Chapter 18

Mi fader, evere yit er this In every place, in every stede, What so mi lady hath me bede, With al myn herte obedient I have therto be diligent. And if so is sche bidde noght, What thing that thanne into my thoght Comth ferst of that I mai suffise, I bowe and profre my servise, 1130 Somtime in chambre, somtime in halle, Riht as I se the times falle. And whan sche goth to hiere masse, That time schal noght overpasse, That I naproche hir ladihede, In aunter if I mai hire lede Unto the chapelle and ayein. Thanne is noght al mi weie in vein, Somdiel I mai the betre fare, Whan I, that mai noght fiele hir bare, 1140 Mai lede hire clothed in myn arm: Bot afterward it doth me harm Of pure ymaginacioun; For thanne this collacioun I make unto miselven ofte, And seie, “Ha lord, hou sche is softe, How sche is round, hou sche is smal! Now wolde god I hadde hire al Withoute danger at mi wille!” And thanne I sike and sitte stille, 1150 Of that I se mi besi thoght Is torned ydel into noght. Bot for al that lete I ne mai, Whanne I se time an other dai, That I ne do my besinesse Unto mi ladi worthinesse. For I therto mi wit afaite To se the times and awaite What is to done and what to leve: And so, whan time is, be hir leve, 1160 What thing sche bit me don, I do, And wher sche bidt me gon, I go, And whanne hir list to clepe, I come. Thus hath sche fulliche overcome Min ydelnesse til I sterve, So that I mot hire nedes serve, For as men sein, nede hath no lawe. Thus mot I nedly to hire drawe, I serve, I bowe, I loke, I loute, Min yhe folweth hire aboute, 1170 What so sche wole so wol I, Whan sche wol sitte, I knele by, And whan sche stant, than wol I stonde: Bot whan sche takth hir werk on honde Of wevinge or enbrouderie, Than can I noght bot muse and prie Upon hir fingres longe and smale, And now I thenke, and now I tale, And now I singe, and now I sike, And thus mi contienance I pike. 1180 And if it falle, as for a time Hir liketh noght abide bime, Bot besien hire on other thinges, Than make I othre tariinges To dreche forth the longe dai, For me is loth departe away. And thanne I am so simple of port, That forto feigne som desport I pleie with hire litel hound Now on the bedd, now on the ground, 1190 Now with hir briddes in the cage; For ther is non so litel page, Ne yit so simple a chamberere, That I ne make hem alle chere, Al for thei scholde speke wel: Thus mow ye sen mi besi whiel, That goth noght ydeliche aboute. And if hir list to riden oute On pelrinage or other stede, I come, thogh I be noght bede, 1200 And take hire in min arm alofte And sette hire in hire sadel softe, And so forth lede hire be the bridel, For that I wolde noght ben ydel. And if hire list to ride in Char, And thanne I mai therof be war, Anon I schape me to ryde Riht evene be the Chares side; And as I mai, I speke among, And otherwhile I singe a song, 1210 Which Ovide in his bokes made, And seide, “O whiche sorwes glade, O which wofull prosperite Belongeth to the proprete Of love, who so wole him serve! And yit therfro mai noman swerve, That he ne mot his lawe obeie.” And thus I ryde forth mi weie, And am riht besi overal With herte and with mi body al, 1220 As I have said you hier tofore. My goode fader, tell therfore, Of Ydelnesse if I have gilt.

Mi Sone, bot thou telle wilt Oght elles than I mai now hiere, Thou schalt have no penance hiere. And natheles a man mai se, How now adayes that ther be Ful manye of suche hertes slowe, That wol noght besien hem to knowe 1230 What thing love is, til ate laste, That he with strengthe hem overcaste, That malgre hem thei mote obeie And don al ydelschipe aweie, To serve wel and besiliche. Bot, Sone, thou art non of swiche, For love schal the wel excuse: Bot otherwise, if thou refuse To love, thou miht so per cas Ben ydel, as somtime was 1240 A kinges dowhter unavised, Til that Cupide hire hath chastised: Wherof thou schalt a tale hiere Acordant unto this matiere.

