Chapter 29

Thus whan this Ston was boght and sold, Homward with joie manyfold 5090 This Bardus goth; and whan he cam Hom to his hous and that he nam His gold out of his Purs, withinne He fond his Ston also therinne, Wherof for joie his herte pleide, Unto his wif and thus he seide, “Lo, hier my gold, lo, hier mi Ston!” His wif hath wonder therupon, And axeth him hou that mai be. “Nou be mi trouthe I not,” quod he, 5100 “Bot I dar swere upon a bok, That to my Marchant I it tok, And he it hadde whan I wente: So knowe I noght to what entente It is nou hier, bot it be grace. Forthi tomorwe in other place I wole it fonde forto selle, And if it wol noght with him duelle, Bot crepe into mi purs ayein, Than dar I saufly swere and sein, 5110 It is the vertu of the Ston.”

The morwe cam, and he is gon To seche aboute in other stede His Ston to selle, and he so dede, And lefte it with his chapman there. Bot whan that he cam elleswhere, In presence of his wif at hom, Out of his Purs and that he nom His gold, he fond his Ston withal: And thus it fell him overal, 5120 Where he it solde in sondri place, Such was the fortune and the grace. Bot so wel may nothing ben hidd, That it nys ate laste kidd: This fame goth aboute Rome So ferforth, that the wordes come To themperour Justinian; And he let sende for the man, And axede him hou that it was. And Bardus tolde him al the cas, 5130 Hou that the worm and ek the beste, Althogh thei maden no beheste, His travail hadden wel aquit; Bot he which hadde a mannes wit, And made his covenant be mouthe And swor therto al that he couthe To parte and yiven half his good, Hath nou foryete hou that it stod, As he which wol no trouthe holde.

This Emperour al that he tolde 5140 Hath herd, and thilke unkindenesse He seide he wolde himself redresse. And thus in court of juggement This Adrian was thanne assent, And the querele in audience Declared was in the presence Of themperour and many mo; Wherof was mochel speche tho And gret wondringe among the press. Bot ate laste natheles 5150 For the partie which hath pleigned The lawe hath diemed and ordeigned Be hem that were avised wel, That he schal have the halvendel Thurghout of Adrianes good. And thus of thilke unkinde blod Stant the memoire into this day, Wherof that every wysman may Ensamplen him, and take in mynde What schame it is to ben unkinde; 5160 Ayein the which reson debateth, And every creature it hateth.

Forthi, mi Sone, in thin office I rede fle that ilke vice. For riht as the Cronique seith Of Adrian, hou he his feith Foryat for worldes covoitise, Fulofte in such a maner wise Of lovers nou a man mai se Full manye that unkinde be: 5170 For wel behote and evele laste That is here lif; for ate laste, Whan that thei have here wille do, Here love is after sone ago. What seist thou, Sone, to this cas?

Mi fader, I wol seie Helas, That evere such a man was bore, Which whan he hath his trouthe suore And hath of love what he wolde, That he at eny time scholde 5180 Evere after in his herte finde To falsen and to ben unkinde. Bot, fader, as touchende of me, I mai noght stonde in that degre; For I tok nevere of love why, That I ne mai wel go therby And do my profit elles where, For eny sped I finde there. I dar wel thenken al aboute, Bot I ne dar noght speke it oute; 5190 And if I dorste, I wolde pleigne, That sche for whom I soffre peine And love hir evere aliche hote, That nouther yive ne behote In rewardinge of mi servise It list hire in no maner wise. I wol noght say that sche is kinde, And forto sai sche is unkinde, That dar I noght; bot god above, Which demeth every herte of love, 5200 He wot that on myn oghne side Schal non unkindeschipe abide: If it schal with mi ladi duelle, Therof dar I nomore telle. Nou, goode fader, as it is, Tell me what thenketh you of this.

