fol. 22v 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 60 65 70 fol. 23r 75 80 85 90 95 100 105 110 115 120 125 130 135 140 145 150 fol. 23v 155 160 165 170 175 180 185 190 195 200 205 210 215 220 225 230 fol. 24r 235 240 245 250 255 260 265 270 275 280 285 290 295 300 305 310 fol. 24v 315 320 325 330 335 340 345 350 355 360 365 370 375 380 385 390 fol. 25r 395 400 405 410 415 420 425 430 435 440 445 450 455 460 465 470 fol. 25v 475 480 485 490 495 500 505 510 515 520 525 530 535 540 545 550 fol. 26r 555 560 565 570 575 580 585 590 595 600 605 610 615 620 625 630 fol. 26v 635 640 645 650 655 660 665 670 675 680 685 690 695 700 705 710 fol. 27r 715 720 725 730 735 740 745 750 755 760 765 770 775 780 785 790 fol. 27v 795 800 805 810 815 820 825 830 835 840 845 850 855 860 865 fol. 28r 870 875 880 885 890 895 900 905 910 915 920 925 930 935 940 fol. 28v 945 950 955 960 965 970 975 980 985 990 995 1000 1005 1010 1015 1020 fol. 29r 1025 1030 1035 1040 1045 1050 1055 1060 1065 1070 1075 1080 1085 1090 1095 1100 fol. 29v 1105 1110 1115 1120 1125 1130 1135 1140 1145 1150 1155 1160 1165 1170 1175 1180 fol. 30r 1185 1190 1195 1200 1205 1210 1215 1220 1225 1230 1235 1240 1245 1250 1255 1260 fol. 30v 1266 1270 1275 1280 1285 1290 1295 1300 1305 1310 1315 1320 1325 1330 1335 1340 fol. 31r 1346 1350 1355 1360 1365 1370 1375 1380 1385 1390 1395 1400 1405 1410 1415 1420 fol. 31v 1425 1430 1435 1440 1445 1450 1455 1460 1465 1470 1475 1480 1485 1490 1495 1500 fol. 32r 1505 1510 1515 1520 1525 1530 1535 1540 1545 1550 1555 1560 1565 1570 1575 fol. 32v 1580 1585 1590 1595 1600 1605 1610 1615 1620 1625 1630 1635 1640 1645 1650 1655 fol. 33r 1660 1665 1670 1675 1680 1685 1690 1695 1700 1705 1710 1715 1720 1725 1730 fol. 33v 1736 1740 1745 1750 1755 1760 1765 1770 1775 1780 1785 1790 1795 1800 1805 1810 fol. 34r 1815 1820 1825 1830 1835 1840 1845 1850 1855 1860 1865 1870 1875 1880 1885 1890 fol. 34v 1895 1900 1905 1910 1915 1920 1925 1930 1935 1940 1945 1950 1955 1960 1965 1970 fol. 35r 1975 1980 1985 1990 1995 2000 2005 2010 2015 2020 2025 2030 2035 2040 2045 2050 fol. 35v 2055 2060 2065 2070 2075 2080 2085 2090 2095 2100 2105 2110 2115 2120 2125 2130 fol. 36r 2135 2140 2145 2150 2155 2160 2165 2170 2175 2180 2185 2190 2195 2200 2205 fol. 36v 2211 2215 2220 2225 2230 2235 2240 2245 2250 2255 2260 2265 2270 2275 2280 2285 fol. 37r 2291 2295 2300 2305 2310 2315 2320 2325 2330 2335 2340 2345 2350 2355 2360 2365 fol. 37v 2370 2375 2380 2385 2390 2395 2400 2405 2410 2415 2420 2425 2430 2435 2440 2445 fol. 38r 2450 2455 2460 2465 2470 2475 2480 2485 2490 2495 2500 2505 2510 2515 2520 2525 fol. 38v 2530 2535 2540 2545 2550 2555 2560 2565 2570 2575 2580 2585 2590 2595 2600 fol. 39r 2605 2610 2615 2620 2625 2630 2635 2640 2645 2650 2655 2660 2665 2670 2675 2680 fol. 39v 2685 2690 2695 2700 2705 2710 2715 2720 2725 2730 2735 2740 2745 2750 2755 fol. 40r 2761 2765 2770 2775 2780 2785 2790 2795 2800 2805 2810 2815 2820 2825 2830 2835 fol. 40v 2840 2845 2850 2855 2860 2865 2870 2875 2880 2885 2890 2895 2900 2905 2910 2915 fol. 41r 2920 2925 2930 2935 2940 2945 2950 2955 2960 2965 2970 2975 2980 2985 2990 2995 fol. 41v 3000 3005 3010 3015 3020 3025 3030 3035 3040 3045 3050 3055 3060 3065 3070 3075 fol. 42r 3080 3085 3090 3095 3100 3105 3110 3115 3120 3125 3130 3135 3140 3145 3150 fol. 42v 3155 3160 3165 3170 3175 3180 3185 3190 3195 3200 3205 3210 3215 3220 3225 fol. 43r 3230 3235 3240 3245 3250 3255 3260 3265 3270 3275 3280 3285 3290 3295 3300 3305 fol. 43v 3310 3315 3320 3325 3330 3335 3340 3345 3350 3355 3360 3365 3370 3375 3380 fol. 44r 3386 3390 3395 3400 3405 3410 3415 3420 3425 3430 3435 3440 3445 3450 3455 3460 fol. 44v 3465 3470 3475 3480 3485 3490 3495 3500 3505 3510 3515 3520 3525 3530 3535 3540 fol. 45r 3545 3550 3555 3560 3565 3570 3575 3580 3585 3590 3595 3600 3605 3610 3615 3620 fol. 45v 3625 3630 3635 3640 3645 3650 3655 3660 3665 3670 3675 3680 3685 3690 3695 3700 fol. 46r 3705 3710 3715 3720 3725 3730 3735 3740 3745 3750 3755 3760 3765 3770 3775 fol. 46v 3780 3785 3790 3795 3800 3805 3810 3815 3820 3825 3830 3835 3840 3845 3850 3855 fol. 47r 3860 3865 3870 3875 3880 3885 3890 3895 3900 3905 3910 3915 3920 3925 3930 3935 fol. 47v 3940 3945 3950 3955 3960 3965 3970 3975 3980 3985 3990 3995 4000 4005 4010 fol. 48r 4016 4020 4025 4030 4035 4040 4045 4050 4055 4060 4065 4070 4075 4080 4085 4090 fol. 48v 4095 4100 4105 4110 4115 4120 4125 4130 4135 4140 4145 4150 4155 4160 4165 4170 fol. 49r 4175 4180 4185 4190 4195 4200 4205 4210

Le Jugement dou roy de Navarre Au departir dou bel esté Qui a gais et jolis esté, De fleurs, de fueilles faillolez, Et d’arbrissiaus emmaillolez, Arrousez de douce rousee, Sechiez par chaleur ordenee Que le soleil li amenistre, Et qu’oisillons ont leur chapitre Tenu de sons et de hoqués, Par plains, par aunois, par bosqués, Pour li servir et honnourer Que tout ce couvient demourer Pour le temps qui, de sa nature, Mue sa chaleur en froidure Un po aprés le temps d’autonne, Que chascuns vandange et antonne Qui a vingnes a vandangier, Et qu’on a a petit dangier Pesches, moust, poires, et roisins, Dont on present a ses voisins, Que li blez en la terre germe Et que la fueille chiet dou cherme, Par nature, ou dou vent qui vente, L’an mil .ccc. nuef et quarente, Le .ixe. jour de novembre, M’en aloie par mi ma chambre. Et se li airs fust clers et purs, Je fusse ailleurs; mais si obscurs Estoit que montaingnes et pleins Estoient de bruines pleins. Pour ce me tenoie a couvert Quar ce qu’estre soloit tout vert Estoit mué en autre teint, Car bise l’avoit tout desteint, Qui mainte fleur a decopee Par la froidure de s’espee. Si que la merencolioie Tous seuls en ma chambre et pensoie Comment par conseil de taverne Li mondes par tout se gouverne; Comment justice et verité Sont mortes par l’iniquité D’Advarice, qui en maint regne Com dame souvereinne regne, Com maistresse, comme roÿne (Qu’Advarice engenre haïne, Et largesse donne et rent gloire, Vraiement, c’est parole voire, Qu’on le scet et voit clerement Par vray et juste experiment); Comment nuls ne fait son devoir; Comment chascuns quiert decevoir Son proisme; car je ne voy pere, Fil, ne fille, ne suer, ne frere, Mere, marrastre, ne cousine, Tante, oncle, voisin, ne voisine, Mari, mouillier, amy, n’amie Que li uns l’autre ne cunchie; Et s’un en y a qui s’en garde, Chascuns de travers le regarde Et dist on qu’il est ypocrites, Et fust sains Jehans li Ermites; Come li signeur leur subgés pillent, Roubent, raembent, et essilent, Et mettent a destruction Sans pitié ne compation, Si que grans meschiés, ce me samble, Est de vice et pooir ensamble. Et on le voit assez de fait, Ne riens tant cuer felon ne fait Com grant pooir qui mal en use. Or voy que chascuns en abuse, Car je ne voy homme puissant Qui n’ait puis .x., puis .xx., puis .c. Tours, manieres, engiens, ou ars Pour pillier hardis et couars. Car couvoitise les atrape, Si que nuls de leurs mains n’eschape S’il n’est dont tels qu’il n’ait que perdre. A tels ne s’ont cure d’aerdre, Car qui riens n’a, riens ne li chiet. De tels gens riens ne leur eschiet, Mais couvoiteus ont tel defaut Que quant plus ont, plus leur deffaut, Et quant plus sont puissant et riche, Tant sont li plus aver et chiche Qu’avarice ardant qui d’euls vist, Com plus vivent, plus rajonnist. Et de ce la vient la tempeste Qui destruit le monde et tempeste, Les merveilles et les fortunes Qui au jour d’ui sont si communes Qu’on n’oit de nulle part nouvelle Qui soit aggreable ne belle; Car il a plus grant difference Dou temps que je vi en m’enfance A cestui qui trop est divers Qu’il n’ait des estés aus yvers. Mais la chose qui plus me grieve A souffrir, et qui plus m’est grieve, C’est rendre a Dieu po reverence Et ce qu’en riens n’a ordenance, Et qu’au jour d’ui chascuns se pere De ce qu’on claimme vitupere. Pour ce en moy, plus que dire n’ose, Estoit merencolie enclose. Car qui le sceüst a demi Assés meins en tenist de mi. Et pour ce que merencolie Esteint toute pensee lie, Et aussi que je bien veoie Que mettre conseil n’i povoie, Et que, s’on sceüst mon muser, On ne s’en feïst que ruser, Laissay le merencolier Et pris ailleurs a colier, En pensant que se a Dieu plaisoit Qui pour le milleur le faisoit. Si cheï en autre pensee, Pour ce que folie esprouvee Est en tout homme qui se duet De chose qu’amender ne puet; Et me pensai que se li temps Estoit encore pires .x. temps, Voire cent fois, voire cent mil, N’i a il conseil si soutil Comme de tout laissier ester, Puis qu’on ne le puet contrester, Et de faire selonc le sage Qui dit et demoustre en sa page Que, quant il a tout conceü, Tout ymaginé, tout veü, Esprouvé, serchié, viseté Le monde, c’est tout vanité, Et qu’il n’i a autre salaire Fors d’estre liez et de bien faire. Et tout einsi com je cuidoie Laissier le penser ou j’estoie, Il me sourvint une pensee Plus diverse, plus effree, Plus enuieuse la moitié Et de plus grant merencolie. Ce fu des orribles merveilles Seur toutes autres despareilles Dont homme puet avoir memoire, Car je ne truis pas en histoire Lisant nulles si mervilleuses, Si dures, ne si perilleuses De .iiij. pars, non de .x. temps Comme elles ont esté de mon temps. Car ce fu chose assez commune Qu’on vit le soleil et la lune, Les estoiles, le ciel, la terre, En signefiance de guerre, De doleurs, et de pestilences, Faire signes et demoustrances. Car chascuns pot veoir a l’ueil De lune esclipce et de soleil Plus grant et plus obscur assez Qu’esté n’avoit mains ans passez, Et perdre en signe de doleur Longuement clarté et couleur. Aussi fu l’estoile coumee En samblance de feu couee Qui de feu et d’occision Faisoit prenostication. Li ciel, qui de leur haut veoient Les meschiés qu’a venir estoient Au monde, en pluseurs lieus plourerent De pitié sanc et degouterent, Si que de leur mervilleus plour La terre trambla de paour (Ce dient pluseurs qui ce virent) Dont villes et citez fondirent En Alemaingne, en Quarenteinne, Assez plus d’une quaranteinne, Dont je n’en say mie la somme. Mais on le scet moult bien a Romme, Car il y a une abeÿe De Saint Pol qui en fu perie. Mais li Sires qui tout a fait Par experïence de fait, Com sires souvereins et dignes Seur tous de ces mervilleus signes Nous moustra la signefiance, Et nous en mist hors de doubtance Si a point et si proprement Que chascuns le vit clerement. Car les batailles et les guerres Furent si grans par toutes terres Qu’on ne savoit en tout le monde, Tant comme il tient a la reonde, Païs, regne, ne region, Qu’il n’i heüst discention; Dont .v.c mil hommes et femmes Perdirent les corps et les ames Se cils qui a tous biens s’acorde Ne les prent a misericorde, Et maint païs destruit en furent, Dont encor les traces en durent. Et des prises et des outrages Et des occisions sauvages De barons et de chevaliers, De clers, de bourgois, d’escuiers, Et de la povre gent menue Qui morte y fu et confondue, De rois, de duz, de bers, de contes Seroit lons a faire li contes. Car tant en y ot des perdus Qu’on en estoit tous esperdus, L’un par feu, l’autre par bataille. Aprés ce, vint une merdaille Fausse, traïtre, et renoïe: Ce fu Judee la honnie, La mauvaise, la desloyal, Qui het bien et aimme tout mal, Qui tant donna d’or et d’argent Et promist a crestienne gent Que puis, rivieres, et fonteinnes Qui estoient cleres et seinnes En pluseurs lieus empoisonnerent, Dont pluseurs leurs vies finerent Car trestuit cil qui en usoient Asses soudeinnement mouroient Dont, certes, par .x. fois cent mille En morurent, qu’a champ, qu’a ville Einsois que fust aperceüe Ceste mortel descouvenue. Mais cils qui haut siet et long voit, Qui tout gouverne et tout pourvoit, Ceste traïson plus celer Ne volt, eins la fist reveler Et si generaument savoir Qu’il perdirent corps et avoir. Car tuit Juïf furent destruit, Li uns pendu, li autres cuit, L’autre noié, l’autre ot copee La teste de hache ou d’espee. Et meint crestien ensement En morurent honteusement. En ce temps vint une maisnie De par leur dame Ypocrisie Qui de courgies se batoient Et adens se crucefioient En chantant de la lopinelle Ne say quelle chanson nouvelle, Et valoient miex par leurs dis Que sains qui soit en paradis. Mais l’Eglise les entendi Qui le batre leur deffendi, Et si condempna leur chanson Que chantoient li enfançon, Et tous les escommenia Dou pooir que Diex donné li a, Pour itant que leur baterie Et leurs chans estoit herisie. Et quant Nature vit ce fait Que son oeuvre einsi se desfait, Et que li homme se tuoient Et les yaues empoisonnoient Pour destruire humeinne lignie Par couvoitise et par envie, Moult en desplut la belle et gente, Moult se coursa, moult fu dolente. Lors s’en ala sans atargier A Jupiter et fist forgier Foudres, tonnoirres, et tempestes Par jours ouvrables et par festes. Car ceste ouevre tant li tardoit Que jour ne feste n’i gardoit. Aprés Nature commanda Aus .iiij. vens qu’elle manda Que chascuns fust aparilliés Pour tost courir, et abilliés, Et qu’il issent de leurs cavernes Et facent leurs mervilleus cernes, Si qu’il n’i ait resne tenue, En ciel, en terre, er mer, n’en nue, Qu’il ne soient a l’air contraire; Et facent pis qu’il porront faire. Car quant ses ouevres voit derompre, Elle vuet aussi l’air corrumpre. Et quant li vent orent congié, Et Jupiter ot tout forgié, Foudres, tempestes, et espars, Qui lors veïst de toutes pars Espartir mervilleusement Et tonner tres horriblement, Vanter, gresler, et fort plouvoir, Les nues, la mer esmouvoir, Bois trambler, rivieres courir, Et, pour doubtance de morir, Tout ce qui a vie seur terre Recept pour li garentir querre. C’estoit chose trop mervilleuse, Trop doubtable et trop perilleuse. Car les pierres dou ciel cheoient Pour tuer quanqu’elles ataingnoient, Les hommes, les bestes, les fames; Et en pluseurs lieus a grans flames Cheirent li temps et la foudre Qui mainte ville mist en poudre; N’au monde n’avoit si hardi Qui n’eüst cuer acouardi; Car il sambloit que decliner Vosist li mondes et finer. Mais nuls endurer ne peüst, S’auques durer cils temps deüst. Si que ces tempestes cesserent, Mais tels bruïnes engendrerent, Tels ordures et tels fumees Qui ne furent gaires amees; Car l’air qui estoit nés et purs Fu ors et vils, noirs, et obscurs, Lais et puans, troubles et pus, Si qu’il devint tous corrompus; Si que de sa corruption Eürent les gens opinion Que corrumpu en devenoient Et que leur couleur en perdoient. Car tuit estoient mal traitié, Descoulouré, et deshaitié: Boces avoient et grans clos Dont on moroit, et a briés mos, Po osoient a l’air aler Ne de pres ensamble parler, Car leurs corrumpues alainnes Corrompoient les autres sainnes. Et s’aucuns malades estoit, S’uns siens amis le visetoit, Il estoit en pareil peril Dont il en morut .v.c mil Si que li fils failloit au pere, La fille failloit a la mere, La mere au fil et a la fille Pour doubtance de la morille. N’il n estoit nuls si vrais amis, Qui ne fust adont arrier mis Et qui n’eüst petit d’aïe, S’il fust cheüs en maladie. Ne fusicien n’estoit, ne mire Qui bien sceüst la cause dire Dont ce venoit, ne que c’estoit (Ne nuls remede n’i metoit) Fors tant que c’estoit