Chapter 44

And thus as Habraham hath tawht, Whan Isaäc was god betawht, 120 His Sone Jacob dede also, And of Laban the dowhtres tuo, Which was his Em, he tok to wyve, And gat upon hem in his lyve, Of hire ferst which hihte Lie, Sex Sones of his Progenie, And of Rachel tuo Sones eke: The remenant was forto seke, That is to sein of foure mo, Wherof he gat on Bala tuo, 130 And of Zelpha he hadde ek tweie. And these tuelve, as I thee seie, Thurgh providence of god himselve Ben seid the Patriarkes tuelve; Of whom, as afterward befell, The tribes tuelve of Irahel Engendred were, and ben the same That of Hebreus tho hadden name, Which of Sibrede in alliance For evere kepten thilke usance 140 Most comunly, til Crist was bore. Bot afterward it was forbore Amonges ous that ben baptized; For of the lawe canonized The Pope hath bede to the men, That non schal wedden of his ken Ne the seconde ne the thridde. Bot thogh that holy cherche it bidde, So to restreigne Mariage, Ther ben yit upon loves Rage 150 Full manye of suche nou aday That taken wher thei take may. For love, which is unbesein Of alle reson, as men sein, Thurgh sotie and thurgh nycete, Of his voluptuosite He spareth no condicion Of ken ne yit religion, Bot as a cock among the Hennes, Or as a Stalon in the Fennes, 160 Which goth amonges al the Stod, Riht so can he nomore good, Bot takth what thing comth next to honde.

Mi Sone, thou schalt understonde, That such delit is forto blame. Forthi if thou hast be the same To love in eny such manere, Tell forth therof and schrif thee hiere.

Mi fader, nay, god wot the sothe, Mi feire is noght of such a bothe, 170 So wylde a man yit was I nevere, That of mi ken or lief or levere Me liste love in such a wise: And ek I not for what emprise I scholde assote upon a Nonne, For thogh I hadde hir love wonne, It myhte into no pris amonte, So therof sette I non acompte. Ye mai wel axe of this and that, Bot sothli forto telle plat, 180 In al this world ther is bot on The which myn herte hath overgon; I am toward alle othre fre.

Full wel, mi Sone, nou I see Thi word stant evere upon o place, Bot yit therof thou hast a grace, That thou thee myht so wel excuse Of love such as som men use, So as I spak of now tofore. For al such time of love is lore, 190 And lich unto the bitterswete; For thogh it thenke a man ferst swete, He schal wel fielen ate laste That it is sour and may noght laste. For as a morsell envenimed, So hath such love his lust mistimed, And grete ensamples manyon A man mai finde therupon.

At Rome ferst if we beginne, Ther schal I finde hou of this sinne 200 An Emperour was forto blame, Gayus Caligula be name, Which of his oghne Sostres thre Berefte the virginite: And whanne he hadde hem so forlein, As he the which was al vilein, He dede hem out of londe exile. Bot afterward withinne a while God hath beraft him in his ire His lif and ek his large empire: 210 And thus for likinge of a throwe For evere his lust was overthrowe.

Of this sotie also I finde, Amon his Soster ayein kinde, Which hihte Thamar, he forlay; Bot he that lust an other day Aboghte, whan that Absolon His oghne brother therupon, Of that he hadde his Soster schent, Tok of that Senne vengement 220 And slowh him with his oghne hond: And thus thunkinde unkinde fond.

And forto se more of this thing, The bible makth a knowleching, Wherof thou miht take evidence Upon the sothe experience. Whan Lothes wif was overgon And schape into the salte Ston, As it is spoke into this day, Be bothe hise dowhtres thanne he lay, 230 With childe and made hem bothe grete, Til that nature hem wolde lete, And so the cause aboute ladde That ech of hem a Sone hadde, Moab the ferste, and the seconde Amon, of whiche, as it is founde, Cam afterward to gret encres Tuo nacions: and natheles, For that the stockes were ungoode, The branches mihten noght be goode; 240 For of the false Moabites Forth with the strengthe of Amonites, Of that thei weren ferst misgete, The poeple of god was ofte upsete In Irahel and in Judee, As in the bible a man mai se.

