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Prologue Now is come oure leyser and oure space In whech we may - aftir oure grete labour Of other materis, now we have grace - Turne ageyn and tast the swete savour Of this clene virgine, of this wele savoured flour, Whech with fyve braunchis grewe thus here in erde: The first, the secund, the thrid, and the ferde Have ye perseyvyd if ye have red alle; Now shall the fyft be schewid unto youre syght, For now me lyst this lady a rose to calle, Of fyve braunches full preciously i-dyth. The rede coloure that shon in hir so bryght, That was hir martirdam. The fyve leves grene Betokne hir lyffe, thus distincte, I wene, In dyvers bokes, like as we have dyvysyd Beforn this tyme; and now this is the last. These fyve leves, rith thus are thei sysyd That on the stalke thei cleven wondir fast; The reed floures kepe thei fro the blast Or thei hemselfe thus lateth hem abrode, And aftir that thei make here than abode Even undir the same swete floures - Betokynyng that hir liffe was sprede With martirdam and with scharp schoures Whech for Crist both suffered and dede, For in divers bokes, as I have oftyn rede, Martirdam hath a suffereyn dignyté Above all vertues whech that gostly bee. Thus grew this rose oute of the thorny brere Whan that this martir of hethen was bore. I will declare yete, if ye will here, Why that these leves clevyn so sore: Thre of hem are berdyd and noo more, And too stand nakyd withouten dagge or berde - Thus are thei wont to growen in oure yerde. These fyve leves, as I seyd wolate, Betokenes these bokes whech we haven in hand: Too of hem expresse the tyme and the date In which this lady, as I undirstande, Leved as hethen and so dede al hir land. Therfor are thei naked in her kynde, Expressyng thus this ladies levyng blynde. Blynd I calle hir whill she was in that lyffe, Knew not Criste baptem, ne had non take, Of hevynly thinges litil inquisitiffe - Hir elde oppynyones had she noth forsake. Fro this blyndnes Crist made hir awake In oure third boke, rith as we seyd before - It nedith not as now it rehers nomore. The othir thre with berdis are so i-growe That leves of vertu men may hem calle. To all the world opynly thus it is knowe That she hath grace whech may not falle. So are hir leves endewyd and evyr shall: Evyr are thei grene and evyr more shall bee, Regnyng with Cryst in very felicyté. And in hir honour now I will procede To myn fyfte boke, in whech I will speke Of hir martirdam, so as the story will lede - How God the quelys for His cause dede breke And on the puple took full grete wreke. Thus shall it be translate now new fro Lateyn, To the worchip of God and of Seynt Kateryn. Chapter 1 Whan these clerkys had made thus her compleynt Of all her errour and wrong credulyté, The emperoures hert for sorow gan to feynt, For now is none that dare speke but he - In all these materis convicte is this mené. Wherfor with angry chere and wordys full dispitous Thus seyd he to hem as he stode in that hous: "Fy on youre scole! We had ful grete trost Ye schuld a made wele all that was amysse. All oure expens, all oure consayle is loste! Ye have reved me of this worldly blys - Noth worldly but gostly, for I seyd amysse - It is gostly joye and longith to oure feyth. Here ye noth now what that the puple seyth? "Thei seyn a maydyn hath convicte in this place Fyfty clerkis in this world non lych. Thei sey thei wollyn the same feyth purchace - Thus sey thei all, the pore and the rych. Wold God ye had be byryed in a dych Whan ye cam heder, for now all is lost: Labour and connyng, rydyng and mechil coost. "Lete now youre prudens make yow a new corage, That ye lese noth youre cunnyng and youre fame - Thinke what I hyth you, worchep and wage; Lyft up youre hertis, men, for very shame! Beth noth aferd, for than ye lesen youre name. Speke to this woman, with reson bere hir down, Than are ye worthy in scyens to bere the crowne. "Ye stand all hertles. Wher is youre cunnyng goo That been astoyned with nature femynyne? Be holy Saturne, I wold a supposed soo That on of you myth a ben for swech nyne. 1 Ye faren as ye were bound with lyne: What answere will ye gevyn of youre conyng, Whech that at nede avaylith nothing?" Chapter 2 The grettest of hem and leder eke, The same Ariot of whech I spake before, Onto the emperour thus he gan to speke: "Onto thi courte come we, lesse and more, Thi goddes servyse to gefe and restore, And, as I wene, of all the est syde Of all this world to seke fer and wyde "Shuldist noth fynd swech a pykyd cumpany In gramer, rethoricke, and thoo artes alle, But speciall in naturall philosophie Are we endewid. But to sciens whech thei calle Theologie, to that coud we not falle Till that this lady bryngyth us to induction - Evyr blyssyd be she for hir good instruction! "What manere man that wolde or this tyme Dispute with us be reson and auctorité, His demonstracyouns cowde us neyther trappe ne lyme, But he was caute for all his sotelté. He pased not fro us withoute a velonye - This was oure usage ryght than for victorye, So loved we these wordes of veynglorye. "Now it is turned, oure fortune and oure chaunce, Oure appetyte eke - I wote nevyr how it is went. This mayden makyth that we falle in traunce; Oure conyng now, it semyth that it is spent. Sche spekyth of Godd whech that was hangen and rent And gostly spech hath sche browte to place; Naturall scyens hath in this matere no space. "Therfore can we as in this solemnyté Speke ryght nowte, but resones make sche grete. Hir prechyng paseth all oure carnalyté, For whan I fyrst thus mystly herd hir trete In my body my bowelles sore gune bete, For very rebuke that I hir langage Cowde not conceyve. Wherfore, syre, alle your wage, "Alle your rewardes whech ye profyrd us, We refusen; youre goddes and youre lawe We renunce for the love of oure Lorde Jhesus. Schew ye summe resone pleynly that we may knawe If that your goddes with her rowe pawe Have othir evidens that ye can preve this tyde, For in this errour we wyll no lengere abyde. "Cryst, Goddes Sone, that with His blyssyd passyoun Bowt all mankynde, here we now confesse. Onto His mercy ryght with goode devocyoun We now commend us, the more and eke the lesse. Slee and flee, brenne and put in dystresse, Other feyth schall thu nevyr plant Into oure hert, for nothing now we want "But of baptyme, this holy sacrament. God, as He bowte us, on us have mercye." Thus seyden his felawys all with oon entent, "There is no Godd but He that syttyth on hye; On all these maumentys evyre sey we 'fye!' We schuld dey rathere than we schuld forsake The Crysten feyth whech we have now take." Chapter 3 Now wax the emperour ny wode and oute of mynde: His eyne rolled as thei wold fall oute. "Fy on yow," he seyd, "charles unkynde!" Now is oure feyth for yow more in doute Than evyr it was to hem that stonden aboute!" He thoo comaundyd in ful hasty wyse: "I wyll her deth that ye thus devyse. "A fyre I wyll that ye hastely make, Ryght in the myddes of the grete cetee - Spare no wode for holy Saturn sake. Spede yow fast these renegatys that ye see, Frye hem in her grece, for be that deyté Of swete Apollo, I schall not ete ne drynk Tyll that I se hem bothe brened and stynke. "Put in rosyn, pych, and othir gere; Spare no coste, for in this do ye servyse Onto oure goddys, withouten any fere. Thus schul thei dey that oure goddis despyce. I schall be there myself as justyse And see these I wele don in dede. Whan ye have don ye schall have ryght goode mede. "I wyll ye bynde hem bothe fote and hande, Drawe hem forthe as dogges unto the place. Youre ropes loke thei be myghty and youre bande - Spare neythir body, heedys, nyn her face. God gefe hem all swech a sorye grace That thus forsake oure goddys that be eterne! Loke none of hem skape yow in non hyrn. "Thei schal be brent dede, ryght as I have seyde, Brent into askes - thei gete no remedye. Lete hem crye now on this wylfull mayde Whech hath browte hem into that heresye! I wyll noo wordes as now multyplye: Goo now forth in hast and do youre dede; Whan it is done, treuly schall ye have your mede." Chapter 4 Thus are thei draw with grete vylony Onto her dome - thei wrestyll not ageyn. Men myght se there many a wepyng eye, But for fere no man dare now seyn. Glad are these meny alle of very peyn. The mayster of hem thus he cryed that tyme: "To God be it that for no synne ne cryme "Be we appechyd but only for trew feyth. Therfor, felawys, in Cryst youreselfe comfort. Whatevyr this tyraunt doth or seyth, Thank oure Lorde, for we are in His port Whech that ledyth us to that blyssyd comfort, Where all seyntys are gadered togedyr be grace In an hevynly, joyful, blessed place. "Oure Lorde hath called us fro oure olde erroure Onto this ende: thank we Him therfore Whech onto the beuté of His meroure Wold of His goodeness newly us restore. In this world, as for me, I wyll no more But that we schuld ben baptized or we deye; Than were we redy for to walke that goode weye. "For that same baptem is an holy werke: It causeth grace and feyth and eke endewyth; Betwyx God and man it is a very merke That whosoevyr Crystes steppes sewyth All his levyng sothely he renewyth, Whan that he waschyth in this watyr his synne. Oure Lorde Himselfe was wasched therinne "Ryght for this cause: that no man shulde dysdeyne To use the same whech that this Lorde used. Of my conceyte I wyll no more now feyne, For in this matere ofte tyme hafe I musede. Many yere this sacrament I refusede; That I repent now, and evyr I schall it rewe, That I so long leved a lyffe untrewe. "Werfore my care now is this onlye: That sythe we schall and nedys must deye, Of all oure synnes mercy for to crye, And all oure defautes undyr fote to ley, To treden hem down. Than savely may we sey That we are purged and of all made clene - Thus must we beleven, felawys, all bedene." Chapter 5 And onto the mayden he turned him with his voys: "Lady," he seyd, "for God that syttyth above And for the passyoun that Cryst had on crosse, Prey for us to Him that is thi love; Thu seyst full welle we may no lengere schove Oure lyvyng dayes, for thei are nye at ende; Prey that He wyll His mercy sende "Onto His servauntys and spare hem at this tyme. Suffyr us eke that we may waschyd be With holy baptem, that we may the bettyr clyme To that place of grete felicité; And if this prayere plese not Him, but He Wyll allgatys that we schall wante this thinge, We wolde desyre than of this blyssyd kinge "He wold with us make dispensacyoun, For all this may He; He is omnipotent. He lovyth all men, He lovyth every nacyoun Egaly, ye sey, this is oure fundament. If He dyspence with us of this sacrament, Than for wantyng may we bere no blame, Than schall oure deth be tyl us but game." Than seyd the mayd untyll hem all in fere: "Fere ye ryght nowght, thow ye want this thing. So as I can now wyll I yow lere. Thoo men that for love of Cryst oure kinge, Whech wante of baptem, that holy waschynge, Thei schall to blys, for aungellys schall hem carye - The fendes powere no thinge may hem tarye. "In stede of baptem servyth His passyoun: Not only blode whech that He for hem dyd blede But all othir deth whech with devocyoun Thus thei suffred unto hem grete mede. Leve ye wel this doctrine trostly as your crede, The grete peyne the whech