Chapter 45

And whanne it was amorwe lyht, 820 Unto this yonge man of Tyr Of clothes and of good atir With gold and Selver to despende This worthi yonge lady sende: And thus sche made him wel at ese, And he with al that he can plese Hire serveth wel and faire ayein. He tawhte hir til sche was certein Of Harpe, of Citole and of Rote, With many a tun and many a note 830 Upon Musique, upon mesure, And of hire Harpe the temprure He tawhte hire ek, as he wel couthe. Bot as men sein that frele is youthe, With leisir and continuance This Mayde fell upon a chance, That love hath mad him a querele Ayein hire youthe freissh and frele, That malgre wher sche wole or noght, Sche mot with al hire hertes thoght 840 To love and to his lawe obeie; And that sche schal ful sore abeie. For sche wot nevere what it is, Bot evere among sche fieleth this: Thenkende upon this man of Tyr, Hire herte is hot as eny fyr, And otherwhile it is acale; Now is sche red, nou is sche pale Riht after the condicion Of hire ymaginacion; 850 Bot evere among hire thoghtes alle, Sche thoghte, what so mai befalle, Or that sche lawhe, or that sche wepe, Sche wolde hire goode name kepe For feere of wommanysshe schame. Bot what in ernest and in game, Sche stant for love in such a plit, That sche hath lost al appetit Of mete, of drinke, of nyhtes reste, As sche that not what is the beste; 860 Bot forto thenken al hir fille Sche hield hire ofte times stille Withinne hir chambre, and goth noght oute: The king was of hire lif in doute, Which wiste nothing what it mente.

Bot fell a time, as he out wente To walke, of Princes Sones thre Ther come and felle to his kne; And ech of hem in sondri wise Besoghte and profreth his servise, 870 So that he myhte his doghter have. The king, which wolde his honour save, Seith sche is siek, and of that speche Tho was no time to beseche; Bot ech of hem do make a bille He bad, and wryte his oghne wille, His name, his fader and his good; And whan sche wiste hou that it stod, And hadde here billes oversein, Thei scholden have ansuere ayein. 880 Of this conseil thei weren glad, And writen as the king hem bad, And every man his oghne bok Into the kinges hond betok, And he it to his dowhter sende, And preide hir forto make an ende And wryte ayein hire oghne hond, Riht as sche in hire herte fond.

The billes weren wel received, Bot sche hath alle here loves weyved, 890 And thoghte tho was time and space To put hire in hir fader grace, And wrot ayein and thus sche saide: “The schame which is in a Maide With speche dar noght ben unloke, Bot in writinge it mai be spoke; So wryte I to you, fader, thus: Bot if I have Appolinus, Of al this world, what so betyde, I wol non other man abide. 900 And certes if I of him faile, I wot riht wel withoute faile Ye schull for me be dowhterles.” This lettre cam, and ther was press Tofore the king, ther as he stod; And whan that he it understod, He yaf hem ansuer by and by, Bot that was do so prively, That non of othres conseil wiste. Thei toke her leve, and wher hem liste 910 Thei wente forth upon here weie.

The king ne wolde noght bewreie The conseil for no maner hihe, Bot soffreth til he time sihe: And whan that he to chambre is come, He hath unto his conseil nome This man of Tyr, and let him se The lettre and al the privete, The which his dowhter to him sente: And he his kne to grounde bente 920 And thonketh him and hire also, And er thei wenten thanne atuo, With good herte and with good corage Of full Love and full mariage The king and he ben hol acorded. And after, whanne it was recorded Unto the dowhter hou it stod, The yifte of al this worldes good Ne scholde have mad hir half so blythe: And forth withal the king als swithe, 930 For he wol have hire good assent, Hath for the queene hir moder sent. The queene is come, and whan sche herde Of this matiere hou that it ferde, Sche syh debat, sche syh desese, Bot if sche wolde hir dowhter plese, And is therto assented full. Which is a dede wonderfull, For noman knew the sothe cas Bot he himself, what man he was; 940 And natheles, so as hem thoghte, Hise dedes to the sothe wroghte That he was come of gentil blod: Him lacketh noght bot worldes good, And as therof is no despeir, For sche schal ben hire fader heir, And he was able to governe. Thus wol thei noght the love werne Of him and hire in none wise, Bot ther acorded thei divise 950 The day and time of Mariage.