Lo thus, my Sone, as I thee seie, Thou miht thiselve be beseie Of that thou hast of othre herd: For evere yit it hath so ferd, 250 Of loves lust if so befalle That it in other place falle Than it is of the lawe set, He which his love hath so beset Mote afterward repente him sore. And every man is othres lore; Of that befell in time er this The present time which now is May ben enformed hou it stod, And take that him thenketh good, 260 And leve that which is noght so. Bot forto loke of time go, Hou lust of love excedeth lawe, It oghte forto be withdrawe; For every man it scholde drede, And nameliche in his Sibrede, Which torneth ofte to vengance: Wherof a tale in remembrance, Which is a long process to hiere, I thenke forto tellen hiere. 270

Of a Cronique in daies gon, The which is cleped Pantheon, In loves cause I rede thus, Hou that the grete Antiochus, Of whom that Antioche tok His ferste name, as seith the bok, Was coupled to a noble queene, And hadde a dowhter hem betwene: Bot such fortune cam to honde, That deth, which no king mai withstonde, 280 Bot every lif it mote obeie, This worthi queene tok aweie. The king, which made mochel mone, Tho stod, as who seith, al him one Withoute wif, bot natheles His doghter, which was piereles Of beaute, duelte aboute him stille. Bot whanne a man hath welthe at wille, The fleissh is frele and falleth ofte, And that this maide tendre and softe, 290 Which in hire fadres chambres duelte, Withinne a time wiste and felte: For likinge and concupiscence Withoute insihte of conscience The fader so with lustes blente, That he caste al his hole entente His oghne doghter forto spille. This king hath leisir at his wille With strengthe, and whanne he time sih, This yonge maiden he forlih: 300 And sche was tendre and full of drede, Sche couthe noght hir Maidenhede Defende, and thus sche hath forlore The flour which she hath longe bore. It helpeth noght althogh sche wepe, For thei that scholde hir bodi kepe Of wommen were absent as thanne; And thus this maiden goth to manne, The wylde fader thus devoureth His oghne fleissh, which non socoureth, 310 And that was cause of mochel care. Bot after this unkinde fare Out of the chambre goth the king, And sche lay stille, and of this thing, Withinne hirself such sorghe made, Ther was no wiht that mihte hir glade, For feere of thilke horrible vice. With that cam inne the Norrice Which fro childhode hire hadde kept, And axeth if sche hadde slept, 320 And why hire chiere was unglad. Bot sche, which hath ben overlad Of that sche myhte noght be wreke, For schame couthe unethes speke; And natheles mercy sche preide With wepende yhe and thus sche seide: “Helas, mi Soster, waileway, That evere I sih this ilke day! Thing which mi bodi ferst begat Into this world, onliche that 330 Mi worldes worschipe hath bereft.” With that sche swouneth now and eft, And evere wissheth after deth, So that welnyh hire lacketh breth. That other, which hire wordes herde, In confortinge of hire ansuerde, To lette hire fadres fol desir Sche wiste no recoverir: Whan thing is do, ther is no bote, So suffren thei that suffre mote; 340 Ther was non other which it wiste. Thus hath this king al that him liste Of his likinge and his plesance, And laste in such continuance, And such delit he tok therinne, Him thoghte that it was no Sinne; And sche dorste him nothing withseie.

Bot fame, which goth every weie, To sondry regnes al aboute The grete beaute telleth oute 350 Of such a maide of hih parage: So that for love of mariage The worthi Princes come and sende, As thei the whiche al honour wende, And knewe nothing hou it stod. The fader, whanne he understod, That thei his dowhter thus besoghte, With al his wit he caste and thoghte Hou that he myhte finde a lette; And such a Statut thanne he sette, 360 And in this wise his lawe he taxeth, That what man that his doghter axeth, Bot if he couthe his question Assoile upon suggestion Of certein thinges that befelle, The whiche he wolde unto him telle, He scholde in certein lese his hed. And thus ther weren manye ded, Here hevedes stondende on the gate, Till ate laste longe and late, 370 For lacke of ansuere in the wise, The remenant that weren wise Eschuieden to make assay.