Mi Sone, of that unkindeschipe, The which toward thi ladischipe Thou pleignest, for sche wol thee noght, Thou art to blamen of that thoght. 5210 For it mai be that thi desir, Thogh it brenne evere as doth the fyr, Per cas to hire honour missit, Or elles time com noght yit, Which standt upon thi destine: Forthi, mi Sone, I rede thee, Thenk wel, what evere the befalle; For noman hath his lustes alle. Bot as thou toldest me before That thou to love art noght forswore, 5220 And hast don non unkindenesse, Thou miht therof thi grace blesse: And lef noght that continuance; For ther mai be no such grevance To love, as is unkindeschipe. Wherof to kepe thi worschipe, So as these olde bokes tale, I schal thee telle a redi tale: Nou herkne and be wel war therby, For I wol telle it openly. 5230

Mynos, as telleth the Poete, The which whilom was king of Crete, A Sone hadde and Androchee He hihte: and so befell that he Unto Athenes forto lere Was send, and so he bar him there, For that he was of hih lignage, Such pride he tok in his corage, That he foryeten hath the Scoles, And in riote among the foles 5240 He dede manye thinges wronge; And useth thilke lif so longe, Til ate laste of that he wroghte He fond the meschief which he soghte, Wherof it fell that he was slain. His fader, which it herde sain, Was wroth, and al that evere he mihte, Of men of Armes he him dighte A strong pouer, and forth he wente Unto Athenys, where he brente 5250 The pleine contre al aboute: The Cites stode of him in doute, As thei that no defence hadde Ayein the pouer which he ladde.

Egeüs, which was there king, His conseil tok upon this thing, For he was thanne in the Cite: So that of pes into tretee Betwen Mynos and Egeüs Thei felle, and ben acorded thus; 5260 That king Mynos fro yer to yeere Receive schal, as thou schalt here, Out of Athenys for truage Of men that were of myhti Age Persones nyne, of whiche he schal His wille don in special For vengance of his Sones deth. Non other grace ther ne geth, Bot forto take the juise; And that was don in such a wise, 5270 Which stod upon a wonder cas. For thilke time so it was, Wherof that men yit rede and singe, King Mynos hadde in his kepinge A cruel Monstre, as seith the geste: For he was half man and half beste, And Minotaurus he was hote, Which was begete in a riote Upon Pasiphe, his oghne wif, Whil he was oute upon the strif 5280 Of thilke grete Siege at Troie. Bot sche, which lost hath alle joie, Whan that sche syh this Monstre bore, Bad men ordeigne anon therfore: And fell that ilke time thus, Ther was a Clerk, on Dedalus, Which hadde ben of hire assent Of that hir world was so miswent; And he made of his oghne wit, Wherof the remembrance is yit, 5290 For Minotaure such an hous, Which was so strange and merveilous, That what man that withinne wente, Ther was so many a sondri wente, That he ne scholde noght come oute, But gon amased al aboute. And in this hous to loke and warde Was Minotaurus put in warde, That what lif that therinne cam, Or man or beste, he overcam 5300 And slow, and fedde him therupon; And in this wise many on Out of Athenys for truage Devoured weren in that rage. For every yeer thei schope hem so, Thei of Athenys, er thei go Toward that ilke wofull chance, As it was set in ordinance, Upon fortune here lot thei caste; Til that Theseüs ate laste, 5310 Which was the kinges Sone there, Amonges othre that ther were In thilke yeer, as it befell, The lot upon his chance fell. He was a worthi kniht withalle; And whan he sih this chance falle, He ferde as thogh he tok non hiede, Bot al that evere he mihte spiede, With him and with his felaschipe Forth into Crete he goth be Schipe; 5320 Wher that the king Mynos he soghte, And profreth all that he him oghte Upon the point of here acord.