maladie Qu’on appelloit epydimie. Quant Dieus vit de sa mansion Dou monde la corruption Qui tout partout estoit si grans N’est merveilles s’il fu engrans De penre crueuse vengence De ceste grant desordenance; Si que tantost, sans plus attendre, Pour justice et vengence prendre, Fist la mort issir de sa cage, Pleinne de forsen et de rage, Sans frein, sans bride, sans loien, Sans foy, sans amour, sans moien, Si tres fiere et si orguilleuse, Si gloute et si familleuse Que ne se pooit saouler Pour riens que peüst engouler. Et par tout le munde couroit, Tout tuoit and tout acouroit Quanqu’il li venoit a l’encontre, N’on ne pooit resister contre. Et briefment tant en acoura, Tant en occist et devoura, Q’tous les jours a grans monceaus Trouvoit on dames, jouvenceaus, Juenes, viels, et de toutes guises Gisans mors parmi les eglises; Et les gettoit on en grans fosses Tous ensamble, et tous mors de boces, Car on trouvoit les cimatieres Si pleinnes de corps et de bieres Qu’il couvint faire des nouvelles. Ci a mervilleuses nouvelles. Et si ot meinte bonne ville Qu’on n’i veoit, ne fil, ne fille, Femme, në homme venir n’aler, N’on n’i trouvoit a qui parler, Pour ce qu’il estoient tuit mort De celle mervilleuse mort. Et ne gisoient que .iij. jours Ou meins; c’estoit petis sejours. Et maint en y ot vraiement Qui mouroient soudeinnement; Car ceuls meïsmes qui les portoient Au moustier pas ne revenoient (Souvent la vit on avenir), Eins les couvenoit la morir. Et qui se vorroit entremettre De savoir ou d’en escript mettre Le nombre de ceuls qui moururent, Tous ceuls qui sunt et ceuls qui furent Et tous ceuls qui sont a venir Jamais n’i porroient venir, Tant s’en sceüssent encombrer; Car nuls ne les porroit nombrer, Ymaginer, penser, ne dire, Figurer, moustrer, ne escrire. Car pluseurs fois certeinnement Oÿ dire et communement Que, mil .ccc. .xlix., De cent n’en demorroit que nuef, Dont on vit par deffaut de gent Que maint bel heritage et gent Demouroient a labourer. Nuls ne faisoit les chans arer, Les blez soier, ne vingnes faire. Qui en donnast triple salaire, Non, certes, pour .i. denier vint Tant estoient mort; et s’avint Que par les champs les bestes mues Gisoient toutes esperdues, Es blez et es vingnes paissoient, Tout partout ou elles voloient, N’avoient signeur, ne pastour, Ne homme qui leur alast entour, N’estoit nuls qui les reclamast, Ne qui pour siennes les clamast. Heritages y ot pluseurs Q’demouroient sans signeurs; Ne li vif n’osoient manoir Nullement dedens le manoir Ou li mort avoient esté. Fust en yver, fust en esté; Et s’aucuns fust qui le feïst, En peril de mort se meïst. Et quant je vi ces aventures Si diverses et si obscures, Je ne fui mie si hardis Que moult ne fusse acouardis. Car tuit li plus hardi trambloient De paour de mort qu’il avoient. Si que tres bien me confessai De tous les pechiez que fais ay Et me mis en estat de grace Pour recevoir mort en la place, S’il pleüst a Nostre Signeur. Si qu’en doubtance et en cremeur Dedens ma maison m’enfermay Et en ma pensee fermay Fermement que n’en partiroie Jusques a tant que je saroie A quel fin ce porroit venir; Si lairoie Dieu couvenir. Si que lonc temps, se Diex me voie, Fui einsi que petit savoie De ce qu’on faisoit en la ville, Et s’en morut plus de .xx. mille, Cependant que je ne sceüs mie, Dont j’eüs meins de merencolie. Car riens n’en voloie savoir, Pour meins de pensees avoir, Comment qu’assés de mes amis Fussent mors et en terre mis. Si qu’einsi fui lonc temps en mue, Si comme un esprevier qu’on mue, Et tant qu’une fois entroÿ (Dont moult forment me resjoÿ) Cornemuses, trompes, naquaires, Et d’instrumens plus de .vij. paires. Lors me mis a une fenestre Et enquis que ce pooit estre; Si que tantost me respondi Uns miens amis qui m’entendi Que ceuls qui demouré estoient Einsi com tuit se marioient Et faisoient festes et noces. Car la mortalité des boces Qu’on appelloit epydimie Estoit de tous poins estanchie; Et que les gens plus ne moroient. Et quant je vi qu’il festioient A bonne chiere et liement Et tout aussi joliement Com s’il n’eüssent riens perdu, Je n’os mie cuer esperdu, Eins repris tantost ma maniere Et ouvri mes yex et ma chiere Devers l’air qui si dous estoit Et si clers qu’il m’amonnestoit Que lors ississe de prison Ou j’avoie esté la saison. Lors fui hors d’esmay et d’effroy, Se montai seur mon palefroy Grisart, qui portoit l’ambleüre Moult souëf et de sa nature S’alay aus champs isnellement Chevauchier par esbatement, Pour moy jouer et soulacier Et la douceur a moy lacier Qui vient de pais et de deduit Ou cuers volentiers se deduit Qui n’a cure de cusenson Qui touche a noise, n’a tenson, Mais bien vorroit cusensonner Ad ce qui puet honneur donner. En celle cusençon estoie Pour honneur a quoi je tendoie. Cusençon avoie et desir Que je peüsse, a mon loisir, Aucuns lievres a point sousprendre, Par quoy je les peüsse prendre. Or porroit aucuns enquester Se c’est honneur de levreter. A ce point ci responderoie Que c’est honneur, solas, et joie; C’est uns fais que noblesse prise, Qui est de gracïeuse emprise, Et tres honneste a commencier, Dont il s’en fait bel avencier; S’est en faisant plaisans a faire, Et li honneurs gist ou parfaire, Dont en celle perfection Avoie si m’entention Qu’a autre chose ne pensoie. Et li bon levrier que j’avoie Renforçoient si mon solas Que je n’en peüsse estre las Quant le les os mis en conroy, Et je les vi de tel arroy De courir a point sus les chans, Et puis des oisillons les chans Qui estoient melodïeus, Et li airs dou temps gracïeus Qui tout le corps m’adoucissoit. On puet bien croire qu’einsi soit Q’se pluseurs gens chevauchassent, A fin que point ne m’araisnassent, Et aucuns bien en congneüsse, Que ja ne m’en aperceüsse, Tant y avoie mis ma cure. Se m’en avint une aventure Qui me fu un petit doubteuse, Mais briefment me fu gracïeuse, Si comme tantost le diray Ci aprés; point n’en mentiray. Tandis que la m’esbanioie Que en moy oublié avoie Toutes autres merencoliés, Tant les dolentes, com les liés, Une dame de grant noblesse, Bien acesmee de richesse, Venoit a belle compaingnie. Mais je ne les veoie mie, Car dou chemin estoie arriere, Et, d’autre part, pour la maniere De ce que j’estoie entendus Et tous mes engins estendus A ma queste tout seulement. Mais la dame premierement Me vit eins que nuls me veïst, Ne que nuls samblant en feïst, C’est assavoir d’ycelle gent Qui conduisoient son corps gent. Lors .i. escuier appella Et li dist: “Vois tu celui la Qui bel se deduit et deporte? Va a lui et si me raporte Qui il est, et revien en l’eure Sans la faire point de demeure.” Li escuiers n’en failli pas, Eins vint a moy plus que le pas Et hautement me salua. Mes propos de riens n’en mua. Si li dis: “Bien veingniés, biau sire.” S’il s’en retourna, sans plus dire, Au plus tost qu’il pot a la dame: “Dame,” dist cils, “Foi que doi m’ame, C’est la Guillaumes de Machaut. Et sachiez bien qu’il ne li chaut De riens fors que de ce qu’il chace, Tant est entendus a sa chace. Bien croy qu’il n’entent a nelui Fors qu’a ses levriers et a lui.” Quant la dame ces mos oÿ, Samblant fist de cuer esjoÿ, Nom pas samblant tant seulement, Mais de fait enterinement, De cuer joiant, a chiere lie, Comme dame gaie et jolie. Nom pourquant, ce ne di je point; Eins y avoit .i. autre point, Pour aucune cause certeinne Dont sa volenté estoit pleinne. Si le me voloit pronuncier Pour li deduire et soulacier Et moy mettre en merencolie. A ce point ne failli je mie, Car je fui de li galïes, Ramposnes, et contralïez, Aussi com se j’eüsse fait Encontre li un grant meffait. Quant li escuiers ot compté De moy toute sa volenté, La dame dist tout hautement: “Or veons .i. petit, comment Guillaumes est faitis et cointes. Il m’est avis qu’il soit acointes De trestoute jolieté Apartenant a honnesté. De nuit, en estudiant, veille, Et puis de jours son corps traveille En travail ou li bons s’atire Qui a honneur traveille et tire. Einsi va son corps deduisant Toutes heures en bien faisant. Si fais estas donne couleur De maintenir homme en valeur. Mais je li osterai briefment Grant part de son esbatement, Car je li donrai a ruser, Pour li bonne piece muser. Lonc temps a que je le desir: S’en acomplirai mon desir. Or t’en reva a li tantost, Car je me merveil qui li tost A ci venir. Si li diras Par plus briés mos que tu porras Qu’il veingne ci apertement. Et se li di hardiement Que ce soit sans querir essoingnes, Non contrestant toutes besongnes, Et que c’est a mon mandement.” “Dame, a vostre commandement,” Dist li escuiers, “Sans nul ‘si,’ Je li vois dire tout einsi Com vous dites, ou au plus pres Que je porrai; j’en sui tous pres.” Lors li escuiers chevaucha Devers moy tant qu’il m’aprocha. Et quant il me vint aprochant, Il m’appella en chevauchant, En galopant d’uns pas menuz Tant qu’il fu pres de moy venuz. Et si tost com j’oÿ sa vois, Erraument devers lui m’en vois Car de lonc temps le congnoissoie. Et il, en signe de grant joie, Me salua de Dieu le pere Et de sa douce chiere mere. Et je li respondi briefment En saluant courtoisement. Puis li demanday quels nouvelles Pour moy seront bonnes et belles, Se ma dame est preus et haitie, En pais, sans estre courrecie. “Guillaume, de riens n’en doubtez, Car ma dame est de tous costez En pais, preus, et haitie, et seinne; Et que ce soit chose certeinne, Assez tost savoir le porrez, Selonc ce que dire m’orrez. Il est bien voirs qu’elle vous mande, Nom pas qu’elle le vous commande, Mais d’un mandement par tel guise Qu’il vaut auques pres commandise; Non prier et non commander. Einsi li plaist il a mander, Entre le vert et le meür. Mais tenez ceci pour seür: Que c’est bien de s’entention Que, sans point d’excusation, Venrez a li moult liement; Elle le croit fiablement, Dont, s’il vous plaist, vous y venrez, Ou vo plaisir responderez.” Aprés ces mos li respondi: “Tres chiers amis, ytant vous di Qu’a ma dame, ne quars, ne tiers Ne sui, mais mes pooirs entiers Est tous siens, sans riens retenir. Se ne me porroie tenir D’aler a li, ne ne vorroie, Pour tant que de vray sentiroie Que ma dame le penseroit. Dont quant elle me manderoit, Ce seroit bien folie a croire Que point en vosisse recroire. Mais un po vous vueil demander, Afin qu’il n’i ait qu’amender: Combien ma dame est loin de ci?” “Guillaume, je respon einsi: Qu’il n’i a pas bien trois journees. Bel soient elles adjournees!” Dis je: “Or alons sans sejour, Si chevauchons et nuit et jour Pour les bons ma dame acomplir. Je ne me puis miex raemplir De joie que son plaisir faire; Se n’useray point dou contraire.” “Guillaume, j’ay bien entendu Ce que vous avez respondu. Je vous vueil un po apaisier D’autre chose que de baisier. Resgardez en celle grant pleinne Un po dela celle versainne: C’est ma dame a grant chevauchie Qui pour vous s’est la adressie. La vous atent, soiez certeins. Or ne soit point vostres cuers teins De paour pour trop loing aler; Car la porrez a li parler.” A ces mos ma chiere dressay, Et puis mon regart adressay D’icelle part ou cils disoit. Et quant je vi qu’einsi gisoit, Que mes chemins yert acourciez, Je n’en fui mie courreciez, Eins en fui liez; s’en pris a rire, Et puis a celui pris a dire: “Biaus amis, par merencolie M’avez tenté de moquerie, De bourde, et de parole voire, Quant vous me donnastes a croire Ma dame long par bel mentir. Y me plut moult bien a sentir Le vray de ce que vous mentites En ce qu’aprés le voir deïtes, Que ma dame estoit assez pres. Je m’en vois; or venez aprés, Ou vous demourrez, s’il vous plaist.” “Guillaume, bien heure de plait Est encor; ne vous hastez point. Vous y venrez assez a point Se ma dame y puet adrecier. Se vous saviés un po tencier, Bon seroit et pour certein cas Ou vous devenez advocas; Car on vous porra bien sousprendre Se vous ne vous savez deffendre.” De si fais mos nous debatiens, Par gieu si nous en esbatiens; Dont tout en parlant chevauchames Que la gent la dame aprochames. Lors m’avansai, et quant je vi Son gentil corps amanevi D’onneur, de grace, et de science, En signe de grant reverence Vos jus de mon cheval descendre; Mais tantost le me va deffendre. En disant debonnairement: “Hola, Guillaume, nullement, Pour certein, n’i descenderez. A cheval a moy parlerez.” Quant je l’oÿ, je m’en souffri, Et si bel salu li offri Comme je pooie et savoie, Et comme faire le devoie, Einsi comme j’avoie apris A honnourer gens de tel pris. Et elle aussi, sans contrefaire, Sceut moult bien le seurplus parfaire, En respondant par amisté, Gardant honneur et honnesté. Puis me dist moult rassisement: LA DAME “Guillaume, mervilleusement Estes estranges devenus. Vous ne fussiez pas ça venus, Se ce ne fust par mes messages, Je croy que vous estes trop sages Devenuz, ou trop alentis, Mausoingneus, et mautalentis, De vos deduis apetisiez, Ou trop po les dames prisiez. Quant je fu la dessus montee En celle plus haute montee Mon chemin tenoie sus destre, Et je regardai vers senestre, Tout de plain vous vi chevauchier, Vos levriers siffler et huchier. Tels ouevres faire vous ooie Tout aussi bien com je veoie Vous et vostre contenement. Dont je croy bien certeinnement, Guillaume, que vous nous veïtes. Et pour quoy dont, quant vous oïtes Nos chevaus passer et hennir, Et se ne daigniés venir, Jusqu’a tant que je vous manday Einsi com je le commanday? Dont je vous merci tellement Com je doy, et non autrement.” GUILLAUME Lors li dis je: “Pour Dieu merci, Ma dame, ne dites ceci. Je respon, sauve vostre honneur, Car foy que doy Nostre Signour, Je ne vi riens, ne riens n’oÿ, Tant avoie cuer esjoÿ De ma chace a quoy je pensoie, Pour la fin a quoy je tendoie. S’estoie einsi comme ravis. Ma dame, je feroie envis Riens encontre vostre voloir. Et que me porroient valoir A faire tels menuz despis? Bien say que j’en vaurroie pis. Si m’en devez bien escuser.” LA DAME “Guillaume, plus n’en vueil ruser. Puis qu’einsi va, mes cuers vous croit. Mais d’une autre partie croit Moult durement une autre chose Encontre vous qui porte glose. Se vous donray assez a faire Et se vous ferai maint contraire Se pour confus ne vous rendez. Guillaume, oëz et entendez: Vers les dames estes forfais, S’en avez enchargié tel fais Que soustenir ne le porrez Ne mettre jus quant vous vorrez.” Avec ces paroles diverses, En leurs diversetez perverses, Me moustra elle une maniere Aspre, crueuse, male, et fiere, En signe de grant mautalent Pour moy faire le cuer dolent Et mettre ma pensee toute En effroy, en song, et en doubte. De ce se mettoit en grant peinne Qu’ele se tenoit pour certeinne Que de tant bien la priseroie Q’son courrous moult doubteroie. Et si fis je; je le doubtay, Quant ces paroles escoutay, Nom pas pour cause de meffait Qu’endroit de moy heüsse fait; Mais je doubtay pour mesdisans Qui sont aucunes fois nuisans Par fausseté et par envie Aus bons qui mainnent bonne vie. Si doubtay si faite aventure. Mais seürs fui qu’enforfaiture N’avoie fait en ma vie onques Envers nulles dames quelsquonques. Se li respondi par avis. GUILLAUME “Dame, fait avez .i. devis Ou ma grant deshonneur moustrez, Mais li procés n’est pas outrez Ne mis en fourme