Of Armenye, I rede thus, Ther was a king, which Herupus Was hote, and he a lusti Maide To dowhter hadde, and as men saide Hire name was Rosiphelee; Which tho was of gret renomee, 1250 For sche was bothe wys and fair And scholde ben hire fader hair. Bot sche hadde o defalte of Slowthe Towardes love, and that was rowthe; For so wel cowde noman seie, Which mihte sette hire in the weie Of loves occupacion Thurgh non ymaginacion; That scole wolde sche noght knowe. And thus sche was on of the slowe 1260 As of such hertes besinesse, Til whanne Venus the goddesse, Which loves court hath forto reule, Hath broght hire into betre reule, Forth with Cupide and with his miht: For thei merveille how such a wiht, Which tho was in hir lusti age, Desireth nother Mariage Ne yit the love of paramours, Which evere hath be the comun cours 1270 Amonges hem that lusti were. So was it schewed after there: For he that hihe hertes loweth With fyri Dartes whiche he throweth, Cupide, which of love is godd, In chastisinge hath mad a rodd To dryve awei hir wantounesse; So that withinne a while, I gesse, Sche hadde on such a chance sporned, That al hire mod was overtorned, 1280 Which ferst sche hadde of slow manere: For thus it fell, as thou schalt hiere. Whan come was the Monthe of Maii, Sche wolde walke upon a dai, And that was er the Sonne Ariste; Of wommen bot a fewe it wiste, And forth sche wente prively Unto the Park was faste by, Al softe walkende on the gras, Til sche cam ther the Launde was, 1290 Thurgh which ther ran a gret rivere. It thoghte hir fair, and seide, “Here I wole abide under the schawe”: And bad hire wommen to withdrawe, And ther sche stod al one stille, To thenke what was in hir wille. Sche sih the swote floures springe, Sche herde glade foules singe, Sche sih the bestes in her kinde, The buck, the do, the hert, the hinde, 1300 The madle go with the femele; And so began ther a querele Betwen love and hir oghne herte, Fro which sche couthe noght asterte. And as sche caste hire yhe aboute, Sche syh clad in o suite a route Of ladis, wher thei comen ryde Along under the wodes syde: On faire amblende hors thei sete, That were al whyte, fatte and grete, 1310 And everichon thei ride on side. The Sadles were of such a Pride, With Perle and gold so wel begon, So riche syh sche nevere non; In kertles and in Copes riche Thei weren clothed, alle liche, Departed evene of whyt and blew; With alle lustes that sche knew Thei were enbrouded overal. Here bodies weren long and smal, 1320 The beaute faye upon her face Non erthly thing it may desface; Corones on here hed thei beere, As ech of hem a qweene weere, That al the gold of Cresus halle The leste coronal of alle Ne mihte have boght after the worth: Thus come thei ridende forth.

The kinges dowhter, which this syh, For pure abaissht drowh hire adryh 1330 And hield hire clos under the bowh, And let hem passen stille ynowh; For as hire thoghte in hire avis, To hem that were of such a pris Sche was noght worthi axen there, Fro when they come or what thei were: Bot levere than this worldes good Sche wolde have wist hou that it stod, And putte hire hed alitel oute; And as sche lokede hire aboute, 1340 Sche syh comende under the linde A womman up an hors behinde. The hors on which sche rod was blak, Al lene and galled on the back, And haltede, as he were encluyed, Wherof the womman was annuied; Thus was the hors in sori plit, Bot for al that a sterre whit Amiddes in the front he hadde. Hir Sadel ek was wonder badde, 1350 In which the wofull womman sat, And natheles ther was with that A riche bridel for the nones Of gold and preciouse Stones. Hire cote was somdiel totore; Aboute hir middel twenty score Of horse haltres and wel mo Ther hyngen ate time tho.

Thus whan sche cam the ladi nyh, Than tok sche betre hiede and syh 1360 This womman fair was of visage, Freyssh, lusti, yong and of tendre age; And so this ladi, ther sche stod, Bethoghte hire wel and understod That this, which com ridende tho, Tidinges couthe telle of tho, Which as sche sih tofore ryde, And putte hir forth and preide abide, And seide, “Ha, Suster, let me hiere, What ben thei, that now riden hiere, 1370 And ben so richeliche arraied?”

This womman, which com so esmaied, Ansuerde with ful softe speche, And seith, “Ma Dame, I schal you teche. These ar of tho that whilom were Servantz to love, and trowthe beere, Ther as thei hadde here herte set. Fare wel, for I mai noght be let: Ma Dame, I go to mi servise, So moste I haste in alle wise; 1380 Forthi, ma Dame, yif me leve, I mai noght longe with you leve.”

“Ha, goode Soster, yit I preie, Tell me whi ye ben so beseie And with these haltres thus begon.”

“Ma Dame, whilom I was on That to mi fader hadde a king; Bot I was slow, and for no thing Me liste noght to love obeie, And that I now ful sore abeie. 1390 For I whilom no love hadde, Min hors is now so fieble and badde, And al totore is myn arai, And every yeer this freisshe Maii These lusti ladis ryde aboute, And I mot nedes suie here route In this manere as ye now se, And trusse here haltres forth with me, And am bot as here horse knave. Non other office I ne have, 1400 Hem thenkth I am worthi nomore, For I was slow in loves lore, Whan I was able forto lere, And wolde noght the tales hiere Of hem that couthen love teche.”

