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80        And, sires, also it heeleth jalousie;
For though a man be falle in jalous rage,
Lat maken with this water his potage,
And nevere shal he moore his wyf mystriste,
Though he the soothe of hir defaute wiste,
85 Al had she taken preestes two or thre.
       Heere is a miteyn eek, that ye may se.
He that his hand wol putte in this mitayn,
He shal have multipliyng of his grayn
What he hath sowen, be it whete or otes,
90 So that he offre pens, or elles grotes.
       Goode men and wommen, o thyng warne I yow,
If any wight be in this chirche now
That hath doon synne horrible, that he
Dar nat for shame of it yshryven be,
95 Or any womman, be she yong or old,
That hath ymaad hir housbonde cokewold,
Swich folk shal have no power ne no grace
To offren to my relikes in this place.
And who so fyndeth hym out of swich fame,
100 He wol come up and offre, on Goddes name,
And I assoille him, by the auctoritee
Which that by tulle ygraunted was to me."


80        And, good sirs, it's a cure for jealousy;
For though a man be fallen in jealous rage,
Let one make of this water his pottage
And nevermore shall he his wife mistrust,
Though he may know the truth of all her lust,
85 Even though she had taken two priests or three.
       Here is a mitten, too, that you may see.
Who puts his hand therein, I say again,
He shall have increased harvest of his grain,
After he's sown, be it of wheat or oats,
90 Just so he offers pence or offers groats.
       Good men and women, one thing I warn you.
If any man be here in church right now
That's done a sin so horrible that he
Dare not, for shame, of that sin shriven be,
95 Or any woman, be she young or old,
That's made her husband into a cuckold,
Such folk shall have no power and no grace
To offer to my relics in this place.
But whoso finds himself without such blame,
100 He will come up and offer, in God's name,
And I'll absolve him by authority
That has, by bull, been granted unto me."

       First I pronounce whennes that I come,
50 And thanne my bulles shewe I, alle and some;
Oure lige lordes seel on my patente,
That shewe I first, my body to warente,
That no man be so boold, ne preest ne clerk,
Me to destourbe of Cristes hooly werk.
55 And after that thanne telle I forth my tales,
Bulles of popes and of cardynales,
Of patriarkes and bishopes I shewe,
And in Latyn I speke a wordes fewe,
To saffron with my predicacioun,
60 And for to stire hem to devocioun.
Thanne shewe I forth my longe cristal stones,
Ycrammed ful of cloutes and of bones;
Relikes been they, as wenen they echoon.
Thanne have I in latoun a sholder-boon
65 Which that was of an hooly Jewes sheepe.
'Goode men,' I seye, 'taak of my wordes keepe;
If that this boon be wasshe in any welle,
If cow, or calf, or sheep, or oxe swelle,
That any worm hath ete, or worm ystonge,
70 Taak water of that welle, and wassh his tonge,
And it is hool anon; and forthermoor,
Of pokkes and of scabbe and every soore
Shal every sheepe be hool that of this welle
Drynketh a draughte. Taak kepe eek what I telle,
75 If that the goode man that the beestes oweth,
Wol every wyke, er that the cok hym croweth,
Fastynge, drinken of this welle a draughte,
As thilke hooly Jew oure eldres taughte,
Hise beestes and his stoor shal multiplie.


       First I announce the place whence I have come,
50 And then I show my pardons, all and some.
Our liege-lord's seal on my patent perfect,
I show that first, my safety to protect,
And then no man's so bold, no priest nor clerk,
As to disturb me in Christ's holy work;
55 And after that my tales I marshal all.
Indulgences of pope and cardinal,
Of patriarch and bishop, these I do
Show, and in Latin speak some words, a few,
To spice therewith a bit my sermoning
60 And stir men to devotion, marvelling.
Then show I forth my hollow crystal-stones,
Which are crammed full of rags, aye, and of bones;
Relics are these, as they think, every one.
Then I've in latten box a shoulder bone
65 Which came out of a holy Hebrew's sheep.
'Good men,' say I, 'my words in memory keep;
If this bone shall be washed in any well,
Then if a cow, calf, sheep, or ox should swell
That's eaten snake, or been by serpent stung,
70 Take water of that well and wash its tongue,
And 'twill be well anon; and furthermore,
Of pox and scab and every other sore
Shall every sheep be healed that of this well
Drinks but one draught; take heed of what I tell.
75 And if the man that owns the beasts, I trow,
Shall every week, and that before cock-crow,
And before breakfast, drink thereof a draught,
As that Jew taught of yore in his priestcraft,
His beasts and all his store shall multiply.

       "Lordynges," quod he, "in chirches whan I preche,
I peyne me to han an hauteyn speche,
45 And rynge it out as round as gooth a belle,
For I kan al by rote that I telle.
My theme is alwey oon and evere was -
'Radix malorum est Cupiditas.'