justement. Pour faire certein jugement, Vous me deüssiez dire en quoy J’ay forfait et tout le pourquoy Amener a conclusion. Or est en vostre entention Secretement mis en enclos. S’il ne m’est autrement desclos, Je n’en saveroie respondre. Or vueilliez, s’il vous plaist, espondre Le fait de quoy vous vous dolez; Et s’einsi faire le volez Vous ensieurez la droite voie De droit, ou je ne saveroie Le fait congnoistre ne niër. Ce non, vous devez ottriër Que je m’en voise frans et quittes De ce forfait que vous me dites; J’en atenderoie bien droit.” LA DAME “Guillaume, sachiés orendroit N’en arez plus de ma partie. Car la chose est einsi partie. Se je le say, vous le savez, Car le fait devers vous avez En l’un de vos livres escript, Bien devisié et bien descript. Si regardés dedens vos livres. Bien say que vous n’estes pas yvres Quant vos fais amoureus ditez. Dont bien savez de vos dittez, Quant vous les faites et parfaites, Se vous faites bien ou forfaites Dés qu’il sont fait de sanc assis Autant a un mot comme a sis. S’il vous plaist, vous y garderez Qu’autre chose n’en porterez De moy, quant a l’eure presente. Soiez certeins que c’est m’entente.” GUILLAUME “Dame, qu’est ce que dit avez? Selonc le bien que vous savez, Trop mieus savez que vous ne dites: J’ay bien de besongnes escriptes Devers moy, de pluseurs manieres, De moult de diverses matieres, Dont l’une l’autre ne ressamble. Consideré toutes ensamble, Et chascune bien mise a point, D’ordre en ordre et de point en point, Dés le premier commancement Jusques au darrein finement, Se tout voloie regarder, Dont je me vorray bien garder, Trop longuement y metteroie. Et d’autre part, je ne porroie Trouver ce que vous demandez S’a vos paroles n’amendez. Pour tel chose ne quier ja lire, Dame, nom pas pour vous desdire, Mais ce n’est pas chose sensible Q’vostre pensee invisible Pëust venir a ma congnoissance, Fors que par la clef d’ordenance Dont vostres cuers soit deffermiés, Et que si en soie enfourmés Que vostre bouche le me die. Lorsqu’a respondre contredie, Quant de bouche le m’arez dit, J’en vueil moult bien, a vostre dit, Estre blamez et corrigiez. Dame, s’il vous plait, or jugiez Selonc la vostre opinion, Se j’ay tort a m’entention.” LA DAME “Guillaume, puis qu’il est einsi, Je m’acort bien a ce point ci. Orendroit me rens je vaincue; Mais de vostre descouvenue, Qui est contre dames si grande, Afferroit bien crueuse amende S’il estoit qui la vosist prendre. Or vueilles dés or mais entendre Ad ce que je diray de bouche, Car moult forment au cuer me touche. Et quant dit le vous averay, En tel lieu le reprocheray Que vous en serez moult blasmez Et vers les dames diffamez. Une question fu jadis Mise en termes par moult biaus dis, Belle et courtoisement baillie, Mais aprés fu trop mal taillie. Premierement fu supposé, Et en supposant proposé, C’une dame de grant vaillance Par tres amiable fiance Ameroit .i. loial amant Si que toudis, en bien amant, Seroit de cuer loial amie. Se il, en gardant courtoisie, Toudis de bon cuer l’ameroit Et son pooir estenderoit En li chierir et honnourer. Et pour li miex enamourer Il maintenroit toute noblesse: Honneur, courtoisie, et largesse. Biaus homs seroit, a grant devis, De membres, de corps, et de vis Renommez, de grace parfais, Et si bien esprouvez par fais D’armes, comme nuls homs puet estre Qui a mis sa vie et son estre En sieuir joustes et tournois, Et tous amoureus esbanois. Cependant qu’einsi s’ameront Et toudis bien se garderont Les courtois poins de loiauté En raison et en verité, Leur avenroit tele aventure, Par violence ou par nature, Que li amans devieroit. Et celle, quant le saveroit, Demouroit lasse et esgaree, Loyal amie non amee. Car ses cuers demorroit espris, Et li cuers de l’amant de pris Seroit selonc nature esteins, Dont li siens cuers seroit plus teins Pour cause de la departie. Plus n’en di de ceste partie. Eins vorrai d’une autre compter Pour a ceste ci adjouster, En faisant ma comparison. Guillaume, or entendez raison: Uns autres amans debonnaires, Aussi vaillans en ses affaires Comme cils de qui j’ay compté Tant en grace comme en bonté, Et de toutes autres parties En honneur a point departies, Amera aussi une dame Sans mal penser et sans diffame, Et se li fera a savoir. Et quant elle en sara le voir, Volentiers le recevera Et s’amour li ottriera Liement, sans faire dangier. Pas ne vueil ce ci prolongier; Car cils l’amera loyaument Et se la croira fermement Sans erreur et sans nulle doubte Car il cuidera s’amour toute Avoir acquis toute sa vie Sans jamais faire departie. Mais il ira bien autrement. Quant il sera plus liement Conjoins a li et affermez En la fiance d’estre amez, Elle li jouera d’un tour Outreement sans nul retour, Ou il trouvera fausseté Contre lui, et desloiauté, Et se ne le porra nïer. Si doit bien celui anuïer, Ce n’est mie moult grant merveille. Mais ce n’est pas chose pareille Au fait d’amours qui me remort, Qui se defenist par la mort. Guillaume, s’entendu m’avez, Assés legierement devez Vostre meffaçon recongnoistre Pour vostre deshonneur descroistre. Vous avez dit et devisié Et jugié de fait avisié Par diffinitif jugement Que cils a trop plus malement, Grieté, tourment, mal, et souffraite Qui trueve sa dame forfaite Contre lui en fausse maniere, Que la tres douce dame chiere Qui avera son dous amy Conjoint a son cuer, sans demy, Par amours, sans autre moien. Puis le savera en loien De la mort ou il demourra Si que jamais ne le verra. Et comment l’osastes vous dire, Ne dedens vos livres escrire? Il est voirs qu’einsi l’avez fait, Dont vous avez griefment meffait. Si vous lo que vous tant faciez Que ce jugement effaciés, Et que briefment le rapellez. Guillaume, se vous tant valez, Vous le pouez bien einsi faire Par soustenir tout le contraire. Car li contraires, c’est li drois En tous bons amoureus endrois.” GUILLAUME “Dame, foi que doi Sainte Eglise, En qui ma foy est toute assise, Pour nulle rien ne le feroie; Eins iray tout outre la voie Dou fait puis que j’y suis entrez. Dés que mes jugemens outrez Est de moy, je le soustenray, Tant que soustenir le porray. Mais qui vorroit avant venir Pour le contraire soustenir Moult volentiers oubeïroie A quanqu’oubeïr deveroie. Car je ne suis mie si fors, Ne si grans n’est pas mes effors, Ne de science mes escus, Que je ne puisse estre vaincus. Mais se je puis, je veinqueray; Se je ne puis, je soufferay. Or voit einsi, qu’on puet aler; Je n’en quier autrement parler. Et nompourquant, ma dame douce, Q’vostres cuers ne se courrouce A moy, nous ferons une chose Ouvertement, nom pas enclose, Ou vostre pais soit contenue Et m’onneur y soit soustenue. Car ce seroit a ma grant honte, Selonc vostre meïsme conte, S’endroit de moy contredisoie Le fait que jugié averoie, De mon bon droit, tel et si fait Que tout par moy avroie fait. Nous penrons un juge puissant, De renommee souffissant, Q’soit sages homs et discrez. Se li soit comptés li secrez Entierement de la besongne Qui a vous et a moy besongne. Or soit einsi fait par acort; Mais vous en ferez le recort Dou prendre tel que vous vorrez. Contredire ne le m’orrez, Einsi y sui acordans dés ci A vostre plaisir, sans nul ‘si.’ Mes cuers y est ja tous entiers, Car ce sera uns biaus mestiers De oïr les raisons repeter Et les parties desputer Soutilment, par biaus argumens Q’vaurront auques jugemens.” LA DAME A ces moz prist la dame a rire Et en riant tantost a dire: “Guillaume, bien suis acordans Ad ce qu’estes ci recordans; S’en parlerai, comment qu’il aille. Et nompourquant, vaille que vaille, Je nomme et pren celui qui rois Est appellez des Navarrois. C’est uns princes qui aimme honnour Et qui het toute deshonnour, Sages, loiaus, et veritables, Et en tous ses fais raisonnables. Il scet tant et vaut, qu’a droit dire, Nul milleur ne porroie eslire. Li fais li sera savoureus Pour ce qu’il est moult amoureus, Sages, courtois, et bien apris. Il aimme l’onneur et le pris Des armes, d’amours, et des dames. C’est li roys par cui uns diffames Ne seroit jamais soustenus. De toute villenie est nus Et garnis de toute noblesse Qui apartient a gentillesse. Trop de biens dire n’en porroie, S’ui mais tout adés en parloie.” Einsi fumes nous acordé, Comme devant est recordé. Dont puis d’amors assés parlames, Et en parlant tant chevauchames Que nous entrames es drois las De pais, de joie, et de solas, C’est a savoir en .i. dous estre Ou il faisoit si tres bel estre Qu’on ne porroit miex, a mon gré: C’estoit en souverein degré, A mon avis, de bon propos, De deduit, et de bon repos, Ou uns cuers se puet reposer Qui a point se vuet disposer. La avoit il un bel manoir Ou elle voloit remanoir. Assés fu qui la descendi Et qui entour li entendi; Et, sans atendre, fu menee Dedens une chambre aournee Si bien, si bel, si cointement Et de tout si tres richement, Qu’onques mais, dont j’eüs grant merveille, N’avoie veu la pareille. Et briefment tuit, grant et meneur, Li faisoient feste et honneur. Mais bien sambloit estre maistresse, Car elle fu par grant noblesse Entre coussins de soie assise. Mais moult estoit sage et rassise, Et fu d’aage si seür Qu’entre le vert et le meür Estoit sa tres douce jouvente, Plus qu’autre simple, aperte, et gente. Moult bien estoit acompaingnié De belle et bonne compaingnie. N’i fu Margot ne Agnesot, Mais .xij. damoiselles ot Qui jour et nuit la norrissoient, Servoient, et endoctrinoient. La premiere estoit Congnoissance, Qui li moustroit la difference D’entre les vertus et les vices Et des biens fais aus malefices, Par Avis, qui la conduisoit, Jusqu’a .i. miroir qui luisoit, Si qu’onques plus cler miroir Ne pot on tenir ne veoir. Raisons le tenoit en sa destre, Une balance en sa senestre, Si que la dame s’i miroit Plus souvent qu’on ne vous diroit. La veoit elle clerement, Sans obscurté n’empecshement, Quanque Diex et Nature donne A bonne eüreuse personne. C’est le mal laissier et bien faire, Et non voloir autrui contraire. Car fols est qui autrui pourchace Chose qu’il ne vuet qu’on li face. Et s’il heüst en son atour, En son gentil corps, fait a tour, Et en son cuer tache ne vice Ou pensee d’aucun malice, Ja ne fust si fort reponnue Qu’en miroir ne fust veue. Et la veoit elle, sans doubte, La guise et la maniere toute, Comment Raison justement regle Par bele et bonne et loial regle. Si que la prenoit exemplaire De tout ce qu’elle devoit faire. Et aussi la juste balance Li demoustroit signefiance Qu’elle devoit en tous cas vivre Aussi justement com la livre, Ou on ne puet, par nulle voie, Mettre n’oster qu’on ne le voie. La tierce avoit nom Attemprance, Qui .i. chapelet de souffrance Avoit sus son chief par cointise; Et avec ce, dont miex la prise, Estoit de maniere seüre Et, en parlant, sage, et meüre, N’en fait, n’en port, n’en contenence N’ot vice, ne desordenance. La quarte, se bien m’en recorde, Estoit Pais, qui tenoit Concorde Par le doy amiablement, Et li disoit moult doucement, De cuer riant, a chiere lie: “Ma douce suer, ma chiere amie, Se nous volons vivre en leesse, En pais, et repos, en richesse, De tout ce qu’on puet faire et dire, N’en metons a nos cuers point d’ire, Et ne nous chaille dou dangier Qu’on appelle contrevangier, Car tels cuide vangier sa honte Qui l’accroist et qui plus s’ahonte. Tenons les bons en amitié, Et des mauvais aions pitié Car onques homs ne fu parfais Qui volt vangier tous ses tors fais.” La cincisme fu appellee Foy, qui richement endestree Estoit de Constance la ferme, Qui si l’affermoit et afferme Que riens ne la bransle n’esloche; Eins estoit com chastiaus sus roche, Fort et ferme et seürement, Sans variable mouvement. La setisme fu Charité, Qui avoit si tres grant pité Des besongneus qu’elle savoit Que leur donnoit quanqu’elle avoit. Mais ja tant donner ne sceüst Qu’assez plus a donner n’eüst. Aprés Honnestez doucement Se seoit moult honnestement, Qui paree par grant noblesse Estoit d’un mantel de simplesse. Mais nette estoit, sans nul reproche, De cuer, de corps, de main, de bouche. La .ix.me estoit Prudence. En son cuer portoit Sapience, Et si fermement la gardoit Qu’aprés li d’amours toute adroit. Bien savoit la cause des choses Qui sont ou firmament encloses, Pourquoy li solaus en ardure Se tient, et la lune en froidure; Des estoiles et des planettes Et des .xij. signes les mettes; Pourquoy Diex par Nature assamble Humeur, sec, froit, et chaut ensamble; Et pourquoy li .iiij. element Furent ordené tellement Qu’adés se tient en bas la terre, Et l’iaue pres de li se serre, Li feus se trait haut a toute heure, Et li airs en moien demeure. Brief des oeuvres celestiennes Et aussi des choses terriennes Savoit tant qu’elle estoit experte, D’engin si vive et si aperte, Q’nuls ne le porroit despondre. Car a chascun savoit respondre De quanqu’on voloit demander Si qu’on n’i sceüst qu’amender. Aprés Prudence se seoit Largesse, qui riens ne veoit Einsois donnoit a toutes mains, A l’un plus et a l’autre mains, Or, argent, destriers, oisiaus, terre, Et quanqu’elle pooit acquerre, Contez, duchez, et baronnies, A heritages et a vies. De tout ce riens ne retenoit Fors l’onneur. Ad ce se tenoit. Noblesse li avoit apris. Et avec ce, dont miex la pris, Elle reprenoit Advarice Comme de tout le pieur vice. L’autre, dont pas ne me vueil taire, Estoit Doubtance de Meffaire, Qui tant se doubtoit de mesprendre Qu’a peinne pooit elle entendre A riens, fors estre sus sa garde. En tous ses fais estoit couarde; Car Honte et Paour la gardoient, Qui en tous lieus l’acompaingnoient. La dousieme estoit Souffissance, Qui de tres humble pacïence Estoit richement aournee Et abondanment saoulee Et pleinne de tous biens terriens. Elle n’avoit besong de riens, Ne li failloit chose nesune. Hors estoit des mains de Fortune Et de son perilleus dangier. De po se paissoit au mengier Car plus refaite estoit d’un ouef Que ne fust un autre d’un buef. Tant par estoit bonne eüreuse Et parfaitement vertueuse. Encor est et toudis sera, Tant com li mondes durera, Que c’est, a droit considerer, Li biens qu’on doit plus desirer. Mais aussi com pluseurs rivieres Arrousent, et pluseurs lumieres Radient et leur clarté rendent En tous lieus ou elles s’estendent, Ces .xij. nobles damoiselles, Qui de tous biens furent ancelles, Chascune selonc sa nature, En meurs, en maintieng, en figure, Embelissoient ceste dame De cuer, de corps, d’onneur, et d’ame. Car tant estoit d’elles paree, Arrousee et enluminee, Que chascune l’embelissoit De quanque de li bel issoit, Et chascune la repartoit De la vertu qu’elle portoit. Et encor des biens de Nature Avoit la noble creature: Gente maniere, loiauté, Faitis port, debonnaireté, Grace, douceur, et courtoisie, Dont elle estoit moult embellie. Mais sa souvereinne bonté De trop long passoit sa biauté. Quant je la vi si hautement Assise et si tres noblement De grans richesses acesmee, Et si servie et honnouree Chierement de tous et de toutes, Dedens mon cuer venirent doubtes Qui y entrerent par folie Et par droite merencolie. Car j’estoie trop esbahis Et aussi com tous estahis Et d’erreur telement temptés, Que je cuiday estre enchantés. Mais en si fait amusement Ne