Til it befell upon a day Appolinus the Prince of Tyr, Which hath to love a gret desir, As he which in his hihe mod Was likende of his hote blod, A yong, a freissh, a lusti knyht, As he lai musende on a nyht 380 Of the tidinges whiche he herde, He thoghte assaie hou that it ferde. He was with worthi compainie Arraied, and with good navie To schipe he goth, the wynd him dryveth, And seileth, til that he arryveth: Sauf in the port of Antioche He londeth, and goth to aproche The kinges Court and his presence. Of every naturel science, 390 Which eny clerk him couthe teche, He couthe ynowh, and in his speche Of wordes he was eloquent; And whanne he sih the king present, He preith he moste his dowhter have. The king ayein began to crave, And tolde him the condicion, Hou ferst unto his question He mote ansuere and faile noght, Or with his heved it schal be boght: 400 And he him axeth what it was.

The king declareth him the cas With sturne lok and sturdi chiere, To him and seide in this manere: “With felonie I am upbore, I ete and have it noght forbore Mi modres fleissh, whos housebonde Mi fader forto seche I fonde, Which is the Sone ek of my wif. Hierof I am inquisitif; 410 And who that can mi tale save, Al quyt he schal my doghter have; Of his ansuere and if he faile, He schal be ded withoute faile. Forthi my Sone,” quod the king, “Be wel avised of this thing, Which hath thi lif in jeupartie.”

Appolinus for his partie, Whan he this question hath herd, Unto the king he hath ansuerd 420 And hath rehersed on and on The pointz, and seide therupon: “The question which thou hast spoke, If thou wolt that it be unloke, It toucheth al the privete Betwen thin oghne child and thee, And stant al hol upon you tuo.”

The king was wonder sory tho, And thoghte, if that he seide it oute, Than were he schamed al aboute. 430 With slihe wordes and with felle He seith, “Mi Sone, I schal thee telle, Though that thou be of litel wit, It is no gret merveile as yit, Thin age mai it noght suffise: Bot loke wel thou noght despise Thin oghne lif, for of my grace Of thretty daies fulle a space I grante thee, to ben avised.”

And thus with leve and time assised 440 This yonge Prince forth he wente, And understod wel what it mente, Withinne his herte as he was lered, That forto maken him afered The king his time hath so deslaied. Wherof he dradde and was esmaied, Of treson that he deie scholde, For he the king his sothe tolde; And sodeinly the nyhtes tyde, That more wolde he noght abide, 450 Al prively his barge he hente And hom ayein to Tyr he wente: And in his oghne wit he seide For drede, if he the king bewreide, He knew so wel the kinges herte, That deth ne scholde he noght asterte, The king him wolde so poursuie. Bot he, that wolde his deth eschuie, And knew al this tofor the hond, Forsake he thoghte his oghne lond, 460 That there wolde he noght abyde; For wel he knew that on som syde This tirant of his felonie Be som manere of tricherie To grieve his bodi wol noght leve.

Forthi withoute take leve, Als priveliche as evere he myhte, He goth him to the See be nyhte In Schipes that be whete laden: Here takel redy tho thei maden 470 And hale up Seil and forth thei fare. Bot forto tellen of the care That thei of Tyr begonne tho, Whan that thei wiste he was ago, It is a Pite forto hiere. They losten lust, they losten chiere, Thei toke upon hem such penaunce, Ther was no song, ther was no daunce, Bot every merthe and melodie To hem was thanne a maladie; 480 For unlust of that aventure Ther was noman which tok tonsure, In doelful clothes thei hem clothe, The bathes and the Stwes bothe Thei schetten in be every weie; There was no lif which leste pleie Ne take of eny joie kepe, Bot for here liege lord to wepe; And every wyht seide as he couthe, “Helas, the lusti flour of youthe, 490 Our Prince, oure heved, our governour, Thurgh whom we stoden in honour, Withoute the comun assent Thus sodeinliche is fro ous went!” Such was the clamour of hem alle.