is dempte to yow In stede of baptem schal be as now. "God may with fyre purgen mannys synne, With watyr eke as Him lyst demene; Summe men are baptyzed, heven for to wynne, With that watyr whech in the fonte is sene. Summe are purgede with her blode, I wene - Thei deyn as marteres, this is oure decré. Summe are baptyzed, eke, as leve we - "Thys calle oure clerkys baptem of the Goste - In Goddys mercy, and deyen oute of synne Ryght in her feyth that stedfastly troste. Therfore ye knytes of Cryste new begune, To cleym youre herytage that ye were therinne Beth not aferde, but suffre the peyn mekely - Than are ye baptized, trost me now trewly." Chapter 6 Whan that thei weren of this holy mayde Thus comforted, the offyceres comen anoon: Thei bondyn her handys, ryght as I seyde; Thei leden hem forth, fast as thei may goon, Onto a strete whech was pathed with ston. Well is him that may a fagott bere To brene the clerkys! The emperour was there, Sett in a stage, for he wold see the ende. The fyre is made, blokkes are leyd on hepe, Fagottes gan thei amonge the clogges bende. There is not ellys but fech, renne, and lepe; Blow now fast - the foweres shuld not slepe. Thei bynde her fete, thei throw hem in the fere, But thei are glad and full mery of chere, Thankyng God that all thing made of nowte That thei may dey for swech a Lordes sake. Thei pray to Him ryght as He hem bowte Her soules tyll Him now that He wold take. What schuld I now lengere this tale make? Thus are thei dede, her sowles onto blysse, Eke tyll her bodyes oure blyssed Lorde grauntyd thyss: Skyn ne flesch was non of hem brente, Ne hede, ne clothe, ne heere of berde ne of heede. Thei lay there dede with browes fayre bente, With fayre face colourde bothe whyght and reede, For lyk as the fyre makyth the rusty leede Bryth and schene, so makyth the fyre this mené - Whoso knew hem before myth ken hem and see. In her peynes, men seyd, thei cryed thus: "Blyssyd be God that we nevyr knew ere, Blyssyd be Cryst! Honourde be oure Lorde Jhesu! For of this tormente have we now no fere." This was a scole mervelows for to lere: That thei in torment myrth and joy schuld make. Onto God only her sowles gan thei take; Thus deyed this mené in Novembyre the thirtene day. Aftyr her deth thei semed not to a be dede: As slepyng men in fayre coloure thei lay, In handys, body, legges, eke, and heede, With coloure fresch, lovely, and also reede. This see the puple and mervelyd wondyr sore; God thei preysyd for than and evyr more, For be this miracle converted was that day Meche folke to Cryst, and for devocion Bothe of the clerkys and eke of the may, Thei token the bodyes with solempne orison And biried hem there in dyvers mansion, Trostyng to spede bettir for her cause. Thus endyth her martirdam rith in this clause. Chapter 7 Thoo sey the emperour: "There is non othir botte Onto this mayden whech is so stedfast But fayre wordes, whech draw womanhoode And makith hem often othir thingis to tast Than thei shulde do if thei wold be chast." Therfor this mayden rith thus thoo he glosyth: "Kateryne," he seyth, "there is no man supposith - "Nothe ye youreselve - that I wold but goode Onto youre persone. But this grete distresse To which I putte you, spellyng yet as no bloode, Was forto chast you fro that sekenes Whech that ye have caute of fonned holynes, And left the rytes that oure elderes before Receyvyd and honouryd as for sovereyn lore. "This was the cause why that I distressyd you soo. But love have I onto you sekyrly As to the best of alle, save on and no moo. And why I do soo, if ye will wete why, Youre beuté it causith, youre cunnyng eke; and I Love you so wele that, if ye lyke to consent, And thurifye to Jupiter that is omnipotent "Ye shall have honour - no woman shall be you lich. O swete virgyne, enclyne youre love to me! O fayre visage of bewté now most rych, O woman most worthy of imperiall degré, O very merveyle, parfyth felicité, Wold god ye knowen what care I have for yow And what beheest I have made in myn avowe. "Why wold ye despyce oure goddis immortall? Why wold ye calle hem so venemous a name? Why seyd ye that thei are develes infernall? Why slaunder ye so her endewed fame? For this blasfeme, iwis, ye are to blame: 'Deceyvoures of the puple,' as ye seyde. Chaunge youre langage, ye noble goodly mayde! "Chaunge betyme, for though thei suffir longe, At the last thei smyten and taken hey venjaunce. Tendir youre thought, speke no more wronge: Thus shall ye best her yre swage. Take youre offeryng yet, in schort langage, And plesith hem so thei may be youre frendes, And sey nevyr more that thei be fendes. "If ye wil don as I you now counsayle, This shall ye have: next aftir the qween Shall ye be to us, withouten fayle; To youre comaundment all men shall bene Obeyng, but whom that ye will susteyne He shal be favoured with all myth and mayne, And whom that ye hate, compendiously to sayne, "That man shall levyn in full gret distresse. Comforth youreselve, dispice not good counsayle, Makith not youre frendis to levyn in hevynesse, Lete myn wordis sinken in youre entrayle: Fle swech that may not avayle. Withinne my kyngdam may ye have this ryght: What that ye will shal be fulfyllyd as tyth. "If that ye will exilen ony man, That man shall goo - there shall no good him save. More plesaunce to you graunt I ne can But suffir youre will all that ye will have. For this decré shall I nevyr more wave: Whom that ye list of grace for to avaunce, In joyfull dayes that same man may daunce. "Betwix the qween and you shal be non distaunce But only this: because of oure spousayle Sche must of me have more dewe plesaunce - The love betwix us, I trow, shall nevyr fayle; But to you shall long both lawe and counsayle Thorow all oure reme to governe at youre wille: Rith as ye bydde all men shall fulfylle. "Yete shall I make in the market place A solempne ymage lich an empresse. As man of craft will counterfete youre face It shal be made. Ilke man, more and lesse, Shall honour that with ful grete besynesse, Whan thei comen forby shul fallen on knes anon. This ymage shall not only be made of stone, "But of clene metall, gylt full bryght and shene. Whoso comyth forby with sufficient evidens Shall knowen full wele that sche was a qwene Whos ymage stante there, and that in grete offens Shall he falle that doth noo reverens To that ymage. And whoo flee thertoo, What maner offens that evyr he hath doo, "Shal be forgeve at the reverens of yow, mayde. Thus may ye be deyfyed, if ye will it take." Swech maner wordis untill hir he sayde: He wold a tempill all of marbell make, Of ful grete cost rith for hir sake, Wenyng evyr with swech feynyd plesauns To bryng this mayde oute of hir good perseverauns. Chapter 8 Sche lowe a lytill whan sche had herd all this, And than she spake with mery countenaunce: "Full happy am I," she seyd, "unto blys, Whan that the emperour will me thus avaunce To reren a ymage of so grete plesaunce In worchip of me and of so grete pryse. Summe men wolde seyn that I were nyse "If I refused it, for of gold it schal be If I comaunde, but yet at the lest Of sylvere he wyl it make and of swech quantyté The chaungours schul stryve and be in no rest To bregyn so mech tresoure oute of the nest To make a memoryall of Kateryne the mayde!" Swech manere wordes at that tyme sche sayde: "And thow this ymage be made of marbyll grey, Suffysyth it that to my laude eterne Every man schall come be the wey Where that schal be sett in a herne, On bothe knes him must fall yerne And do his omage, elles must him deye. What manere wordes hope ye thei shall seye? "'Heyl ymage, made ryght in memoryall Of a lady full wyse and ful of prudent; Heyle statue that art now as eternall; Heyl sygne, made ryght to this entent - The grete beawté of Kateryne to present!' Wyll not this be full grete plesaunce Tyl hem that loven this worldly lusty daunce? "But this wold I knowyn or we this thinge make: Of what matere schall my legges be? What manere werkman that dare undyrtake To make hem to meve and walke in her degré? My handys, eke, I wolde wete how that he Shuld make to fele and of what matere - Or we goo ferther this wold I lere. "The eyne eke whech this ymage schall have, If thei schul loke ryght as I do in dede, Where is that werkman that swech thinges can grave? He were wel worthy to have ful grete mede! I leve nevyr that this werk shuld well spede. Thys matere thus sotely to congelle, There is no werkman in erthe that can it fulfylle. "A tunge, eke, if he shuld it make Onto this ymage to speke and to crye: Where is he that dare this undirtake? If he do thus, he werkith a grete maystry, But for this cause that there is no man so slye. Therfor I conclude thus, in a shorte sentens: Whan ye have wared youre witte and youre expens "To make this ymage, it shal be unsensible, Stond lyke a stone, and byrdes that flyes ther abowth - As I suppose it shal be right possible Ther shall comyn sumtyme a full grete rowth - Here unclene dunge shall thei there put oute And lete it falle rith on the ymage face. Loo, swech a guerdon I may now purchace "That men shuld dredyn and foules shuld defyle! But whan deth hath shake on us his blast, And that oure mynd be passed a lytyl whyle, I am aferd this werke shall not last - Wherfor to make it me thinkyth but a wast. To trosten in fame and in veynglory It is but feynyng a fekyl flatery. "And thou thei make it as fayre as thei can, Yette shall dogges defylen it every day. For thow it honoured be of every man, The small childeryn that come by the way Shul sumtyme make there ful fowle aray. Shall I for this leve my God forevyr And fro His frenchip my sowle now desevyr "To worchep develes that standen in tempil here, Kepte as beres? Do way! It shall not be - There shall no joy ne peyne me nevyr stere To leeve my Lorde, to leve my felicité, To renne in apostasie. Fye! It will not be! Lette be youre labour, sere, let be youre promysse; Thei shall not maken me nevyr to do amysse. "What, shuld my lyffe bettir ben in ese For swech a statue? What shuld it profyth Onto my soule - me thinkith it coude not plese No good man, for thow it were to the syth Ful delectable, with coloures schynyng bryth, Onto oure dayes it shuld non encres, Onto oure sekenes it shuld non reles, "Onto oure lyffe it shuld be no myrth, Onto oure deth it shuld non comforth be. None avayle to end ne to byrthe: To what part longith it of felicité? If it mowte kepe my flesh in swech degré It shuld not rote, I shuld it nevyr weyven, But as profitable I wold it than receyven. "I have a promysse made of a gretter Lorde, Of gretter fame than I will now expresse, And made aforne persones of recorde In whech is graunted, truly withoute gesse, A memorial of parfyth stabilnesse, As ye shall knowe, many that here be. Leveth youre besynes as now onto me - Labour no more to wynne me to youre parte. It shall not be, I wil be as I am, It will not avayle youre sotilté ne youre arte - He is my spouse whech is both God and man; I am His mayde. I wil do that I can To haven His love; He is my swetnesse, He is my joy, He is my gentilnesse." Chapter 9 Thoo chaunged the emperour both word and chere, And to the mayden he seyd as I rehers: "The benynglyer that we treten you here, As me semeth, the more ye revers. This shall ye have, shortly