       "Dear lords," said he, "in churches, when I preach,
I am at pains that all shall hear my speech,
45 And ring it out as roundly as a bell,
For I know all by heart the thing I tell.
My theme is always one, and ever was:
'Radix malorum est cupiditas.'

       "It shal be doon," quod he, "by Seint Ronyon;
35 But first," quod he, "heere at this alestake,
I wol bothe drynke and eten of a cake."
       But right anon the gentils gonne to crye,
"Nay, lat hym telle us of no ribaudye!
Telle us som moral thyng that we may leere
40 Som wit, and thanne wol we gladly heere!"
"I graunte, ywis," quod he, "but I moot thynke
Upon som honeste thyng, while that I drynke."


       "It shall be done," said he, "by Saint Ronan!
35 But first," he said, "just here, at this ale-stake,
       I will both drink and eat a bite of cake."
But then these gentle folk began to cry:
"Nay, let him tell us naught of ribaldry;
Tell us some moral thing, that we may hear
40 Wisdom, and then we gladly will give ear."
"I grant it, aye," said he, "but I must think
Upon some seemly tale the while I drink."

       Oure Hooste gan to swere as he were wood;
"Harrow!" quod he, "by nayles and by blood!
This was a fals cherl and a fals justice!
As shameful deeth as herte may devyse
5 Come to thise juges and hire advocatz!
Algate this sely mayde is slayn, allas!
Allas, to deere boughte she beautee!
Wherfore I seye al day, as men may see
That yiftes of Fortune and of Nature
10 Been cause of deeth to many a creature.
(Hir beautee was hir deeth, I dar wel sayn;
Allas, so pitously as she was slayn!)
Of bothe yiftes that I speke of now
Men han ful ofte moore harm than prow.
15 But trewely, myn owene maister deere,
This is a pitous tale for to heere.
But nathelees, passe over is no fors;
I pray to God so save thy gentil cors,
And eek thyne urynals and thy jurdanes,
20 Thyn ypocras and eek thy galiones
And every boyste ful of thy letuarie,
God blesse hem, and oure lady Seinte Marie!
So moot I theen, thou art a propre man,
And lyk a prelat, by Seint Ronyan!
25 Seyde I nat wel? I kan nat speke in terme;
But wel I woot thou doost myn herte to erme,
That I almoost have caught a cardyacle.
By corpus bones, but I have triacle,
Or elles a draughte of moyste and corny ale,
30 Or but I heere anon a myrie tale,
Myn herte is lost, for pitee of this mayde!
Thou beelamy, thou Pardoner," he sayde,
"Telle us som myrthe or japes right anon."


       Our Host began to swear as madman would:
"Help!" he said, "now by Christ's nails and blood!
This was a false man and a false judge!
A shameful death as reward for his fudge,
5 Come to this judge and his lawyers' snake pit!
And so this hapless girl is killed, that's it!
Alas, too dearly paid she for beauty!
Wherefore I always say, as men may see,
That Fortune's gifts, or those of Dame Nature,
10 Are cause of death to many a good creature.
Her beauty was her death, I say again;
Alas, so pitiably she there was slain!
From both the kinds of gift I speak of now
Men often take more harm than help, I vow.
15 But truly, my own master lief and dear,
This is a very pitiful tale to hear,
Yet let us pass it by as of no force.
I pray to God to save your gentle corse,
Your urinals and all your chamberpots,
20 Your hippocras and medicines and tots
And every boxful of electuary;
God bless them, and Our Lady, holy Mary!
So may I prosper, you're a proper man,
And like a prelate too, by Saint Ronan!
25 Said I not well? I can't speak in set terms;
But well I know my heart with grief so warms
That almost I have caught a cardiac pain.
Body and Bones! Save I some remedy gain,
Or else a draught of fresh-drawn, malty ale,
30 Or except I hear, at once, a merry tale,
My heart is lost for pity of this maid.
You, bon ami, you pardoner," he said,
"Tell us some pleasant tale or jest, anon."

       Heere men may seen, how synne hath his merite.
Beth war, for no man woot whom God wol smyte
In no degree, ne in which manere wyse
280 The worm of conscience may agryse
Of wikked lyf, though it so pryvee be
That no man woot therof but God and he.
For be he lewed man, or ellis lered,
He noot how soone that he shal been afered.
285 Therfore I rede yow this conseil take,
Forsaketh synne, er synne yow forsake.