“Now tell me thanne, I you beseche, Wherof that riche bridel serveth.”

With that hire chere awei sche swerveth, And gan to wepe, and thus sche tolde: “This bridel, which ye nou beholde 1410 So riche upon myn horse hed,— Ma Dame, afore, er I was ded, Whan I was in mi lusti lif, Ther fel into myn herte a strif Of love, which me overcom, So that therafter hiede I nom And thoghte I wolde love a kniht: That laste wel a fourtenyht, For it no lengere mihte laste, So nyh my lif was ate laste. 1420 Bot now, allas, to late war That I ne hadde him loved ar: For deth cam so in haste bime, Er I therto hadde eny time, That it ne mihte ben achieved. Bot for al that I am relieved, Of that mi will was good therto, That love soffreth it be so That I schal swiche a bridel were. Now have ye herd al myn ansuere: 1430 To godd, ma Dame, I you betake, And warneth alle for mi sake, Of love that thei ben noght ydel, And bidd hem thenke upon mi brydel.” And with that word al sodeinly Sche passeth, as it were a Sky, Al clene out of this ladi sihte: And tho for fere hire herte afflihte, And seide to hirself, “Helas! I am riht in the same cas. 1440 Bot if I live after this day, I schal amende it, if I may.” And thus homward this lady wente, And changede al hire ferste entente, Withinne hire herte and gan to swere That sche none haltres wolde bere.

Lo, Sone, hier miht thou taken hiede, How ydelnesse is forto drede, Namliche of love, as I have write. For thou miht understonde and wite, 1450 Among the gentil nacion Love is an occupacion, Which forto kepe hise lustes save Scholde every gentil herte have: For as the ladi was chastised, Riht so the knyht mai ben avised, Which ydel is and wol noght serve To love, he mai per cas deserve A grettere peine than sche hadde, Whan sche aboute with hire ladde 1460 The horse haltres; and forthi Good is to be wel war therbi. Bot forto loke aboven alle, These Maidens, hou so that it falle, Thei scholden take ensample of this Which I have told, for soth it is.

Mi ladi Venus, whom I serve, What womman wole hire thonk deserve, Sche mai noght thilke love eschuie Of paramours, bot sche mot suie 1470 Cupides lawe; and natheles Men sen such love sielde in pes, That it nys evere upon aspie Of janglinge and of fals Envie, Fulofte medlid with disese: Bot thilke love is wel at ese, Which set is upon mariage; For that dar schewen the visage In alle places openly. A gret mervaile it is forthi, 1480 How that a Maiden wolde lette, That sche hir time ne besette To haste unto that ilke feste, Wherof the love is al honeste. Men mai recovere lost of good, Bot so wys man yit nevere stod, Which mai recovere time lore: So mai a Maiden wel therfore Ensample take, of that sche strangeth Hir love, and longe er that sche changeth 1490 Hir herte upon hir lustes greene To mariage, as it is seene. For thus a yer or tuo or thre Sche lest, er that sche wedded be, Whyl sche the charge myhte bere Of children, whiche the world forbere Ne mai, bot if it scholde faile. Bot what Maiden hire esposaile Wol tarie, whan sche take mai, Sche schal per chance an other dai 1500 Be let, whan that hire lievest were. Wherof a tale unto hire Ere, Which is coupable upon this dede, I thenke telle of that I rede.

Among the Jewes, as men tolde, Ther was whilom be daies olde A noble Duck, which Jepte hihte. And fell, he scholde go to fyhte Ayein Amon the cruel king: And forto speke upon this thing, 1510 Withinne his herte he made avou To god and seide, “Ha lord, if thou Wolt grante unto thi man victoire, I schal in tokne of thi memoire The ferste lif that I mai se, Of man or womman wher it be, Anon as I come hom ayein, To thee, which art god sovereign, Slen in thi name and sacrifie.” And thus with his chivalerie 1520 He goth him forth, wher that he scholde, And wan al that he winne wolde And overcam his fomen alle.

