Chapter 30

Whan ech of other hadde a sihte, In chambre, ther thei were al one, Thei maden many a pitous mone; Bot Progne most of sorwe made, Which sihe hir Soster pale and fade 5810 And specheles and deshonoured, Of that sche hadde be defloured; And ek upon hir lord sche thoghte, Of that he so untreuly wroghte And hadde his espousaile broke. Sche makth a vou it schal be wroke, And with that word sche kneleth doun Wepinge in gret devocioun: Unto Cupide and to Venus Sche preide, and seide thanne thus: 5820 “O ye, to whom nothing asterte Of love mai, for every herte Ye knowe, as ye that ben above The god and the goddesse of love; Ye witen wel that evere yit With al mi will and al my wit, Sith ferst ye schopen me to wedde, That I lay with mi lord abedde, I have be trewe in mi degre, And evere thoghte forto be, 5830 And nevere love in other place, Bot al only the king of Trace, Which is mi lord and I his wif. Bot nou allas this wofull strif! That I him thus ayeinward finde The most untrewe and most unkinde That evere in ladi armes lay. And wel I wot that he ne may Amende his wrong, it is so gret; For he to lytel of me let, 5840 Whan he myn oughne Soster tok, And me that am his wif forsok.”

Lo, thus to Venus and Cupide Sche preide, and furthermor sche cride Unto Appollo the hiheste, And seide, “O myghti god of reste, Thou do vengance of this debat. Mi Soster and al hire astat Thou wost, and hou sche hath forlore Hir maidenhod, and I therfore 5850 In al the world schal bere a blame Of that mi Soster hath a schame, That Tereüs to hire I sente: And wel thou wost that myn entente Was al for worschipe and for goode. O lord, that yifst the lives fode To every wyht, I prei thee hiere Thes wofull Sostres that ben hiere, And let ous noght to the ben lothe; We ben thin oghne wommen bothe.” 5860

Thus pleigneth Progne and axeth wreche, And thogh hire Soster lacke speche, To him that alle thinges wot Hire sorwe is noght the lasse hot: Bot he that thanne had herd hem tuo, Him oughte have sorwed everemo For sorwe which was hem betuene. With signes pleigneth Philomene, And Progne seith, “It schal be wreke, That al the world therof schal speke.” 5870 And Progne tho seknesse feigneth, Wherof unto hir lord sche pleigneth, And preith sche moste hire chambres kepe, And as hir liketh wake and slepe. And he hire granteth to be so; And thus togedre ben thei tuo, That wolde him bot a litel good. Nou herk hierafter hou it stod Of wofull auntres that befelle: Thes Sostres, that ben bothe felle,— 5880 And that was noght on hem along, Bot onliche on the grete wrong Which Tereüs hem hadde do,— Thei schopen forto venge hem tho.