       Here may men see how sin has its desert!
Beware, for no man knows whom God will hurt,
Nor how profoundly, no, nor in what wise
280 The hidden worm of conscience terrifies
The wicked soul, though secret its deeds be
And no one knows thereof but God and he.
For be he ignorant or learned, yet
He cannot know when fear will make him sweat
285 Therefore I counsel you, this counsel take:
Forsake your sin before sin shall you forsake.

       And with that word she preyed hym ful ofte
That with his swerd he wolde smyte softe,
And with that word aswowne doun she fil.
Hir fader, with ful sorweful herte and wil
255 Hir heed of smoot, and by the top it hente,
And to the juge he gan it to presente
As he sat yet in doom, in consistorie.
And whan the juge it saugh, as seith the storie,
He bad to take hym and anhange hym faste.
260 But right anon a thousand peple in thraste
To save the knyght for routhe and for pitee;
For knowen was the false iniquitee.
The peple anon hath suspect of this thyng,
By manere of the cherles chalangyng,
265 That it was by the assent of Apius;
They wisten wel that he was lecherus;
For which unto this Apius they gon
And caste hym in a prisoun right anon,
Ther as he slow hymself, and Claudius
270 That servant was unto this Apius,
Was demed for to hange upon a tree,
But that Virginius, of his pitee,
So preyde for hym, that he was exiled;
And elles, certes, he had been bigyled.
275 The remenant were anhanged, moore and lesse,
That were consentant of this cursednesse.


       And then she prayed him, as he was expert,
He'd strike her swiftly, lest the blow should hurt,
Whereon again a-swooning down she fell.
Her father, with a heavy heart and will,
255 Struck off her head, and bore it by the hair
Straight to the judge and did present it there
While yet he sat on bench in auditory.
And when the judge saw this, so says the story,
He bade them take him out and swiftly hang.
260 But then a thousand people rose and sprang
To save the knight, for ruth and for pity,
For known was now the false iniquity.
The people had suspected some such thing,
By the churl's manner in his challenging,
265 That it was done to please this Appius;
They knew right well that he was lecherous.
Wherefore they ran this Appius upon
And cast him into prison cell anon,
Wherein he slew himself; and Claudius,
270 Who had been creature of this Appius,
Was sentenced to be hanged upon a tree;
But then Virginius, of his great pity,
So pleaded for him that he was exiled,
For, after all, the judge had him beguiled.
275 The rest were hanged, the greater and the less,
Who had been parties to this wickedness.

       "Doghter," quod he, "Virginia, by thy name,
Ther been two weyes, outher deeth or shame
215 That thou most suffre, allas, that I was bore!
For nevere thou deservedest wherfore
To dyen with a swerd, or with a knyf.
O deere doghter, endere of my lyf,
Which I have fostred up with swich plesaunce,
220 That thou were nevere out of my remembraunce.
O doghter, which that art my laste wo,
And in my lyf my laste joye also,
O gemme of chastitee, in pacience
Take thou thy deeth, for this is my sentence,
225 For love and nat for hate, thou most be deed;
My pitous hand moot smyten of thyn heed.
Allas, that evere Apius the say!
Thus hath he falsly jugged the to day."
And tolde hir al the cas, as ye bifore
230 Han herd, nat nedeth for to telle it moore.


       "Daughter," said he, "Virginia by your name,
There are two ways, for either death or shame
215 You now must suffer. Ah, that I was born!
For you have not deserved to be thus lorn,
To die by means of sword or any knife.
O my dear daughter, ender of my life,
Whom I have bred up with so deep pleasance
220 That you were never from my remembrance!
O daughter who are now my final woe,
Aye, and in life my final joy also,
O gem of chastity, in brave patience
Receive your death, for that is my sentence.
225 For love and not for hate you must be dead;
My pitying hand must strike your innocent head.
Alas! That ever Appius saw you! Nay,
Thus has he falsely judged of you today."-
And told her all the case, as you before
230 Have heard; there is no need to tell it more.


       "O mercy, deere fader," quod this mayde,
And with that word she bothe hir armes layde
Aboute his nekke, as she was wont to do.
The teeris bruste out of hir eyen two,
235 And seyde, "Goode fader, shal I dye?
Is ther no grace? is ther no remedye?"
       "No certes, deere doghter myn," quod he.


       "O mercy, my dear father," said this maid,
And with that word both of her arms she laid
About his neck, as she was wont to do;
Then broke the bitter tears from her eyes two.
235 She said: "O my good father, must I die?
Is there no grace? Is there no remedy?"
       "No, truly, darling daughter mine," said he.


       "Thanne yif me leyser, fader myn," quod she,
"My deeth for to compleyne a litel space,
240 For, pardee, Jepte yaf his doghter grace
For to compleyne, er he hir slow, allas!
And, God it woot, no thyng was hir trespas
But for she ran hir fader for to see
To welcome hym with greet solempnitee."
245 And with that word she fil aswowne anon;
And after whan hir swownyng is agon
She riseth up and to hir fader sayde,
"Blissed be God that I shal dye a mayde;
Yif me my deeth, er that I have a shame.
250 Dooth with youre child youre wyl, a Goddes name."