This sterne king, this cruel lord Tok every day on of the Nyne, And put him to the discipline Of Minotaure, to be devoured; Bot Theseüs was so favoured, That he was kept til ate laste. And in the meene while he caste 5330 What thing him were best to do: And fell that Adriagne tho, Which was the dowhter of Mynos, And hadde herd the worthi los Of Theseüs and of his myht, And syh he was a lusti kniht, Hire hole herte on him sche leide, And he also of love hir preide, So ferforth that thei were al on. And sche ordeigneth thanne anon 5340 In what manere he scholde him save, And schop so that sche dede him have A clue of thred, of which withinne Ferst ate dore he schal beginne With him to take that on ende, That whan he wolde ayeinward wende, He mihte go the same weie. And over this, so as I seie, Of pich sche tok him a pelote, The which he scholde into the throte 5350 Of Minotaure caste rihte: Such wepne also for him sche dighte, That he be reson mai noght faile To make an ende of his bataile; For sche him tawhte in sondri wise, Til he was knowe of thilke emprise, Hou he this beste schulde quelle. And thus, schort tale forto telle, So as this Maide him hadde tawht, Theseüs with this Monstre fawht, 5360 Smot of his hed, the which he nam, And be the thred, so as he cam, He goth ayein, til he were oute. Tho was gret wonder al aboute: Mynos the tribut hath relessed, And so was al the werre cessed Betwen Athene and hem of Crete.

Bot now to speke of thilke suete, Whos beaute was withoute wane, This faire Maiden Adriane, 5370 Whan that sche sih Theseüs sound, Was nevere yit upon the ground A gladder wyht that sche was tho. Theseüs duelte a dai or tuo Wher that Mynos gret chiere him dede: Theseüs in a prive stede Hath with this Maiden spoke and rouned, That sche to him was abandouned In al that evere that sche couthe, So that of thilke lusty youthe 5380 Al prively betwen hem tweie The ferste flour he tok aweie. For he so faire tho behihte That evere, whil he live mihte, He scholde hire take for his wif, And as his oghne hertes lif He scholde hire love and trouthe bere; And sche, which mihte noght forbere, So sore loveth him ayein, That what as evere he wolde sein 5390 With al hire herte sche believeth. And thus his pourpos he achieveth, So that assured of his trouthe With him sche wente, and that was routhe.

Fedra hire yonger Soster eke, A lusti Maide, a sobre, a meke, Fulfild of alle curtesie, For Sosterhode and compainie Of love, which was hem betuene, To sen hire Soster mad a queene, 5400 Hire fader lefte and forth sche wente With him, which al his ferste entente Foryat withinne a litel throwe, So that it was al overthrowe, Whan sche best wende it scholde stonde. The Schip was blowe fro the londe, Wherin that thei seilende were; This Adriagne hath mochel fere Of that the wynd so loude bleu, As sche which of the See ne kneu, 5410 And preide forto reste a whyle. And so fell that upon an yle, Which Chyo hihte, thei ben drive, Where he to hire his leve hath yive That sche schal londe and take hire reste. Bot that was nothing for the beste: For whan sche was to londe broght, Sche, which that time thoghte noght Bot alle trouthe, and tok no kepe, Hath leid hire softe forto slepe, 5420 As sche which longe hath ben forwacched; Bot certes sche was evele macched And fer from alle loves kinde; For more than the beste unkinde Theseüs, which no trouthe kepte, Whil that this yonge ladi slepte, Fulfild of his unkindeschipe Hath al foryete the goodschipe Which Adriane him hadde do, And bad unto the Schipmen tho 5430 Hale up the seil and noght abyde, And forth he goth the same tyde Toward Athene, and hire alonde He lefte, which lay nyh the stronde Slepende, til that sche awok. Bot whan that sche cast up hire lok Toward the stronde and sih no wyht, Hire herte was so sore aflyht, That sche ne wiste what to thinke, Bot drouh hire to the water brinke, 5440 Wher sche behield the See at large. Sche sih no Schip, sche sih no barge Als ferforth as sche mihte kenne: “Ha lord,” sche seide, “which a Senne, As al the world schal after hiere, Upon this woful womman hiere This worthi kniht hath don and wroght! I wende I hadde his love boght, And so deserved ate nede, Whan that he stod upon his drede, 5450 And ek the love he me behihte. It is gret wonder hou he mihte Towardes me nou ben unkinde, And so to lete out of his mynde Thing which he seide his oghne mouth. Bot after this whan it is couth And drawe into the worldes fame, It schal ben hindringe of his name: For wel he wot and so wot I, He yaf his trouthe bodily, 5460 That he myn honour scholde kepe.” And with that word sche gan to wepe, And sorweth more than ynouh: Hire faire tresces sche todrouh, And with hirself tok such a strif, That sche betwen the deth and lif Swounende lay fulofte among. And al was this on him along, Which was to love unkinde so, Wherof the wrong schal everemo 5470 Stonde in Cronique of remembrance. And ek it asketh a vengance To ben unkinde in loves cas, So as Theseüs thanne was, Al thogh he were a noble kniht; For he the lawe of loves riht Forfeted hath in alle weie, That Adriagne he putte aweie, Which was a gret unkinde dede: And after this, so as I rede, 5480 Fedra, the which hir Soster is, He tok in stede of hire, and this Fel afterward to mochel teene. For thilke vice of which I meene, Unkindeschipe, where it falleth, The trouthe of mannes herte it palleth, That he can no good dede aquite: So mai he stonde of no merite Towardes god, and ek also Men clepen him the worldes fo; 5490 For he nomore than the fend Unto non other man is frend, Bot al toward himself al one. Forthi, mi Sone, in thi persone This vice above all othre fle.