This Tereüs be Progne his wif A Sone hath, which as his lif He loveth, and Ithis he hihte: His moder wiste wel sche mihte Do Tereüs no more grief Than sle this child, which was so lief. 5890 Thus sche, that was, as who seith, mad Of wo, which hath hir overlad, Withoute insihte of moderhede Foryat pite and loste drede, And in hir chambre prively This child withouten noise or cry Sche slou, and hieu him al to pieces: And after with diverse spieces The fleissh, whan it was so toheewe, Sche takth, and makth therof a sewe, 5900 With which the fader at his mete Was served, til he hadde him ete; That he ne wiste hou that it stod, Bot thus his oughne fleissh and blod Himself devoureth ayein kinde, As he that was tofore unkinde. And thanne, er that he were arise, For that he scholde ben agrise, To schewen him the child was ded, This Philomene tok the hed 5910 Betwen tuo disshes, and al wrothe Tho comen forth the Sostres bothe, And setten it upon the bord. And Progne tho began the word, And seide, “O werste of alle wicke, Of conscience whom no pricke Mai stere, lo, what thou hast do! Lo, hier ben nou we Sostres tuo; O Raviner, lo hier thi preie, With whom so falsliche on the weie 5920 Thou hast thi tirannye wroght. Lo, nou it is somdel aboght, And bet it schal, for of thi dede The world schal evere singe and rede In remembrance of thi defame: For thou to love hast do such schame, That it schal nevere be foryete.” With that he sterte up fro the mete, And schof the bord unto the flor, And cauhte a swerd anon and suor 5930 That thei scholde of his handes dye. And thei unto the goddes crie Begunne with so loude a stevene, That thei were herd unto the hevene; And in a twinclinge of an yhe The goddes, that the meschief syhe, Here formes changen alle thre. Echon of hem in his degre Was torned into briddes kinde; Diverseliche, as men mai finde, 5940 After thastat that thei were inne, Here formes were set atwinne. And as it telleth in the tale, The ferst into a nyhtingale Was schape, and that was Philomene, Which in the wynter is noght sene, For thanne ben the leves falle And naked ben the buisshes alle. For after that sche was a brid, Hir will was evere to ben hid, 5950 And forto duelle in prive place, That noman scholde sen hir face For schame, which mai noght be lassed, Of thing that was tofore passed, Whan that sche loste hir maidenhiede: For evere upon hir wommanhiede, Thogh that the goddes wolde hire change, Sche thenkth, and is the more strange, And halt hir clos the wyntres day. Bot whan the wynter goth away, 5960 And that Nature the goddesse Wole of hir oughne fre largesse With herbes and with floures bothe The feldes and the medwes clothe, And ek the wodes and the greves Ben heled al with grene leves, So that a brid hire hyde mai, Betwen Averil and March and Maii, Sche that the wynter hield hir clos, For pure schame and noght aros, 5970 Whan that sche seth the bowes thikke, And that ther is no bare sticke, Bot al is hid with leves grene, To wode comth this Philomene And makth hir ferste yeres flyht; Wher as sche singeth day and nyht, And in hir song al openly Sche makth hir pleignte and seith, “O why, O why ne were I yit a maide?” For so these olde wise saide, 5980 Which understoden what sche mente, Hire notes ben of such entente. And ek thei seide hou in hir song Sche makth gret joie and merthe among, And seith, “Ha, nou I am a brid, Ha, nou mi face mai ben hid: Thogh I have lost mi Maidenhede, Schal noman se my chekes rede.” Thus medleth sche with joie wo And with hir sorwe merthe also, 5990 So that of loves maladie Sche makth diverse melodie, And seith love is a wofull blisse, A wisdom which can noman wisse, A lusti fievere, a wounde softe: This note sche reherceth ofte To hem whiche understonde hir tale. Nou have I of this nyhtingale, Which erst was cleped Philomene, Told al that evere I wolde mene, 6000 Bothe of hir forme and of hir note, Wherof men mai the storie note.

And of hir Soster Progne I finde, Hou sche was torned out of kinde Into a Swalwe swift of winge, Which ek in wynter lith swounynge, Ther as sche mai nothing be sene: Bot whan the world is woxe grene And comen is the Somertide, Than fleth sche forth and ginth to chide, 6010 And chitreth out in hir langage What falshod is in mariage, And telleth in a maner speche Of Tereüs the Spousebreche. Sche wol noght in the wodes duelle, For sche wolde openliche telle; And ek for that sche was a spouse, Among the folk sche comth to house, To do thes wyves understonde The falshod of hire housebonde, 6020 That thei of hem be war also, For ther ben manye untrewe of tho. Thus ben the Sostres briddes bothe, And ben toward the men so lothe, That thei ne wole of pure schame Unto no mannes hand be tame; For evere it duelleth in here mynde Of that thei founde a man unkinde, And that was false Tereüs. If such on be amonges ous 6030 I not, bot his condicion Men sein in every region Withinne toune and ek withoute Nou regneth comunliche aboute. And natheles in remembrance I wol declare what vengance The goddes hadden him ordeined, Of that the Sostres hadden pleigned: For anon after he was changed And from his oghne kinde stranged, 6040 A lappewincke mad he was, And thus he hoppeth on the gras, And on his hed ther stant upriht A creste in tokne he was a kniht; And yit unto this dai men seith, A lappewincke hath lore his feith And is the brid falseste of alle.

Bewar, mi Sone, er thee so falle; For if thou be of such covine, To gete of love be Ravine 6050 Thi lust, it mai thee falle thus, As it befell of Tereüs.

Mi fader, goddes forebode! Me were levere be fortrode With wilde hors and be todrawe, Er I ayein love and his lawe Dede eny thing or loude or stille, Which were noght mi ladi wille. Men sein that every love hath drede; So folweth it that I hire drede, 6060 For I hire love, and who so dredeth, To plese his love and serve him nedeth. Thus mai ye knowen be this skile That no Ravine don I wile Ayein hir will be such a weie; Bot while I live, I wol obeie Abidinge on hire courtesie, If eny merci wolde hir plie. Forthi, mi fader, as of this I wot noght I have don amis: 6070 Bot furthermore I you beseche, Som other point that ye me teche, And axeth forth, if ther be auht, That I mai be the betre tauht.