       "Then give me leisure, father mine," said she,
"But to lament my death a little space;
240 For even Jephtha gave his daughter grace
To weep a little before he killed her, alas!
And God knows that in naught did she trespass,
Except that she ran to be the first to see
And welcome him with greetings, merrily."
245 And with that word she fell into a swoon,
And after, when the faint was past and gone,
She rose up and unto her father said:
"Praise be to God that I shall die a maid.
Give me my death before I come to shame;
250 Do with your child your will, and in God's name!"

       Virginius gan upon the cherl biholde,
But hastily, er he his tale tolde,
And wolde have preeved it as sholde a knyght,
And eek by witnessyng of many a wight,
195 That it was fals, that seyde his adversarie,
This cursed juge wolde no thyng tarie,
Ne heere a word moore of Virginius,
But yaf his juggement and seyde thus:
       "I deeme anon this cherl his servant have,
200 Thou shalt no lenger in thyn hous hir save.
Go, bryng hir forth, and put hir in our warde.
The cherl shal have his thral, this I awarde."
       And whan this worthy knyght Virginius,
Thurgh sentence of this justice Apius,
205 Moste by force his deere doghter yeven
Unto the juge in lecherie to lyven,
He gooth hym hoom, and sette him in his halle,
And leet anon his deere doghter calle,
And with a face deed as asshen colde,
210 Upon hir humble face he gan biholde
With fadres pitee stikynge thurgh his herte,
Al wolde he from his purpos nat converte.


       Virginius' eyes the churl's began to hold,
But hastily, before his tale he'd told,
Ready to prove it, as befits a knight,
And by the evidence of many a wight,
195 That false was this charge of his adversary.
The wicked judge, he would no moment tarry,
Nor hear a word more from Virginius,
But gave his judgment then and there, as thus:
       "I do decree in favour of the churl:
200 No longer shall you hold this servant girl.
Go bring her here and leave her as my ward.
This man shall have his slave, as my award."
       And when this noble knight Virginius,
By judgment of this Justice Appius,
205 Must now, perforce, his darling daughter give
Unto the judge, in lechery to live,
He did go home and sat down in his hall,
And gave command his daughter there to call;
And, with a face dead white and ashen cold,
210 Her modest mien his eyes did then behold,
With father's pity striking through his heart,
Though from his purpose he would not depart.

       Whan shapen was al hir conspiracie
150 Fro point to point, how that his lecherie
Parfourned sholde been ful subtilly,
As ye shul heere it after openly,
Hoom gooth the cherl, that highte Claudius.
This false juge, that highte Apius,
155 (So was his name, for this is no fable,
But knowen for historial thyng notable;
The sentence of it sooth is out of doute),
This false juge gooth now faste aboute
To hasten his delit al that he may.
160 And so bifel soone after on a day,
This false juge, as telleth us the storie,
As he was wont, sat in his consistorie,
And yaf his doomes upon sondry cas.
This false cherl cam forth a ful greet pas
165 And seyde, "Lord, if that it be youre wille,
As dooth me right upon this pitous bille
In which I pleyne upon Virginius;
And if that he wol seyn it is nat thus,
I wol it preeve, and fynde good witnesse,
170 That sooth is, that my bille wol expresse."


       When plotted out was their conspiracy,
150 From point to point, how all his lechery
Should have its will, performing craftily,
As you shall hear it now told openly,
Home went the churl, whose name was Claudius.
This false judge, who was known as Appius
155 (Such was his name, for this is no fable,
But an historical event I tell,
At least the gist is true, beyond a doubt)
This false judge goes now busily about
To hasten his delight in all he may.
160 And so it happened soon after, on a day,
This false judge, as recounts the ancient story,
As he was wont, sat in his auditory
And gave his judgment upon every case.
Forthwith the wicked churl advanced a pace,
165 And said: "Your honour, if it be your will,
Then give me justice prayed for in this bill,
Of my complaint against Virginius.
And if he claim the matter stands not thus,
I will so prove, by many a good witness,
170 That truth is what my bill does here express."


       The juge answerde, "Of this in his absence,
I may nat yeve diffynytyve sentence.
Lat do hym calle, and I wol gladly heere.
Thou shalt have al right and no wrong heere."
175        Virginius cam to wite the juges wille,
And right anon was rad this cursed bille.
The sentence of it was, as ye shul heere:


       The judge replied: "On this, in his absence,
I may not give definitive sentence.
Let him be called and I will gladly hear;
You shall have all your right, and no wrong, here."
175        Virginius came to learn the judge's will,
And then was read to him this wicked bill,
The substance of it being as you shall hear.