Bot se we now what is befalle Upon the ferste tale plein, And torne we therto ayein. Antiochus the grete Sire, Which full of rancour and of ire 500 His herte berth, so as ye herde, Of that this Prince of Tyr ansuerde, He hadde a feloun bacheler, Which was his prive consailer, And Taliart be name he hihte: The king a strong puison him dihte Withinne a buiste and gold therto, In alle haste and bad him go Strawht unto Tyr, and for no cost Ne spare he, til he hadde lost 510 The Prince which he wolde spille. And whan the king hath seid his wille, This Taliart in a Galeie With alle haste he tok his weie: The wynd was good, he saileth blyve, Til he tok lond upon the ryve Of Tyr, and forth with al anon Into the Burgh he gan to gon, And tok his In and bod a throwe. Bot for he wolde noght be knowe, 520 Desguised thanne he goth him oute; He sih the wepinge al aboute, And axeth what the cause was, And thei him tolden al the cas, How sodeinli the Prince is go. And whan he sih that it was so, And that his labour was in vein, Anon he torneth hom ayein, And to the king, whan he cam nyh, He tolde of that he herde and syh, 530 Hou that the Prince of Tyr is fled, So was he come ayein unsped. The king was sori for a while, Bot whan he sih that with no wyle He myhte achieve his crualte, He stinte his wraththe and let him be.

Bot over this now forto telle Of aventures that befelle Unto this Prince of whom I tolde, He hath his rihte cours forth holde 540 Be Ston and nedle, til he cam To Tharse, and there his lond he nam. A Burgeis riche of gold and fee Was thilke time in that cite, Which cleped was Strangulio, His wif was Dionise also: This yonge Prince, as seith the bok, With hem his herbergage tok; And it befell that Cite so Before time and thanne also, 550 Thurgh strong famyne which hem ladde Was non that eny whete hadde. Appolinus, whan that he herde The meschief, hou the cite ferde, Al freliche of his oghne yifte His whete, among hem forto schifte, The which be Schipe he hadde broght, He yaf, and tok of hem riht noght. Bot sithen ferst this world began, Was nevere yit to such a man 560 Mor joie mad than thei him made: For thei were alle of him so glade, That thei for evere in remembrance Made a figure in resemblance Of him, and in the comun place Thei sette him up, so that his face Mihte every maner man beholde, So as the cite was beholde; It was of latoun overgilt: Thus hath he noght his yifte spilt. 570

Upon a time with his route This lord to pleie goth him oute, And in his weie of Tyr he mette A man, the which on knees him grette, And Hellican be name he hihte, Which preide his lord to have insihte Upon himself, and seide him thus, Hou that the grete Antiochus Awaiteth if he mihte him spille. That other thoghte and hield him stille, 580 And thonked him of his warnynge, And bad him telle no tidinge, Whan he to Tyr cam hom ayein, That he in Tharse him hadde sein.