Whan Covoitise in povere astat Stant with himself upon debat Thurgh lacke of his misgovernance, That he unto his sustienance Ne can non other weie finde To gete him good, thanne as the blinde, 6080 Which seth noght what schal after falle, That ilke vice which men calle Of Robberie, he takth on honde; Wherof be water and be londe Of thing which othre men beswinke He get him cloth and mete and drinke. Him reccheth noght what he beginne, Thurgh thefte so that he mai winne: Forthi to maken his pourchas He lith awaitende on the pas, 6090 And what thing that he seth ther passe, He takth his part, or more or lasse, If it be worthi to be take. He can the packes wel ransake, So prively berth non aboute His gold, that he ne fint it oute, Or other juel, what it be; He takth it as his proprete. In wodes and in feldes eke Thus Robberie goth to seke, 6100 Wher as he mai his pourpos finde.

And riht so in the same kinde, My goode Sone, as thou miht hiere, To speke of love in the matiere And make a verrai resemblance, Riht as a thief makth his chevance And robbeth mennes good aboute In wode and field, wher he goth oute, So be ther of these lovers some, In wylde stedes wher thei come 6110 And finden there a womman able, And therto place covenable, Withoute leve, er that thei fare, Thei take a part of that chaffare: Yee, though sche were a Scheperdesse, Yit wol the lord of wantounesse Assaie, althogh sche be unmete, For other mennes good is swete. Bot therof wot nothing the wif At hom, which loveth as hir lif 6120 Hir lord, and sitt alday wisshinge After hir lordes hom comynge: Bot whan that he comth hom at eve, Anon he makth his wif beleve, For sche noght elles scholde knowe: He telth hire hou his hunte hath blowe, And hou his houndes have wel runne, And hou ther schon a merye Sunne, And hou his haukes flowen wel; Bot he wol telle her nevere a diel 6130 Hou he to love untrewe was, Of that he robbede in the pas, And tok his lust under the schawe Ayein love and ayein his lawe.

Which thing, mi Sone, I thee forbede, For it is an ungoodly dede. For who that takth be Robberie His love, he mai noght justefie His cause, and so fulofte sithe For ones that he hath be blithe 6140 He schal ben after sory thries. Ensample of suche Robberies I finde write, as thou schalt hiere, Acordende unto this matiere.

I rede hou whilom was a Maide, The faireste, as Ovide saide, Which was in hire time tho; And sche was of the chambre also Of Pallas, which is the goddesse And wif to Marte, of whom prouesse 6150 Is yove to these worthi knihtes. For he is of so grete mihtes, That he governeth the bataille; Withouten him may noght availe The stronge hond, bot he it helpe; Ther mai no knyht of armes yelpe, Bot he feihte under his banere. Bot nou to speke of mi matiere, This faire, freisshe, lusti mai, Al one as sche wente on a dai 6160 Upon the stronde forto pleie, Ther cam Neptunus in the weie, Which hath the See in governance; And in his herte such plesance He tok, whan he this Maide sih, That al his herte aros on hih, For he so sodeinliche unwar Behield the beaute that sche bar. And caste anon withinne his herte That sche him schal no weie asterte, 6170 Bot if he take in avantage Fro thilke maide som pilage, Noght of the broches ne the Ringes, Bot of some othre smale thinges He thoghte parte, er that sche wente; And hire in bothe hise armes hente, And putte his hond toward the cofre, Wher forto robbe he made a profre, That lusti tresor forto stele, Which passeth othre goodes fele 6180 And cleped is the maidenhede, Which is the flour of wommanhede. This Maiden, which Cornix be name Was hote, dredende alle schame, Sih that sche mihte noght debate, And wel sche wiste he wolde algate Fulfille his lust of Robberie, Anon began to wepe and crie, And seide, “O Pallas, noble queene, Scheu nou thi myht and let be sene, 6190 To kepe and save myn honour: Help, that I lese noght mi flour, Which nou under thi keie is loke.” That word was noght so sone spoke, Whan Pallas schop recoverir After the will and the desir Of hire, which a Maiden was, And sodeinliche upon this cas Out of hire wommanisshe kinde Into a briddes like I finde 6200 Sche was transformed forth withal, So that Neptunus nothing stal Of such thing as he wolde have stole. With fetheres blake as eny cole Out of hise armes in a throwe Sche flih before his yhe a Crowe; Which was to hire a more delit, To kepe hire maidenhede whit Under the wede of fethers blake, In Perles whyte than forsake 6210 That no lif mai restore ayein. Bot thus Neptune his herte in vein Hath upon Robberie sett; The bridd is flowe and he was let, The faire Maide him hath ascaped, Wherof for evere he was bejaped And scorned of that he hath lore.