       "To yow, my lord, Sire Apius so deere,
Sheweth youre povre servant Claudius,
180 How that a knyght called Virginius
Agayns the lawe, agayn al equitee,
Holdeth expres agayn the wyl of me
My servant, which that is my thral by right,
Which fro myn hous was stole upon a nyght,
185 Whil that she was ful yong; this wol I preeve
By witnesse, lord, so that it nat yow greeve.
She nys his doghter, nat what so he seye.
Wherfore to yow, my lord the Juge, I preye
Yeld me my thral, if that it be youre wille."
190 Lo, this was al the sentence of his bille.


       "To you, Judge Appius, may it so appear
That comes and says your servant Claudius,
180 How that a knight, by name Virginius,
Against the law, against all equity,
Holds, expressly against the will of me,
My servant who is slave to me by right,
Who from my house was stolen, on a night,
185 While yet she was but young; this will I prove,
My lord, by witness competent thereof.
She's not his child, whatever he may say;
Wherefore to you, my lord the judge, I pray,
Yield me my slave, if that it be your will."
190 Lo, this was all the substance of his bill.

       This mayde upon a day wente in the toun
Toward a temple, with hir mooder deere,
120 As is of yonge maydens the manere.
Now was ther thanne a justice in that toun,
That governour was of that regioun,
And so bifel this juge hise eyen caste
Upon this mayde, avysynge hym ful faste
125 As she cam forby, ther as this juge stood.
Anon his herte chaunged and his mood,
So was he caught with beautee of this mayde,
And to hymself ful pryvely he sayde,
"This mayde shal be myn, for any man."


       This maid, upon a day, went into town
Unto a temple, with her mother dear,
120 As the wont is of young maids everywhere.
Now there was then a justice in that town
Was governor of all the region known.
And so it happened, this judge his two eyes cast
Upon this maid, noting her beauty fast,
125 As she went by the place wherein he stood.
Swiftly his heart was altered, and his mood,
He was so caught by beauty of the maid,
And to his own dark secret heart he said:
"She shall be mine in spite of any man!"


130        Anon the feend into his herte ran,
And taughte hym sodeynly, that he by slyghte
The mayden to his purpos wynne myghte.
For certes, by no force, ne by no meede,
Hym thoughte he was nat able for to speede;
135 For she was strong of freends, and eek she
Confermed was in swich soverayn bountee,
That wel he wiste he myghte hir nevere wynne,
As for to maken hir with hir body synne.
For which, by greet deliberacioun,
140 He sente after a cherl, was in the toun,
Which that he knew for subtil and for boold.
This juge unto this cherl his tale hath toold
In secree wise, and made hym to ensure
He sholde telle it to no creature,
145 And if he dide, he sholde lese his heed.
Whan that assented was this cursed reed,
Glad was this juge, and maked him greet cheere,
And yaf hym yiftes preciouse and deere.


130        At once the Devil into his bosom ran
And taught him swiftly how, by treachery,
The virgin to his purpose might win he.
For truly not to bribery or force
Would it avail, he thought, to have recourse,
135 Since she had many friends, and was so good,
So strong in virtue, that he never could
By any subtle means her favour win
And make her give her body unto sin.
Therefore, and with great scheming up and down,
140 He sent to find a fellow of the town,
Which man, he knew, was cunning and was bold.
And unto this man, when the judge had told
His secret, then he made himself right sure
That it should come to ears of no creature,
145 For if it did the fellow'd lose his head.
And when assent to this crime had been said,
Glad was the judge, and then he made great cheer
And gave the fellow precious gifts and dear.

105        This mayde, of which I wol this tale expresse,
So kepte hirself, hir neded no maistresse.
For in hir lyvyng maydens myghten rede,
As in a book, every good word or dede
That longeth to a mayden vertuous,
110 She was so prudent and so bountevous.
For which the fame out-sprong on every syde
Bothe of hir beautee and hir bountee wyde,
That thurgh that land they preised hire echone
That loved vertu; save encye allone,
115 That sory is of oother mennes wele,
And glad is of his sorwe and his unheele.
(The doctour maketh this descripcioun.)


105        This virgin, of whom I do this praise express,
Guarded herself, nor needed governess;
For in her daily life all maids might read,
As in a book, every good word or deed
That might become a virgin virtuous;
110 She was so prudent and so bounteous.
From all this grew the fame on every side
Of both her beauty and her goodness wide;
Throughout that land they praised her, every one
That virtue loved; and Envy stood alone,
115 That sorry is when others live in weal
And for their woe will ever gladness feel.
(Doctor Augustine's are these words, I own).