Wher love is lord of the corage, Him thenketh longe er that he spede; Bot ate laste unto the dede The time is come, and in her wise With gret offrende and sacrifise Thei wedde and make a riche feste, And every thing which was honeste Withinnen house and ek withoute It was so don, that al aboute 960 Of gret worschipe, of gret noblesse Ther cride many a man largesse Unto the lordes hihe and loude; The knyhtes that ben yonge and proude, Thei jouste ferst and after daunce. The day is go, the nyhtes chaunce Hath derked al the bryhte Sonne; This lord, which hath his love wonne, Is go to bedde with his wif, Wher as thei ladde a lusti lif, 970 And that was after somdel sene, For as thei pleiden hem betwene, Thei gete a child betwen hem tuo, To whom fell after mochel wo.

Now have I told of the spousailes. Bot forto speke of the mervailes Whiche afterward to hem befelle, It is a wonder forto telle. It fell adai thei riden oute, The king and queene and al the route, 980 To pleien hem upon the stronde, Wher as thei sen toward the londe A Schip sailende of gret array. To knowe what it mene may, Til it be come thei abide; Than sen thei stonde on every side, Endlong the schipes bord to schewe, Of Penonceals a riche rewe. Thei axen when the ship is come: Fro Tyr, anon ansuerde some, 990 And over this thei seiden more The cause why thei comen fore Was forto seche and forto finde Appolinus, which was of kinde Her liege lord: and he appiereth, And of the tale which he hiereth He was riht glad; for thei him tolde, That for vengance, as god it wolde, Antiochus, as men mai wite, With thondre and lyhthnynge is forsmite; 1000 His doghter hath the same chaunce, So be thei bothe in o balance. “Forthi, oure liege lord, we seie In name of al the lond, and preie, That left al other thing to done, It like you to come sone And se youre oghne liege men With othre that ben of youre ken, That live in longinge and desir Til ye be come ayein to Tyr.” 1010 This tale after the king it hadde Pentapolim al overspradde, Ther was no joie forto seche; For every man it hadde in speche And seiden alle of on acord, “A worthi king schal ben oure lord: That thoghte ous ferst an hevinesse Is schape ous now to gret gladnesse.” Thus goth the tidinge overal.

Bot nede he mot, that nede schal: 1020 Appolinus his leve tok, To god and al the lond betok With al the poeple long and brod, That he no lenger there abod. The king and queene sorwe made, Bot yit somdiel thei weren glade Of such thing as thei herden tho: And thus betwen the wel and wo To schip he goth, his wif with childe, The which was evere meke and mylde 1030 And wolde noght departe him fro, Such love was betwen hem tuo. Lichorida for hire office Was take, which was a Norrice, To wende with this yonge wif, To whom was schape a woful lif. Withinne a time, as it betidde, Whan thei were in the See amidde, Out of the North they sihe a cloude; The storm aros, the wyndes loude 1040 Thei blewen many a dredful blast, The welkne was al overcast, The derke nyht the Sonne hath under, Ther was a gret tempeste of thunder: The Mone and ek the Sterres bothe In blake cloudes thei hem clothe, Wherof here brihte lok thei hyde. This yonge ladi wepte and cride, To whom no confort myhte availe; Of childe sche began travaile, 1050 Wher sche lay in a Caban clos: Hire woful lord fro hire aros, And that was longe er eny morwe, So that in anguisse and in sorwe Sche was delivered al be nyhte And ded in every mannes syhte; Bot natheles for al this wo A maide child was bore tho.

Appolinus whan he this knew, For sorwe a swoune he overthrew, 1060 That noman wiste in him no lif. And whanne he wok, he seide, “Ha, wif, Mi lust, mi joie, my desir, Mi welthe and my recoverir, Why schal I live, and thou schalt dye? Ha, thou fortune, I thee deffie, Nou hast thou do to me thi werste. Ha, herte, why ne wolt thou berste, That forth with hire I myhte passe? Mi peines weren wel the lasse.” 1070 In such wepinge and in such cry His dede wif, which lay him by, A thousend sithes he hire kiste; Was nevere man that sih ne wiste A sorwe unto his sorwe lich; For evere among upon the lich He fell swounende, as he that soghte His oghne deth, which he besoghte Unto the goddes alle above With many a pitous word of love; 1080 Bot suche wordes as tho were Yit herde nevere mannes Ere, Bot only thilke whiche he seide. The Maister Schipman cam and preide With othre suche as be therinne, And sein that he mai nothing winne Ayein the deth, bot thei him rede, He be wel war and tak hiede, The See be weie of his nature Receive mai no creature 1090 Withinne himself as forto holde, The which is ded: forthi thei wolde, As thei conseilen al aboute, The dede body casten oute. For betre it is, thei seiden alle, That it of hire so befalle, Than if thei scholden alle spille.