Mi fader, as ye techen me, I thenke don in this matiere. Bot over this nou wolde I hiere, Wherof I schal me schryve more.

Mi goode Sone, and for thi lore, 5500 After the reule of coveitise I schal the proprete devise Of every vice by and by. Nou herkne and be wel war therby.

In the lignage of Avarice, Mi Sone, yit ther is a vice, His rihte name it is Ravine, Which hath a route of his covine. Ravine among the maistres duelleth, And with his servantz, as men telleth, 5510 Extorcion is nou withholde: Ravine of othre mennes folde Makth his larder and paieth noght; For wher as evere it mai be soght, In his hous ther schal nothing lacke, And that fulofte abyth the packe Of povere men that duelle aboute. Thus stant the comun poeple in doute, Which can do non amendement; For whanne him faileth paiement, 5520 Ravine makth non other skile, Bot takth be strengthe what he wile.

So ben ther in the same wise Lovers, as I thee schal devise, That whan noght elles mai availe, Anon with strengthe thei assaile And gete of love the sesine, Whan thei se time, be Ravine.

Forthi, mi Sone, schrif thee hier, If thou hast ben a Raviner 5530 Of love.

Certes, fader, no: For I mi ladi love so, That thogh I were as was Pompeie, That al the world me wolde obeie, Or elles such as Alisandre, I wolde noght do such a sklaundre; It is no good man, which so doth.

In good feith, Sone, thou seist soth: For he that wole of pourveance Be such a weie his lust avance, 5540 He schal it after sore abie, Bot if these olde ensamples lie.

Nou, goode fader, tell me on, So as ye cunne manyon, Touchende of love in this matiere.

Nou list, mi Sone, and thou schalt hiere, So as it hath befalle er this, In loves cause hou that it is A man to take be Ravine The preie which is femeline. 5550