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       And ye maistresses, in youre olde lyf,
That lordes doghtres han in governaunce,
Ne taketh of my wordes no displesaunce;
75 Thenketh that ye been set in governynges
Of lordes doghtres, oonly for two thynges;
Outher for ye han kept youre honestee,
Or elles ye han falle in freletee,
And knowen wel ynough the olde daunce,
80 And han forsaken fully swich meschaunce
For everemo; therfore for Cristes sake,
To teche hem vertu looke that ye ne slake.
       A theef of venysoun, that hath forlaft
His likerousnesse, and al his olde craft,
85 Kan kepe a forest best of any man.
Now kepeth wel, for if ye wole, ye kan.
Looke wel that ye unto no vice assente,
Lest ye be dampned for your wikke entente.
For whoso dooth, a traitour is, certeyn;
90 And taketh kepe of that that I shal seyn,
Of alle tresons, sovereyn pestilence
Is whan a wight bitrayseth innocence.


       You governesses, who in older life
Have great lords' daughters in your governance,
Take from my words no foolish petulance;
75 Remember you've been set to governings
Of lords' daughters for but one of two things:
Either that you have kept your honesty,
Or else that you've succumbed to your frailty,
And having learned the measures of love's dance,
80 Have now forsaken such ways of mischance
For evermore; therefore, for Jesus' sake,
See that you teach them virtue, nor mistake.
       A poacher of the deer, who has reformed,
Left wicked ways and been by goodness warmed,
85 Can guard a forest best of any man.
So guard them well, for if you will you can;
Look that to no vice do you give assent,
Lest you be damned for your so vile intent;
For who does thus is traitor, that's certain.
90 And take good care that I speak not in vain;
Of treacheries all, the sovereign pestilence
Is when adults betray young innocence.


       Ye fadres and ye moodres, eek also,
Though ye han children, be it oon or two,
95 Youre is the charge of al hir surveiaunce
Whil that they been under youre governaunce.
Beth war, if by ensample of youre lyvynge,
Or by youre necligence in chastisynge,
That they ne perisse; for I dar wel seye,
100 If that they doon ye shul it deere abeye;
Under a shepherde softe and necligent
The wolf hath many a sheep and lamb torent.
Suffiseth oon ensample now as here,
For I moot turne agayn to my mateere.


       You fathers and you mothers fond, also,
If you have children, be it one or two,
95 Yours is the burden of their wise guidance
The while they are within your governance.
Beware that not from your own lax living,
Or by your negligence in chastening
They fall and perish; for I dare well say,
100 If that should chance you'll dearly have to pay.
Under a shepherd soft and negligent
Full many a sheep and lamb by wolf is rent.
Suffice one instance, as I give it here,
For I must in my story persevere.

30        This mayde of age twelf yeer was and tweye,
In which that Nature hadde swich delit.
For right as she kan peynte a lilie whit,
And reed a rose, right with swich peynture
She peynted hath this noble creature,
35 Er she were born, upon hir lymes fre,
Where as by right swiche colours sholde be.
And Phebus dyed hath hir tresses grete,
Lyk to the stremes of his burned heete;
And if that excellent was hir beautee,
40 A thousand foold moore vertuous was she.
In hire ne lakked no condicioun
That is to preyse, as by discrecioun;
As wel in goost as body chast was she,
For which she floured in virginitee
45 With alle humylitee and abstinence,
With alle attemperaunce and pacience,
With mesure eek of beryng and array.
Discreet she was in answeryng alway,
Though she were wise Pallas, dar I seyn,
50 Hir facound eek ful wommanly and pleyn,
No countrefeted termes hadde she
To seme wys, but after hir degree
She spak, and alle hir wordes, moore and lesse,
Sownynge in vertu and in gentillesse.
55 Shamefast she was in maydens shamefastnesse,
Constant in herte, and evere in bisynesse
To dryve hir out of ydel slogardye.
Bacus hadde of hire mouth right no maistrie;
For wyn and youthe dooth Venus encresse,
60 As man in fyr wol casten oille or greesse.
And of hir owene vertu unconstreyned,
She hath ful ofte tyme syk hir feyned,
For that she wolde fleen the compaignye
Where likly was to treten of folye,
65 As is at feestes, revels, and at daunces
That been occasions of daliaunces.
Swich thynges maken children for to be
To soone rype and boold, as men may se,
Which is ful perilous, and hath been yoore;
70 For al to soone may they lerne loore
Of booldnesse, whan she woxen is a wyf.