in a vers, Deth or joy whech you levest: If ye will leve in solas and in rest, "Than shal ye now with hey devocion Thurifye to that magesté Of grete Appollo. His exaltacion - As ye knowe wele, for it is no secré - Redressith this word with hete whech that he Spredyth upon iche mayde. Obey thertoo! There is no choys; this thing must nedis be doo. "Fayre spech avaylith noth to you in no wyse. I wold wele with solas a led youre gentilnesse, But at my promysse ye sett lytill prysse - Ye schal repent it sothly, as I gesse. There is the fyre: dispose you to holynesse, Do it with good will; ye schal the soner purchace Pardon of synne and encres of grace. "If ye do noth, in schort tyme ye shal be dede, Rith in example of the puple that is here: Her hertis arne hangyng hevy as leed; A man may perseyven rith be her chere It may not passen lyghtly, swech matere - It must be punchid, rith for fere of othir. He shuld be dede thou he were my brothir." Chapter 10 "Peyne is welcome to me," seyd she than, And deth, eke, I wil it noth forsake, For thou ye smyth, fle, sle, or banne, It skyllith me rith noth for my Lordis sake Swech myschevys for His love to take. He toke for me mych more wrechydnes Whill He lyved her in this worldly wyldernes. "Poverté He suffered than full buxumly Whan that He myth an had riches at His will; The same myschef yete suffered nevyr I, But if it com, I will obey thertyll. Ageyn blasfemewrs stod that Lord ful styll, Gevyng exaumpil til us of paciens: Why shull His servauntis maken ony resistens "Whan the wykyd purposyd to don hem wrong? For His cause, His feyth, or His love I am now redy, be it short or long, To suffer despite, peyne, and reprove. I wote wele it will falle to myn behove Whan I am gone: the more I suffyr here, The more joy shal I haven elleswhere. "He offered himselve to the Fader of blys An host ful clene, undefyled with synne, And I wil offyr my body, for it is His, Onto His plesauns whech I wold wynne. Loke ye youreselve whan ye will begynne, For I am redy in body and in goost: Sle or flee, fry or ellis roste. "There shall come tyme thu shalt repent full sore Of cruel domes whech thu usest here. Of thi power settest thu ful gret store, Whech shal rew thee ful sore aftir thi bere. Crystes servauntis hast thu brent in fere - In tyme comyng therfor thu shal be schent Whan that thu with fendes in helle shal be brent. "The more thu thretyst, the more glad am I; The moo peynes thu applyest to me, The more my joyes encres sekyrly. I go not alone whan that I part fro ye, For whan I dey many of thi mené Of thin howsold shal folow me ful sone. Of Cryst my Lord have I askyd that boone: "That of thi meny rith a full grete parte Shul trow in Him and levyn her ydolatrye. Wayte aboute with all thin sotyll arte - Thu shal fynd that I make no lye. Her soules fro peyn frely thus shul flye Streyte to hevyn, and thu shalt brenne in helle. This thing is trew that I ye now telle." Chapter 11 Than was the emperour ny wode for ire. He comaund his men that stodyn hem abowte To fetche yerdis of ful sotyll wyre; He chase men that were of body ful stouth. Till hem he seyd right thus without douth: "Take this mayden and strippe hir moder-nakyd. I trow she shal sone of hir slepe be wakyd! "Bete hir wele, rith for hir blasfeme To feryn hem that trostyn in hir doctryne. Lete hir no more spekyn of that Bethleme, Ne of Galile shal she no more dyvyne. I trow that peyne shal hir rather enclyne Onto oure wille than may oure plesauns. Do ye youre dever, thou that she falle in trauns!" The tormentoures have taken hir on syde, Made hir naked backe and armes thertoo. With eyrend wandes, as fast as thei may glyde, Thei beten hir body; the blode cam fast hir froo. Whan thei were wery, than don fresh men moo: Thus is she betyn for hir spouses love. Sche trostith on comforth that comyth fro above. These weren hir wordes: "Lord send me paciens, Make me strong to suffir this penauns. If that I have ronne in Thi offens Lete it be purged be this same grevauns. Thankyng be evyr unto Thi purvyauns, Lord, maker of man and best. Of Thi servauntis, I that am the leest, "Thanke Thee more for this same betyng Than for the welthes that Thu sent me befor, For wele wote I that this tormentyng, It is to me as a grete tresowre. Farewel the werd now forevyr more: Stele and robbe the goodes that I have; I care noth now neythir for toure ne cave." The tyraunt aske among this byttir peyne, Whan all was blode and the beters wery were all: "What sey ye mayden? Will ye yete susteyne Youre elde heresye in whech ye be falle? If ye will mercy of oure goddes calle, Ye shall it have, and ellys new game - Or that ye goo, I trow ye shal be tame." Sche answerd thus: "Sere, know this wele: That I am strenger in body and in goost Than evyr I was to sufferne every dele Al maner turment, wheyther thu wolt fry or roost. But thu, my schamful dog ful of boost, Do what thu wilt, for I shall stronger be In my sufferauns than thu in thi cruelté. "Bethink thee wele, on ilke maner syde, Whom thu may fle or bryng on dawe The Crysten puple that knowen is so wyde, Whech do no wrong but kepyn a ful trew lawe. I shall dey and passen this worldes wawe, Folow my Lorde and dwelle with Him in blys, Wher that no thing is thout ne do amys. "Ther schall I dwelle in joye and in solas Whan thu thiself schalt be in horrybyll peyne. Thou schalt than desyre, but thu schalt have no grace; Thou schalt be bounden with that wofull cheyn Of obstynacy; thu schalte repente and seyn, 'Allas that evyr I wrowth swech torment Onto youre hevenly blyssyd covent!' "Thus schalt thu wayle qwan thu sest us in blysse, And thu in sorowe withouten remedye, Lyeng in peynes whech shul nevyr mysse, This shalt thu knowe uphap hastyly. Therfore fulfylle now of ire thi malencolly, And I shall suffyr for the love of God of heven." Thus seyd the lady with a ful bold steven. Chapter 12 The emperour comaunded onto his servauntis anon, "Ye take this mayd and into prison hir lede. I will ye put hir in the depe cave of ston, No man so hardy in no maner hir to fede. I will," he seyth, "that this be done in dede: All these fourty dayes whech that I shall ryde, Lete hir no mete have to slake therwith hir pryde. "Geve hir no drynke, ne lete hir no drynke have. Whoso otherwyse do ageyn my comaundment - So holy Jubiter mote my soule save - Whan I come home, sone shall he be brent! I will that ye fulfylle all myn entent Even streytly, withoute delacion: No man so hardy of no maner nacion "Bere hir mete or drynke or eny lyght." This cruell maundment and this same decré Made the emperour thus ageyn the law o ryght And is redyn forth with his mené Up into the lond for cause whech that he Had for to don as potestates have. And thus is this mayde left alone in cave, Withouten ony comforth or ony solas. But Cryst hath noth forgetyn His wyffe All these fourty dayes, of His good grace, He wolde noth levyn hir like a caytiffe. He sent down His servauntis fro the hows of lyffe - His aungelis I mene - to comforth this mayde. Swech maner wordes thoo til hir seyd thei: "Oure Lord comaund that ye shuld be glade - Suffir this desese with sobir paciens. Mete shal ye have - ye nevyr swech had; Lith hath He sent yow with oure presens. The emperour for youre cause renneth in offens Whech he shall sumetyme ful sore repent." Thus was she comforted in hir torment With lyght of heven and with hevenly mete, With presens of aungelis. For thei that hir kepte, Thei myth here the noyse, how thei hir trete. Thei myth sene lyght as it gan strepe Thorow the slarrys - thei myth not slepe. So have thei merveyle of all this thing, But rith noth told thei onto the kyng. But to othir folke in the courte there Sprong this word there, how that this mayde Was kept fro lyth, in ful grete fere, And fro mete eke, as I ere sayde, And how the jayloures were so afrayde Of certeyn lyght at the dongon dore: This word in the courte goth aboute sore. Chapter 13 The tydens are come onto the qwenes ere Of the cruel sentens and of the lith eke, How that the mayden without ony fere Had answerd the clerkys in the tothir weke, And how that the mayden with wordes meke Had turned hem to Cryst, and how thei were brent, And she for that cause in prison is ny shent. The emperour was absent, as I seyd before, Forth unto the lond redyn in hast. Thei tolde the qween that he comaunded sore That she neythir mete ne drynke shuld tast, But for pure hungyr she must dey and wast - These last wordes seyd he on the heth: "No man gefe hir mete ne drynke ne lyght in peyn of deth." This meved the qwen of very womanly peté To have compassion of these peynes alle Whech that this lady, be very cruelté Of the kyng, had suffered. Thus is she falle, The qwen, all in stody walkyng in the halle, Thinkyng besyly upon this mayde, And til hirself pryvyly thus she sayde: "These Cristen folke, thei do no man wrong: Alle that thei bye trewly therfor thei pay; Onto her God thei syngyn ful goodly song New and new, as men seyn, every day; Wastfull are thei noth in no maner of ray; In gloteny ne drunkchip wil thei nevyr be - This same lyffe full wele it plesith me. "And on of hem had I ben or nowe, Had not oure lawe forfend us that scole. If it were sene that I to hem drowe, Men schuld seyn that I were a fole. It myth turne me eke to mekyl dole If that my lorde myth this changyng knowe. But yete in my herte there begynnyth to growe "A grete desyre for to sene this mayde. Allas, how shall I fulfylle myn entent?" Thus be hirselve the lady thought and sayde. But in this stody even as she went Happyd to come, as thow God had him sent, A noble knyth, a wysman in all thing, Pryvy of counsayle ryght speciall with the kyng, Governowre of knytes, leder of hem alle, A very fadyr to yong folke that shuld lere - Porphery the storyes rith thus thei him calle. Onto the qween he kneled with ful sad chere. "I am glad," she seyd, "Porphery, that ye be here. Ye ben a man that may mych avayle. To you now I will tellen my pryvy counsayle. "I am so trobilled newly with Crysten lawe I can noth slepe, I may neythir ete ne drynke. Every day, or it begynnyth to daw, And eke all nyght, on this matere I thynke - I trow I am ful ny my lyves brynke, But I have comforte ryght thus." Thoo sche sayde, "Goode Porphyry, me muste nedes se yon mayde. "Orden ye the meene ryght as ye can - Gefe the gaylere gold and sylvyr enowe; Ordeyn so that ye and I may than Speke this ladye. To Godd I make a vowe, Loke my lorde nevyr so wrothe and rowe, I must nedes speke hir or I schal be dede, For in this matere myn hert is hevy as lede." Porphyry seyde, "Madame, it schal be do: I schal parforme this thing, trost in me. In swech degré the dorys schal be ondoo There schall no man be pryvy but we thre - That is to seyn, the gaylere, I, and ye. Drede yow noth, ye schal have your entent. With this matere have I sore be torment: "Me thinkyth grete wrong that this lady suffereth here So horribily beten, kept fro mete and drynke, And she no harme doth in no manere. Ful often tyme she made me on hir to thynke Sithin I hir herde the noble argumentis clynke With the clerkys, whan she convycte hem alle. Therfor, madame, falle what so befalle, "We wil se hir, and with good leysyre, And speke with hir this same nyte folowyng. Grete giftis shall I geve to the