacketh ofte in many place To him that can noght sitte stille, Which elles scholde have al his wille.

The vice cleped Avantance With Pride hath take his aqueintance, 2400 So that his oghne pris he lasseth, When he such mesure overpasseth That he his oghne Herald is. That ferst was wel is thanne mis, That was thankworth is thanne blame, And thus the worschipe of his name Thurgh pride of his avantarie He torneth into vilenie. I rede how that this proude vice Hath thilke wynd in his office, 2410 Which thurgh the blastes that he bloweth The mannes fame he overthroweth Of vertu, which scholde elles springe Into the worldes knowlechinge; Bot he fordoth it alto sore. And riht of such a maner lore Ther ben lovers: forthi if thow Art on of hem, tell and sei how. Whan thou hast taken eny thing Of loves yifte, or Nouche or ring, 2420 Or tok upon thee for the cold Som goodly word that thee was told, Or frendly chiere or tokne or lettre, Wherof thin herte was the bettre, Or that sche sende the grietinge, Hast thou for Pride of thi likinge Mad thin avant wher as the liste?

I wolde, fader, that ye wiste, Mi conscience lith noght hiere: Yit hadde I nevere such matiere, 2430 Wherof min herte myhte amende, Noght of so mochel that sche sende Be mowthe and seide, “Griet him wel:” And thus for that ther is no diel Wherof to make myn avant, It is to reson acordant That I mai nevere, bot I lye, Of love make avanterie. I wot noght what I scholde have do, If that I hadde encheson so, 2440 As ye have seid hier manyon; Bot I fond cause nevere non: Bot daunger, which welnyh me slowh, Therof I cowthe telle ynowh, And of non other Avantance: Thus nedeth me no repentance. Now axeth furthere of my lif, For hierof am I noght gultif.

Mi Sone, I am wel paid withal; For wite it wel in special 2450 That love of his verrai justice Above alle othre ayein this vice At alle times most debateth, With al his herte and most it hateth. And ek in alle maner wise Avantarie is to despise, As be ensample thou myht wite, Which I finde in the bokes write.

Of hem that we Lombars now calle Albinus was the ferste of alle 2460 Which bar corone of Lombardie, And was of gret chivalerie In werre ayein diverse kinges. So fell amonges othre thinges, That he that time a werre hadde With Gurmond, which the Geptes ladde, And was a myhti kyng also: Bot natheles it fell him so, Albinus slowh him in the feld, Ther halp him nowther swerd ne scheld, 2470 That he ne smot his hed of thanne, Wherof he tok awey the Panne, Of which he seide he wolde make A Cuppe for Gurmoundes sake, To kepe and drawe into memoire Of his bataille the victoire. And thus whan he the feld hath wonne, The lond anon was overronne And sesed in his oghne hond, Wher he Gurmondes dowhter fond, 2480 Which Maide Rosemounde hihte, And was in every mannes sihte A fair, a freissh, a lusti on. His herte fell to hire anon, And such a love on hire he caste, That he hire weddeth ate laste; And after that long time in reste With hire he duelte, and to the beste Thei love ech other wonder wel. Bot sche which kepth the blinde whel, 2490 Venus, whan thei be most above, In al the hoteste of here love, Hire whiel sche torneth, and thei felle In the manere as I schal telle.