The king, which understod here wille And knew here conseil that was trewe, Began ayein his sorwe newe 1100 With pitous herte, and thus to seie: “It is al reson that ye preie. I am,” quod he, “bot on al one, So wolde I noght for mi persone Ther felle such adversite. Bot whan it mai no betre be, Doth thanne thus upon my word, Let make a cofre strong of bord, That it be ferm with led and pich.” Anon was mad a cofre sich, 1110 Al redy broght unto his hond; And whanne he sih and redy fond This cofre mad and wel enclowed, The dede bodi was besowed In cloth of gold and leid therinne. And for he wolde unto hire winne Upon som cooste a Sepulture, Under hire heved in aventure Of gold he leide Sommes grete And of jeueals a strong beyete 1120 Forth with a lettre, and seide thus:

“I, king of Tyr Appollinus, Do alle maner men to wite, That hiere and se this lettre write, That helpeles withoute red Hier lith a kinges doghter ded: And who that happeth hir to finde, For charite tak in his mynde, And do so that sche be begrave With this tresor, which he schal have.” 1130 Thus whan the lettre was full spoke, Thei haue anon the cofre stoke, And bounden it with yren faste, That it may with the wawes laste, And stoppen it be such a weie, That it schal be withinne dreie, So that no water myhte it grieve. And thus in hope and good believe Of that the corps schal wel aryve, Thei caste it over bord als blyve. 1140

The Schip forth on the wawes wente; The prince hath changed his entente, And seith he wol noght come at Tyr As thanne, bot al his desir Is ferst to seilen unto Tharse. The wyndy Storm began to skarse, The Sonne arist, the weder cliereth, The Schipman which behinde stiereth, Whan that he sih the wyndes saghte, Towardes Tharse his cours he straghte. 1150

Bot now to mi matiere ayein, To telle as olde bokes sein, This dede corps of which ye knowe With wynd and water was forthrowe Now hier, now ther, til ate laste At Ephesim the See upcaste The cofre and al that was therinne. Of gret merveile now beginne Mai hiere who that sitteth stille; That god wol save mai noght spille. 1160 Riht as the corps was throwe alonde, Ther cam walkende upon the stronde A worthi clerc, a Surgien, And ek a gret Phisicien, Of al that lond the wisest on, Which hihte Maister Cerymon; Ther were of his disciples some. This Maister to the Cofre is come, He peiseth ther was somwhat in, And bad hem bere it to his In, 1170 And goth himselve forth withal. Al that schal falle, falle schal; Thei comen hom and tarie noght; This Cofre is into chambre broght, Which that thei finde faste stoke, Bot thei with craft it have unloke. Thei loken in, where as thei founde A bodi ded, which was bewounde In cloth of gold, as I seide er, The tresor ek thei founden ther 1180 Forth with the lettre, which thei rede. And tho thei token betre hiede; Unsowed was the bodi sone, And he, which knew what is to done, This noble clerk, with alle haste Began the veines forto taste, And sih hire Age was of youthe, And with the craftes whiche he couthe He soghte and fond a signe of lif. With that this worthi kinges wif 1190 Honestely thei token oute, And maden fyres al aboute; Thei leide hire on a couche softe, And with a scheete warmed ofte Hire colde brest began to hete, Hire herte also to flacke and bete. This Maister hath hire every joignt With certein oile and balsme enoignt, And putte a liquour in hire mouth, Which is to fewe clerkes couth, 1200 So that sche coevereth ate laste; And ferst hire yhen up sche caste, And whan sche more of strengthe cawhte, Hire Armes bothe forth sche strawhte, Hield up hire hond and pitously Sche spak and seide, “Ha, wher am I? Where is my lord, what world is this?” As sche that wot noght hou it is. Bot Cerymon the worthi leche Ansuerde anon upon hire speche 1210 And seith, “Ma dame, yee ben hiere, Where yee be sauf, as yee schal hiere Hierafterward; forthi as nou Mi conseil is, conforteth you: For trusteth wel withoute faile, Ther is nothing which schal you faile, That oghte of reson to be do.” Thus passen thei a day or tuo; Thei speke of noght as for an ende, Til sche began somdiel amende, 1220 And wiste hireselven what sche mente.