gaylere To kepe counsayle and speke of this nothing. Goo ye to chaumbir and whan I geve warnyng Comyth forth alone and lete youre women slepe - Loke ye be redy whan I shall you clepe." Chapter 14 Thus be consent the qwen and Porphiry, Whan all men slepyn to prison are thei goo Alle alone, rith seyth oure story. Whan thei comen there, thei too and no moo, So grete lith in prison sey thei thoo That thei fallen down withouten spech or breth - Thei hopyd nevyr to a ben so ny her deth, For that brytnes was lych a lythnyng Whech thei sey than, so wondyrfull and bryght Her wytt is goo, and down in stameryng Are thei falle for fere of that syght. There was a savour, also, with the lyght; Thei felt nevyre swech, the story seyth, certeyne, For with that savour her comfort cam ageyn. Tho spake the mayden swech wordes to hem: "Ryse up syster, ryse up brothir in fere. Cryst that was bore in the cité of Bethleem, He hath callyd yow onto His servyse here. Be glad and mery, be of ryght goode chere; Oure Lord hath chose yow newly to His grace - For that cause He sent yow to this place." Thei behelden the mayde at that tyde, How that sche sate on knes full mekely. Many aungell sey thei on every syde, With swete gummes anoyntyng hir softly; Evyr as thei touchede with handys by and by The flesch was helyd, the skyn closed ageyn, With mech more beauté, sothely for to seyn, Than evyr it was whyle that it was hole. Thus can oure Lorde redresse all dolour Whech men suffre, be it in hede or soole. He can in lesse tyme than in halfe a houre Hele oure sores, comfort oure laboure. These folk there hadden a blysfull syght, Ful of comforte, ful of hevynly delyte. There satte besyde eke sundry ful elde men Gevyng comforte ontyll hir hevynesse. There were in cumpanye no mo than nyn or ten - Of her noumbre have I no sekyrnesse - Thei were sent thedyr, sothely as I gesse, Because this woman was withoute solace, Hir to comfort with summe hevynly grace. On of hem helde in his hande a crown Fayre and reall - we can it not dyscryve - Ryght fro his hande Kateryne toke it down. Onto the qwen thus she seyd belyve: "This crown, systir, with these braunches fyve Shall ye haven and weryn upon youre heed As for asay; but aftir, whan ye be dede, "Than shall ye have it for reward evyrlestyng." Onto the old men tho turned that mayde Whil she helde the crowne, in the settyng, Thus tyl hem with meke voys she sayd: "For these personys to my Lord I prayd Thei shul be writyn in the boke of lyffe. Therfor, seres, as I, Crystes wyffe, "Graunted be patent, so wil I that ye wryth These too names in that boke forevyr. Clense her synnes, make so that hevy with Fro my Lord nomore hem desevyre. I pray to God that now mote thei falle nevyre Aftir the tyme that thei reseyvyn the feyth." On of the eldest ageyn onto hir seyth: "O preciouse spouse of God that syttyth above, O gemme reall schynyst in chastyté, Whatevyr thu aske of Cryst that is thi love, It cannot fayle, so precious to you is He. Onto thi persone, therfore, trost thu to me: This lady shall preve onto grete perfeccion, This knyte shall have eke swech progression "In vertuous lyffe that thorow his gode counsayle Too hundred and moo fro her fals beleve Shall turne to Cryst and ful sore for her synne wayle Her fals feyth whech thei cannot preve." Thus have these folke of Kateryne take her leve, Walkyng to chaumbyr with hertis suspens, Kepyng this matere alle cloos in sylens. Chapter 15 This mayden is kepte in prison evyr stylle With swech comforth as ye have herdyn here. Of mannys comforth hath she neythir lettir ne bylle - No man dare doo it, swech is now her fere. Fourty dayes full thus was she kepyd there Withouten mete, but in all these dayes Of hevenly mete had she swete assayes. For He that fedde Danyel the prophete in the lake And caryede Abacuc so ferre oute of Jude To bryng him vytayle, that same Lord myth make That in prison this mayden thus fedde shuld be. In storyes that I rede, in dyvers too or thre, A fayre dowe fro heven brouth hir mete - Wheythir bodyly or goostly it is hard for to trete, For, as Austen seyth, that same seede Whech oure faderes receyvyd in wyldernes, Whech served hem than in stede of brede - This very doctir seyth in sothfastnes - That possybyll it is swech seedes more or lesse Shuld be noryshyd in the eyyere be supposicion, In the lowere part whech hath desposicion, Sumwhat to the erde acordyng in nature: This is his sentens, whoso wil it rede, In his boke whech tretyth in Scripture. I trow this same was don here in dede: The Holy Gost this goodly mayden gan fede With hevenly thyng whech had erdly kynd: Thus wene I, but I wil no man bynd, But if he will for to levyn my tale. She was fedde - that have we of treuth. If God had left hir in so byttyr bale Withouten comforth it had ben grete reuth. In that pryson she lyved withouten sleuth Alle fourty dayes, but in the last of alle As she in prayyer ful besyly gan calle Onto Cryst, she saw an hevenly syth: Oure Lord Himselve to pryson is com down, With many aungellys shynyng wondir bryth, With many maydenes of ful grete renown - For very joy Kateryne fell in swown. Oure Lord comforth hir with ful goodly chere: "Dowtir, lokyth up whom ye se here. "Know youre makere for whom alle this dysese Ye have suffered. Take it evyr in pacyens - The more ye suffyr, the more ye Me plese. Kepe youre constans, drede no worldly offens, Thinke 'not long,' leve noth with herte suspens. I am with yow, I shall you nevyr forsake. Many an hert ful redy shul ye make "Onto My servyse or ye part fro this lyffe; Grete nombre of puple shall ye returne - Many a husbond, mayd, widow, and wyffe Fro her maumentrye shall ye hem returne, Onto My feyth ledyn hem to sojorne." Whan this was do oure Lord went up to hevyne With grete brythnes as it were a levyne. She lokyd aftir tyll she sey no more, Returnyth to prayyer, as evyr was hir usage, It was to hir a ful grete tresore That Jhesu lyst to make that pylgrymage. Hir hertly sorow so for to swage With His presens, blyssyd evyr He be, And be this mayden comend to Him be we. Chapter 16 Whan his causes arne brouth fully to the ende With that he rode forth - Maxens now I mene - He is comyn home. Anon he gan to send For hir be sex knytys, rith as I wene. If thei be fals, sone it shall be sene, Thei that kepte hir; it shall hem ovirthynke If it be provyd thei goven hir mete or drynke! Alle the cyté is gaderyd to sene this syth, A grete puple; summe for cruelnes, Summe are there that han ful grete despyth At the emperour for his wykkydnes - Thei thinke this lady is put to grete distresse For no cause only but for gode. The emperour seyd with ful sturdy mood, "Bryng forth this woman, bryng forth this concionatrix! Bryng forth this scolde or a wycche; no man may turne hir herte! In hir errour is sche made so fyx That fro it no man may make hir sterte. But if it she do, ful sore shall she smerte." Thus is she brouth before his presens. He supposed veryly that for hir abstinens She had be pynyd even to deth. Now lokyth she fresch with colour. For very angyr his hert ny it sleth, For she is fayrere than she was that hour Whan he comaunde to ledyn hir to that tour. "Traytoures," he seyd, "ye shal dey ilke one But ye telle me in this place anon "Who hath fedde ageyn oure comaundment This froward caytyff that no man may evyr lede! I swere be Jubiter, which is omnipotent, It shal be wist who that dede this dede. There shall no man for no maner mede Do this thing whech we forfend soo." He dede hem bynd with eyryn be too and too. Than the mayden to excusen hem alle Seyd to the kyng swech maner wordes certeyn: "Thu art a lord, an emperour men thee calle; Thu art ordeynyd all treuth to susteyn. Thei that don ageyn thi lawe or seyn, Hem shuld thu ponyshe, but innocentes non: If thu dost, thu dost ageyn thi trone, "For these men whech had kepyng of me Brout me neythir mete ne drynke, thu undirstand. I was susteyned all in anothir degré Be my Lord whech is alle weldand, For be His messangeres sent He me to hand Alle my sustenauns - no dore myth hem lette, To spere hem out thu canst not gette. "Therfore these innocentis, do hem no torment; Thei be not worthi, sere kyng, I sey thee whi: Be holy aungellis my Lord me mete sent - Non erdly creature was therto pryvy - For hungyr He wold not suffyr me to dey. He is my love, I am His forever; Joy ne sorow shall us not desever." Chapter 17 Tho these wordes the tyraunt with dobylnesse Answerd ful fayre, that thei that stodyn abouth Shuld not suppose in him swech cruelnes - The sturdy hert in him whech was so stouth Was hid with langage as venyn in a clouth; Ful fayre wordes at that tyme he sayde: "I am for yow ful sory, most goodly mayde. "Ye born a kynges dowtir, of kyng and of qwene, Cosyn to lordes many that servyn me: The best born woman of this cuntré ye bene, Thus are ye namyd, and all this with sotylté Of certeyn wytchis - cursyd evyr thei be - Is turnyd and lost, for othir joy is there non But Jhesu Cryst, Mary, Petyr, and Jon, "Whech are tratoures proved be the senate And dampned to the deth for treson and heresy. Whi will ye lesse thus youre honourabil astate And gevyn attendans to witchcraft and lye? It had ben bettir to a kepte the same sophye Whech that ye lerned fyrst in scole. This maner lernyng will prove yow a fole. "Eke ageyn oure holy goddes servyse Ye speke and cry, and that so malicyously, With word and chere ungoodly hem despyse: This causeth me, I sey yow sewirly, That, notwithstand, so mote I have mercy, That I wold save yow, I must nede punysh this pryde Ryth for my puple that stand here besyde. "Therfore chese now wheydir that ye will deye With swech deth as law will dampne you too, Or ellys youre feyth, if ye will reneye, Than shall ye have mercy and worchip eke alsoo. Com of anon, let se what ye will doo: Offir to Jubiter, youre god omnipotent; Youre tendyr body with yrn shall ellys be rent." Chapter 18 The mayde answerd to the emperour ageyn: "Thou that my lyffe be ful swete to me Yet had I lever with a swerd be slayn Than that my lyfffe in ony maner degré Shuld offend the blyssyd majesté Of my Lord God. I sey thee, Cryst is my lyffe And grete encres, thow I dey on a knyffe, "So that I dey in charyté and for His sake. Therfore, thow deth come to me this houre, For His lufe ful mekely I wyll it take; I schall nevyr with myght ne with laboure Gruch ageyn my Lorde, my savyoure. Deth schall avaunce me with gret emolument. Deth is a chaungoure: fro this lyffe present "To bettyr he ledyth us. This is oure beleve: Oure dedely bodyes whech are coruptible, Whan that he comyth, he bryngeth hem to this preve, That thei schall rest and rote as seyth oure byble. Aftyr that restyng, yet it is possible Onto oure Lorde the bodyes to rere ageyn In fayrrer forme than evyr thei were seyn. "Therfore, thu teraunt with thi feyned langage, Do what thu wylt: put me to torment, Brenne me with brondys, thin yre for to swage. I wold offyr to Cryst whech is omnipotent Summe plesaunt offeryng, summe delectable present; Kyin and calveryn or schepe I all forsake - Myn owe body to offeryng wyll I take. "But for I may not lefully do it myselfe As make this offeryng, therfore thi cruelté Schall bydde thi servauntys eythere ten or twelfe With veniable hert to make a hende of me. Too Him that was