This king, which stod in al his welthe Of pes, of worschipe and of helthe, And felte him on no side grieved, As he that hath his world achieved, Tho thoghte he wolde a feste make; And that was for his wyves sake, 2500 That sche the lordes ate feste, That were obeissant to his heste, Mai knowe: and so forth therupon He let ordeine, and sende anon Be lettres and be messagiers, And warnede alle hise officiers That every thing be wel arraied: The grete Stiedes were assaied For joustinge and for tornement, And many a perled garnement 2510 Embroudred was ayein the dai. The lordes in here beste arrai Be comen ate time set, On jousteth wel, an other bet, And otherwhile thei torneie, And thus thei casten care aweie And token lustes upon honde. And after, thou schalt understonde, To mete into the kinges halle Thei come, as thei be beden alle: 2520 And whan thei were set and served, Thanne after, as it was deserved, To hem that worthi knyhtes were, So as thei seten hiere and there, The pris was yove and spoken oute Among the heraldz al aboute. And thus benethe and ek above Al was of armes and of love, Wherof abouten ate bordes Men hadde manye sondri wordes, 2530 That of the merthe which thei made The king himself began to glade Withinne his herte and tok a pride, And sih the Cuppe stonde aside, Which mad was of Gurmoundes hed, As ye have herd, whan he was ded, And was with gold and riche Stones Beset and bounde for the nones, And stod upon a fot on heihte Of burned gold, and with gret sleihte 2540 Of werkmanschipe it was begrave Of such werk as it scholde have, And was policed ek so clene That no signe of the Skulle is sene, Bot as it were a Gripes Ey. The king bad bere his Cuppe awey, Which stod tofore him on the bord, And fette thilke. Upon his word This Skulle is fet and wyn therinne, Wherof he bad his wif beginne: 2550 “Drink with thi fader, Dame,” he seide. And sche to his biddinge obeide, And tok the Skulle, and what hire liste Sche drank, as sche which nothing wiste What Cuppe it was: and thanne al oute The kyng in audience aboute Hath told it was hire fader Skulle, So that the lordes knowe schulle Of his bataille a soth witnesse, And made avant thurgh what prouesse 2560 He hath his wyves love wonne, Which of the Skulle hath so begonne. Tho was ther mochel Pride alofte, Thei speken alle, and sche was softe, Thenkende on thilke unkynde Pride, Of that hire lord so nyh hire side Avanteth him that he hath slain And piked out hire fader brain, And of the Skulle had mad a Cuppe. Sche soffreth al til thei were uppe, 2570 And tho sche hath seknesse feigned, And goth to chambre and hath compleigned Unto a Maide which sche triste, So that non other wyht it wiste. This Mayde Glodeside is hote, To whom this lady hath behote Of ladischipe al that sche can, To vengen hire upon this man, Which dede hire drinke in such a plit Among hem alle for despit 2580 Of hire and of hire fader bothe; Wherof hire thoghtes ben so wrothe, Sche seith, that sche schal noght be glad, Til that sche se him so bestad That he nomore make avant. And thus thei felle in covenant, That thei acorden ate laste, With suche wiles as thei caste That thei wol gete of here acord Som orped knyht to sle this lord: 2590 And with this sleihte thei beginne, How thei Helmege myhten winne, Which was the kinges Boteler, A proud a lusti Bacheler, And Glodeside he loveth hote. And sche, to make him more assote, Hire love granteth, and be nyhte Thei schape how thei togedre myhte Abedde meete: and don it was This same nyht; and in this cas 2600 The qwene hirself the nyht secounde Wente in hire stede, and there hath founde A chambre derk withoute liht, And goth to bedde to this knyht. And he, to kepe his observance, To love doth his obeissance, And weneth it be Glodeside; And sche thanne after lay aside, And axeth him what he hath do, And who sche was sche tolde him tho, 2610 And seide: “Helmege, I am thi qwene, Now schal thi love wel be sene Of that thou hast thi wille wroght: Or it schal sore ben aboght, Or thou schalt worche as I thee seie. And if thou wolt be such a weie Do my plesance and holde it stille, For evere I schal ben at thi wille, Bothe I and al myn heritage.” Anon the wylde loves rage, 2620 In which noman him can governe, Hath mad him that he can noght werne, Bot fell al hol to hire assent: And thus the whiel is al miswent, The which fortune hath upon honde; For how that evere it after stonde, Thei schope among hem such a wyle, The king was ded withinne a whyle. So slihly cam it noght aboute That thei ne ben descoevered oute, 2630 So that it thoghte hem for the beste To fle, for there was no reste: And thus the tresor of the king Thei trusse and mochel other thing, And with a certein felaschipe Thei fledde and wente awey be schipe, And hielde here rihte cours fro thenne, Til that thei come to Ravenne, Wher thei the Dukes helpe soghte. And he, so as thei him besoghte, 2640 A place granteth forto duelle; Bot after, whan he herde telle Of the manere how thei have do, This Duk let schape for hem so, That of a puison which thei drunke Thei hadden that thei have beswunke.