Mi Sone, be thou war therfore That thou no maidenhode stele, Wherof men sen deseses fele 6220 Aldai befalle in sondri wise; So as I schal thee yit devise An other tale therupon, Which fell be olde daies gon.

King Lichaon upon his wif A dowhter hadde, a goodly lif, A clene Maide of worthi fame, Calistona whos rihte name Was cleped, and of many a lord Sche was besoght, bot hire acord 6230 To love myhte noman winne, As sche which hath no lust therinne; Bot swor withinne hir herte and saide That sche wolde evere ben a Maide. Wherof to kepe hireself in pes, With suche as Amadriades Were cleped, wodemaydes, tho, And with the Nimphes ek also Upon the spring of freisshe welles Sche schop to duelle and nagher elles. 6240 And thus cam this Calistona Into the wode of Tegea, Wher sche virginite behihte Unto Diane, and therto plihte Her trouthe upon the bowes grene, To kepe hir maidenhode clene. Which afterward upon a day Was priveliche stole away; For Jupiter thurgh his queintise From hire it tok in such a wise, 6250 That sodeinliche forth withal Hire wombe aros and sche toswal, So that it mihte noght ben hidd. And therupon it is betidd, Diane, which it herde telle, In prive place unto a welle With Nimphes al a compainie Was come, and in a ragerie Sche seide that sche bathe wolde, And bad that every maide scholde 6260 With hire al naked bathe also. And tho began the prive wo, Calistona wax red for schame; Bot thei that knewe noght the game, To whom no such thing was befalle, Anon thei made hem naked alle, As thei that nothing wolden hyde: Bot sche withdrouh hire evere asyde, And natheles into the flod, Wher that Diane hirselve stod, 6270 Sche thoghte come unaperceived. Bot therof sche was al deceived; For whan sche cam a litel nyh, And that Diane hire wombe syh, Sche seide, “Awey, thou foule beste, For thin astat is noght honeste This chaste water forto touche; For thou hast take such a touche, Which nevere mai ben hol ayein.” And thus goth sche which was forlein 6280 With schame, and fro the Nimphes fledde, Til whanne that nature hire spedde, That of a Sone, which Archas Was named, sche delivered was. And tho Juno, which was the wif Of Jupiter, wroth and hastif, In pourpos forto do vengance Cam forth upon this ilke chance, And to Calistona sche spak, And sette upon hir many a lak, 6290 And seide, “Ha, nou thou art atake, That thou thi werk myht noght forsake. Ha, thou ungoodlich ypocrite, Hou thou art gretly forto wyte! Bot nou thou schalt ful sore abie That ilke stelthe and micherie, Which thou hast bothe take and do; Wherof thi fader Lichao Schal noght be glad, whan he it wot, Of that his dowhter was so hot, 6300 That sche hath broke hire chaste avou. Bot I thee schal chastise nou; Thi grete beaute schal be torned, Thurgh which that thou hast be mistorned, Thi large frount, thin yhen greie, I schal hem change in other weie, And al the feture of thi face In such a wise I schal deface, That every man thee schal forbere.” With that the liknesse of a bere 6310 Sche tok and was forschape anon.

Withinne a time and therupon Befell that with a bowe on honde, To hunte and gamen forto fonde, Into that wode goth to pleie Hir Sone Archas, and in his weie It hapneth that this bere cam. And whan that sche good hiede nam, Wher that he stod under the bowh, Sche kneu him wel and to him drouh; 6320 For thogh sche hadde hire forme lore, The love was noght lost therfore Which kinde hath set under his lawe. Whan sche under the wodesschawe Hire child behield, sche was so glad, That sche with bothe hire armes sprad, As thogh sche were in wommanhiede, Toward him cam, and tok non hiede Of that he bar a bowe bent. And he with that an Arwe hath hent 6330 And gan to teise it in his bowe, As he that can non other knowe, Bot that it was a beste wylde. Bot Jupiter, which wolde schylde The Moder and the Sone also, Ordeineth for hem bothe so, That thei for evere were save.

Bot thus, mi Sone, thou myht have Ensample, hou that it is to fle To robbe the virginite 6340 Of a yong innocent aweie: And overthis be other weie, In olde bokes as I rede, Such Robberie is forto drede, And nameliche of thilke good Which every womman that is good Desireth forto kepe and holde, As whilom was be daies olde. For if thou se mi tale wel Of that was tho, thou miht somdiel 6350 Of old ensample taken hiede, Hou that the flour of maidenhiede Was thilke time holde in pris. And so it was, and so it is, And so it schal for evere stonde: And for thou schalt it understonde, Nou herkne a tale next suiende, Hou maidenhod is to commende.