offered in Calvery on a tre, To Him I offyr my flesch, my blode, and my felle. But for thi cruelnes, yet eft I thee telle, "Thou schalt ful sore hereaftyr this thing repent Not oonly in helle, whech thu schal be inne, But here in erde schal thu fayle thin entent: For thi dedys, whech are full of synne, God schall rere a lorde the whech schall wynne Alle thi londes fro thee and make the pore, Take awey thi worchepe and thi tresoore. "Yet schal he slee thee as thu art worthy: That wykkyd heede he schall make of smyte, Thi blode shall be offered than full solemply Onto thi goddys ryght for despyte. Loke my wordys that thu note and wryte: This man that shall brynge thee thus a dawe Schal be a lorde of the Crysten lawe. "Yet may thu skape all this grete myschauns If thu wyll turn ye and aske God mercy Of thi wykedenes, if thu have repentauns And forsake the maumentys whech stand on hye!" These are the wordes whech that this ladye Seyd at that tyme this man to convert, But all hir wordes sett he not at hert. Tho semeth it wele this lady for holynesse Was so avaunsed whyll sche was lyvande That God made hir as a prophetesse To tell thinges that were aftyr comaunde, For this same deth, as I undyrstande, Had this same Maxence as sche seyd, trewly. For in storyes I am well avysed that I Have red of him that he went to Rome To fyght with oon whech had governauns Of all that cyté, and oonly onto his dome Stode all that cuntré with all her pusauns, Bothe Ytayle and Almayne, Ynglond, Spayn, and Frauns - Constantyn he hyght, whech thoo baptyzed was Of Seynt Sylvestere be a ful specyall grace. This same Constantyne discoumfetyd in batayle This forseyd Maxence, for all his pompe and pryde, As this lady in prophecye whech myght not fayle Had seyd before - the fame was bore full wyde And merkyd full wele, the day and eke the tyde, Of sundry men whech aftyrwarde full wele knewe All that sche seyd was full stable and trewe. 2 Chapter 19 But whan these wordes were seyd of this mayde, He cryed lowde to the puple abowte, So was he with hir wordes afrayde. What he shall do now is he fall in dowte. Swech was his crye: "Fy on swech a rowte That schall thus suffyr a woman here defame Oure hye goddys, her servyse, and her name! "How long schall we this whych thus susteyne? How long schall we suffyr this cursidenes? To all good leveres it schuld be very peyne To here a woman with swech sturdynesse Ageyn all men, the more and eke the lesse, Thus evermore crye - ley on hondys, for schame - Ye stand as men me thinkyth were lame!" Thus cryed this tyraunt with full lowde noys, Thus berkyd this dogg ageyn that hevynly name, Ageyn Jhesu that was hangyd on croys. His men abowte him thus gan he to blame: "Com forthe anon; loke ye tak this dame, Bete hir and rende hir with yrn and plumbys of lede - Leve not youre labour tyll that sche be dede!" Sche was bete now than befor his face So dispytously that schame it was to see, For many a man that stode thoo in that place Myght not loke on hir for reuthe and pytee. The tyraunt wold nevyr sey, "Now leve ye," But evyr he cryed, "of hir make an hende, For if sche lyve oure puple wyll sche schende!" Chapter 20 Thus is sche bounde and led forth in the town. The puple that folowyde on hir thus gun crye: "O noble mayde, why wyl ye not fall down Onto the emperour and of him aske mercy? We are full sory that youre fayre body Is so rent, youre skyn is all to tore; But ye aske mercy, ye are lost for evyrmore. "What woman are ye that so despyse your age, Youre body, your beuté, that ye set at nought? Ye may have worchepe, ye may be set in stage Ryght as a goddesse - where on is youre thowte? And all the world for beuté schulde be bowte: Here myght thei fynde it; thei nede no ferther seke. Syth ye be wyse, syth ye be holde so meke, "Why wyll ye not obey onto the kynge? Bettyr it is to bowe than vylensly to be dede. In youre bokes I trow ye lerned this thinge: The grete dygnyté may ye not down trede; It longyth to yow to obey onto your heede. Syth it is ryght, why will ye not it doo? We wolde do thus if ye councelled us soo. "Ye lese the flour of youre virgynyté, Ye lese that Godd plenteuously in yow sette, Ye lese your herytage, ye lese youre degré, All for a worde whech that is youre dette! Ovyrsolenly think we that youre hert is sett Whan that no counseyle may yow lede ne rayle, Most specyaly whan it is your avayle." Swech wordes spake the puple there abowte: "Remembre yow, mayde, what ye schall now lese All for youre hert, for it is so stowte. Feynyth summe plesauns, syth ye may not chese - Both body and bonys with betyng wyll ye lese; Onys mercy may avoyde all this. Thys is oure consell - it may yow bryng to blys. "Youre whyght skyn that schyneth as the sune, Ye wyll schende it and make it pale and wan, For very betyng it wyl be all dunne; Youre blode reall whech now that no man In these dayes remembyr no hyer can, This wyll ye spylle ryght upon the grounde. Youre counsell in this is neythir sane ne sounde!" Chapter 21 "O wykkyd counsell," seyd the mayde ageyn, "Goo to your werkys and think no more on me. Fy on beuté that wyll with wynde and reyn Be steyned ful sone; my fayrnesse whech that ye Compleyn so sore, thow that I lyve, pardé, And fall in age, yet wyll it than apeyre. Than for my flesch fall ye not in dyspeyre, "But trost ye this as for a sekyrnesse: All youre bodyes, be thei nevyr so bryght, Shall dey and roote in her wretchydnes, For this same deth longyth onto us of ryght, Condempned for synne be the provydens and the syght Of God, oure Lord. What, shall we than so wayle For febyll beuté that so sone will qwayle? "Every man must thus as of necessité Deye and rote but of the speciall grace Be graunted to summe of that deyté - For summe with clennes be that there purchace Swech dispensacion that in what maner place They be leyd, thei shall nevyr roote, Flesshe ne senowis, veynes, shete ne coote: "This specialté is to hem graunted here That kepe her bodyes fro all unclennes Of lust and fylth and fro that love unclere Whech thei calle lechery - no love, I gesse, I calle it rather a wyld rage of wodnesse. But now to purpos: thei that kepe hem clene, Thei have this pardon graunted, as I wene. "And if my Lord, my love, wil graunt me That aftir my deth my flessh shall not roote, Than am I more bound onto His deité Than evyr I was and this I Him behoote: There shall nevyr man make me so to doote That I shall leve His love or His plesauns. Therfore, ye puple, leve this observauns, "Folowith no lenger, goth home to youre werke; Wepe noth for me but for youreselve ye wayle. I shall dey bodyly, but because I have the merke Of Crystis baptem, I shall scape that grete asayle Of all the fendys whech with grete travayle Are ful besy oure soules for to gete Onto her prison, where thei shall hem bete. "This shall I escape and eft ryse ageyn In fayrer forme than evyr ye sey in me - I beleve and trost this thing as for certeyn. Therfor, seres, for youreselve wepe ye, For youre errour, that ye in derkenes be; For if ye deye in this same errour, Youre reryng ageyn shall cause you grete dolour." Many of hem that here hir thus speke Were converted to Cryst oure savyoure. Ful pryvyly her maumentis dede thei breke Whech that thei had in ful grete honour, Withdrow hem fro synne and wayled her errour, And pryvyly, sole hevy as ony leed, For naturall fere that thei shuld noth be dede. Chapter 22 Ther was a man in Alysaunder at that tyme, Meyer and leder of alle the puple there Undyr the emperour, puncher of all cryme, Of whom the cyté had full mechill fere. Venemhous in angyr was he as ony bere; Dispitous, veniabill, without discrecyon: Cursates thei called him thorowoute the town. He sey the emperour in angyr and woodnes And, of pure malice, sette him more on fere: "O emperour," he seyd, "thi wisdam, as I gesse, Shuld make thee ashamyd of this matere here, That o wench shuld bryng thee thus in dwere - Thu standyst stoyned as thow thu were bounde. Lystyn my counsayle therfor now a stounde: "This mayde Kateryne sey yett no torment Whech shuld fese hir to make afrayed. Therfor, sir, I telle you myn entent: We shall make a thing so horrybyly arayed It shal be dred or it be fully asayde. Lete hir se onys this thing that I shall devyse - She shall leve sone than, I trow, all this gyse. "Comaund werkmen for to obey to me: I shall be maystir, thei shall do her werke, For I have conceyved now a new cruelté - Ful sekyrly therof have I take my merke. In this matere both controllere and clerke Will I be and no man but myselve. Werkmen will I have with me ten or twelve. "This have I dyvysed in my besy thoght: Foure grete qweles thus schul we make, Swech maner wise shall thei be wrought What maner thing that evyr thei take Anon in pecys thei shul it rende and shake With her sharpnes whech thei shul have, For all the spokes that com fro the nave "Shul have nayles sharp as a knyffe I-fasted to the sercles round all abowth. There is no man now that beryth lyffe, Be his herte nevyr so styffe and stowth, And he be onys ine he com not oute Or he be deed and alle to pecys drawe, Rith be experiens this thing shall we knawe. "Sharp sawes shull thei have sumwhat crokyd, Nayled onto the qwelys on the utter syde. In swech maner forme thus shul thei be hokyd: Ech of hem be othir ful sotilly shall glyde; Summe shall com upward with her cours wide, Summe shall go downward, and thus shall thei rend All thing betwix hem and therof make an ende. "Therfor lete these qweles be mad in hast. Sett the mayd right be hem whan that thei goo - Sche shal be afrayed or sche hem tast. There is no man lyvyng hath sey swech whelys moo! This same devyse shall plese youre lordchip soo," Seyd this Cursates. "Ye shull cun me thanke. Yondyr will we make hem right on the banke." The emperour comaunded, and that in hasty wyse, These qweles shuld be made and that anon Rith as Cursates thus gan devyse. Thei are called forth, both Robyn and Jon, Carpenteres and smythes, as fast as thei may gon. Thei hewe and thei blewe ful sore, levyth me: The qweles must be redy withinne dayes thre. Chapter 23 Now is it com that same third day. The qweles are redy, sette as thei shall be; She is brought forth, Kateryne, this same may, Right betwix hem sett now is she. Too qweles goo downward, as we seyd, pardé, And too rend upward; there is non that it seyth But for fere he gruggeth with his teth. O nobil mayd, how shall thu scape this thing? This irous emperour, he is noth thi frend; The meyhir is cruel in his ymagenyng, For he hath stodyed with all hert and mend Thi virginal body to distroy and shend. There is no comforth but fro the court above: He wil not fayle thee, Jhesu that is thi love. Thus is she sett and lykly to be rent. With all her labour the servauntis dresse her gere: Thei tary sumwhat because that hir entent Thei wene to chaunge rith for very fere. Hir yne and handis ful mekely gan she rere Up onto heven - swech was hir oryson: "Lord God," she seyd, "that made sunne and mon, "Lord that art allmyty in majesté, Thu can all thing and may fulfylle in dede; Lord that nevyr hydyst Thi grete pyté Fro thoo folke that cryne onto Thee at nede, O Lord of lordes, my prayer Thu may spede. I pray Thee, Lord, with ful besy entent, That Thu distroy this horribyll new torment - "Make Thi