And al this made avant of Pride: Good is therfore a man to hide His oghne pris, for if he speke, He mai lihtliche his thonk tobreke. 2650 In armes lith non avantance To him which thenkth his name avance And be renomed of his dede: And also who that thenkth to spede Of love, he mai him noght avaunte; For what man thilke vice haunte, His pourpos schal fulofte faile. In armes he that wol travaile Or elles loves grace atteigne, His lose tunge he mot restreigne, 2660 Which berth of his honour the keie.

Forthi, my Sone, in alle weie Tak riht good hiede of this matiere.

I thonke you, my fader diere, This scole is of a gentil lore; And if ther be oght elles more Of Pride, which I schal eschuie, Now axeth forth, and I wol suie What thing that ye me wole enforme.

Mi Sone, yit in other forme 2670 Ther is a vice of Prides lore, Which lich an hauk whan he wol sore, Fleith upon heihte in his delices After the likynge of his vices, And wol no mannes resoun knowe, Till he doun falle and overthrowe. This vice veine gloire is hote, Wherof, my Sone, I thee behote To trete and speke in such a wise, That thou thee myht the betre avise. 2680

The proude vice of veine gloire Remembreth noght of purgatoire, Hise worldes joyes ben so grete, Him thenkth of hevene no beyete; This lives Pompe is al his pes: Yit schal he deie natheles, And therof thenkth he bot a lite, For al his lust is to delite In newe thinges, proude and veine, Als ferforth as he mai atteigne. 2690 I trowe, if that he myhte make His body newe, he wolde take A newe forme and leve his olde: For what thing that he mai beholde, The which to comun us is strange, Anon his olde guise change He wole and falle therupon, Lich unto the Camelion, Which upon every sondri hewe That he beholt he moste newe 2700 His colour, and thus unavised Fulofte time he stant desguised. Mor jolif than the brid in Maii He makth him evere freissh and gay, And doth al his array desguise, So that of him the newe guise Of lusti folk alle othre take; And ek he can carolles make, Rondeal, balade and virelai. And with al this, if that he may 2710 Of love gete him avantage, Anon he wext of his corage So overglad, that of his ende Him thenkth ther is no deth comende: For he hath thanne at alle tide Of love such a maner pride, Him thenkth his joie is endeles.

Now schrif thee, Sone, in godes pes, And of thi love tell me plein If that thi gloire hath be so vein. 2720

Mi fader, as touchinge of al I may noght wel ne noght ne schal Of veine gloire excuse me, That I ne have for love be The betre adresced and arraied; And also I have ofte assaied Rondeal, balade and virelai For hire on whom myn herte lai To make, and also forto peinte Caroles with my wordes qweinte, 2730 To sette my pourpos alofte; And thus I sang hem forth fulofte In halle and ek in chambre aboute, And made merie among the route, Bot yit ne ferde I noght the bet. Thus was my gloire in vein beset Of al the joie that I made; For whanne I wolde with hire glade, And of hire love songes make, Sche saide it was noght for hir sake, 2740 And liste noght my songes hiere Ne witen what the wordes were. So forto speke of myn arrai, Yit couthe I nevere be so gay Ne so wel make a songe of love, Wherof I myhte ben above And have encheson to be glad; Bot rathere I am ofte adrad For sorwe that sche seith me nay. And natheles I wol noght say, 2750 That I nam glad on other side; For fame, that can nothing hide, Alday wol bringe unto myn Ere Of that men speken hier and there, How that my ladi berth the pris, How sche is fair, how sche is wis, How sche is wommanlich of chiere; Of al this thing whanne I mai hiere, What wonder is thogh I be fain? And ek whanne I may hiere sain 2760 Tidinges of my ladi hele, Althogh I may noght with hir dele, Yit am I wonder glad of that; For whanne I wot hire good astat, As for that time I dar wel swere, Non other sorwe mai me dere, Thus am I gladed in this wise. Bot, fader, of youre lores wise, Of whiche ye be fully tawht, Now tell me if yow thenketh awht 2770 That I therof am forto wyte.