30        This virgin was fourteen years of age, this may
In whom Dame Nature had so great delight.
For just as she can paint a lily white
Or redden rose, even with such a stroke
She did this creature by her art evoke
35 Before she was born, painting her sweet limbs free
In such true colours as they'd come to be;
And Phoebus dyed her long hair with such gold
As have his burning streamers manifold.
But if right excellent was her beauty,
40 A thousand-fold more virtuous was she.
In her there lacked not one condition known
That's praiseworthy when by discretion shown.
As well in soul as body chaste was she;
For which she flowered in virginity
45 With all humility and abstinence,
And with all temperance and with patience,
And with a modest bearing and array.
Discreet in her replies she was alway;
Though she was wise as Pallas, and not vain,
50 Her speech was always womanly and plain,
No highfalutin pretty words had she
To ape deep knowledge; after her degree
She spoke, and all her words, greater and less,
Tended to virtue and to gentleness.
55 Modest she was, with maiden bashfulness,
Constant of heart, and full of busyness
To keep her from all idle sluggardry.
Bacchus had of her mouth no mastery;
For wine and youth help Venus to increase,
60 As when on fire is scattered oil or grease.
And of her virtue, free and unconstrained,
She had ofttimes some little illness feigned
In order to avoid a company
Which likely was to do some great folly,
65 As people do at revels and at dances,
Which are occasions when young folk take chances.
Such things but make young men and maidens be
Too ripe and bold, as everyone may see,
Which is right dangerous, as 'twas of yore.
70 For all too soon a virgin learns the lore
Of wantonness when she becomes a wife.

       Ther was, as telleth Titus Livius,
A knyght that called was Virginius,
Fulfild of honour and of worthynesse,
And strong of freendes, and of greet richesse.
5               This knyght a doghter hadde by his wyf,
No children hadde he mo in al his lyf.
Fair was this mayde in excellent beautee
Aboven every wight that man may see.
For Nature hath with sovereyn diligence
10        Yformed hir in so greet excellence,
As though she wolde seyn, "Lo, I, Nature,
Thus kan I forme and peynte a creature
Whan that me list; who kan me countrefete?
Pigmalion noght, though he ay forge and bete,
15        Or grave, or peynte, for I dar wel seyn
Apelles, Zanzis sholde werche in veyn
Outher to grave or peynte, or forge, or bete,
If they presumed me to countrefete.
For He that is the former principal
20        Hath maked me his vicaire general
To forme and peynten erthely creaturis
Right as me list, and ech thyng in my cure is
Under the moone, that may wane and waxe,
And for my werk right nothyng wol I axe.
25        My lord and I been ful of oon accord;
I made hire to the worship of my lord,
So do I alle myne othere creatures,
What colour that they han, or what figures."
Thus semeth me that Nature wolde seye.

       There was, as tells us Titus Livius,
A knight whose name was called Virginius,
Fulfilled of honour and of worthiness,
Who many friends and much wealth did possess.
5               This knight had had a daughter by his wife,
Nor children more had he in all his life.
Fair was this virgin, in excellent beauty
Above all others that a man may see;
For Nature had, with sovereign diligence,
10        Moulded her to so great an excellence
She seemed to say: "Behold now, I, Nature,
Thus can I form and paint a creature pure
When I desire. Who can it counterfeit?
Pygmalion? Nay, not though he forge and beat,
15        Or curve, or paint; and I dare say again,
Apelles, Zeuxis too, should work in vain,
Either to carve or paint, or forge or beat,
If they presumed my work to counterfeit.
For He who is creator principal
20        Has made of me His Vicar General
To form and colour earthly creatures all,
Just as I like, for they're mine, great and small
Under the moon, the which may wax and wane;
And for my work I ask no payment vain;
25        My lord and I are of one sole accord;
I made her in the worship of my Lord.
So do I other fair or foul creatures,
What colours though they have, or what figures."
It seems to me that Nature thus would say.

       He seide, "Arveragus of gentillesse
Hadde levere dye in sorwe and in distresse
Than that his wyf were of hir trouthe fals;"
890 The sorwe of Dorigen he tolde hym als,
How looth hir was to been a wikked wyf,
And that she levere had lost that day hir lyf,
And that hir trouthe she swoor, thurgh innocence,
She nevere erst hadde herd speke of apparence.
895 "That made me han of hir so greet pitee;
And right as frely as he sente hir me,
As frely sente I hir to hym ageyn.
This al and som, ther is namoore to seyn."
       This philosophre answerde, "Leeve brother,
900 Everich of yow dide gentilly til oother.
Thou art a squier, and he is a knyght;
But God forbede, for his blisful myght,
But if a clerk koude doon a gentil dede
As wel as any of yow, it is no drede.
905 Sire, I releesse thee thy thousand pound,
As thou right now were cropen out of the ground,
Ne nevere er now ne haddest knowen me;
For, sire, I wol nat taken a peny of thee
For al my craft, ne noght for my travaille.
910 Thou hast ypayed wel for my vitaille,
It is ynogh, and farewel, have good day."
And took his hors, and forth he goth his way.
Lordynges, this questioun wolde I aske now,
Which was the mooste fre, as thynketh yow?
915 Now telleth me, er that ye ferther wende,
I kan namoore, my tale is at an ende.