Ther was a real noble king, And riche of alle worldes thing, Which of his propre enheritance Athenes hadde in governance, And who so thenke therupon, His name was king Pandion. Tuo douhtres hadde he be his wif, The whiche he lovede as his lif; The ferste douhter Progne hihte, And the secounde, as sche wel mihte, 5560 Was cleped faire Philomene, To whom fell after mochel tene. The fader of his pourveance His doughter Progne wolde avance, And yaf hire unto mariage A worthi king of hih lignage, A noble kniht eke of his hond, So was he kid in every lond, Of Trace he hihte Tereüs; The clerk Ovide telleth thus. 5570 This Tereüs his wif hom ladde, A lusti lif with hire he hadde; Til it befell upon a tyde, This Progne, as sche lay him besyde, Bethoughte hir hou it mihte be That sche hir Soster myhte se, And to hir lord hir will sche seide, With goodly wordes and him preide That sche to hire mihte go: And if it liked him noght so, 5580 That thanne he wolde himselve wende, Or elles be som other sende, Which mihte hire diere Soster griete, And schape hou that thei mihten miete. Hir lord anon to that he herde Yaf his acord, and thus ansuerde: “I wole,” he seide, “for thi sake The weie after thi Soster take Miself, and bringe hire, if I may.” And sche with that, there as he lay, 5590 Began him in hire armes clippe, And kist him with hir softe lippe, And seide, “Sire, grant mercy.” And he sone after was redy, And tok his leve forto go; In sori time dede he so.

This Tereüs goth forth to Schipe With him and with his felaschipe; Be See the rihte cours he nam, Into the contre til he cam, 5600 Wher Philomene was duellinge, And of hir Soster the tidinge He tolde, and tho thei weren glade, And mochel joie of him thei made. The fader and the moder bothe To leve here douhter weren lothe, Bot if thei weren in presence; And natheles at reverence Of him, that wolde himself travaile, Thei wolden noght he scholde faile 5610 Of that he preide, and yive hire leve: And sche, that wolde noght beleve, In alle haste made hire yare Toward hir Soster forto fare, With Tereüs and forth sche wente. And he with al his hole entente, Whan sche was fro hir frendes go, Assoteth of hire love so, His yhe myhte he noght withholde, That he ne moste on hir beholde; 5620 And with the sihte he gan desire, And sette his oghne herte on fyre; And fyr, whan it to tow aprocheth, To him anon the strengthe acrocheth, Til with his hete it be devoured, The tow ne mai noght be socoured. And so that tirant raviner, Whan that sche was in his pouer, And he therto sawh time and place, As he that lost hath alle grace, 5630 Foryat he was a wedded man, And in a rage on hire he ran, Riht as a wolf which takth his preie. And sche began to crie and preie, “O fader, o mi moder diere, Nou help!” Bot thei ne mihte it hiere, And sche was of to litel myht Defense ayein so ruide a knyht To make, whanne he was so wod That he no reson understod, 5640 Bot hield hire under in such wise, That sche ne myhte noght arise, Bot lay oppressed and desesed, As if a goshauk hadde sesed A brid, which dorste noght for fere Remue: and thus this tirant there Beraft hire such thing as men sein Mai neveremor be yolde ayein, And that was the virginite: Of such Ravine it was pite. 5650

Bot whan sche to hirselven com, And of hir meschief hiede nom, And knew hou that sche was no maide, With wofull herte thus sche saide, “O thou of alle men the worste, Wher was ther evere man that dorste Do such a dede as thou hast do? That dai schal falle, I hope so, That I schal telle out al mi fille, And with mi speche I schal fulfille 5660 The wyde world in brede and lengthe. That thou hast do to me be strengthe, If I among the poeple duelle, Unto the poeple I schal it telle; And if I be withinne wall Of Stones closed, thanne I schal Unto the Stones clepe and crie, And tellen hem thi felonie; And if I to the wodes wende, Ther schal I tellen tale and ende, 5670 And crie it to the briddes oute, That thei schul hiere it al aboute. For I so loude it schal reherce, That my vois schal the hevene perce, That it schal soune in goddes Ere. Ha, false man, where is thi fere? O mor cruel than eny beste, Hou hast thou holden thi beheste Which thou unto my Soster madest? O thou, which alle love ungladest, 5680 And art ensample of alle untrewe, Nou wolde god mi Soster knewe, Of thin untrouthe, hou that it stod!” And he than as a Lyon wod With hise unhappi handes stronge Hire cauhte be the tresses longe, With whiche he bond ther bothe hire armes, That was a fieble dede of armes, And to the grounde anon hire caste, And out he clippeth also faste 5690 Hire tunge with a peire scheres. So what with blod and what with teres Out of hire yhe and of hir mouth, He made hire faire face uncouth: Sche lay swounende unto the deth, Ther was unethes eny breth; Bot yit whan he hire tunge refte, A litel part therof belefte, Bot sche with al no word mai soune, Bot chitre and as a brid jargoune. 5700 And natheles that wode hound Hir bodi hent up fro the ground, And sente hir there as be his wille Sche scholde abyde in prison stille For everemo: bot nou tak hiede What after fell of this misdede.