thundir descend now with Thi levene: Brenne it, breke it, thys tyme I me thus pray. Schewe Thy power, open now Thy hevyn That men may know Thi lordchip at this day. It is full esy to Thee make here swech afray And to the puple it is full mervelows. Good blyssyd Lord that art so graciowus, "Thys aske I not for oure fere of deth But for Thi puple that stand here abowte. Me thinkyth, Lorde, her langage myn herte sleth, That thei with tungys and wordys prowde and stowte Schuld blaspheme Thi name and put in dowte Thi trewe feyth. This is, Lorde, my cause, To schryve me schortly to Thee in a clause: "That thei shuld trost Thi myght and Thi powere And honour Thi name and be converted eke, Be turned fro maumentis whech thei worchep here, The Lord Godd only for to seke. This pray I Thee with hert lowe and meke: Graunt me this as Thu art omnipotent - Suffyr not Thi servauntes with maumentys be circumvent." Chapter 24 Whan that this lady had endyd hir orysoun, Anon a angell was sent down fro hevene - With wynde and thundyr thoo cam he down. There cam with him eke an horryble levene. The hour of the day thei sey it was but sevene, But or eyte he with wynde and fere Breke all this qwelys - thei fley here and there, Thei spryng abowte be pecys in the place. Summe man hathe harme on legges and on knees, Summe are hurt on handys and on face There fley fere ful wondyrly with the trees. Mech of the puple have take there her fees: Thei that blasphemyd oure Godd with cruell hert, Fro this venjauns thei may not lyghtly stert. The lady sate stille, for she felt no grevauns, Makyng hir prayer with grete devocion. Thus can oure Lord for His make purvyauns, Thus can He shape hem her savacion. Thus dede He sumtyme in the Calde nacyon Whan that His servauntis in the ovene were sette Wher that the fere of his myth was lette, For thei in the ovene were no thing brent, But thei about it, thei toke the harme. This lady is lych hem in this myracle present: The fyre fley abouth hir and in hir barme It restyd oftyme, but she was not warme, Ne hurt, ne harmed in no maner degré, Yet was this fere so horrible that he Brent the qweles and throw hem aboute, Brent men, eke, and thoo were not fewe - Foure thousand seyth oure story, withouten doute, Were dede with the blast, leyd all on rowe, Of hethen caytyves, schrew rith be schrewe. Heraudes noumbred hem for thei coud best. The lady sate stylle in hir holy nest, Kneland devoutly in sobyr prayere. The aungell and fere both thei toke her wey To place thei cam fro; men myth hem here Both in her comyng and goyng, thei sey. Mech folke for fere were in poynt to dey, Save that the comforth of this swete may Lyft hem ageyn fro that affray. This is the ende of this costfull werke: Who are now woo but hethen men there? Who are now mery? Who gune her fruntes merke But Crysten folke whech hath scapyd this fere? Summe men for venjauns may not go ne stere: Thus o syde is in joye, the othir in sorow and care; Of swech maner venjauns lete every man beware. Chapter 25 Now is the emperour oute of mesure wood, For all fayleth and fallith that shuld now stand. For very angyr he rent habyte and hoode. "Saturne," he seyd, "whi take ye not on hand Youre owne cause? For, as I undirstand, This venjauns is repugnyng to youre deité. Wher is now youre myth? Wher is now he, "Jubiter youre sone, that hath the governauns Ovyr these Ciclopes, smythis I mene, Whech with her thundir make the erde to dauns So it is aferd of tho strokes kene? But ye defend you, youre offeryng wil be lene! Ryse up, ye goddes, and suffir not this wrong! Me thinkith ye abyde wondirly long." In all this care the qween that stod above, Hey in a toure for to behold this syght, Whech on that tyme had bore the love Full pryvyly in hert of God almyth, Now will she pleynly ryth before his syth Uttir hir hert, falle therof what falle. She is now com down, and hir servauntis alle, To presens of hir lord. Thus than she sayd, "Thu wretchid husbond, what hast thu i-doo? Why tormentist thu so wrongly this goodly mayde? Ageyn the grete God whi wrestyllist thu soo? What wodnes makith thee with care and woo To pursew Goddis servauntis with peyne and deth? O cruell best, whan thu shalt yeld thi breth, "Whedir wilt thu send thi wretchid goost? Thou fytyst ageyn the prycke that shall thu fynd, For whan thu art hyest and in pryd moost, Oure Lord God ful sore shall thee bynd. Turne thi bestialté to mannes mynd! Know the powere of thi God above Whech werkith so wondirly for hem that Him love! "The grete myty Godde of Crysten men - Se what He dede this ilke same day: With a thundir clap, of thi lordes ten Smet He to the deth - thu thiselve it say - Foure thousand of thi comonys in her aray, Thei ly yondyr dede. Who shall hem reyse? If Appollo do it I will him than preyse. "He that with a stroke may swech thing make, He is a lord; know Him for thi kyng. Thi fals maumentrye I rede thee forsake. Turne thee to that Lord that mad all thing: The synnes that we dede whil we were ying He will forgeve us if we mercy crave - Aske mercy of Him and thu shall it have!" Whan the tyraunt herd what the qwen sayde, "Woman," sayd he, "wote ye what ye say? I am full sekyr ye spoke with the mayde Whan I was oute this othir day. Avyse you sumwhat or that ye asay The orible peynes whech that ye shul have. Youre frendes ne youre kynrod shall you not save, "For, be that hy majesté of the goddes alle, And be that provydens of Jubiter the kyng, But ye fro this fonnednes and that in hast falle, Dame, ye shall have as foule endyng As evyr had woman, eythire eld or ying, In youre dayes. Therfor, avyse you weel, For thow youre God hath brokyn oure wheell "Be witchcraft or be nygromancy, Trost me in this: we shall ordeyn a mene For to distroy youre fals tretchery. What, art thu now, dame, led on that rene? Thi witte counte not to a bene worth Whan thu forsakist the goddes protection And, as a fole, takyst the Crysten illusyon." Chapter 26 Thus in his angyr and in his grete ire, He byddyth his mynystris to take the qwen. With sotil launces made of yrne wyre Thei schul rend hir tetys ryth anon bedene. In his presens thei shall do it, for he will it sene - Long sorow he will that his wiffe shall have. "Lete se," he seyth, "if Cryst shall hir now save!" Aftir this is done he will thei hir take, Lede hir to the felde there traytouris alle Have as thei deserve, teye hir to a stake, Smyte of hir heede and let it down falle, Let it lye there - hungry doggys it schalle Ete and devoure in despyte of Jhesu. As the tyraunt badd, his men dede pursew: Thei pullyd hir tetys in ful horrible wyse Ryght from hir breste - pyté it was to se The blode in the veynes with the mylke ryse. All rent and ragged, all blody was sche, Yet onto Kateryne sche fel down on kne, Prayng ful dolfully, and evyn thus sche sayde: "O Crysten pelere, o most holy mayde, "Pray now for me onto thi Lorde above, That this peyn whych I suffyr here Only for His worchep, His feyth, and His love, May be to my sowle a suffycyaunt chere Whan I schal come to that blys full clere Whech thu behyght me not long agoo. Pray eke for me that I may kepe alsoo "The same good purpos whech I am inne, That this peyn horrible make me not reneye This holy lyffe to turn ageyn to synne. I am sore aferde my flesch, or that I deye, For very drede the contrarye of this shulde seye. Wherfore, lady, all this lyghte in thee: Pray thu to Godd that He may kepe me." The mayde seyd onto the qween ageyn, "O blessed lady that hast forsake all thing, Crowne and joye, schortly for to seyn, And wonne the lufe therfore of oure kynge, Cryst I mene, make now no stakeryng As in this matere, for He shall make thee stronge For Whos lufe thu sufferest now this wrong. "Suffyr hertly all this grete dyssesse: It schal not lest but a lytyll space. Cryst youre Lorde herwith shall ye plese, Whech hath graunted of His specyall grace That this same day shall ye se His face. A mervelous chaunge, lady, shall it be Whan ye com before the Trynyté: "For temporal londe ye shul have hevenly blys, For erdly husbond youre spouse shal be He That may amend all thing that is amysse - A Lord that dwellith evyr in felicité, A Lord that hath nevyr non adversité. Thus shul ye chaunge, lady, onto the best. I shal not long be absent fro that nest." Thus is she comforted, this noble Crysten qwene, Thus is she stabylyd mytyly in oure feyth. Thus is she led, with knytys as I wene; And evyr the emperour onto his men seyth Ful bostous wordes, strokes eke he leyth Upon her backes that thei shuld make a ende Of this woman, for hir tetys now thei rend, As I seyd ere, and aftir that grete peyne With sharpe swerd hir hede of thei smyth. Oure Lord Godde strenghid hir to susteyne With grete pacyens all this same unryth. Thus is she passed; hir soule is to that lyth Whech was endles, rith as we beleve! The thre and twenty day of Novembyr, rith at eve, And on a Wednysday, was this martyrdam Thus consummat. Hir body whan it was dede Was left stylle, in despyte of Crystyndam, Lying there full white and eke full rede, No man so hardy to wynd it in cloth or lede, Thus had the emperour of his cruelté. That she lay thus mech folke thouth pyté. Chapter 27 Now is the nyth com and onto her rest Is every man go that was abydyng there. Porphery thouth it was honest And eke medfull this body for to rere, Eke to the byrying devoutly it to bere. Therfor called he certeyn knythis onto him, And whan the weder was ful derke and dym, Rith in the wyntir aboute seynt Kateryne day, He cam to the body with full holy entent. Evene in hir lyvand, rith as she lay, With full swete and costful onyment He baumed hir body and forth with it went, With prayer wepyng and full besy cure; Thus thei led it to the sepulture. The next day is there grete questyon: Who beryed the qwen? Who was so hardy To falle in grevous transgression To remeve or bery this same body? Only of suspecion certeyn folke openly Were arestyd be the offyceres ther, And Porphiry ful boldly withouten fere Aperyd to the emperour and thus he sayd: "Sith thu art a lord and justyce shuld kepe, Whi hast thu tormentyd this holy mayde? Thin owne wyves hede of dede thu swepe - Grete cause hast thu sore for to wepe! These innocentis, eke, this is thin entent, Withouten cause now to torment. "Chese of thin ire, cese of thi wrong; Leve thi besynes in inquisicion. I telle thee pleynly, thow thu me hong, I am that man whech with devocion Byried thi wiffe; me thout it no treson But full acordand onto nature To bryng that body onto sepulture. "Wher hast thu seyn swech cruelnes? Yete to thevys and robouris whan thei are dede Her frendis have leve of the law, I gesse, To wynd hem in clothis, in bord of lede, To solace her neyboris with drynke or brede. All this is turnyd ageyn discrecion, Ageyn kynd eke ageyn religion! "Wher lered thu evyr that bestis shuld ete Bodyes of men, of all creatures best? Thus oure auctoures wryth and thus thei trete: It is neythir worchipfull ne eke honest Onto mankynd to foule his own nest. Sere emperour, I confesse here this dede have I do - Punch not these innocentis, but lete hem goo!" Chapter 28 These wordes of Porphirie thei aren a wounde Onto Maxens hert, for he made a cry, Whan he had sorowed a lytyll stounde, So grete and so loude the halle whech was hye Sounded