Tho forto knowe hire hol entente, This Maister axeth al the cas, Hou sche cam there and what sche was. “Hou I cam hiere wot I noght,” Quod sche, “bot wel I am bethoght Of othre thinges al aboute”: Fro point to point and tolde him oute Als ferforthli as sche it wiste. And he hire tolde hou in a kiste 1230 The See hire threw upon the lond, And what tresor with hire he fond, Which was al redy at hire wille, As he that schop him to fulfille With al his myht what thing he scholde. Sche thonketh him that he so wolde, And al hire herte sche discloseth, And seith him wel that sche supposeth Hire lord be dreint, hir child also; So sih sche noght bot alle wo. 1240 Wherof as to the world nomore Ne wol sche torne, and preith therfore That in som temple of the Cite, To kepe and holde hir chastete, Sche mihte among the wommen duelle. Whan he this tale hir herde telle, He was riht glad, and made hire knowen That he a dowhter of his owen Hath, which he wol unto hir yive To serve, whil thei bothe live, 1250 In stede of that which sche hath lost; Al only at his oghne cost Sche schal be rendred forth with hire. She seith, “Grant mercy, lieve sire, God quite it you, ther I ne may.” And thus thei drive forth the day, Til time com that sche was hol; And tho thei take her conseil hol, To schape upon good ordinance And make a worthi pourveance 1260 Ayein the day whan thei be veiled. And thus, whan that thei be conseiled, In blake clothes thei hem clothe, This lady and the dowhter bothe, And yolde hem to religion. The feste and the profession After the reule of that degre Was mad with gret solempnete, Where as Diane is seintefied; Thus stant this lady justefied 1270 In ordre wher sche thenkth to duelle.

Bot now ayeinward forto telle In what plit that hire lord stod inne: He seileth, til that he may winne The havene of Tharse, as I seide er; And whanne he was aryved ther, And it was thurgh the Cite knowe, Men myhte se withinne a throwe, As who seith, al the toun at ones, That come ayein him for the nones, 1280 To yiven him the reverence, So glad thei were of his presence: And thogh he were in his corage Desesed, yit with glad visage He made hem chiere, and to his In, Wher he whilom sojourned in, He goth him straght and was resceived. And whan the presse of poeple is weived, He takth his hoste unto him tho, And seith, “Mi frend Strangulio, 1290 Lo, thus and thus it is befalle, And thou thiself art on of alle, Forth with thi wif, whiche I most triste. Forthi, if it you bothe liste, My doghter Thaise be youre leve I thenke schal with you beleve As for a time; and thus I preie, That sche be kept be alle weie, And whan sche hath of age more, That sche be set to bokes lore. 1300 And this avou to god I make, That I schal nevere for hir sake Mi berd for no likinge schave, Til it befalle that I have In covenable time of age Beset hire unto mariage.” Thus thei acorde, and al is wel, And forto resten him somdel, As for a while he ther sojorneth, And thanne he takth his leve and torneth 1310 To Schipe, and goth him hom to Tyr, Wher every man with gret desir Awaiteth upon his comynge. Bot whan the Schip com in seilinge, And thei perceiven it is he, Was nevere yit in no cite Such joie mad as thei tho made; His herte also began to glade Of that he sih the poeple glad. Lo, thus fortune his hap hath lad; 1320 In sondri wise he was travailed, Bot hou so evere he be assailed, His latere ende schal be good.

And forto speke hou that it stod Of Thaise his doghter, wher sche duelleth, In Tharse, as the Cronique telleth, Sche was wel kept, sche was wel loked, Sche was wel tawht, sche was wel boked, So wel sche spedde hir in hire youthe That sche of every wisdom couthe, 1330 That forto seche in every lond So wys an other noman fond, Ne so wel tawht at mannes yhe. Bot wo worthe evere fals envie! For it befell that time so, A dowhter hath Strangulio, The which was cleped Philotenne: Bot fame, which wole evere renne, Cam al day to hir moder Ere, And seith, wher evere hir doghter were 1340 With Thayse set in eny place, The comun vois, the comun grace Was al upon that other Maide, And of hir doghter noman saide. Who wroth but Dionise thanne? Hire thoghte a thousend yer til whanne Sche myhte ben of Thaise wreke Of that sche herde folk so speke. And fell that ilke same tyde, That ded was trewe Lychoride, 1350 Which hadde be servant to Thaise, So that sche was the worse at aise, For sche hath thanne no servise Bot only thurgh this Dionise, Which was hire dedlich Anemie Thurgh pure treson and envie. Sche, that of alle sorwe can, Tho spak unto hire bondeman, Which cleped was Theophilus, And made him swere in conseil thus, 1360 That he such time as sche him sette Schal come Thaise forto fette, And lede hire oute of alle sihte, Wher as noman hire helpe myhte, Upon the Stronde nyh the See, And there he schal this maiden sle. This cherles herte is in a traunce, As he which drad him of vengance Whan time comth an other day; Bot yit dorste he noght seie nay, 1370 Bot swor and seide he schal fulfille Hire hestes at hire oghne wille.