Of that ther is I thee acquite, Mi sone, he seide, and for thi goode I wolde that thou understode: For I thenke upon this matiere To telle a tale, as thou schalt hiere, How that ayein this proude vice The hihe god of his justice Is wroth and gret vengance doth. Now herkne a tale that is soth: 2780 Thogh it be noght of loves kinde, A gret ensample thou schalt finde This veine gloire forto fle, Which is so full of vanite.

Ther was a king that mochel myhte, Which Nabugodonosor hihte, Of whom that I spak hier tofore. Yit in the bible his name is bore, For al the world in Orient Was hol at his comandement: 2790 As thanne of kinges to his liche Was non so myhty ne so riche; To his Empire and to his lawes, As who seith, alle in thilke dawes Were obeissant and tribut bere, As thogh he godd of Erthe were. With strengthe he putte kinges under, And wroghte of Pride many a wonder; He was so full of veine gloire, That he ne hadde no memoire 2800 That ther was eny good bot he, For pride of his prosperite; Til that the hihe king of kinges, Which seth and knoweth alle thinges, Whos yhe mai nothing asterte,— The privetes of mannes herte Thei speke and sounen in his Ere As thogh thei lowde wyndes were,— He tok vengance upon this pride. Bot for he wolde awhile abide 2810 To loke if he him wolde amende, To him a foretokne he sende, And that was in his slep be nyhte. This proude kyng a wonder syhte Hadde in his swevene, ther he lay: Him thoghte, upon a merie day As he behield the world aboute, A tree fulgrowe he syh theroute, Which stod the world amiddes evene, Whos heihte straghte up to the hevene; 2820 The leves weren faire and large, Of fruit it bar so ripe a charge, That alle men it myhte fede: He sih also the bowes spriede Above al Erthe, in whiche were The kinde of alle briddes there; And eke him thoghte he syh also The kinde of alle bestes go Under this tre aboute round And fedden hem upon the ground. 2830 As he this wonder stod and syh, Him thoghte he herde a vois on hih Criende, and seide aboven alle: “Hew doun this tree and lett it falle, The leves let defoule in haste And do the fruit destruie and waste, And let of schreden every braunche, Bot ate Rote let it staunche. Whan al his Pride is cast to grounde, The rote schal be faste bounde, 2840 And schal no mannes herte bere, Bot every lust he schal forbere Of man, and lich an Oxe his mete Of gras he schal pourchace and ete, Til that the water of the hevene Have waisshen him be times sevene, So that he be thurghknowe ariht What is the heveneliche myht, And be mad humble to the wille Of him which al mai save and spille.” 2850

This king out of his swefne abreide, And he upon the morwe it seide Unto the clerkes whiche he hadde: Bot non of hem the sothe aradde, Was non his swevene cowthe undo. And it stod thilke time so, This king hadde in subjeccioun Judee, and of affeccioun Above alle othre on Daniel He loveth, for he cowthe wel 2860 Divine that non other cowthe: To him were alle thinges cowthe, As he it hadde of goddes grace. He was before the kinges face Asent, and bode that he scholde Upon the point the king of tolde The fortune of his swevene expounde, As it scholde afterward be founde. Whan Daniel this swevene herde, He stod long time er he ansuerde, 2870 And made a wonder hevy chiere. The king tok hiede of his manere, And bad him telle that he wiste, As he to whom he mochel triste, And seide he wolde noght be wroth. Bot Daniel was wonder loth, And seide: “Upon thi fomen alle, Sire king, thi swevene mote falle; And natheles touchende of this I wol the tellen how it is, 2880 And what desese is to thee schape: God wot if thou it schalt ascape.