Whanne al this meschief was befalle, This Tereüs, that foule him falle, Unto his contre hom he tyh; And whan he com his paleis nyh, 5710 His wif al redi there him kepte. Whan he hir sih, anon he wepte, And that he dede for deceite, For sche began to axe him streite, “Wher is mi Soster?” And he seide That sche was ded; and Progne abreide, As sche that was a wofull wif, And stod betuen hire deth and lif, Of that sche herde such tidinge: Bot for sche sih hire lord wepinge, 5720 She wende noght bot alle trouthe, And hadde wel the more routhe. The Perles weren tho forsake To hire, and blake clothes take; As sche that was gentil and kinde, In worschipe of hir Sostres mynde Sche made a riche enterement, For sche fond non amendement To syghen or to sobbe more: So was ther guile under the gore. 5730

Nou leve we this king and queene, And torne ayein to Philomene, As I began to tellen erst. Whan sche cam into prison ferst, It thoghte a kinges douhter strange To maken so soudein a change Fro welthe unto so grete a wo; And sche began to thenke tho, Thogh sche be mouthe nothing preide, Withinne hir herte thus sche seide: 5740 “O thou, almyhty Jupiter, That hihe sist and lokest fer, Thou soffrest many a wrong doinge, And yit it is noght thi willinge. To thee ther mai nothing ben hid, Thou wost hou it is me betid: I wolde I hadde noght be bore, For thanne I hadde noght forlore Mi speche and mi virginite. Bot, goode lord, al is in thee, 5750 Whan thou therof wolt do vengance And schape mi deliverance.” And evere among this ladi wepte, And thoghte that sche nevere kepte To ben a worldes womman more, And that sche wissheth everemore. Bot ofte unto hir Soster diere Hire herte spekth in this manere, And seide, “Ha, Soster, if ye knewe Of myn astat, ye wolde rewe, 5760 I trowe, and my deliverance Ye wolde schape, and do vengance On him that is so fals a man: And natheles, so as I can, I wol you sende som tokninge, Wherof ye schul have knowlechinge Of thing I wot, that schal you lothe, The which you toucheth and me bothe.” And tho withinne a whyle als tyt Sche waf a cloth of Selk al whyt 5770 With lettres and ymagerie, In which was al the felonie, Which Tereüs to hire hath do; And lappede it togedre tho And sette hir signet therupon And sende it unto Progne anon. The messager which forth it bar, What it amonteth is noght war; And natheles to Progne he goth And prively takth hire the cloth, 5780 And wente ayein riht as he cam, The court of him non hiede nam.

Whan Progne of Philomene herde, Sche wolde knowe hou that it ferde, And opneth that the man hath broght, And wot therby what hath be wroght And what meschief ther is befalle. In swoune tho sche gan doun falle, And efte aros and gan to stonde, And eft sche takth the cloth on honde, 5790 Behield the lettres and thymages; Bot ate laste, “Of suche oultrages,” Sche seith, “wepinge is noght the bote:” And swerth, if that sche live mote, It schal be venged otherwise. And with that sche gan hire avise Hou ferst sche mihte unto hire winne Hir Soster, that noman withinne, Bot only thei that were suore, It scholde knowe, and schop therfore 5800 That Tereüs nothing it wiste; And yit riht as hirselven liste, Hir Soster was delivered sone Out of prison, and be the mone To Progne sche was broght be nyhte.