Fortune hath evere be muable And mai no while stonde stable: For now it hiheth, now it loweth, Now stant upriht, now overthroweth, Now full of blisse and now of bale, As in the tellinge of mi tale 590 Hierafterward a man mai liere, Which is gret routhe forto hiere. This lord, which wolde don his beste, Withinne himself hath litel reste, And thoghte he wolde his place change And seche a contre more strange. Of Tharsiens his leve anon He tok, and is to Schipe gon: His cours he nam with Seil updrawe, Where as fortune doth the lawe, 600 And scheweth, as I schal reherse, How sche was to this lord diverse, The which upon the See sche ferketh. The wynd aros, the weder derketh, It blew and made such tempeste, Non ancher mai the schip areste, Which hath tobroken al his gere; The Schipmen stode in such a feere, Was non that myhte himself bestere, Bot evere awaite upon the lere, 610 Whan that thei scholde drenche at ones. Ther was ynowh withinne wones Of wepinge and of sorghe tho; This yonge king makth mochel wo So forto se the Schip travaile: Bot al that myhte him noght availe; The mast tobrak, the Seil torof, The Schip upon the wawes drof, Til that thei sihe a londes cooste. Tho made avou the leste and moste, 620 Be so thei myhten come alonde; Bot he which hath the See on honde, Neptunus, wolde noght acorde, Bot altobroke cable and corde, Er thei to londe myhte aproche, The Schip toclef upon a roche, And al goth doun into the depe. Bot he that alle thing mai kepe Unto this lord was merciable, And broghte him sauf upon a table, 630 Which to the lond him hath upbore; The remenant was al forlore, Wherof he made mochel mone.

Thus was this yonge lord him one, Al naked in a povere plit: His colour, which whilom was whyt, Was thanne of water fade and pale, And ek he was so sore acale That he wiste of himself no bote, It halp him nothing forto mote 640 To gete ayein that he hath lore. Bot sche which hath his deth forbore, Fortune, thogh sche wol noght yelpe, Al sodeinly hath sent him helpe, Whanne him thoghte alle grace aweie; Ther cam a Fisshere in the weie, And sih a man ther naked stonde, And whan that he hath understonde The cause, he hath of him gret routhe, And onliche of his povere trouthe 650 Of suche clothes as he hadde With gret Pite this lord he cladde. And he him thonketh as he scholde, And seith him that it schal be yolde, If evere he gete his stat ayein, And preide that he wolde him sein If nyh were eny toun for him. He seide, “Yee, Pentapolim, Wher bothe king and queene duellen.” Whanne he this tale herde tellen, 660 He gladeth him and gan beseche That he the weie him wolde teche: And he him taghte; and forth he wente And preide god with good entente To sende him joie after his sorwe.

It was noght passed yit Midmorwe, Whan thiderward his weie he nam, Wher sone upon the Non he cam. He eet such as he myhte gete, And forth anon, whan he hadde ete, 670 He goth to se the toun aboute, And cam ther as he fond a route Of yonge lusti men withalle; And as it scholde tho befalle, That day was set of such assisse, That thei scholde in the londes guise, As he herde of the poeple seie, Here comun game thanne pleie; And crid was that thei scholden come Unto the gamen alle and some 680 Of hem that ben delivere and wyhte, To do such maistrie as thei myhte. Thei made hem naked as thei scholde, For so that ilke game wolde, As it was tho custume and us, Amonges hem was no refus: The flour of al the toun was there And of the court also ther were, And that was in a large place Riht evene afore the kinges face, 690 Which Artestrathes thanne hihte. The pley was pleid riht in his sihte, And who most worthi was of dede Receive he scholde a certein mede And in the cite bere a pris.

Appolinus, which war and wys Of every game couthe an ende, He thoghte assaie, hou so it wende, And fell among hem into game: And there he wan him such a name, 700 So as the king himself acompteth That he alle othre men surmonteth, And bar the pris above hem alle. The king bad that into his halle At Souper time he schal be broght; And he cam thanne and lefte it noght, Withoute compaignie al one: Was non so semlich of persone, Of visage and of limes bothe, If that he hadde what to clothe. 710 At Soupertime natheles The king amiddes al the pres Let clepe him up among hem alle, And bad his Mareschall of halle To setten him in such degre That he upon him myhte se. The king was sone set and served, And he, which hath his pris deserved After the kinges oghne word, Was mad beginne a Middel bord, 720 That bothe king and queene him sihe. He sat and caste aboute his yhe And sih the lordes in astat, And with himself wax in debat Thenkende what he hadde lore, And such a sorwe he tok therfore, That he sat evere stille and thoghte, As he which of no mete roghte.

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

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