with the noyse; the very malencoly Made him so wood he wist not what he sayd, But sone aftir swech wordes he up brayd: "O me, most wretchid of all men that lyve, Wherto brought Nature me to lyffe? Whi wold she to me swech astate gyve Whan she thus wretchidly hath take my wyffe? Had she suffered me with sharp knyffe Be stykyd in my cradyll she had do the best. Now am I reved of all my dewe rest, "For Porphery here, of whom I most trost, Porphirie here, the best frend I have, My Porphirie, my knyth, thus is he lost, So deceyved of witchcraft that he begynnyth rave. Evene as the spokys rest in her nave, So in his brest stood all my comforth; To swech anothir frend can I nevyr resorte. "He deceyvyd my wyffe, but she is dede, He hath deceyved himself, that grevyth me most. My hert it waxith hevy as the lede, So am I acomered with thoutis in my goost. Allas, my Porphirye, I durst a made a boost, Thow all my kyngdam had me forsake, Fals to my crown no man shuld thee make. "Yete thow thu have do this grete despite - Deceyvyd my wyffe but deceyvyd thiselve - Yete of thi treson thu shall have respite: Ten dayes I graunt thee or ellis twelve. Leve this Crysten cumpany, forsake that elve Jhesu of Nazareth - He dede nevyr man good. He is cause of spyllyng of mech gentil bloode. "If thu wilt leve this new cursyd scole, Thu shall have grace, thu shalt not dey. So wyse a man now made a fole, Who caused him thus sone to reneye The holy religion, the eld trew wey Whech that oure faderes kept withoute mynd? Allas, man, allas - thi reson is ful blynd!" Chapter 29 Right with this langage the emperour dede calle All knytes of the court be on and be on. He examyned himselve that tyme hem all, How that thei thoutht this matere shuld goon. Ful dolfully to hem he made his mone: "Beholdith," he seyth, "how my Porphyrye All sodenly is i-falle onto this myserye. "I hope it is to you but ignorauns If that ye favoure him in his dede, But be ye ware of that grete venjauns Whech that may falle withouten drede On swech renegatis that othir men lede Fro her trew lawes. How will ye answere?" Alle seyd thei thus that stoden there: "Be it knowe to thee now, ser emperour, That God and Lord whech this same man Honourith at this tyme, Jhesu oure savyoure, This same God, with all that we may or can, Will we serve, curse thu or banne, Endith thou and smyth with tormentis straunge - Leve this wele: thu shall us nevyr chaunge. "Fere of deth or love of lyffe swete May nevyr depart oure hertly love Fro Jhesu Cryst, the trewest prophete That evyr was sent fro heven above. What peynes are applyed than shall thu prove That alle oure hertis are sette in one, In this same feyth, as stabill as the ston." The emperour comaund in hasty wyse Thei shuld be led onto her passion, For of swech renegates he wil be justese To venge the wrong which that was don Upon the goddes, the sunne and the mone. Thus are thei ledde forth to her ende, Save Porphirye alone now thei have no frend, For he to comforth hem with full myty feyth Onto the emperour presyd where he stoode. Swech maner wordis at that tyme he seyth: "Men will wene that thu be ny wood To sle this puple sodenly in her bloode And lete me scape whech stered hem all. For perell, I counsell, whech that may falle "Onto thee and eke onto thi londe, Evene with the membris take now the hede!" Thus sayd this man, as I undirstond, To comfort hem thus or thei be dede. Because thei were of vysage hevy as leed He was adrede ful sore that thei schuld fayle If thei withoute him had go to this batayle. Therfore, evyn aftyr his holy hertys desyre Is he now servyd: bounde and forthe eke leed. Thei were not brent as heretykys in fyre, But in her martyrdam thus were thei spede: Too hundred were there, of whech not on flede, Her hedys the emperour bad thei shuld of smyte. This was her ende, schortly to endyte. The bodyes were left that doggys shuld hem ete, For very despyte ryght of Crysten feyth - On of the auctoures whech this legend trete In very sothenesse thus wrytyth and seyth. The day of her deth eke ful fayre he leyth Of Novembre moneth, the foure and twenty day, eke The fyfte day of that same weke. Chapter 30 The next day folowyng, he clepyth this mayde Before his tribunal; now is she present. With ful sotyll langage onto hir he sayde Alle this male corage and his evyll entent: "Thow thu be gylty," he seyd, "of this torment Of Porphyrye, of my wyffe, and my knytes alle - (Fer fro her feyth thu made hem to falle, "With sorcery and myschauns thu hast turned hem; Thei coude nevyr resort onto her modyr wytte. Thei dede more for thee than for fadyr or eem. I cowde nevyr perceyve the knottys that ye knyte, But deede are thei alle and we repent not yyt.) - Mayden, thu may lyve, if thu hafe grace, Notwythstondyng thi treson and thi trespace. "Wherfore I counsell now onto thi foudenesse: Forsake thi magyke, wepe sore, and wayle That evyr thu were so bolde in folehardynesse To geve the qwene or Porphyrye swech evyl counsayle. Fro thin eyne lete the watyr now thi chekys rayle, Fle thi deth now, for thow thu dede this gylt - That is to sey, thu art cause of blode that is spylt - "Yet may thu amend it with devocyoun, To make an offeryng to the holy Saturne. We all wyll folow thee ryght in processyoun, So that thu wylt to this counsayle turn. Allas, woman, how long wylt thu sojorne In this grete cursydhed, oute of all resoun? Yet wyl I forgeve the all thin elde tresoun. "Thu schal have, mayden, al thoo behestis alle Whech I promysed thee to bryng to astate. Tary no lengere for perell that may falle: Chese the bettyr or ellys sey chek-maate. But if thu offyr, we too are at debate, For thu schalt deye and that in ful hasty wyse. Thi deth anon on this maner I wyll devyse: "I wyll make smyght of thi heed with a blade Scherpe on bothe sydes whech may not fayle - He waraunt it, the smythe that it made, That it was sewyre at ilke maner asayle, Were it flesch, were it bone or mayle, It schuld it kerve. Therfore, mayd, consent, And of thin errour, I counsell thee, repent." Chapter 31 The mayde answerde than with full meke voys: "Evyr hafe I seyd that I am redy to deye For His love whech was hang on croys. This day schal be, schortly for to seye, A gret spectacle to the worldylys eye, To se a qween forsake londe and halle, So sodeynly to deth for to falle. "Sume men ween we Crysten, whan we dey, Sume men wene the fall is reprovable, Sume men ween the fall is myserye. We lese thing to us that is ful supportable - I sey we lese thyng that is deceyvable, I sey we lese a lyvyng ful of stryffe And wyne a regyon whech is the lond of lyffe. "For grete sekenes, there schall we have helth; For wepyng teres, we shall have lawhyng joye; That place haboundeth evyr more in welth, That place in sikir hath nevyr no noye, It is more sikir than evyr was the toure of Troye Fro schot and treson; therfor thedir I glyde. Whan I shall dey, Cryst shal be my gyde. "Wherfore I wil no lenger now thee drawe With veyne termes: do as thu hast thought. I despice thi goddis, thi offeryng, and thi lawe; Alle thi maumentis eke I sett at nought. To Him I goo that hath me ful dere bought; To Him I will, I covett to se His face. The angellis song whech is in that place, "If thu myth here it, astoyned shuld thu be. Thou hast no grace swech mysteries to approche. Farewele my frendys, farwele all my mené, Farewele my castels that stand hye on roche! A new drynke my love will me abroche Aftir my blood be spylt here on the ground. Farewele the world that is shape so round! "I shall folow the Lombe that washid with His blode Oure blody synnes, wretchid and unkynd, I folow the Lombe whech is full meke and good, Whos steppes folow virgines withouten mynd. Come of, tyraunt, sle and do thi kynd: I abyde not elles but deth and goo to lyffe; I drede no fere, water, swerde, ne knyffe!" With these wordes sentens was gove anon: She shal be dede, as was devysyd before. Forth is she drawe. Men and women ilkon Folow on fast and folow on wondir sore, Wepyng and cryeng evyr more and more: "O holy mayde, whi wilt thu thus wretchidly Take thi deth and with sweche velony?" Sche seyd ageyn, "Moderes and maydenys alle, Wepe not for me, lette noth my passion, Leve youre wordes with whech ye on me calle; For if nature enclyne you to consolacion, To have mercy on myschefe and desolacion, Wepe ye than rith for youre owne synne Whech ye have haunted, in which ye be inne. "Wepe for youre errour whech shall you bryng Onto brennyng fyre where youre goddes dwelle. Thow that youre prestis rede to you and syng Of the goddes holynesse and mech thing you telle, I sewir you this that thei ben in helle And evyr withoute ende in that place shal be; But if ye amend you, eke so shall ye." Chapter 32 Aftir this is sayd, she is come to the place Where she shall dey, and of the man thoo Whech shuld hir smyth she prayed space For to have, or she fro this world goo, That she may sey wordes on or too In pryvy meditacion onto God above, Which is hir makere, hir Lord, and hir love. The man graunted and sche kneled down With eyene and handes lift up to hevene. On swech sentens sche made hir oryson: "O myty God whos name for to nevene Is ful mervelous, makere of planetes sevene, Helth of hem all that trostyn in Thi mercy, Hope of all virgines that to Thi helpe cry, "O Jhesu, most swettest, whech hast nonbred me Rith into Thi college among Thi maydenes all, Do with Thi servauntis aftir Thi benygnyté. Spred me with Thi mercy; lete me nevyr falle Into my enmy handis. Lord, to Thee I calle. Do me this mercy for Thi hey name: That what maner man, the rith or the lame, "Whech hath my passion in rememberauns, Eythir in his deth or ellis in sekenes, Or in his persecusion or eyther grevauns, If he with devocion and hertyly besynes Aske ony relees, Lord, of Thi worthynes Graunt him his bone, Lord, for my sake, As I now my deth for Thi love take. "And all thoo that my passion have in memorye, Pestilens ne deth mote hem nevyr greve, Hungyr and sores and othir myserye, And all evyll eyres, on morow or on eve, Suffyr hem not to have, but rathere hem geve Abundauns in hervest and ethir temporate; Let not her londys abyde desolate "But graunt hem plenté of her greynes alle. Because thei love me, Thu schalt hem love. Behold, Lorde, for Thi cause I mote now falle Down into deth. Take to Thi behove Thing that this bochere may not hale ne schove: Tak Thu my sowle, no man may but Thou. O Jhesu Cryst, my sowle I comende now Onto Thi handys; I pray Thee Thu it take. Lett Thin aungellis whech that se Thi face Come down fro hevyn for Thi maydenes sake, Suffyr hem to come now onto this place, To lede my soule, Lorde, onto Thi grace, Onto that feleschepe whech Thu me behyght Among Thi seyntys that schyne with Thee full bryght." Chapter 33 Sche had scarise made hir conclusyoun Of this prayere but anon sodenlye Fro the hevene thei herd thoo a sownde soun, A swete voys, and thus it gan to crye: "Myn owne spowse, My wyffe and mayde holy, Come now to Me, come now onto thi rest, For in My feyth thu hast labored as best. "The blyssed gate of hevyn is now ope: It is made redy to thee that mansyoun, For thi feyth, thi charyté, and thi hope, Schall thu have my specyall benysoun. There abyde the persones of thi nacyoun For to reteyne thee to that eternyté, Where