The hihe tree, which thou hast sein With lef and fruit so wel besein, The which stod in the world amiddes, So that the bestes and the briddes Governed were of him al one, Sire king, betokneth thi persone, Which stant above all erthli thinges. Thus regnen under the the kinges, 2890 And al the poeple unto thee louteth, And al the world thi pouer doubteth, So that with vein honour deceived Thou hast the reverence weyved Fro him which is thi king above, That thou for drede ne for love Wolt nothing knowen of thi godd; Which now for thee hath mad a rodd, Thi veine gloire and thi folie With grete peines to chastie. 2900 And of the vois thou herdest speke, Which bad the bowes forto breke And hewe and felle doun the tree, That word belongeth unto thee; Thi regne schal ben overthrowe, And thou despuiled for a throwe: Bot that the Rote scholde stonde, Be that thou schalt wel understonde, Ther schal abyden of thi regne A time ayein whan thou schalt regne. 2910 And ek of that thou herdest seie, To take a mannes herte aweie And sette there a bestial, So that he lich an Oxe schal Pasture, and that he be bereined Be times sefne and sore peined, Til that he knowe his goddes mihtes, Than scholde he stonde ayein uprihtes,— Al this betokneth thin astat, Which now with god is in debat: 2920 Thi mannes forme schal be lassed, Til sevene yer ben overpassed, And in the liknesse of a beste Of gras schal be thi real feste, The weder schal upon thee reine. And understond that al this peine, Which thou schalt soffre thilke tide, Is schape al only for thi pride Of veine gloire, and of the sinne Which thou hast longe stonden inne. 2930

So upon this condicioun Thi swevene hath exposicioun. Bot er this thing befalle in dede, Amende thee, this wolde I rede: Yif and departe thin almesse, Do mercy forth with rihtwisnesse, Besech and prei the hihe grace, For so thou myht thi pes pourchace With godd, and stonde in good acord.”