The treson and the time is schape, So fell it that this cherles knape Hath lad this maiden ther he wolde Upon the Stronde, and what sche scholde Sche was adrad; and he out breide A rusti swerd and to hir seide, “Thou schalt be ded.” “Helas!” quod sche, “Why schal I so?” “Lo thus,” quod he, 1380 “Mi ladi Dionise hath bede, Thou schalt be moerdred in this stede.” This Maiden tho for feere schryhte, And for the love of god almyhte Sche preith that for a litel stounde Sche myhte knele upon the grounde, Toward the hevene forto crave, Hire wofull Soule if sche mai save: And with this noise and with this cry, Out of a barge faste by, 1390 Which hidd was ther on Scomerfare, Men sterten out and weren ware Of this feloun, and he to go, And sche began to crie tho, “Ha, mercy, help for goddes sake! Into the barge thei hire take, As thieves scholde, and forth thei wente. Upon the See the wynd hem hente, And malgre wher thei wolde or non, Tofor the weder forth thei gon, 1400 Ther halp no Seil, ther halp non Ore, Forstormed and forblowen sore In gret peril so forth thei dryve, Til ate laste thei aryve At Mitelene the Cite. In havene sauf and whan thei be, The Maister Schipman made him boun, And goth him out into the toun, And profreth Thaise forto selle. On Leonin it herde telle, 1410 Which Maister of the bordel was, And bad him gon a redy pas To fetten hire, and forth he wente, And Thaise out of his barge he hente, And to this bordeller hir solde. And he, that be hire body wolde Take avantage, let do crye, That what man wolde his lecherie Attempte upon hire maidenhede, Lei doun the gold and he schal spede. 1420 And thus whan he hath crid it oute In syhte of al the poeple aboute, He ladde hire to the bordel tho.

No wonder is thogh sche be wo: Clos in a chambre be hireselve, Ech after other ten or tuelve Of yonge men to hire in wente; Bot such a grace god hire sente, That for the sorwe which sche made Was non of hem which pouer hade 1430 To don hire eny vileinie. This Leonin let evere aspie, And waiteth after gret beyete; Bot al for noght, sche was forlete, That mo men wolde ther noght come. Whan he therof hath hiede nome, And knew that sche was yit a maide, Unto his oghne man he saide, That he with strengthe ayein hire leve Tho scholde hir maidenhod bereve. 1440 This man goth in, bot so it ferde, Whan he hire wofull pleintes herde And he therof hath take kepe, Him liste betre forto wepe Than don oght elles to the game. And thus sche kepte hirself fro schame, And kneleth doun to therthe and preide Unto this man, and thus sche seide: “If so be that thi maister wolde That I his gold encresce scholde, 1450 It mai noght falle be this weie: Bot soffre me to go mi weie Out of this hous wher I am inne, And I schal make him forto winne In som place elles of the toun, Be so it be religioun, Wher that honeste wommen duelle. And thus thou myht thi maister telle, That whanne I have a chambre there, Let him do crie ay wyde where, 1460 What lord that hath his doghter diere, And is in will that sche schal liere Of such a Scole that is trewe, I schal hire teche of thinges newe, Which as non other womman can In al this lond.” And tho this man Hire tale hath herd, he goth ayein, And tolde unto his maister plein That sche hath seid; and therupon, Whan than he sih beyete non 1470 At the bordel be cause of hire, He bad his man to gon and spire A place wher sche myhte abyde, That he mai winne upon som side Be that sche can: bot ate leste Thus was sche sauf fro this tempeste.

He hath hire fro the bordel take, Bot that was noght for goddes sake, Bot for the lucre, as sche him tolde. Now comen tho that comen wolde 1480 Of wommen in her lusty youthe, To hiere and se what thing sche couthe: Sche can the wisdom of a clerk, Sche can of every lusti werk Which to a gentil womman longeth, And some of hem sche underfongeth To the Citole and to the Harpe, And whom it liketh forto carpe Proverbes and demandes slyhe, An other such thei nevere syhe, 1490 Which that science so wel tawhte: Wherof sche grete yiftes cawhte, That sche to Leonin hath wonne; And thus hire name is so begonne Of sondri thinges that sche techeth, That al the lond unto hir secheth Of yonge wommen forto liere.