       He said: "Arviragus, of nobleness,
Had rather die in sorrow and distress
Than that his wife were to her promise false."
890 He told of Dorigen's grief, too, and how else
She had been loath to live a wicked wife
And rather would that day have lost her life,
And that her troth she swore through ignorance:
"She'd ne'er before heard of such simulance;
895 Which made me have for her such great pity.
And just as freely as he sent her me,
As freely sent I her to him again.
This is the sum, there's no more to explain."
       Then answered this philosopher: "Dear brother,
900 Each one of you has nobly dealt with other.
You are a squire, true, and he is a knight,
But God forbid, what of his blessed might,
A clerk should never do a gentle deed
As well as any of you. Of this take heed!
905 Sir, I release to you your thousand pound,
As if, right now, you'd crept out of the ground
And never, before now, had known of me.
For, sir, I'll take of you not one penny
For all my art and all my long travail.
910 You have paid well for all my meat and ale;
It is enough, so farewell, have good day!"
And took his horse and went forth on his way.
Masters, this question would I ask you now:
Which was most generous, do you think, and how.
915 Pray tell me this before you farther wend.
I can no more, my tale is at an end.

       With herte soor he gooth unto his cofre,
And broghte gold unto this philosophre
865 The value of fyve hundred pound, I gesse,
And hym bisecheth of his gentillesse
To graunte hym dayes of the remenaunte,
And seyde, "Maister, I dar wel make avaunt,
I failled nevere of my trouthe as yit.
870 For sikerly my dette shal be quyt
Towareds yow, how evere that I fare,
To goon a begged in my kirtle bare!
But wolde ye vouche sauf upon seuretee
Two yeer or thre, for to respiten me,
875 Thanne were I wel, for elles moot I selle
Myn heritage, ther is namoore to telle."
       This philosophre sobrely answerde,
And seyde thus, whan he thise wordes herde,
"Have I nat holden covenant unto thee?"
880        "Yes, certes, wel and trewely," quod he.
       "Hastow nat had thy lady, as thee liketh?"
       "No, no," quod he, and sorwefully he siketh.
       "What was the cause, tel me if thou kan?"
       Aurelius his tale anon bigan,
885 And tolde hym al, as ye han herd bifoore,
It nedeth nat to yow reherce it moore.


       With sore heart he went then to his coffer,
And took gold unto this philosopher,
865 The value of five hundred pounds, I guess,
And so besought him, of his nobleness,
To grant him dates for payment of the rest,
And said: "Dear master, I may well protest
I've never failed to keep my word, as yet;
870 For certainly I'll pay my entire debt
To you, however after I may fare,
Even to begging, save for kirtle, bare.
But if you'd grant, on good security,
Two years or three of respite unto me,
875 Then all were well; otherwise must I sell
My heritage; there is no more to tell."
       Then this philosopher soberly answered
And spoke in this wise, when these words he'd heard:
"Have I not fairly earned my promised fee?"
880        "Yes, truly, you have done so, sir," said he.
       "Have you not had the lady at your will?"
       "No, no," said he, and sighed, and then was still.
       "What was the reason? Tell me if you can."
       Aurelius his tale anon began,
885 And told him all, as you have heard before;
It needs not I repeat it to you more.

       Aurelius, that his cost hath al forlorn
850 Curseth the tyme that evere he was born.
"Allas," quod he, "allas, that I bihighte
Of pured gold a thousand pound of wighte
Unto this philosophre! How shal I do?
I se namoore but that I am fordo;
855 Myn heritage moot I nedes selle
And been a beggere; heere may I nat dwelle,
And shamen al my kynrede in this place,
But I of hym may gete bettre grace.
But nathelees I wole of hym assaye
860 At certeyn dayes yeer by yeer to paye,
And thanke hym of his grete curteisye;
My trouthe wol I kepe, I wol nat lye."


       Aurelius, whose wealth was now forlorn,
850 He cursed the time that ever he was born;
"Alas!" cried he, "Alas! that I did state
I'd pay fine gold a thousand pounds by weight
To this philosopher! What shall I do?
I see no better than I'm ruined too.
855 All of my heritage I needs must sell
And be a beggar; here I cannot dwell
And shame all of my kindred in this place,
Unless I gain of him some better grace.
And so I'll go to him and try, today,
860 On certain dates, from year to year, to pay,
And thank him for his princely courtesy;
For I will keep my word, and I'll not lie."