Mai noman lette that schal falle. This Duc a lusti dowhter hadde, And fame, which the wordes spradde, Hath broght unto this ladi Ere How that hire fader hath do there. Sche waiteth upon his cominge With dansinge and with carolinge, 1530 As sche that wolde be tofore Al othre, and so sche was therfore In Masphat at hir fader gate The ferste; and whan he com therate, And sih his douhter, he tobreide Hise clothes and wepende he seide:

“O mihti god among ous hiere, Nou wot I that in no manere This worldes joie mai be plein. I hadde al that I coude sein 1540 Ayein mi fomen be thi grace, So whan I cam toward this place Ther was non gladdere man than I: But now, mi lord, al sodeinli Mi joie is torned into sorwe, For I mi dowhter schal tomorwe Tohewe and brenne in thi servise To loenge of thi sacrifise Thurgh min avou, so as it is.”

The Maiden, whan sche wiste of this, 1550 And sih the sorwe hir fader made, So as sche mai with wordes glade Conforteth him, and bad him holde The covenant which he is holde Towardes god, as he behihte. Bot natheles hire herte aflihte Of that sche sih hire deth comende; And thanne unto the ground knelende Tofore hir fader sche is falle, And seith, so as it is befalle 1560 Upon this point that sche schal deie, Of o thing ferst sche wolde him preie, That fourty daies of respit He wolde hir grante upon this plit, That sche the whyle mai bewepe Hir maidenhod, which sche to kepe So longe hath had and noght beset; Wherof her lusti youthe is let, That sche no children hath forthdrawe In Mariage after the lawe, 1570 So that the poeple is noght encressed. Bot that it mihte be relessed, That sche hir time hath lore so, Sche wolde be his leve go With othre Maidens to compleigne, And afterward unto the peine Of deth sche wolde come ayein.

The fader herde his douhter sein, And therupon of on assent The Maidens were anon asent, 1580 That scholden with this Maiden wende. So forto speke unto this ende, Thei gon the dounes and the dales With wepinge and with wofull tales, And every wyht hire maidenhiede Compleigneth upon thilke nede, That sche no children hadde bore, Wherof sche hath hir youthe lore, Which nevere sche recovere mai: For so fell that hir laste dai 1590 Was come, in which sche scholde take Hir deth, which sche may noght forsake. Lo, thus sche deiede a wofull Maide For thilke cause which I saide, As thou hast understonde above.

Mi fader, as toward the Love Of Maidens forto telle trowthe, Ye have thilke vice of Slowthe, Me thenkth, riht wonder wel declared, That ye the wommen have noght spared 1600 Of hem that tarien so behinde. Bot yit it falleth in my minde, Toward the men hou that ye spieke Of hem that wole no travail sieke In cause of love upon decerte: To speke in wordes so coverte, I not what travaill that ye mente.

Mi Sone, and after min entente I woll thee telle what I thoghte, Hou whilom men here loves boghte 1610 Thurgh gret travaill in strange londes, Wher that thei wroghten with here hondes Of armes many a worthi dede, In sondri place as men mai rede.

That every love of pure kinde Is ferst forthdrawe, wel I finde: Bot natheles yit overthis Decerte doth so that it is The rather had in mani place. Forthi who secheth loves grace, 1620 Wher that these worthi wommen are, He mai noght thanne himselve spare Upon his travail forto serve, Wherof that he mai thonk deserve, There as these men of Armes be, Somtime over the grete Se: So that be londe and ek be Schipe He mot travaile for worschipe And make manye hastyf rodes, Somtime in Prus, somtime in Rodes, 1630 And somtime into Tartarie; So that these heraldz on him crie, “Vailant, vailant, lo, wher he goth!” And thanne he yifth hem gold and cloth, So that his fame mihte springe, And to his ladi Ere bringe Som tidinge of his worthinesse; So that sche mihte of his prouesce Of that sche herde men recorde, The betre unto his love acorde 1640 And danger pute out of hire mod, Whanne alle men recorden good, And that sche wot wel, for hir sake That he no travail wol forsake.

Mi Sone, of this travail I meene: Nou schrif thee, for it schal be sene If thou art ydel in this cas.

My fader ye, and evere was: For as me thenketh trewely That every man doth mor than I 1650 As of this point, and if so is That I have oght so don er this, It is so litel of acompte, As who seith, it mai noght amonte To winne of love his lusti yifte. For this I telle you in schrifte, That me were levere hir love winne Than Kaire and al that is ther inne: And forto slen the hethen alle, I not what good ther mihte falle, 1660 So mochel blod thogh ther be schad. This finde I writen, hou Crist bad That noman other scholde sle. What scholde I winne over the Se, If I mi ladi loste at hom? Bot passe thei the salte fom, To whom Crist bad thei scholden preche To al the world and his feith teche: Bot now thei rucken in here nest And resten as hem liketh best 1670 In all the swetnesse of delices. Thus thei defenden ous the vices, And sitte hemselven al amidde; To slen and feihten thei ous bidde Hem whom thei scholde, as the bok seith, Converten unto Cristes feith. Bot hierof have I gret mervaile, Hou thei wol bidde me travaile: A Sarazin if I sle schal, I sle the Soule forth withal, 1680 And that was nevere Cristes lore. Bot nou ho ther, I seie nomore.