Of Rome among the gestes olde I finde hou that Valerie tolde 6360 That what man tho was Emperour Of Rome, he scholde don honour To the virgine, and in the weie, Wher he hire mette, he scholde obeie In worschipe of virginite, Which tho was of gret dignite. Noght onliche of the wommen tho, Bot of the chaste men also It was commended overal: And forto speke in special 6370 Touchende of men, ensample I finde,

Phyryns, which was of mannes kinde Above alle othre the faireste Of Rome and ek the comelieste, That wel was hire which him mihte Beholde and have of him a sihte. Thus was he tempted ofte sore; Bot for he wolde be nomore Among the wommen so coveited, The beaute of his face streited 6380 He hath, and threste out bothe hise yhen, That alle wommen whiche him syhen Thanne afterward, of him ne roghte: And thus his maidehiede he boghte. So mai I prove wel forthi, Above alle othre under the Sky, Who that the vertus wolde peise, Virginite is forto preise, Which, as thapocalips recordeth, To Crist in hevene best acordeth. 6390 So mai it schewe wel therfore, As I have told it hier tofore, In hevene and ek in Erthe also It is accept to bothe tuo.

And if I schal more over this Declare what this vertu is, I finde write upon this thing Of Valentinian the king And Emperour be thilke daies, A worthi knyht at alle assaies, 6400 Hou he withoute Mariage Was of an hundred wynter Age, And hadde ben a worthi kniht Bothe of his lawe and of his myht. Bot whan men wolde his dedes peise And his knyhthode of Armes preise, Of that he dede with his hondes, Whan he the kinges and the londes To his subjeccion put under, Of al that pris hath he no wonder, 6410 For he it sette of non acompte, And seide al that may noght amonte Ayeins o point which he hath nome, That he his fleissh hath overcome: He was a virgine, as he seide; On that bataille his pris he leide. Lo nou, my Sone, avise thee.

Yee, fader, al this wel mai be, Bot if alle othre dede so, The world of men were sone go: 6420 And in the lawe a man mai finde, Hou god to man be weie of kinde Hath set the world to multeplie; And who that wol him justefie, It is ynouh to do the lawe. And natheles youre goode sawe Is good to kepe, who so may, I wol noght therayein seie nay.

Mi Sone, take it as I seie; If maidenhod be take aweie 6430 Withoute lawes ordinance, It mai noght failen of vengance. And if thou wolt the sothe wite, Behold a tale which is write, Hou that the King Agamenon, Whan he the Cite of Lesbon Hath wonne, a Maiden ther he fond, Which was the faireste of the Lond In thilke time that men wiste. He tok of hire what him liste 6440 Of thing which was most precious, Wherof that sche was dangerous. This faire Maiden cleped is Criseide, douhter of Crisis, Which was that time in special Of thilke temple principal, Wher Phebus hadde his sacrifice, So was it wel the more vice. Agamenon was thanne in weie To Troieward, and tok aweie 6450 This Maiden, which he with him ladde, So grete a lust in hire he hadde. Bot Phebus, which hath gret desdeign Of that his Maiden was forlein, Anon as he to Troie cam, Vengance upon this dede he nam And sende a comun pestilence. Thei soghten thanne here evidence And maden calculacion, To knowe in what condicion 6460 This deth cam in so sodeinly; And ate laste redyly The cause and ek the man thei founde: And forth withal the same stounde Agamenon opposed was, Which hath beknowen al the cas Of the folie which he wroghte. And therupon mercy thei soghte Toward the god in sondri wise With preiere and with sacrifise, 6470 The Maide and hom ayein thei sende, And yive hire good ynouh to spende For evere whil sche scholde live: And thus the Senne was foryive And al the pestilence cessed.

Lo, what it is to ben encressed Of love which is evele wonne. It were betre noght begonne Than take a thing withoute leve, Which thou most after nedes leve, 6480 And yit have malgre forth withal. Forthi to robben overal In loves cause if thou beginne, I not what ese thou schalt winne. Mi Sone, be wel war of this, For thus of Robberie it is.

Mi fader, youre ensamplerie In loves cause of Robberie I have it riht wel understonde. Bot overthis, hou so it stonde, 6490 Yit wolde I wite of youre aprise What thing is more of Covoitise.