thu schalt joye before the Trinyté. "Maydenes are redy to bryng thee thi crowne, Aungellis are redy ordeynde thi sowle eke to lede. As for a tyme cast of thi fleschly gowne - Thu schall receyve it in anothyr stede. Come forthe in hast; lok thu have no drede Of thi petycyons, for I graunt hem alle: What manere man that on thee wyll calle "Or worchip with hert thi holy passion, What maner myscheffe whech he be inne, I will relese it, and all transgression Of her defautes or of her eld synne, If thei will leve it and new lyffe begynne, For thi sake I will forgeve hem all, Conferme hem eke nomore aftir to falle." Chapter 34 The mayde leyd forth hir necke fayre and qwyte, And thus she sayd onto the smyter thoo: "I am called to fest now of God almyth: Doo thu thin office, the tyraunt bad thee soo, Fulfille his comaundment, and than may thu goo Without daunger, stand eke in his grace; I pray to God forgeve thee thi trespace." The man was glad to do the comaundment Of his lord; wherfor, with besy corage He applyed holly all his entent Sumwhat to spare this yong tendir age, For with a stroke that was ful wode and rage Hir hede he parted from hir body there. Too grete myracles anon men myth lere. On was in tokyne of virginall clennesse: In stede of blood, mylke ran at hir necke, Whech of hir purité that tyme bare wytnesse. Ther myth non othir thing ren at that becke Than swech as was befor in the secke - I mene thus to put you oute of doute: Swech thing as was in hir, swech thing ran oute. It ran so plenteuously, it wattered all the grounde That lay aboute hir. O most mervelous welle: Here is the hede, the mylke aboute all rounde. What shulde I more of this myracle telle? Save Mari alone, of maydenhode she hath the belle - That witnessith wele this present vision Whech may no wey be called illusion. Anothir myracle eke was seyn at yye: Aungellis aperyng in full mervelous aray. Bodys lich men, wynges had thei to flye, Thei cam down ful sodenly, auctouris say, Thei toke the body and sone bore it awey Onto the mount where Moyses the lawe toke - Of this myracle rith thus seyth oure boke. The hill in whech God gave the wretyn lawe Onto the Jewes, ledyth to that perfection Of Crystis Gospell and of His vertuous sawe, In whech we fynd full swete instruction, Poule in his bokes maketh swech induction - He seyth it longith to Jerusalem as in servage, With all his childirn here in pylgrymage. Than sith that this hill is as it were gyde Onto that mownt whech that stant in blysse, It is full good to us that we full hastily ryde Aftir this mayde that she may us wisse A stedfaste lore for to amend oure mysse. So shall she be in manere of a figure To bryng us to hevyn aftir oure sepulture. This mount, thei sey, stand in Arabie; It is fro Alisaunder of lond ful gret distauns. In twenty dayes, if that I shuld not lye, Myn auctour seyth, thow man had purvyauns And gydys good and eke gret pusauns Full scarsly shuld he laboured in theis dayes - There leve but fewe that hath mad asayes. This passion was, as oure story seyth, On a Fryday, rith for this entent: That syth she fauth so strongly for oure feyth, Men wene therfor it was convenient That this same day whech oure Jhesu went Oute of this world, that same day his mayde Shuld dey for Him; thus oure auctour sayde. The grete myracles whech be at hir grave Are ny onknow, rith for grete distauns Betwix that and us, but this knowlech we have: That oyle it rennyth evyr in habundauns, With wheche oyle of sores alle grevauns Whech men suffyr, it wil be helyd anon. Summe men say that if thei bere a ston Of that same grave, whedir that thei it bere It will swete evyr that same holy licour; Thus sey the pylgrymes that have be ther. This sey oure bokes whech be made in honour Of this swete mayde, of this vertuous flour: It longith to floures swech licoures to swete. I herd men eke of othir myracles trete, Of lampis hangyng before hir sepulture, Fylt with that oyle whech brenne a mannys lyve And of her lyth nevyr make forfeture Thou thei brenne yeres ten and fyve. In this matere pleynly I will me schryve: I may wele leve that swech merveyles ther be, But for because I have non auctorité, I dare not write here her declaracion Lest that I poyson all my forseyd werke; Lest that eke men of myn own nacion Shuld ymagen that I, which am a clerke, Mith of swech thingis take a wrong merke. Wherfor I comytte all this thing in fere Onto discression of hem that shull it here, For I will determyne no conclusion As in this matere. But fully I beleve That whoso myth se that solempne stacion, He shuld know thing to which we cannot preve. Of this matere thus I take my leve. God, oure Lord, for His hye mercy Graunt us hevene aftyr this mysery. Per Capgrave.

branches; (see note) richly composed as we have set out arranged cling protect; wind wide open (see note) afflictions sovereign briar fuzzy points hanging down; fuzz lately curiosity so fuzzy wheels vengeance newly; (see note) lamentation (see note) company contemptuous; (see note) have remedied purpose robbed misspoke unmatched travel renew your spirits promise you reputation have rope in need leader also distinguished come into the possession of ensnare humiliation desire lecture allegorically shame their rough hands demonstrate Redeemed; acknowledge (see note) unanimously crazy churls thanks to you ordered [his henchmen] their middle those renegades (the philosophers); (see note) deity stinking rosin; pitch; material doubt reward commend you shackles nor them escape; hiding place call upon I will say no more their judgment; against [it] speak charged with haven image wish nothing else before; (see note) bestows [them] follows living dissemble one and all prolong nevertheless make an exception for us premise exempts us from We cannot be blamed for lacking it hinder decreed for you as He chooses seen    (see note) logs; in a heap logs spread flames i.e., the philosophers lead company recognize have been dead maiden estates to prosper by having them remedy (i.e., way to deal with) flatters As you know    (see note) drive you from foolish    (see note)    (see note) offer incense strike their wrath assuage to be brief in every way possible briefly tithe (see note) marriage; (see note) realm Furthermore Each shiny deified Believing laughed cheerful; (see note) promote raise foolish money changers even if praise corner eagerly expect go in person believe solidify marvel clever worn out flock reward memory bears be more comfortable increase reject witnesses preoccupation with more benignly oppose [me] prefer Offer incense worship; (see note) Repays; world; heat have directed    (see note)    (see note) as an example for their punished; other (i.e., imitation) though; smite, flay; banish It makes no difference afflictions humbly have had accept it contempt credit    (see note) flay judgments; imposed aggrieve; bier (i.e., after your death) ruined certainly renounce nearly crazy thin chose; strong naked as when she was born scare duty; even if iron offended You riches amid or else another round of punishment    (see note) put to death woe thought or done chain assembly when perhaps madness voice diminish delay To do what potentates (rulers) have to do wretch discomfort Food Light    (see note) how [the angels] treated her; (see note) crept cracks i.e., Katherine pity rapt in thought not; clothing I would have been forbidden was attracted to them conversion accomplish dawn Then Arrange a means jailer    (see note) jailer resound jailer call light expected; near their    (see note) courage saw [medicinal] gums again and again whole i.e., foot One of them directly    (see note) To try on    (see note) evil being (i.e., the devil) separate said to her again attain knight their anxious hearts missive fear    (see note) food samples lion's den; (see note) Habakkuk; Judea; (see note)    (see note) dove determine    (see note) air; placement commit himself believe pity weariness constancy (see note)    (see note) rest beam of light saw heartfelt six knights regret furious words conjurer go afflicted slays perverse wretch forbade iron almighty hinder them lock; achieve tell you why Then fierce; furious poison in disguise (cloth); (see note) [were] born sorcerers have; learning even if I were to have mercy renounce honor Come on iron Although though Complain against one who causes change    (see note) raise Cows; calves i.e., commit suicide vengeful; end skin raise have chopped off put you to death coming under his sole rule puissance Germany    (see note) defeated crowd witch; tolerate true believers audacity seize her    (see note) pitilessly end platform    (see note) are held to be cruelly    (see note) what obligation Too singularly constrain lose At any time destroy royal about your business Lament deteriorate rot decline    (see note)     deity rot sinews; shroud; garments impure to the point promise be so foolish ritual resurrection hear Mayor punisher bear aflame while attack behavior made measurements accountant wheels hub perimeters wheels; outside past the other frightened before; experiences seen    (see note) gnashes his teeth wrathful gear expect eyes; raise know and can do [everything] lightning for You to; attack furious goal confess; sentence deceived lightning eight; fire wheels; flew flay many; spokes got what was coming to them go i.e., followers; provision ordain Chaldean; (see note) fire was deprived of its power the bystanders bosom wretches; villain companion; departed expensive sad; (see note) foreheads fire i.e., are crippled or dead Cyclopes lean come what may madness attack most proud i.e., be rational; (see note) saw your subjects resurrect advise young lest; experience foolishness by that rein amounts; bean teats; immediately; (see note) Let [it be] seen where    (see note) pillar accomplishment promised renounce alights upon you have no doubt (staggering) discomfort last supported mightily arrogant off injustice light out of scorn for wrap; lead thought meritorious; lift up weather i.e., November 25 anointed did you smite off; (see note) Chase permission coffin sound judgment    (see note)    (see note) Punish while mad roared prosperity stabbed deprived spokes [of a wheel] rest in their hub assailed would have sworn elf renounce one by one without doubt Believe i.e., we are of one mind hastened    (see note)    (see note)    (see note) wicked heart wrongdoing common sense uncle    (see note) foolishness flow down right behind you accursed state we two are at odds guarantees mail reprehensible tolerable In exchange for laughing abounds harm tower; (see note) lead intended companions cliff tap (as a keg) Lamb; (see note) innumerable off; i.e., do your worst dishonor replied hinder committed assure In this vein; prayer to name numbered assembly i.e., not lame or else diligence request air grains Use; benefit butcher; extract promised scarcely loud sound for you; dwelling place blessing serve off    (see note) white i.e., executioner then violent and passionate One i.e., ranks first i.e., Mount Sinai teachings    (see note) servitude show sins transportation guides; stamina have attempted it; (see note) fought oil; (see note) injury From; wherever sweat sweat for a lifetime explain myself; (see note) be misguided together holy place By