Bot I wol speke upon mi schrifte; And to Cupide I make a yifte, That who as evere pris deserve Of armes, I wol love serve; And thogh I scholde hem bothe kepe, Als wel yit wolde I take kepe Whan it were time to abide, As forto travaile and to ryde: 1690 For how as evere a man laboure, Cupide appointed hath his houre.

For I have herd it telle also, Achilles lefte hise armes so Bothe of himself and of his men At Troie for Polixenen, Upon hire love whanne he fell, That for no chance that befell Among the Grecs or up or doun, He wolde noght ayein the toun 1700 Ben armed, for the love of hire. And so me thenketh, lieve Sire, A man of armes mai him reste Somtime in hope for the beste, If he mai finde a weie nerr. What scholde I thanne go so ferr In strange londes many a mile To ryde, and lese at hom therwhile Mi love? It were a schort beyete To winne chaf and lese whete. 1710 Bot if mi ladi bidde wolde, That I for hire love scholde Travaile, me thenkth trewely I mihte fle thurghout the Sky, And go thurghout the depe Se, For al ne sette I at a stre What thonk that I mihte elles gete. What helpeth it a man have mete, Wher drinke lacketh on the bord? What helpeth eny mannes word 1720 To seie hou I travaile faste, Wher as me faileth ate laste That thing which I travaile fore? O in good time were he bore, That mihte atteigne such a mede. Bot certes if I mihte spede With eny maner besinesse Of worldes travail, thanne I gesse, Ther scholde me non ydelschipe Departen fro hir ladischipe. 1730 Bot this I se, on daies nou The blinde god, I wot noght hou, Cupido, which of love is lord, He set the thinges in discord, That thei that lest to love entende Fulofte he wole hem yive and sende Most of his grace; and thus I finde That he that scholde go behinde, Goth many a time ferr tofore: So wot I noght riht wel therfore, 1740 On whether bord that I schal seile. Thus can I noght miself conseile, Bot al I sette on aventure, And am, as who seith, out of cure For ought that I can seie or do: For everemore I finde it so, The more besinesse I leie, The more that I knele and preie With goode wordes and with softe, The more I am refused ofte, 1750 With besinesse and mai noght winne. And in good feith that is gret Sinne; For I mai seie, of dede and thoght That ydel man have I be noght; For hou as evere I be deslaied, Yit evermore I have assaied. Bot thogh my besinesse laste, Al is bot ydel ate laste, For whan theffect is ydelnesse, I not what thing is besinesse. 1760 Sei, what availeth al the dede, Which nothing helpeth ate nede? For the fortune of every fame Schal of his ende bere a name. And thus for oght is yit befalle, An ydel man I wol me calle As after myn entendement: Bot upon youre amendement, Min holi fader, as you semeth, Mi reson and my cause demeth. 1770

Mi Sone, I have herd thi matiere, Of that thou hast thee schriven hiere: And forto speke of ydel fare, Me semeth that thou tharst noght care, Bot only that thou miht noght spede. And therof, Sone, I wol thee rede, Abyd, and haste noght to faste; Thi dees ben every dai to caste, Thou nost what chance schal betyde. Betre is to wayte upon the tyde 1780 Than rowe ayein the stremes stronge: For thogh so be thee thenketh longe, Per cas the revolucion Of hevene and thi condicion Ne be noght yit of on acord. Bot I dar make this record To Venus, whos Prest that I am, That sithen that I hidir cam To hiere, as sche me bad, thi lif, Wherof thou elles be gultif, 1790 Thou miht hierof thi conscience Excuse, and of gret diligence, Which thou to love hast so despended, Thou oghtest wel to be comended. Bot if so be that ther oght faile, Of that thou slowthest to travaile In armes forto ben absent, And for thou makst an argument Of that thou seidest hiere above, Hou Achilles thurgh strengthe of love 1800 Hise armes lefte for a throwe, Thou schalt an other tale knowe, Which is contraire, as thou schalt wite. For this a man mai finde write, Whan that knyhthode schal be werred, Lust mai noght thanne be preferred; The bedd mot thanne be forsake And Schield and spere on honde take, Which thing schal make hem after glade, Whan thei ben worthi knihtes made. 1810 Wherof, so as it comth to honde, A tale thou schalt understonde, Hou that a kniht schal armes suie, And for the while his ese eschuie.