Bot Pride is loth to leve his lord, 2940 And wol noght soffre humilite With him to stonde in no degree; And whan a schip hath lost his stiere, Is non so wys that mai him stiere Ayein the wawes in a rage. This proude king in his corage Humilite hath so forlore, That for no swevene he sih tofore, Ne yit for al that Daniel Him hath conseiled everydel, 2950 He let it passe out of his mynde, Thurgh veine gloire, and as the blinde, He seth no weie, er him be wo. And fell withinne a time so, As he in Babiloine wente, The vanite of Pride him hente; His herte aros of veine gloire, So that he drowh into memoire His lordschipe and his regalie With wordes of Surquiderie. 2960 And whan that he him most avaunteth, That lord which veine gloire daunteth, Al sodeinliche, as who seith treis, Wher that he stod in his Paleis, He tok him fro the mennes sihte: Was non of hem so war that mihte Sette yhe wher that he becom. And thus was he from his kingdom Into the wilde Forest drawe, Wher that the myhti goddes lawe 2970 Thurgh his pouer dede him transforme Fro man into a bestes forme; And lich an Oxe under the fot He graseth, as he nedes mot, To geten him his lives fode. Tho thoghte him colde grases goode, That whilom eet the hote spices, Thus was he torned fro delices: The wyn which he was wont to drinke He tok thanne of the welles brinke 2980 Or of the pet or of the slowh, It thoghte him thanne good ynowh: In stede of chambres wel arraied He was thanne of a buissh wel paied, The harde ground he lay upon, For othre pilwes hath he non; The stormes and the Reines falle, The wyndes blowe upon him alle, He was tormented day and nyht, Such was the hihe goddes myht, 2990 Til sevene yer an ende toke. Upon himself tho gan he loke; In stede of mete gras and stres, In stede of handes longe cles, In stede of man a bestes lyke He syh; and thanne he gan to syke For cloth of gold and for perrie, Which him was wont to magnefie. Whan he behield his Cote of heres, He wepte and with fulwoful teres 3000 Up to the hevene he caste his chiere Wepende, and thoghte in this manere; Thogh he no wordes myhte winne, Thus seide his herte and spak withinne: “O mihti godd, that al hast wroght And al myht bringe ayein to noght, Now knowe I wel, bot al of thee, This world hath no prosperite: In thin aspect ben alle liche, The povere man and ek the riche, 3010 Withoute thee ther mai no wight, And thou above alle othre miht. O mihti lord, toward my vice Thi merci medle with justice; And I woll make a covenant, That of my lif the remenant I schal it be thi grace amende, And in thi lawe so despende That veine gloire I schal eschuie, And bowe unto thin heste and suie 3020 Humilite, and that I vowe.” And so thenkende he gan doun bowe, And thogh him lacke vois and speche, He gan up with his feet areche, And wailende in his bestly stevene He made his pleignte unto the hevene. He kneleth in his wise and braieth, To seche merci and assaieth His god, which made him nothing strange, Whan that he sih his pride change. 3030 Anon as he was humble and tame, He fond toward his god the same, And in a twinklinge of a lok His mannes forme ayein he tok, And was reformed to the regne In which that he was wont to regne; So that the Pride of veine gloire Evere afterward out of memoire He let it passe. And thus is schewed What is to ben of Pride unthewed 3040 Ayein the hihe goddes lawe, To whom noman mai be felawe.

Forthi, my Sone, tak good hiede So forto lede thi manhiede, That thou ne be noght lich a beste. Bot if thi lif schal ben honeste, Thou most humblesce take on honde, For thanne myht thou siker stonde: And forto speke it otherwise, A proud man can no love assise; 3050 For thogh a womman wolde him plese, His Pride can noght ben at ese.

Ther mai noman to mochel blame A vice which is forto blame; Forthi men scholde nothing hide That mihte falle in blame of Pride, Which is the werste vice of alle: Wherof, so as it was befalle, The tale I thenke of a Cronique To telle, if that it mai thee like, 3060 So that thou myht humblesce suie And ek the vice of Pride eschuie, Wherof the gloire is fals and vein; Which god himself hath in desdeign, That thogh it mounte for a throwe, It schal doun falle and overthrowe.

A king whilom was yong and wys, The which sette of his wit gret pris. Of depe ymaginaciouns And strange interpretaciouns, 3070 Problemes and demandes eke, His wisdom was to finde and seke; Wherof he wolde in sondri wise Opposen hem that weren wise. Bot non of hem it myhte bere Upon his word to yeve answere, Outaken on, which was a knyht; To him was every thing so liht, That also sone as he hem herde, The kinges wordes he answerde; 3080 What thing the king him axe wolde, Therof anon the trowthe he tolde. The king somdiel hadde an Envie, And thoghte he wolde his wittes plie To sette som conclusioun, Which scholde be confusioun Unto this knyht, so that the name And of wisdom the hihe fame Toward himself he wolde winne. And thus of al his wit withinne 3090 This king began to studie and muse, What strange matiere he myhte use The knyhtes wittes to confounde; And ate laste he hath it founde, And for the knyht anon he sente, That he schal telle what he mente. Upon thre pointz stod the matiere Of questions, as thou schalt hiere.

The ferste point of alle thre Was this: “What thing in his degre 3100 Of al this world hath nede lest, And yet men helpe it althermest?”

The secounde is: “What most is worth, And of costage is lest put forth?”

The thridde is: “Which is of most cost, And lest is worth and goth to lost?”