demourai pas longuement; Car je usai dou conseil d’Avis, Qui fist retourner mon avis Justement par devers Raison, Qui est tout adés en saison Des loiaus cuers remettre a point Qui sont issu hors de leur point. Adont Raison me resgarda Si que depuis en sa garde a Mon cuer, mon sens, et mon penser, Pour resister et pour tenser Aus fausses cogitations Et oster les temptations Qui cuidoient avoir victoire A moy faire faussement croire. Or fui hors de celle pensee. Mais la dame bien apensee Moult sagement m’araisonna, Et en parlant scens me donna De respondre aprés son parler; S’en sceüs miex et plus biau parler. LA DAME Se me dist: “Guillaume, biau sire, Au primes fust il temps de dire Ce que sus les champs avons dit. S’en rafreschissons nostre dit, Present ces .xij. damoiselles, Qui sont sages, bonnes, et belles, Et pluseurs gens qui y seront. Volentiers nous escouteront.” GUILLAUME Je ne fis pas longue demeure. Einsois m’agenoillai en l’eure. Et humblement li respondi: “Ma chiere dame, tant vous di: Pleüst a Dieu de Paradis Que cils qui doit oïr nos dis Fust ci endroit presentement, Li bons rois qui si sagement Saveroit oïr et entendre, Taire a point, et puis raison rendre, Quant il averoit escouté Ce qu’on li averoit compté. Bien saveroit examiner Et encor miex determiner. Et si croy bien qu’il jugeroit Selonc les parlers qu’il orroit. Et non pour quant, puisqu’il vous plait, Bien en poez dire hors plait, En supposant sans prejudice. Et je qui point n’i pens malice Volentiers vous escouteray, Et, se bon m’est, j’en parleray.” LA DAME “Guillaume, moult bel respondez. Mais .i. bien petit m’entendés. Levez vous, car il plaist a nous Que plus ne parlez a genous. Et se plus ci aprés parlez, Parlez einsi, com vous volez, Ou en seant, ou en estant, Car il nous souffist bien a tant.” GUILLAUME Lors me levay hastivement Pour faire son commandement Quant elle ot sa parole dite. Et puis tout droit a l’opposite De li m’en alai asseoir, Pour li en la face veoir. Car qui voit personne en la face Qui de parler doit avoir grace, Le parler trop miex en entent A quel fin sa parole tent. Lors prist la dame une maniere Able, diligent, et maniere De parler par si bel devis Qu’il estoit a chascun avis Qu’elle veïst tout en escript Ce qu’elle disoit et descript. Dont miex diter nuls ne porroit Nés que ses parlers atiroit. Elle ordena son parlement Dés le premier commancement, Qu’elle m’avoit envoié querre, Et puis secondement requerre, Et comment j’alai devers li; Et comment elle m’assailli De parole cusensonneuse. Et comment elle fu crueuse De moy rudement ramposner Pour moy seulement agoner Et en merencolie mettre, Dont bel se savoit entremettre. Que vous iroie je comptant? Elle y mist de biaus parlers tant Qu’elle mena l’entention Dou fait a declaration, De point en point, de tire a tire, Si bien qu’il n’i ot que redire, Par quoy les damoiselles toutes Furent tantost, sans nulles doubtes, Dou fait sages et avisees Et entierement enfourmees De quanqu’on avoit recordé Dessus les chams et acordé. Aprés ces paroles moustrees, Bien dites et bien ordenees, Eüs tantost le cuer esjoÿ, Car tant escoutay que je oÿ Chevaus venir et gens debatre, Dont en l’eure se vint embatre Devers nous cils bons rois de pris Que nous aviens a juge pris. Et la dame qui resgardoit Devers l’uis et ne s’en gardoit, Le vit et congnut a l’entree; Se s’est tantost en piez levee, S’ala a l’encontre de lui Et se n’i atendi nelui. Quant il la vit, il s’avansa Et .i. bien petit l’embrassa, Et elle lui moult humblement, En saluant courtoisement, Liement, et a bonne chiere. Et il li dist: “Ma dame chiere, Moult me poise quant sa venites. Pour quel cause ne vous tenistes En vostre siege toute coie?” “Tres chiers sires, se Diex me voie, Jamais ne l’eüsse einsi fait, Car trop pensasse avoir meffait. Car on dit — et c’est chose voire Qu’il est assez legier a croire — Qu’entre les grans et les meneurs A tous seigneurs toutes honneurs. Mais laissons ces parlers ester. Petit y devons arrester. S’alons en cest siege seoir. La me vorrai je pourveoir De vous compter une merveille D’autres merveilles nom pareille. Alez devant; je iray aprés, De vous me tenray assez pres.” “Par Dieu, ma dame, non ferai. Aussi tost com je y monterai, Tout d’encoste moy monterez. Ja a ce point ne me menrez Qu’embedeus n’en alons ensamble. Encor fais je trop, ce me samble.” De ce point si bien s’acorderent, Si qu’ensamble tous .ij. monterent. Et quant il furent haut monté, Encor, par grant humilité, D’asseoir moult se debatirent. Toutes voies il se seïrent. Et quant il furent la assis, La dame dist de sens rassis: “Sire, entendez un bien petit. Et se prenez vostre apetit A diligenment escouter Ce que je vous vorray compter. Vez la Guillaume de Machaut. C’est uns homs a cui il ne chaut A tort ou a droit soustenir. Tout aussi chier s’a il tenir Vers le tort comme vers le droit, Si com vous orrez orendroit. En un debat sommes entré Dont nous devons de fait outré, Sire, devant vous plaidïer, Mais qu’il ne vous doie anuier. Moy bien meüe et il meüs, Pour juges estes esleüs; Dont c’est pour nous belle avenue, Biau sire, de vostre venue. Et vous en estes eüreus, Se de riens estes amoureus. Car de cause avons nostre plest Fourme qui aus amoureus plest C’est d’amors, d’amant, et d’amie, Et de leur noble signourie. Guillaumes dit, tient, et afferme Pour vray, et que c’est chose ferme, Quant homs qui ha tout son cuer mis En dame, tant qu’il est amis Et celle s’amour li ottrie, Si qu’il la tient pour vraie amie, Puis est de lui si esprouvee Qu’il la trueve fausse prouvee, Qu’il a de ce plus de grieté C’une dame qui loyauté En son vray ami trouvera; Et elle aussi tant l’amera Comme dame puet homme amer, Entierement, sans point d’amer. Or avenra il que la mort, Qui soutilment sus la gent mort, Torra a son ami la vie. Et quant elle scet qu’il devie, Ou qu’il est dou tout devïez, Il est a la mort marïez, Lors est finee leur querelle, Aroit cils aussi grief com celle? Nennil! Il ne puet avenir; Cils poins ne se puet soustenir, Dont j’ay fait, et fais, et vueil faire Protestation dou contraire. C’est auques nostres plaidïez. Pour ce volons que vous soiez Juges; si en ordonnerez Selonc le plait que vous orrez.” LE JUGE “Je vous respons, ma chiere dame, Par la foy que doy Dieu et m’ame, Selonc la mienne entention, Que d’estre en la perfection De juge est moult noble chose, Voire qui entrepenre l’ose Si hautement comme en Amours. Mais pour les tres douces clamours Qui y sont, j’entrepren l’office, Sans mal penser et sans malice. Se j’ay petit sens, j’apenray Parmi les parlers que je orray; Et s’estre puis bien consilliez, Je ne seroie pas si liez D’avoir acquis .v.c mars d’or. Et pour tant vous dis je desor, Chiere dame, que j’esliray Tel conseil comme je vorray De vostre bele compaingnie, Qui a vous est acompaingnie. Car a .i. bon juge apartient Qui jugemens en sa part tient Qu’il ait conseil en tous endrois. Prenons, qu’il soit ou non soit drois. Se vous requier je qu’on le face, Soit par courtoisie ou par grace. Et d’autre part, quoy que nuls die, Bons drois a bon mestier d’aïe Par quoy grace ait adés son cours Pour aidier droit en toutes cours.” LA DAME “Biau sire, de vostre recort, Que ce soit drois, bien m’i acort. Or prenez cui que vous volez, Par quoy de riens ne vous dolez.” LE JUGE “Ma dame, je pren Congnoissance, Qui est de bon conseil sustance; Avecques li sera Avis, Li quels n’i sera pas envis Pour ce que c’est sa bonne amie; Volentiers li tient compaingnie. Et se me plaist, qu’aussy y soit Raison, qui nelui ne deçoit, Eins est adés en sa partie De bon conseil apareillie. Si entendra les parlemens Pour raporter aus jugemens. La me sara bien consillier; Pas ne m’en faurra resveillier. Avec li sera Mesure; Quar qui jugemens ne mesure, Il ne puelent venir a point Afin qu’il soient en bon point Pour les parties delivrer Et chascune son droit livrer.” La Dame bien s’i acorda Et hautement li recorda: “Biau sire, bien avez ouvré D’avoir bon conseil recouvré!” LE JUGE “C’est bon pour moy, ma dame gente; Dont a mon cuer bien entalente Que j’en soie einsi bien garnis. Qui n’est garnis, il est honnis. Juges sui par commun acort Especiaument d’un descort Qui est ci entre .ij. parties, Pour atendre droit de parties. Or est la court garnie et pleinne; Se puet on bien par voie pleinne, Ce m’est avis, aler avant. Dame, vous parlerez devant, Se fourmerez vostre demande, Nom pas pour ce que je demande Que li fais me soit refourmez, Car j’en suis assez enfourmez; Mais d’aucuns membres dou procés Me moustreroient les excés Qui vous en font doloir et pleindre; Et aussi pour Guillaume ateindre En son tort, se tort doit avoir; Autrement ne le puis savoir.” LA DAME “Sire, ceste raison me plait. Dés qu’entamé en avons plait, Mon fait moustrerai par figure Selonc les ouevres de Nature, Tout pour Guillaume, qui se tort De verité dont il ha tort. Vous savez que la turterelle, Qui est faitice, gente, et belle, Cointe, gaie, douce, et jolie Tant com ses males est en vie, Et s’il avient qu’elle le pert Par mort, on scet tout en appert Que jamais joie n’avera, Et par signes le moustrera. Tant est li siens cuers pleins d’ardeur, Jamais ne serra sus verdeur; Eins quiert tout adés obscurtez, Divers lieus et pleins de durtez, Aubres sés, verseinnes, et trieges. En tel lieus est souvent ses sieges Quant elle se vuet reposer. Autrement ne vuet disposer Son cuer qu’en vie dolereuse, Tant est de son male grieteuse. Tout autel d’une dame di ge Qui est rendue a Amours lige. Quant elle ha son amy perdu Par mort, le cuer si esperdu Ha que jamais n’avera joie, Eins quiert lieu, temps, et gens, et voie, Ou il ait tout adés tristece, Humble habit en lieu de richesse Tenebres en lieu de clarté, Et en lieu de joliveté Pour porter chapelés de flours, Ist de son chief larmes et plours. Et s’elle quiert aucun repos, Il est pris en humble propos. Einsi la dame se maintient Que le dueil de son amy tient, En cas qu’elle soit vraie amie. Or dirai de l’autre partie. Quant la secoingne se fourfait, Et ses males en scet le fait, Je croy bien que moult s’en aïre Et qu’il en ait au cuer grant ire. Mais trouver en puet aligence En ce qu’il en atent veingance. Car il s’en va tantost en serche. Par les nis des oisiaus reverche A ceuls qui sont de sa samblance Tant qu’il en ha grant habondance; Puis entour son nif les assamble, Et quant il sont la tuit ensamble, Il y tiennent .i. grant concire, Puis mettent celui a martire De mort qui l’a, ce dit, forfaite. La est devouree et deffaite. Or ha cils ses maus alegiés Qui en ce point en est vengiés. Tout autel di je que li homs Doit estre fiers comme uns lions Contre aucun tort, s’il li est fais. Et cils puet trouver moult de fais Aus quels il se puet encliner Pour son mal faire terminer, Par pluseurs manieres de tours. Mais la dame n’a nuls recours Es quels elle se puist garir, Qui son amy verra morir. Dont elle sent pour .i. mal cent Que cils autres amans ne sent. Guillaume, aprés moy respondés; Se tort avez, si l’amendez.” GUILLAUME Aprés ces raisons me dressay Et mes paroles adressay Au juge, qui bien entendi Ce qu’elle ot dit et que je di. Et je li dis: “Sire, sans faille Ma dame a bien, comment qu’il aille, Son fait moustré, et sagement, Et de soutil entendement Bien baillié par vives raisons, Pour fourmer ses comparisons Bien faites et bien divisees Et si justement exposees Que qui amender y vorroit Je croy moult bien qu’on ne porroit. Et ce qu’elle en a devisé Vous l’avez tres bien avisé, Oÿ, senti, et entendu. Car de sa bouche est descendu En vostre cuer par escouter; Si ne le faut pas repeter. Et si croy bien certeinnement Que c’est de droit vray sentement, Ce qu’elle en a yci compté, Gardant sa grace et sa bonté, Sans point de vainne entention. Et j’ay une autre oppinion Qu’elle n’a; s’en dirai m’entente, S’il li plaist et il vous talente, Nom pas pour le sien fait punir, Mais pour ma cause soustenir. On puet bien sa cause prisier Sans autrui fait apetisier.” LE JUGE “Guillaume, ne vueil contredire. Dites ce qu’il vous plaist a dire, Hastivement ou a loisir; Ouvrez en a vostre plaisir. Je vueil bien oïr et entendre, Et s’ay assez loisir d’atendre.” GUILLAUME “Grant merci, sire. Je diray, Et croy que point n’en mentiray. Je vous di que la forfaiture De dame est si aspre et si dure En cuer d’amant, et si perverse, Que, quant elle y est bien aherse, Jamais jour ne s’en partira. Or ne scet cils quel part ira Pour querir son aligement; Se prendre en voloit vengement Par mort, et bien le peüst faire, Il trouveroit tout son contraire En la fourme de grant folour, En l’attrait de toute dolour, .I. feu pour toute ardeur ateindre, Une yaue pour douceur esteindre, Norrissemens de tous meschiés; Car dou faire seroit pechiés. Et pechiez qui en cuer remort Est uns commencemens de mort, De mort qu’on claimme mortel vie. Car qui languist, il ne vit mie. En mon fait que ci vous present Maintenant, en vostre present, Ha plus de griés et plus d’ardure Qu’en l’autre fait, et trop plus dure. Dont je vous requier orendroit Sus ce point ci que j’aie droit.” ATTEMPRANCE Adont se leva Attemprance, Qui tenoit par la main Souffrance. Si parla attempreement En disant: “Guillaume, comment Droit pour vous demander osastes? Je me merveil que vous pensastes Quant vous en fustes si hastis: Ou vostres scens est trop petis, Ou outrecuidiers vous demeinne. Ne savez vous pas bien qui mainne Le droit quant parties y tendent Qui le desirent et attendent? Je vueil moult bien que vous sachiez Que Raisons en est li drois chiés Et avec li sa compaingnie; Chascune y a bonne partie D’entre nous damoiselles toutes. De ce ne faites nulles doubtes, Que drois ne se puet delivrer, Se toutes ne sont au livrer, Afin que fait soit bonnement, Se cils qui fist les drois ne ment. Je meïsmes y ai office Pour resister a tout malice Qui maintes fois le droit destourne; Et je d’office le retourne. Quant uns bons procés vient en fourme, Et je perçoy qu’on l’en deffourme, Je y puis bien tellement ouvrer Qu’il puet sa fourme recouvrer. Se trop y a, j’en puis oster, (Or vueilliez bien ce point noter), Et se po y a, je y puis mettre Quant je m’en vueil bien entremettre. Et se la chose est en bon point, Je la puis garder en ce point. C’est d’Atemprance li mestiers Toutes fois qu’il en est mestiers. Or vueil je dire d’autre chose Qui contre vostre fait s’oppose. Vous avez .i. point soustenu Dont po d’onneur vous est venu, En ce que ma dame de pris Avoit seur la segongne pris: Comment elle est a la mort traite Quant envers son male est forfaite. Cuidiés vous qu’elle vosist dire Qu’on meïst la dame a martyre De la mort, qui se mefferoit Envers celui qui l’ameroit? Nennil! Voir, ce seroit folie. Ne ma dame ne maintient mie Qu’il la face tuer ne tue. Mais elle tient qu’il s’esvertue Encontre les temptations Des fausses cogitations Qui porroient en lui venir. Encor s’el pooit avenir, Qu’elle fust de bonne mort morte, Se vaurroit il miex (drois la porte) Qu’elle demourast toute vive. Car tant com la personne vive Qui se mefferoit par folour, On n’en a peinne, ne dolour, Grieté, souffrance, ne meschief, Dont on ne veingne bien a chief. Quant il sent aucune grieté, Il doit penser par verité, Dés qu’il a loiaument servi, Qu’il ne l’a mie desservi. C’est une pensee valable, Pour lui conforter profitable. Que vous yroie je comptant? De remedes y a autant En amours, com de griés pointures, Soient aspres, pongnans, ou dures. Chascune son remede enseigne. Or en fait bon querir l’enseigne. Mais une dame qui verra Que se tres dous amis morra En cui en nul jour de sa vie N’ara trouvé que courtoisie, Estre porra si fort ferue, Si griefment, et si abatue, Que jamais n’en porra garir; Einsois la couvendra morir. En l’escripture est contenu Que pluseurs fois est avenu. S’en compteray .i. petit compte Qui vous fera avoir grant honte Et a ma dame grant honnour, Et grant clarté a mon signour, Dont il verra plus clerement Comment vous errez folement. Il n’a pas lonc temps qu’il avint Q’une grant dame a Paris vint, S’amena une sienne fille Qui, sans penser barat ne guille, Amoit .i. chevalier gentil, Sage, courtois, gay, et soutil, Preu aus armes, fort, et puissant, De toutes graces souffisant. De lui nouveles li venirent Q’forment au cuer la pongnirent, Qu’il estoit a .i. tournoy mors. ‘Lasse!’ dist elle, ‘Quel remors Puis avoir de ceste nouvelle!’ A cest mot cheÿ la pucelle A la terre, toute estendue. Adont sa mere y est venue Acourant moult dolentement; S’en prist a plourer tenrement Et la fist porter en .i. lit. La prist elle povre delit Car au cuer estoit fort atainte, Et eu viaire pale et tainte, Et si de son corps amatie, Et de ses membres amortie, Qu’einc puis ne s’en pot soustenir, Ne des mains nulles riens tenir. Et n’ot ainc puis tant de victoire Qu’elle peüst mengier ne boire. Fusicien furent mandé, Et la leur fu il demandé S’elle averoit de la mort garde, Et que chascuns y prenist garde S’on li porroit donner santé, Et qu’il demandassent planté Hardiement de leur avoir, Tant comme il en vorront avoir. Et il en peinne s’en meïrent Et moult volentiers le feïrent Pour trouver son aligement, S’il peüssent, diligenment. Premiers, s’orine resgarderent, Et puis aprés si la tasterent; Li uns aprés l’autre tastoient Partout ou taster la devoient, Les piez, le pous, et puis les temples; Et puis si moustroient exemples Des cures qu’il avoient faites En pluseurs lieus et bien parfaites; Et que plus d’exemples moustroient, De tant plus esbahi estoient. L’orine la jugoit haitie, Et li tasters ne jugoit mie Cause froide, ne de chalour, En quoy il prenissent coulour D’ou ne de quoy cils maus venoit, Ne quel remede il couvenoit, Pour li un po assouagier Ou dou tout ses maus alegier, Fors tant que li uns s’avisa Et sagement le devisa: ‘Signeurs, j’ay veü en s’orine Aussi comme un po de racine, Qu’elle est en l’esperit troublee. Or nous est la science emblee De ce point s’on ne s’en avise. Et nous savons une devise Que li bons philosophes dist; Il afferme, et je croy son dist, Que les maladies quelconques — Et qu’autrement il n’avint onques — Sont curees par leur contraire. Or ne poons a ce point traire De ceste maladie cy Tant seulement que par un sy. Car si hastives maladies Puelent venir de .ij. parties: C’est assavoir, se Diex me voie, De grant dueil ou de trop grant joie. Et cause de joie desire Qu’on la courresse et qu’on l’aïre, Et celle de dueil autrement: Faire couvenra liement, Present li, ce qu’elle vorra Et quanqu’elle comandera; Et qu’on li ait admenistres, Pour faire feste, menestres. Or couvenra il qu’elle die Dou quel li vient la maladie Pour li donner certein conseil. Je le lo einsi et conseil. Se voit li uns tout simplement Parler a li secretement.’ Seur ce point furent acordans; Dont li uns li fu demandans Ce que devant avez oÿ. Point n’en ot le cuer esjoÿ, Eins en respondi moult envis, Et toute voie vis a vis Pure verité l’en conta, Si bien que point n’i arresta. Lors li fist cils une requeste Au mieus qu’il pot par voie honneste: ‘Fille, respondés moy d’un point Que je vous dirai bien a point: Vorriés vous de ci en avant Que vous le veïssiez vivant, Mais que ce fust par tel maniere Q’jamais ne vous moustrast chiere, Parole, ne samblant d’amy?’ Et elle respondi: ‘Aymy! Sire, se Diex me doint santé, Que c’est bien de ma volenté Que volentiers le reverroie Vivant, et fust par tele voie Qu’il heüst fait une autre amie, La quele fust de moy servie, Mon vivant, jusqu’au deschaucier. Ne m’en vueilliez plus enchaucier; Car tous li cuers de dueil me font Si aigrement et si parfont Toutes fois que j’en oy parole. Si ne vueil plus qu’on m’en parole.’ Aprés ce mot, cils s’en depart Et s’en ala de celle part Ou cil estient qui l’atendoient, Qui desiroient et tendoient, Savoir quel fin celle feroit. Et il leur dist qu’elle morroit: ‘Je n’i puis veoir nul retour. Ses cuers est fermez en la tour D’Amour sous la clef de Tristesse, Ou elle sueffre grant destresse, Si que morir la couvenra Briefment; ja n’en eschapera. Pour quoy nous nous departirons De ci; plus n’i arresterons.’ En l’eure de la se partirent, Et puis a la mere deïrent: ‘Ma dame, on n’i puet conseil mettre. Mais vueilliez vous bien entremettre De li garder et tenir pres.’ Euls departis, tantost aprés Elle cria a haute vois: ‘Hé! Douce mere, je m’en vois. A Dieu vous commant, douce dame!’ Et droit a ce point rendi l’ame. Elle fu de la gent criee, Et sa mere en fu tourmentee. De ce ne tieng je pas mon compte, Car a mon propos riens n’en monte. Guillaume, ou porrés vous trouver Comment vous peüssiez prouver Qu’uns homs seroit a mort menez De ce point que vous soustenez, Dou forfait de sa bien amee, Et que ce fust chose prouvee Qu’elle heüst fait la villenie Et qu’adés demourast en vie? De la pucelle est chose voire, Mais ce seroit trop fort a croire Que plus grans fust li siens meschiés Que de celle. Bien le sachiez!” GUILLAUME “Attemprance, moult bel parlez Toutes les fois que vous volez. Ci endroit especiaument Avez parlé moult sagement. Et quanqu’avez ci dit, je croy, Ne dou croire point ne recroy. Car c’est pour moy en aucun point Qui vient a mon propos a point Quant celle damoiselle gente Ot mis en chevalier s’entente, Et il estoit ses vrais amis Et puis se fu a la mort mis, Dont Amours si fort l’atrapa Que la mort tantost la hapa, Amours en fist pour li assez Car cils cops fu tantost passez. Aussi a morir avoit elle: Nuls contre ce point ne rebelle Cui la mort ne veingne haper; Nuls ne li porroit eschaper. Quant uns hons est grieteusement Tauxés a mort par jugement D’un bon juge sans mesprison, Et il le met en grief prison D’enfermeté en lieux divers, Ou estre puet mengiez de vers Et de planté d’autre vermine, Et il y est un lonc termine, Chargié col et les bras de fers Et les jambes — c’est bien enfers. La est il de foy en destour Pour renoier son creatour; Volentiers le renieroit Qui de la le delivreroit. Mais en celle heure qu’il est pris, Jugiés a mort par juste pris, Trop miex li vaut qu’on l’en delivre Par la mort qu’en tel doleur vivre. Einsi est il d’un vray amant Qui est trahis en dame amant, A tel fin com devant est dit. J’aferme et se di en mon dit Que nuls meschiés ne s’apartient Aus grietez que ses cuers soustient Tant come il dure et elle dure. Et si say moult bien que Nature Ha de son bon droit establi Qu’on mette celui en oubli Qui est mors et n’en puet ravoir Pour grant peinne, ne pour avoir. Seur ce point droit atenderoie; Miex estre jugiés ne vorroie.” PAIX Aprés ces mos s’est Pais levee Et dist, comme bien avisee: “Guillaume, assez souffissanment, Selonc le vostre entendement, Avez vostre propos baillié; Mais vous l’avez trop court taillié Pour avoir droit pour vous si tost. Car uns autres poins le vous tost. Vous avez de Nature trait Pour prouver .i. assez biau trait, Lequel on ha bien entendu. Mais j’ai un autre las tendu Contre celui, de plus grant pris, Par lequel vous serez sourpris, D’un exemple aucun de fait Qui bien a ramentevoir fait. Et pour ceci le vous propos, Car il sert bien a mon propos. Dydo, roïne de Cartage, Ot si grant dueil et si grant rage Pour l’amour qu’elle ot a Enee, Qui li avoit sa foy donnee Qu’a mouillier l’aroit et a femme. Et li faus l’appelloit sa dame, Son cuer, s’amour, et sa deesse, Et sa souvereinne maistresse. Puis s’en ala par mer nagent En larrecin, lui et sa gent, Qu’onques puis Dydo ne le vit. Oïez comment elle se chevit: Quant failly li ot dou couvent Que heü li avoit en couvent, Einsi com pluseurs amans font Qui l’amant loial contrefont, La desesperee, la fole, Qu’amours honnist, qu’amours afole, L’espee de Eneas trouva Et en son corps si l’esprouva Qu’onques ne se pot espargnier Qu’en soy ne la feïst baingnier. Dont elle morut a dolour Pour amer, et par sa folour. Mais elle ne morut pas seule, Einsois a .ij. copa la gueule, Car de Eneas estoit enceinte, Dont moult fu regretee et plainte. Mais einsois qu’elle s’oceïst, Elle commanda qu’on feïst Un ardant feu en sa presence. Et quant en sa desesperence S’ocist, si forment s’envaÿ Qu’avec le cop en feu chaÿ Dont tantost fu arse et bruïe. Einsi fina Dydo sa vie. Bien croy que ce fu chose voire, Car einsi le truis en l’istoire. Si que, Guillaume, vraiement, Il me samble tout autrement Veües et considerees Mes raisons devant devisees. Car on puet veoir clerement Que grieté, peinne, ne tourment Ne se porroient comparer Ad ce que celle comparer Volt pour le grief de son amy. Et fust uns homs trestout enmy Grant planté de ses annemis, Qui tuit li heüssent promis La mort et tuer le porroient A leur plaisir quant il vorroient, Lui vivant en celle paour, Non obstant grieté ne freour, Se trouveroit il reconfort. Encoy y a un point plus fort: Qui le menroit aus fourches pendre En celle heure, sans plus attendre, Si seroit il reconfortez Et soustenus et deportez En esperence d’eschaper; Lors ne le porroient taper Male errour, ne desesperence, Tant comme il aroit Esperence; Qu’Esperence le conduiroit Jusqu’a tant qu’il trespasseroit. Aussi avez vous dit d’un point. Encontre Amour trop mal a point: C’est que Nature a commandise Seur la gent d’Amour a sa guise, Et se Nature le commande, Nuls n’obeïst a sa commande. Elle comande qu’on oublie Et mort d’amant et mort d’amie Pour ce qu’on n’i puet recouvrer Par grant avoir, ne par ouvrer. Commande; assez nous le volons. De ce point pas ne nous dolons, Que a moy riens n’en apartient. Car Bonne Amour en sa part tient Un cuer d’amant tant seulement Sans naturel commandement. Qui ne vuet, nuls n’i est contrains; Mais on est d’Amours si estrains, Qu’obeïr y couvient par force; S’est fols qui contre li s’efforce. Guillaume, se vous loeroie A laissier ceste povre voie De dire que Nature ait grace Que propre commandement face En amours, qui soit de valeur, Nature donne bien couleur A amy d’un plaisant cuidier Qui li fait folement cuidier Acomplir ce qu’Amours desprise. Et par si faite fole emprise Sont fait maint incouvenient Qui valent trop meins que nient. Plus desclairier ne m’en couvient Pour ce que point d’onneur n’en vient. Pais sui, qui volentiers feroie Adés bien et si defferoie Le mal; aussi feroit Concorde; Car quanque je vueil, elle acorde, Toutes heures, et soir et main. Pour ce la tien je par la main, Et pour faire ce qu’il li plait. Alés avant a vostre plait, Guillaume, par voie dehüe, Sans naturel descouvenüe. S’ensieuez d’Avis les usages, Par mon los, si ferez que sages.” GUILLAUME “Pais, damoiselle, pour vous croire Viennent tous biens, c’est chose voire. Si me garderay de mesprendre. Mais je vueil ma cause deffendre Tant avant, comme je porray. Dont .i. exemple compteray Qui s’ensieut, a mon fait prouver Et a vostre tort reprouver. A Orliens ot .i. cler jadis Qui estoit renommez et dis Nobles clers, vaillans homs et riches, Et si n’estoit avers ne chiches, Sires de lois, et de decrez Maistres, et uns homs bien discrez De bien moustrer ce qu’il savoit Et la vaillance qu’il avoit. S’avoit esté nez en Prouvence, Et bien enlignagiez en France Estoit de princes et de contes Que veritables soit mes comptes. De gentils gens estoit servis, Preus et apers a grant devis, Et avoit en sa compaingnie De moult noble chevalerie, A qui riches robes donnoit. Cils poins moult bien li avenoit, Car pour sa grace desservir Se penoient de lui servir. Or estoit moult d’amer espris D’une damoiselle de pris Qui demouroit vers Montpeslier, Fille d’un vaillant chevalier, Attrait de moult noble lignie. S’estoit la besongne lignie D’entr’eus .ij. si entierement Qu’on ne peüst mieus autrement. Il s’estoient entrepromis, Il comme ses loiaus amis, Et elle comme vraie amie; A tousjours mais, toute leur vie Maintenroient en verité Les courtois poins de loiauté. Mais si loing devins leur loiens, Qu’il s’en vint manoir a Orliens Et elle en Prouvence manoit. Mais si bien, comme il couvenoit, Les secrez d’amours maintenoient Des lettres qu’il s’entr’envoioient Par leurs especiaus messages, Honnestes gens, secrez et sages. Einsi le feïrent grant piece. Mais Fortune, qui tost depiece Maint honneur aval le païs, Fist tant que cils fu esbahis, Plus que perdre .V.c mars d’or, Si comme je diray dés or. Il avint a une journee, Male pour celui adjournee, Qu’a lui s’en vint uns messagiers De Prouvence, preus et legiers, Qui li aportoit lettres closes, En .i. petit coffret encloses. Il les prist, si les resgarda Et de haut lire se garda, Car pluseurs secrez devisoient. Et ou darrein point contenoient Que s’amie estoit mariee Au plus vaillant de la contree Et estoit ja grosse d’enfant. ‘Haro!’ dist il, ‘Li cuers me fent. Hé! Mors, que ne me viens tu prendre? A po que je ne me vois pendre!’ Lors prist ses cheveus a tirer, Et puis sa robe a dessirer. Quant sa gent einsi le verrent, Isnelement avant saillirent, Dont chascuns forment l’agrapa. Mais par force leur eschapa. Aval la ville se fuï. Il devint sours et amuÿ, Car des lors qu’il parti de la, Ainc puis de bouche ne parla Parole qu’entendre peüst Homs vivans, tant le congneüst; Ne dés lors que ce li avint, Onques puis a li ne revint, Et ne dormoit que sus fumiers, Et de ce estoit coustumiers. Et quant si ami le prenoient Qui en aucun lieu le lioient, Jamais n’i beüst ne menjast. Eins est certein qu’il enrajast, Si qu’il le laissoient de plain A son voloir aler a plain. Mais il ne faisoit a nelui Nul mal, fors seulement a lui. En ce point fu .xx. ans tous plains; S’estoit moult regretez et plains De la gent qui le congnoissoient, Dont li pluseur forment plouroient. Si fu bien mis de haut au bas. Se nafferroit pas grans debas A jugier verité certeinne, Qu’il ot de grieté et de peinne Plus que cent dames n’averoient Qui leurs amis morir verroient. Quant il vous plaist, si resgardez, Et de mesjugier vous gardez!” FOY Adont s’est Foy en piez drecié Comme sage et bien adrecié De droit, de coustume, et d’usage; S’a dit: “Guillaume, le musage Avez bien paié ci endroit, Par dehors la voie de droit, Au mains en aucune partie. S’en vorray faire departie, C’est assavoir, devision Par voie de distinction Des choses qui ne font a croire Et d’aucunes qui la victoire Puelent avoir d’estre creües Ou pour possible soustenues, Dont les unes essausseray Et les autres confonderay, Au los de m’amie Constance, Qui a tous mes contraires tense Et me soustient et fortefie Vers chascun qui en moy se fie. Que cils clers fust de grant vaillance, Gentils homs, et de grant puissance, Renommez de haute noblesse, Et de temporelle richesse Tres habundamment assasez, Espris d’amours et embrasez, Amis de cuer, amez d’amie, Et en l’estat de courtoisie Heüssent fait leur aliance Par tres amiable fiance, Si que les secrez garderoient D’amours, tant comme il viveroient; Qu’a Orlïens fust amainnagiez, En France bien enlinagiez De gens si honnourablement Qu’on ne peüst plus hautement — Ce sont toutes choses possibles. Et dou mal qui fu si horribles, Qui si soudennement li vint Qu’en lisant lettres li avint Et si grandement li dura, Que .xx. ans entiers l’endura — Encor di je qu’il pot bien estre. Car Diex en ce siecle terrestre A mains jugemens si enclos Qu’estre ne porroient esclos D’omme mortel par sa science. Aussi de vostre conscience Avez vous presentement dit De ces lettres par vostre dit Que plus secrez contenoient. Or ne scet on dont il venoient. Dont j’ay en droit .i. point trouvé Que vous n’avez mie prouvé, Que de s’amie li venist. Ceste raison ci defenist Qu’on n’en puet faire nullement A vostre profit jugement. Et se say bien des autres choses Qui seront, se je puis, escloses, Pour vous dou tout suppediter, S’il est qui le sache diter.” GUILLAUME “Damoiselle, vueilliez laissier, S’il vous plaist, vostre menassier; Car ce ne vous puet riens valoir, Et il me fait le cuer doloir.” CHARITÉ Charitez adont s’avisa, Si a dit: “Foy, entendés sa! Je vous vueil dire une merveille.” Lors li conseilla en l’oreille Ce qu’elle volt, secretement. De quoy Foy debonnairement Prist un bien petit a sousrire, Et en sousriant prist a dire: “Charité, damoiselle chiere, Liement, de bonne maniere, Ceste besongne conterez. Trop miex conter la saverez, Pour certein, que je ne feroie. Vous en estes ja en la voie; Car en vous en sentez le fait, Se vous pri qu’il soit einsi fait.” “Foy, ma tres douce chiere amie, De ce ne vous faurai je mie, Eins en diray ce qu’il m’en samble. Car de .ij. personnes ensamble Les oppinions en sont bonnes, Quant loiaus sont les .ij. personnes. Si qu’a Guillaume en parleray Et tel chose li moustreray Qu’il se tenra pour recreans, S’il n’est trop fols ou mescreans. Guillaume, or entendés, amis: La puissance qui m’a commis A estre Charité nommee Fait que par ouevre sui prouvee, Dont on en voit les apparans En tous mes plus prochains parans. Ce sont li gentil cuer loial Qui entrent en la court roial De Bonne Amour qui n’a nul per. Or entendez en quoy j’aper: J’aper en souffissans promesses Et en raisonnables largesses, Especiaument par donner Et d’aucuns meffais pardonner; Dont eüreus sont cil qui donnent, Et aussi sont cil qui pardonnent. Or regardons qu’Amours demande Qu’on li doint, et plus ne commande: Elle demande expressement Les cuers des bons entierement. Se demande elle qu’on li doint, Et se vuet aussi qu’on pardoint Aucuns fais, selonc le propos Pourquoy ces raisons ci propos. Se le moustreray par figure Que Bonne Amour en moy figure, Assés briefment, sans prolongier. Uns riches homs ha .i. vergier Ou il a arbres grant planté. Enseurquetout y a planté Une moult tres gracïeuse ente Qui au riche homme miex talente Et li est trop plus avenans Que ne soit tous li remenans; Et est einsi de lui amee, Tant comme elle est ente clamee. Or avient que li temps trespasse Tant que li petis jouvens passe; Se montent ses branches au vent Pour entrer en secont jouvent Qui est moiens temps appellés; S’estent ses branches de tous lés, En eslargissant sa biauté Et en acroissant sa bonté Pour traire a la conclusion Qui est dite perfection, Pour li deduire et deporter, Fleurs, fueilles, et bon fruit porter. Or di je einsi qu’il avenra Que li sires demandera Comment celle ente se maintient Et que qualité elle tient. Li jardiniers puet dire: ‘Sire, Pour verité, vous en puis dire, Ce m’est avis, bonne nouvelle; Ne demandez plus que fait elle, Mais demandez me bien qu’il fait, Car vostre ente .i. arbre parfait, Et en tel guise se deporte Que flours, fueilles, et bon fruit porte, Dont perdu a d’ente le nom, Et d’aubre a recouvré le nom, Sous qui on se puet ombroier Plaisanment et esbanier.’ Or vueil je chanter et respondre Pour miex m’entention espondre, Dont je vueil faire une demande: Se de la chose qui amende On doit avoir cuer esperdu, S’elle a .i. petit nom perdu Pour .i. plus grant nom recouvrer, Par nature ou par bien ouvrer? Je respon qu’einsi n’est il mie; Car ce seroit grant derverie. Mais ce qu’on aimme chierement Ou a acheté chierement, Qui le verroit dou tout perir, Si que ja ne peüst garir, Venir en porroit tel meschief Qu’on y metteroit bien le chief Et tout le corps entierement. Je le say bien certeinnement Que pluseurs einsi l’i ont mis, Tant amie com vrais amis. Or vueil dou propre fait parler Pour quoy j’ay meü mon parler. Celle damoiselle jolie Qui estoit a ce clerc amie. C’estoit li ente faitissette Comme une douce pucelette En grant vergier d’Amours plantee. La pot estre si eslevee Et de branches si estendue Et de fueilles si bien vestue, De fleurs si cointement paree, Comme estre aus milleurs comparee. Si me vueil .i. po aviser Pour les parties deviser: Branches de bonne renommee, Fueilles d’estre bel emparlee, Fleurs d’avoir la condition D’onneste conversation, Tant d’abit comme de maintien. En cest estat dist: ‘Amis, tien; Je te doing, pour toy deporter Grace dou fruit d’onneur porter.’ Lors pluseurs pensees li viennent Qui de neccessité couviennent: Pour li entrer en mariage Par le conseil de son linage. S’elle le fait, ce n’est pas fais Dont cils doie enchargier tel fais Comme de lui desesperer. Eins doit penser et esperer Qu’elle y a profit et honneur Quant en la grace dou signeur Seroit de droit nommee dame. Ceste raison bon cuer enflame D’amer miex assez que devant. Pourquoy je di d’ore en avant Que cils ne l’amoit pas pour bien. Vraiement, il y parut bien Quant Bonne Amour li volt souffrir, Son corps a tel martire offrir. Plus n’en di, Guillaume, biau sire. Dites ce qu’il vous plaist a dire.” GUILLAUME “Charité, se Diex me doint joie, Bien avez par soutille voie Pluseurs propos par biaus mos dis. Mais je ne voy pas en vos dis Que vous m’aiez de riens puny. J’ay mon procés aussi uny Comme devant et aussi ferme En son estat; par quoy j’afferme Que ja ne sera abatus, Se d’autres mos ne suis batus. .I. point y a qui gist en prueve, Par quoy il convenra qu’on prueve Le contraire de mes paroles, Ou je ne tenray qu’a frivoles Ce que devant avez compté, Nonobstant vostre grant bonté Et que pour grant bien l’avez fait, Pour auctorisier vostre fait Et pour le mien suppediter. Se vueil un petit reciter De ce clers qui fu vrais amis Et puis en tel grieté sousmis, Comme j’ay dit, .xx. ans entiers. Or prouvez seulement le tiers: Qu’onques nulle dame souffrist, Tant son corps a la mort offrist; Prouvez ce point tant seulement, Mais vous ne porriés nullement.” L’ACTEUR Charitez volt aprés parler, Et pour apointier son parler, Elle avoit ja la bouche ouverte. Mais Honnesté fu si aperte Que tantost fu aparillie Et dist: “Charité, douce amie, Que je die, mais qu’il vous plaise; Que je ne seray jamais aaise Se n’aie je dit mon talent Pour lui faire le cuer dolent.” Charitez bien s’i acorda, Et puis Honnesté recorda S’entention par voie honneste, Dont toute la court fist grant feste. HONNESTÉ S’a dit: “Guillaume, or entendez: Pour la fin a quoy vous tendez, Fondez estes petitement. Se vous dirai raison comment. Voirs est que grans grief li avint Et en petit d’eure li vint. Mais tantost, celle heure passee, Sa grant grieté fu trespassee. Car combien que lonc temps dura, Onques puis grieté n’endura Qui point fëist a son cuer touche. Et s’aucuns griés au cuer li touche, Il n’i a point de sentement, Dés qu’il n’i a consentement. C’est chose assez legiere a croire. Il avoit perdu sa memoire, Sens, maniere, et entendement; Dont on puet veoir clerement Qu’il n’avoit point de volenté, Fors que le cuer entalenté Des grans soties qu’il faisoit. Quant en .i. fumier se gisoit, C’estoit sa pais; c’estoit ses lis; C’estoit de tous poins ses delis, Ou il dormoit a grant repos. Encor y a autre propos Que vous meïsmes dit avez. C’est certein, et bien le savez, Que, quant si amy le prenoient Et en aucuns lieus l’enfermoient, Jamais n’i beüst ne mengast, Einsois trestous vis enragast, Qui le retenist malgré lui; Il n’en feïst rien pour nelui Et vivoit a plain comme beste. C’estoit vie trop deshonneste, Honteuse s’il en tenist conte; Mais point ne congnoissoit de honte. Dont j’ay assez mon fait prouvé Et vostre tort bien reprouvé Par .i. seul point qui me remort. De dame qui savera mort Son amy, sera plus cent tans En .i. jour que cils en cent ans, De grieté par .i. si fait trait Com ci devant avez retrait. Guillaume, se vous soufferrez, Ou d’un autre point parlerez Car de cestui estes vaincus, Ne vous y puet valoir escus.” GUILLAUME “Honesté, pour voir, non feray. Encor .i. po en parleray, Car je m’ay bien de quoy deffendre Mais que vous le vueilliez entendre. Quant tout le sens de lui perdi Pour le mal qu’a lui s’aërdi Qui dou tout le deshonnoura, Plus perdi, meins li demoura. Vous dites que mal ne sentoit, Pour ce que desvoiez estoit De maniere et d’entendement; Mais il est bien tout autrement: Car avant que homs son sens perde, Ne que forsens a lui s’aërde, Le prent et seurprent maladie Qui le trait a forcenerie. Si vueil faire .i. po d’argument Qui vous moustrera vivement Comment m’entente prouveray Dou droit que pour moy trouveray. Quant .ij. causes sont assamblees Qui se sont a .i. corps fermees, Celle qui vient premierement, Elle attrait le commancement Dés ce point par la premerainne, Pour ce que c’est la souvereinne. Et qui la premiere osteroit, La seconde s’en partiroit. Or puelent dire tel y a: ‘Guillaume, verbi gracia, A entendre si comme quoy?’ Vesci en l’eure le pourquoy: Nous veons .i. chien qui enrage, De quel cause li vient la rage? D’un ver qui la langue li perse. Or est la cause si desperse Qu’il pert le boire et le mengier, Et puis le couvient enragier. Or est dont li commencemens De quoy vient li enragemens. Et quant il en pert l’abaier, Adont se puet on esmaier Dés ce point que la gent ne morde. Et que de ce miex nous remorde, Je vous en diray qu’il avint D’un chien qui enragiez devint, Amez en l’ostel d’un riche homme. Or entendez s’orrez la somme. Li riches homs ot oÿ dire Dont venoient si fait martire S’en volt veoir l’experience Pour miex avoir en congnoissance. Se fist son chien par force prendre, Loier, bersillier, et estendre Et sa langue sachier a plain, Tant qu’on vit le ver tout a plain. Lors fu li vers fors esrachiez; Et quant il fu a plain sachiez, Les mains celui prist a lechier Cui il ot senti atouchier; Et fu la garis de tous poins. Aussi di je que cils clers poins Fu d’une maladie obscure; Dont je vous di que la pointure Dou grant mal que ses corps sentoit Le tenoit en point qu’il estoit. Dont mes drois est assez prouvez Et vostres grans tors reprouvez.” L’ACTEUR Aprés s’est Franchise levee Q’ne fu pas trop effraee; Et s’ot bon vueil et bonne chiere, Et tres gracïeuse maniere. Si encommensa a parler Et dist einsi en son parler: FRANCHISE “On a veu generaument Toudis en amer loiaument Que les dames se sont portees Miex et plus loiaument gardees Que les hommes en tous endrois. Je le vueil prouver — and c’est drois — Par exemples que je vueil dire Pour ce qu’il font a ma matire. Quant cil d’Athennes eurent mort Androgeüs, si grant remort En ot Minos, li rois de Crete, Que par voie sage et discrete, Par force d’armes et de guerre Fist essillier toute leur terre. Et les mist tous pour cest outrage Minos en si mortel servage, Que tous les ans li envoient .I. homme; mais il sortissoient, Et cil seur qui li sors cheoit Trop mortelment li mescheoit. Car li rois Minos devourer Le faisoit la sans demourer Par un moustre trop mervilleus, Trop felon, et trop perilleus. Mais nuls ne se doit mervillier Se Minos volt ad ce veillier, Ne s’il en fu fort esmeüs, Car peres fu Androgeüs. Or avint que li sors cheï Seur Theseüs, qui esbahi Pluseurs; car il fu fils le roy, Preuz, vaillans, et de bel arroy. Mais pour la mort Endrogeüs Ala en Crete Theseüs Pour lui faire estrangler au moustre Se sa prouesse ne li moustre Si qu’envers lui se puist deffendre; Autrement puet la mort attendre. Et se Diex li donne victoire, Il acquerra honneur et gloire, Car ceuls d’Athennes franchira Et le servage acquitera. Mais riens n’i vausist, fer ne fust, Se belle Adriane ne fust, Qui oublia Minos, son pere, Et Androgeüs, son chier frere, Sa terre et ses charnels amis Pour Theseüs, ou elle a mis Son cuer, si qu’elle li moustra Comment occis le fier moustre a Pour lui delivrer dou servage; Et li donna son pucelage Par si qu’a femme la penroit Et qu’en son païs l’en menroit Avec Phedra, sa chiere suer, Qu’elle ne lairoit a nul fuer. Theseüs, qui se parjura Ses diex et sa loy, li jura Que jamais ne li fausseroit Et qu’envers li loiaus seroit. Il se menti, li renoiez. Pour quoy ne fu en mer noiez? Quant sa besongne ot assevie, Il les charga en sa navie. Mais vers li mesprist si forment Qu’Adriane laissa dormant Seulette en estrange contree, Lasse, dolente, et esgaree, Et en mena la juene touse, Phedra sa suer, s’en fist s’espouse. Ci a trop mortel traïson. Aussi dirai je de Jason, Qui conquist par l’art de Medee En Colcos la toison doree, Et sormonta, li bourdereaus, L’ardant soufflement des toreaus, S’endormi le serpent veillable, Seur toute beste espoventable, Et desconfit les chevaliers Armez, a cens et a milliers. Mais nuls ce faire ne peüst Se Medea fait ne l’eüst. Son païs laissa et son pere, Et fit decoper son chier frere. Pelie occist a grant desroy, Et tout, pour Jason faire roy. Quanqu’elle ot, li abandonna; S’amour et s’onneur li donna. Mais Jason Medea laissa Pour Creusa, dont moult s’abaissa, Et mervilleusement mesprist Quant la laissa et autre prist. Et quant elle sot la nouvelle, Qui ne li fu plaisant ne belle, Elle fu si desesperee, Si hors dou sens, si forsenee, Que .ij. enfans qui sien estoient Pour ce que Jason ressambloient, Occist en despit de Jason, Puis mist le feu en sa maison. Aprés s’en ala la chetive O ses dragons par l’air fuitive. Mais puis en estranges contrees Furent roïnes coronnees. Car roys d’Athennes Egeüs Fu de Medee deceüs; Bacus Adriane honnoura Fort, car en li grant amour a. Cil dui les dames espouserent En leur païs et coronnerent. Si que, Guillaume, c’est la somme: On ne porroit trouver en homme Si grant loyauté comme en femme, Ne jamais d’amoureuse flame Ne seroient si fort espris Comme seroit dame de pris. Car quant il y a meins d’amour, Il y a tant meins de dolour Puis que ce vient a mal sentir. Ne je ne me puis assentir Qu’en endurant les maus d’amer Que homs ait tant com dame d’amer. Et si a de remedes cent Li homs tels que fame ne sent.” GUILLAUME “Damoiselle, la traïson De Theseüs ne de Jason Ne fait riens a nostre matiere, Ne ce n’est mie la premiere Ne la darreinne fausseté Qui es amoureus ha esté, Autant es fames comme es hommes. Ne je ne donroie .ij. pommes De vostre entention prouver Par si fais exemples trouver. Car se mon fait prouver voloie Par exemples, j’en trouveroie Plus de .x., voire plus de .xx. Chascuns scet bien ce qu’il avint De l’amy a la Chasteleinne De Vergi: d’amours si certeinne L’ama qu’il s’ocist sans demour Quant morte la vit pour s’amour. Li bons Lancelos et Tristans Eurent plus de peinne .x. tans Que femme ne porroit souffrir, Tant se peüst a peinne offrir, Et cent fois furent plus loiaus Que Jason ne fu desloiaus, Ne Theseüs, qui trop mesprist D’Adriane quant Phedra prist. Encor vueil d’un autre compter Se vous me volez escouter. Une dame sans villonnie D’un chevalier estoit amie, Si li donna .i. anelet Trop gent (ne fu villein ne let), Par si qu’adés le porteroit Et que jamais ne l’osteroit De son doy s’elle ne l’ostoit. Et li chevaliers, qui estoit Tous siens, bonnement li promist, Et la dame en son doy le mist. Or avint qu’elle avoit mari Qui ot le cuer triste et mari; Car l’anel a recongnëu Pour ce qu’autre fois l’ot vëu. Si l’ala tantost demander A la dame et li comander Qu’elle li baille en la place Seur peinne de perdre sa grace. La dame dist qu’elle l’avoit, Mais ou, pas bien ne le savoit. Si fist samblant de l’aler querre Et, en deffermant une serre, Comme dame avisee et sage, Dist a un sien privé message: ‘Va sans arrest a mon ami Et se li di que mal pour my Se mon anel ne me renvoie. Et ne demeure pas seur voie, Car mon signeur le vuet avoir Sans nul essoinne recevoir. Di li bien qu’il n’en faille mie. Car s’il en faut, je sui honnie Et en peril de perdre honneur Et la grace de mon signeur.’ Li messages n’atendi pas, Eins s’en ala plus que le pas Au chevalier et tout li conte Ce que devant ai dit en conte. Quant li chevaliers l’entendi, A po li cuers ne li fendi, Car il ot paour que sa dame Honte pour li n’eüst ou blasme. Si dist: ‘Amis, foy que li doy, Avuec l’anel ara mon doy, Car ja par moy n’en partira.’ Si que lors .i. coutel tira, Son doi copa, et li tramist Aveques l’anel qu’elle y mist. Puet on faire plus loiaument Riens, ne plus amoureusement? Certes, nennil! Ce m’est avis. Car trop fu loiaus ses amis, Si que bien oseroie attendre Vray jugement sans plus contendre, Qu’on les doit plus auctorisier Et en tous estas plus prisier Que les dames, de qui parole Tenez que je tien a frivole, Qu’on dit — et vous le savez bien — Que par tout doit veincre le bien. Et cil furent bon et loial Tenu en toute court roial, Comment que les dames feïssent Moult pour leurs amis et souffrissent. Mais on dit — et c’est veritez — Qu’adés les .ij. extremitez, C’est trop et po. Einsi l’enten ge: Ne doivent recevoir loange; Mais qui en l’amoureus loien Est loiez s’il tient le moien Il ouevre bien et sagement. Et li sages dist qui ne ment Qu’adés li bonneüreus tiennent Le moien partout ou il viennent.” PRUDENCE A ce Prudence respondi, Qui riens n’enclot ne repondi A la matiere appartenant, Et dist: “Guillaume, maintenant Voy je bien vostre entention; Mais j’ay contraire opinion Qui de la vostre est trop lonteinne. On scet bien que la Chastelainne Fu morte pour .i. bacheler Pour ce qu’il ne la sot celer. Car il dist toute leur besongne A la Duchesse de Bourgoingne. Et la Duchesse moult mesprist, Qu’a une feste li reprist Qu’elle savoit bien le mestier Dou petit chiennet affaitier. S’en morut en disant ‘aymi’ Par le deffaut de son ami. Et quant li amis vit s’amie Par sa gengle morte et perie, S’il s’ocist, il fist son devoir, Qu’autre mort deüst recevoir, N’il ne fist fors meins que justice. S’il s’ocist pour punir son vice; Qu’avoir le dehüssent detrait Chevaus enragiez pour ce trait. Si m’est vis que la Chastelainne Ot plus de meschief et de peinne Quant sans cause reçut la mort, Que n’ot cils qui se fu la mort Qui avoit desservi le pendre; Et pour ce en fu sa dolour mendre. Et se Tristans ou Lancelos Furent vaillans, bien dire l’os Que leur vaillance et leur prouesse Leur fu gloire, honneur, et richesse; N’il n’est homs qui peüst acquerre Tels biens, sans avoir peinne en terre. Si que, Guillaume, j’ose dire Que plus de peinne et de martyre Cent fois les dames soustenoient Que leurs amis qu’elles faisoient, Qu’elles avoient les griés pensees Et les paours desordenees, Les paroles de mesdisans. Et s’il demourassent .x. ans, Ja n’eüssent parfait joie; Car qui atent, trop li anoie, N’a cuer humain riens tant ne grieve Com mesdis et pensee grieve. Ne autre bienfait n’en portoient Que un po de joie qu’elles avoient. Einsi est il de pluseurs dames Qui mettent les cuers et les ames Et quanqu’elles ont en leurs amis, Et quant tant chascune y a mis Qu’il sont en vaillance parfait, Apparent par ouevre et par fait, Elles n’en ont autre salaire Fors un petit de gloire au faire. Ils ont le grain; elles ont la paille; Car l’onneur ont, comment qu’il aille. Et s’aucune fois leur meschiet, Tout premiers seur les dames chiet. Certes, c’est mauvais guerredon. Quant pour bien ont de guerre don. De l’autre qui son doy copa, Vraiement fait .i. lait cop a. Car Guillaume, quoy que nuls die, Je le tien a grant cornardie, Si m’en pense po a debatre. Car il y avoit .iij. ou .iiij. Voies qui deüssent souffire, Et il prist de toutes la pire. Et d’autre part, je ne croy mie Que celle qui estoit s’amie, S’elle l’amoit d’amour seüre, N’eüst trop plus chier l’aventure De son mari et son courrous, Et deüst estre entre’eaus .ij. rous Li festus jusqu’a une piece, Qu’oster de son ami tel piece, Qu’a tous jours fu desfigurez, Meins prisiés, et plus empirez.” GUILLAUME “Certes, Franchise, vous avez Bien dit, que bien dire savez. Mais je say sans nulle doubtance Que c’est contre vo conscience, Et que dit avez le contraire De ce qui en vo cuer repaire. Mais je vous requier, s’il vous plest, Que nous abregons nostre plet, Car trop alongons la matiere Qui meüe a esté premiere. Il est certein — et je l’afferme — Qu’en cuer de femme n’a riens ferme, Rien seür, rien d’estableté, Fors toute variableté. Et puis qu’elle est si variable Qu’elle en rien n’est ferme n’estable Et que de petit se varie, Il faut que de po pleure et rie, Dont grant joie et grant tourment N’i puelent estre longuement, Car sa nature li enseingne Que tost rie et de po se pleingne; Tost ottroie, tost escondit. Elle a son dit et son desdit, Et s’oublie enterinement Ce que ne voit legierement. Et puis qu’elle ne puet ravoir Jamais son ami pour avoir, Pour pleindre, ne crier, ne braire, Ne pour chose qu’elle puist faire, Et aussi que de sa nature Oublie toute creature Legierement quant ne la voit, On puet bien penser, s’elle avoit De ses amis damage ou perte, Que briefment seroit si aperte Que d’un perdu .ij. retrouvez Li seroit encor reprouvez. Mais cuers d’omme est ferme et seürs, Sages, esprouvez, et meürs, Vertueus et fors pour durer, Et humbles pour mal endurer. Et quant de l’amoureuse ardure Est espris, tellement l’endure Qu’einsois morroit dessous l’escu Qu’on le veïst mat ne veincu. Ce que je di n’est pas contrueve, Car chascuns le dit et apprueve; Et pour ce que chascuns le dit, L’ai je recordé en mon dit. Se di en ma conclusion Que, vëu la condicion D’omme et de feme, nullement Feme ne puet avoir tourment, Tant braie ne se desconforte, Comme uns homs en son cuer le porte, Qu’estre ne puet en sa nature. Raison s’i acorde et droiture. Et aussi li maus qui termine Est mendres que cils qui ne fine Einsois dure jusqu’a la mort, Tant qu’il a son malade mort.” LARGESSE Largesse, qui aprés seoit, Parla, car moult bien li seoit, Et dist: “Guillaume, vraiement, Je sui mervilleuse comment Vous osez des dames mesdire, Car ce ne deüssiez pas dire. Et de ce qu’avez dit, li blames Est plus seur vous que seur les dames. Vous avez dit en vostre dit — Dont, certes, vous avez mal dit — Que chascuns tient pour veritable Que toute dame est variable, Et que ce n’est de leur couvent Nés que d’un cochelet au vent. Mais toute ceste compaingnie Tient le contraire et le vous nie. Et pour ce bien dire pouez Que vous n’estes pas avouez; Si devez paier la lamproie. De ce plus dire ne saroie, Qu’on ne puet bon argüement Faire seur mauvais fondement.” DOUBTANCE “Et je ne m’en porroie taire,” Ce dist Doubtance de meffaire, “Eins en diray ce qu’il m’en samble, Car tous li cuers me frit et tramble Quant einsi sans cause blamer Oy les dames et diffamer. Or entendez a ma demande: Biau Guillaume, je vous demande, Se celle change ne varie Qui est tous les jours de sa vie Loial amie, sans fausser, N’en fait, n’en desir, n’en penser?” GUILLAUME “Certes, damoiselle, nennil! Mais je croy qu’entre .v.c mil N’en seroit pas une trouvee; Car tel greinne est trop cler semee.” DOUBTANCE “Mon biau sire, se Diex me gart, Moult avez estrange regart, Et s’avez diverse parole! Et s’avez esté a l’escole, Si com je croy, d’aler en change; Et pour ce que li cuers vous change, Vous cuidiez que chascuns le face Si com vous; mais ja Dieu ne place! Car je prouverai le contraire De fait, cui qu’il doie desplaire.” GUILLAUME “Damoiselle, ne vous desplaise, Se je vous resgarde a mon aaise, Car pas ne vous hé si forment Com je vous regart laidement; Et se ma parole est diverse, Bons cherretons est qui ne verse. Mais je cuide verité dire, Comment que m’en vueilliez desdire; Si me sui ci mal embatus Se pour voir dire sui batus.” SOUFFISSANCE Adont se leva Souffissance Et dist: “Guillaume, sans doubtance, Vous estes or mal emparlez. Resgardez coment vous parlez; Car nuls homs qui vueille voir dire Ne porroit des dames mesdire, Qu’en elles est, ce scet on bien, Tout quanqu’on puet dire de bien. Si que je vous lo et conseil Que plus ne parlez sans conseil; Car vous estes trop juenes homs Pour dire si faites raisons.” GUILLAUME Lors entroÿ une murmure, Que chascune d’elles murmure De ce que si fort soustenoie Ce que des dames dit avoie; Et vi que chascune faisoit Samblant, qu’il li en desplaisoit. Et quant j’aperçu la maniere De leur parler et de leur chiere, Et que meües furent toutes Pour bouter le feu es estoupes, Au juge fis une requeste Qui me sambloit assez honneste, Et humblement li depriay Et requis en mon depri ay Qu’elles parlassent tout a fait, Si averoient plus tost fait. Si firent elles, ce me samble; Qu’elles parloient tout ensamble; Dont li juges prist a sousrire Qui vit que chascune s’aïre. Et certes, j’en eus moult grant joie, Quant en tel estat les veoie. Mais li juges, qui sagement Voloit faire son jugement, Tantost leur imposa silence, Fors seulement a Souffissance Et a Doubtance de meffaire. Et lors prist Doubtance a retraire .I. conte propre a sa matiere, Et commensa par tel maniere. DOUBTANCE “Que fist Tysbé pour Piramus? Quant elle vit que mors et nus Estoit pour li, sans nul retour, A doloir s’en prist par tel tour, Que d’une espee s’acoura Seur le corps et la demoura; Car aprés li ne volt pas vivre, Eins fina s’amour et son vivre En pleins, en plours, et en clamours. Certes, ce fu parfaite amours; Car il n’est dolour ne remort Qu’on puist comparer a la mort. Ne nuls ne me feroit entendre Q’nuls homs vosist son cuer fendre Si crueusement, n’entamer, Comme Tysbé fist pour amer. Et qui diroit uns homs est fors Pour souffrir d’amours les effors, Et s’a cuer plus dur qu’aÿmant Ou que ne soit .i. dÿamant, Je ne donroie de sa force Le quart d’une pourrie escorce, Ne je ne pris riens sa durté, Sa vertu, ne sa mëurté, Ne chose qu’il endure aussi. Mais quant une dame a soussi Qu’en son cuer secretement cuevre, Par tel guise le met a ouevre Qu’elle y met le corps et la vie. Mais, Guillaume, je ne croy mie Que on veïst onques morir Homme par deffaut de merir Et qui tost ne fust confortez, Tant fust ses cuers desconfortez; N’il n’est doleur qui se compere A mort, com grieve qu’elle appere, Ne que li feus, fais en peinture, Encontre le feu de nature. Car Nature ne puet pas faire, Tant soit a corps humein contraire; Ne cuers ne puet riens endurer Qu’on peüst a mort comparer.” SOUFFISSANCE “Doubtance, laissiez le plaidier, Car .i. petit vous vueil aidier, Pour mettre nostre entention A plus vraie conclusion, Comment qu’aiez si bien conclus Selonc raison, qu’on ne puet plus. Adont commensa Souffissance Et dist ainsi en audiance: “Leandus, li biaus et li cointes, D’une pucelle estoit acointes Qui bele Hero fu nommee; N’avoit en toute la contree Nulle si cointe damoiselle, De trop si gente, ne si belle; N’en Abidois n’avoit, n’en Crete Nulle amour qui fust si secrete, Car nuls ne savoit leur couvine, Fors seulement une meschine Qui belle Hero norrie avoit; Celle seulement le savoit. De moult parfaite amour s’amoient; Mais a grant peinne se veoient, Qu’entre Hero et Leandus Fu un bras de mer espandus Qui estoit larges et parfons, Si qu’on n’i preïst jamais fons; Et ce leur faisoit trop d’anuis. Mais Leandus toutes les nuis Passoit le bras de mer au large, Tous nus, seuls, sans nef et sans barge. Belle Hero au gent atour Ot en sa maison une tour Ou toutes les nuis l’atendoit, Et .i. sierge ardant la tendoit, Auquel Leandus se ravoie Souvent quant la mer le desvoie. Or avint que la mer tourbla Pour le fort vent qui y souffla Si qu’elle en devint toute tourble Pour le vent qui l’esmuet et trouble. Leandus se tient a la rive, Qui fort contre son cuer estrive; Qu’Amours li enjoint et commande Et ses cuers, qu’a passer entende, Et la plus belle de ce mont Voit d’autre part qui l’en semont; Si que li las ne sot que faire, N’il ne voit goute en son affaire. Car il voit la mer si orrible Que de passer est impossible. Et de sa tempeste et son bruit Toute la region en bruit. Mais finalment tant l’assailly Amours, que en la mer sailli, Dont briefment le couvint noier, Car a li ne pot forsoier. Et certes, ce fu grans damages, Car moult estoit vaillans et sages. Bele Hero ne scet que dire; Tant a de meschief, tant a d’ire, Qu’en nulle riens ne se conforte. Elle vorroit bien estre morte Quant son dous amy tant demeure. Dou cuer souspire, des yex pleure; La nuit ot plus de mil pensees, Par .v.c mille fois doublees. Elle ne fait que reclamer Nepturnus, le dieu de la mer, Et li promet veaus et genices, Oblations et sacrefices Mais que la mer face cesser Par quoy Leandus puist passer. Einsi toute nuit se maintint Et l’ardant sierge en sa main tint Jusqu’a tant qu’il fu adjourné. Mais mar vit pour li ce jour né, Qu’entre les flos vit Leandont, Qui floteloit a abandon. Et quant de pres le pot veoir, Seur le corps se laissa cheoir Au piet de sa tour droitement; Si l’embrassoit estroitement, Forcenee et criant: ‘Haro!’ Einsi fina belle Hero, Qui de dueil fu noïe en mer Avec son ami pour amer. Si qu’il n’est doleurs ne meschiés Dont cuers d’amant soit entechiez Qui soit de si triste marrien Com celle qui n’espargna rien, Que Hero ne meïst a mort Pour son amy qu’elle vit mort, Ne nuls n’en porroit par raison Faire juste comparison, Ne que de fiel encontre baume. Et pour ce je vous lo, Guillaume, Que cils debas soit en deport, Car vraiement, vous avez tort.” GUILLAUME “Damoiselle, se tort avoie, Bien say que condempnez seroie Nom pas par vous; car l’ordenance Ne doit pas de ceste sentence Estre couchié en vostre bouche, Pour ce que la chose vous touche. Eins la doit pronuncier le juge, Qui a point et loyaument juge. Mais j’ay le cuer moult esjoÿ De ce que j’ay de vous oÿ; Car c’est tout pour moy, vraiement.” SOUFFISSANCE “Pour vous, biau Guillaume? Et comment?” GUILLAUME “Damoiselle, or vueilliez entendre, Et je le dirai sans attendre; Quant Amours si fort enlassoit Leandus, que la mer passoit A no, sans batel n’aviron, A la minuit ou environ, Li fols qui tant y trespassa Que d’amer en mer trespassa, Il fist trop plus et plus souffri Que Hero, qui a mort s’offri, Considerés les grans peris Ou il fu en la fin peris, Que ne fist Hero pour s’amour, Non contrestant mort ne clamour. Car cils qui fait premierement Honneur, on dit communement Qu’il a la grace dou bien fait, Nom pas cils a qui on le fait. Et plus va a Amour tirant Cils qui preste que cils qui rant. Einsi est il de tous services, Et aussi de tous malefices: Car qui d’autrui grever se peinne, Certes, il doit porter la peinne. Si que, ma chiere damoiselle, Qui moult amez honneur la belle, Vous devez bien, a dire voir, De ce cop ci honneur avoir. Car bien et bel et sagement L’avez dit; et certeinnement, Diex pour moy dire le vous fit, Car j’en averai le profit. Si que, gentils dame de pris, Je croy que bien avez compris L’entention des .ij. parties. Et se celles qui ci parties Sont contre moy vuelent plus dire, Ce ne vueil je pas contredire, Mais j’en ay dit ce qu’il m’en samble, Present elles toutes ensamble, Et tant, que je ne doubte mie Que n’aie droit de ma partie.” LA DAME Adont la dame souvereinne, Des .xij. droite cheveteinne Qui avoient parlé pour li, Dont au juge moult abelly, Prist a dire tout en oiant; “De riens ne me va anoiant Ce qui est fait de nostre plait, Mais moult souffissanment me plait, Et bien m’en vueil passer atant. Sires juges, jugiez atant Que sentence sera rendue. Je suis de moult bonne attendue Pour attendre vostre jugier Quant il vous en plaira jugier. Bon conseil avez et seür, Bien attempré et bien meür. S’alez, s’il vous plaist, a conseil, Je le lo einsi et conseil. Et vous conseilliez tout a trait. Faire ne pouez plus biau trait Que de traitablement attraire Bon conseil et puis de retraire Les articles dou jugement, Selonc le nostre entendement, En gardant toudis nostre honneur. Faire le devez, mon signeur. Et vous estes bien si vaillans Que point n’en serez defaillans.” LE JUGE Li juges, qui bien l’escouta Ses paroles, si bien nota Qu’a entendre pas ne failly. Tantost son conseil acueilly, Et puis de la se departirent. Or ne sceus je pas qu’il deïrent En leur secret quant ad present, Mais assez tost m’en fist present. Uns amans qui tant bien m’ama Que de tous poins m’en enfourma, Non pas par favourableté, Mais de sa debonnaireté, Afin que point ne variasse Et que de riens ne m’esmaiasse, Par quoy je preïsse maniere Uniement toudis entiere; Qu’autel samblant devoie faire Dou droit pour moy com dou contraire. Or me fonday seur ce propos; S’en fu mes cuers plus a repos. Quant a conseil se furent mis, Li juges dist: “Je suis commis A estre bons juges fiables, Aus .ij. parties amiables Justement a point sans cliner. Si doy moult bien examiner Trestout le fait par ordenence Qui appert en notre audience Afin que loiaument en juge. Einsi doivent faire bon juge. Et vous vous devez travillier De moy loyaument consillier. S’en die chascuns son plaisir, Tandis com nous avons loisir.” Dont Avis dist tantost aprés, Qui fu de Congnoissance pres: AVIS “Avis sui qui doy bien viser Comment je vous puisse aviser, Car on puet faire trop envis Bon jugement sans bon avis. Je vous avis que bien faciés Et que le contraire effaciés. S’il vient par devant vostre face, Afin que point ne se parface, En avisant seur .iiij. choses Qui ne sont mie si encloses Qu’on ne les puist assez veoir, Qui un po s’en vuet pourveoir. Ce jugement avez a rendre, Premierement devez entendre De savoir quels est li meffais Et a qui il a esté fais. Et si devez aussi savoir Et enquerir, par grant savoir, Quant vous saverez le forfait Et a cui cils l’avera fait, Que vous sachiez dou tout l’affaire, Quel cause l’esmuet ad ce faire. Or avez de .iiij. les trois. Et li quars est li plus estrois Au quel on doit bien regarder Comment on le puist bien garder: C’est que vous metés vostre cure A sieuir les poins de nature Ou coustume attraite de droit. Se jugerez en bon endroit. Plus n’en di. Qui vuet, si en die. J’en ay assez dit ma partie.” CONGNOISSANCE Congnoissance, qui avisa Les poins qu’Avis bien devisa, Dist en haut: “Avis, mes amis, Ha orendroit en termes mis Aucuns poins qu’il a devisé, Les quels j’ay moult bien avisé, Pour quoy dont je sui Congnoissance, Qui donne a bon Avis substance Pour deviser ce qu’il devise, De quoy la bonne gent avise. Je fais le scens d’Avis congnoistre, Et il fait Congnoissance croistre Par le courtois avis qu’il donne De son droit a mainte personne. Juges se vous apointerez Comment seürement tenrez D’Avis les poins et les usages. Faites le, si ferez que sages. Et de moy qui sui sa compaingne Entendez que je vous enseingne. On a ci ce plait demené Tant qu’on l’a par poins amené Jusques au jugement oïr. Resgardez qui en doit joïr. Jugiez selonc le plaidïé Qu’on a devant vous plaidïé. Par ce point ne poez mesprendre; Car s’on vous en voloit reprendre, Li plaïdiers aprenderoit Le scens qui vous deffenderoit. Jugiez einsi hardiement Et le faites congnoissanment Au condempné bien amender. Vous le pouez bien commander. Je, Congnoissance, m’i acort. Et s’en preng aussi le recort De Mesure, qui la se siet Lez Raison, et moult bien li siet, Et Raison aussi en dira Ce qui bon li en semblera.” MESURE Adont s’est Mesure levee, En disant: “Ma tresbien amee Congnoissance, dire ne vueil Riens qui soit contre vostre vueil, Eins sui moult tres bien acordans Ad ce qu’estes ci recordans. S’en parleray a vostre honneur Au juge, ce noble seigneur Qui est courtois et amiables, Sages, vaillans, et honnourables.” Lors tourna devers li sa chiere De si amoureuse maniere, Qu’il ne s’en pot tenir de rire. Et Mesure li prist a dire: “Biau sire, bien eüreus fustes Dou conseil que vous esleüstes. Vous avez tout premierement A Avis si bel commencement, Qu’on faurroit bien en court roial D’avoir conseil aussi loial. Je ne di pas qu’aucune gent Ne moustrassent bien aussi gent Conseil et aussi bien baillié, Et d’aussi bel parler taillié. Mais veons la condition D’Avis selonc s’entention: Il donne conseil franc et quitte Et n’en attent autre merite Fors ce que li juges tant face Qu’il en ait pais, honneur, et grace. Et Congnoissance, sa compaingne, A tel salaire s’acompaingne, Sans demander nulle autre chose; Dont loiaus juges se repose Qui de tels gens est consilliez. Sire, s’en devez estre liez. Comment qu’il aient dit a point, Se passerai je oultre d’un point Qu’Avis avoit bien avisé — Et se ne l’a pas devisé — Et Congnoissance congnëu. Mais il s’en sont en cas dëu Pour moy porter honneur, souffert; Dont de moy vous sera offert, Pour ce que j’ay bien entendu Qu’il s’en sont a moy attendu. Mais einsois averai ditte D’un petit de ma qualité. Je suis Mesure mesuree, En tous bons fais amesuree, Et aussi sui je mesurans, Ferme, seüre, et bien durans A ceuls qui vuelent sans ruser Justement de mesure user; Et qui non, aveingne qu’aveingne. De son damage li souveingne. Dont uns maistres de grant science Et de tres bonne conscience A un sien deciple enseingne Et li moustre de moy l’enseingne, Disant; ‘Amis, je te chastoy; Se tu ne mes Mesure en toy, Elle s’i mettra maugré tien. Ceste parole bien retien: S’elle s’i met, tu es peris; Se tu l’i mes, tu es garis.’ Or vueil passer les poins tout outre Qu’Avis et Congnoissance moustre. Il ont servi courtoisement De leur bon conseil largement, Si comme on sert a un mengier, Sans rien d’especïal jugier. Et de ce qu’il ont bien servi, Dont il ont grace desservi, J’en vorray l’escot assener, Et a chascun son droit donner. Guillaumes, qui en ses affaires Soloit estre si debonnaires, Si honnestes et si courtois, Enclins aus amoureus chastois, A attenté contre Franchise, Et tout de sa premiere assise, Quant ma dame a point l’aprocha Dou fait qu’elle li reprocha, Et il s’en senti aprochiez A juste cause et reprochiez. Il ala avant par rigueur, Et se mist tout sa vigueur Pour lui deffendre encontre li. Cils poins fort me desabeli, Pour ce qu’il se desmesura: Par ces raisons de Mesure ha Les regles et les poins perdus, Dont il sera moult esperdus Quant a moy le retourneray; Car d’onneur le destourneray Quant Congnoissance li dira Le meffait que fait avera. Il deüst avoir mesuré L’estat dou gent corps honnouré De celle dame souvereinne; Qu’en tout le crestien demainne N’a homme, s’il la congnoissoit, — C’est bon a croire qu’einsi soit — Qui hautement ne l’onnourast Et qui de li ne mesurast Humble et courtoise petitesse Au resgart de sa grant noblesse. Dont Guillaumes est deceüs Quant il ne s’en est perceüs. Car trop hautement commensa, Dont petitement s’avansa. Pour bien sa cause soustenir; Eins est assez pour li punir. Or veons au fait proprement Dés le premier commencement, Pour bien deviser les parties, Comment elles sont departies, A savoir la quele se tort. Je di que Guillaumes a tort, Car de tous les crueus meschiés La mort en est li propres chiés; A dire est que tous meschiés passe, Et pour ce que nuls n’en respasse. Car on se puet trop miex passer De ce dont on puet respasser. Plus de vueil de ce fait espondre, Car j’ay assez, pour lui confondre, D’autres choses trop plus greveinnes, Simples, foles, vuides, et veinnes. Sires juges, or m’entendez; Pour la fin a quoy vous tendez, De rendre loial jugement, Je vueil un po viser comment On a alligué de ce plait. Et vous meïsmes, s’il vous plait, .I. petit y resgarderez Si que miex vous en garderez De jugier autrement qu’a point. Car vous congnoisterez le point De quoy justice est a point pointe Quant juges sus bon droit s’apointe. Je vueil que vous soiez certeins Que Guillaumes doit estre attains De son plait en celle partie Ou sa cause est mal plaidoïe, Non obstant ce qu’en tous endrois Par tout est contre lui li drois; Dont ma dame a tout sormonté, Tant dou plait com de la bonté De sa querelle, qui est toute Mise en clarté et hors de doubte. Ma dame, par ses damoiselles, A alligué raisons tres beles Et toutes choses veritables, Fermes, seüres, et estables, Toutes traites de l’escripture Et ramenees a droiture. Mais qui tout vorroit deviser, Trop y averoit a viser. Et, d’autre part, chose est certeinne: Que la court en est assez pleinne De tout ce qu’on a volu dire De par ma dame sans mesdire; Si que de ma dame me tais. Et de Guillaume, qui entais A esté d’alliguer s’entente, Parleray — car il me talente —, De son plaidïé seulement. Et se m’en passerai briefment, Foy que devez tous vos amis. Veons qu’il a en terme mis: Dou clerc qui hors dou sens devint, A il prouvé dont ce li vint, Que ce li venist de sa dame? Sires juges, foy que doi m’ame, Il n’en a nulle riens prouvé; Se li doit estre reprouvé. Et dou chevalier qui par ire Pour ce qu’il ne se volt desdire Copa son doi a tout l’anel, Il fist en s’onneur .i. crenel De honte pleinne de sotie Avec tres grant forcenerie Quant a sa dame l’envoia. Car bien croy qu’il li enuya; Au mains li dut il ennuier D’un si fait present envoier. Car quant dame son amy aimme, Dou droit d’Amours pour sien le claimme Et puet clamer, ce m’est avis. Or resgardons sus ce devis Comment li chevaliers meffist: Ce qu’elle amoit, il le deffist, Q’estoit sien dou droit d’Amour; Dont je fais ci une clamour Contre Guillaume de ce fait, Que avis m’est qu’il n’a riens fait, Car cils poins qu’il a mis en prueve Sa cause punist et reprueve. Et aussi de la Chastelainne De Vergi, a petite peinne Assez reprouver le porray Par les raisons que je diray: Li fais que Guillaumes soustient, Sire, vous savez qu’il contient Qu’amans, garnis de loiauté, Truist en sa dame fausseté. Et sus ceste devision Il fait une allegation, Pour prouver par .i. fait contraire. La chasteleinne debonnaire N’avoit son ami riens meffait. Mais il meïsmes fist le fait Pour quoy elle se mist a mort. Quant il le sceut, il se remort Et se mist en la congnoissance Qu’il y apartenoit vengence; Dont il meïsmes se juga, Punist dou tout et corriga, Dont Guillaumes a par son dit Pour son profit meins que nient dit. Plus n’en di; mais Raisons dira Ci aprés ce qu’il li plaira.” L’ACTEUR A ces mos s’est Raison drecié Comme sage et bien adrecié, RAISON Disant: “Raions en consistoire. La porrons par parole voire, Ce m’est vis, bon jugement rendre, S’il est qui bien le sache entendre.” Atant de la se departirent. Es propres lieus se rasseïrent Ou il avoient devant sis. Lors dist Raisons par mos rassis: “Sire juges, certeinnement Chose n’a sous le firmament Qui ne tende a conclusion: Les unes a perfection Pour pluseurs cas de leur droit tendent; Et si a autres qui descendent De haut ou elles ont esté En declinant d’un temps d’esté En l’iver qu’on dit anientir. Dont cils plais desire a sentir De droit conclusion hastive Par sentence diffinitive, Pour ce qui est bien pris parfaire Et ce qui est mal pris deffaire. Et il est temps, bien le savez, Que desormais dire en devez, Ou ordener qu’on en dira.” LE JUGE “Raison, dame, ne m’avenra Que j’en die, quant ad present. Mais je reçoy bien le present D’ordener. Et de m’ordenance, Mais qu’il soit a notre plaisance, Dites en et tant en faciez Que le tort dou tout effaciez Et metez le droit en couleur De toute honnourable honneur, Qui savez en tels couleurs teindre Ou nuls fors vous ne puet ateindre.” GUILLAUME Lors Raisons .i. po s’arresta Et puis sus destre s’acota, En regardant devers senestre, Pour miex aviser de mon estre. RAISON Se me dist: “Guillaume, biaus sire, Vous avez piessa oÿ dire Que c’est folie d’entreprendre Plus que pooirs ne puet estendre. Et toute voie, s’on emprent Aucun fait de quoy on mesprent, S’on s’en repent au moien point, Encor y vient il bien a point. Mais qui son forfait continue Et dou parfaire s’esvertue Jusqu’a tant qu’il vient au darrain, Et a ce point ne trueve rien Fors que son dueil et son damage, Se lors recongnoist son outrage, ll vient trop tart au repentir. Guillaume, sachiez sans mentir, Qu’ensement avez vous ouvré. S’en avez un dueil recouvré Q’vous venra procheinnement, Et se vous durra longuement, Voire, se ne vous repentez. Mais je croy que vous estes, telz Que vous ne le deingneries faire. Car trop fustes de rude affaire, Quant la dame vous aprocha D’un fait qu’elle vous reprocha Que fait aviés en temps passé. Se vous heüssiez compassé En vous aucune congnoissance Qui fust signes de repentence De ce que vous aviez mespris Contre les dames de haut pris, Vous heüssiez fait moult que sages. Car d’Amours est tels li usages Que s’aucuns des dames mesdit, S’il ne s’en refreint et desdit, Amender le doit hautement Ou comparer moult chierement. Or de ce meffait premerein Vous di de par le souverain Amours, q’est maistres et sires, Des plaies amoureuses mires: Jugemens en est ordenez Dou quel vous estez condempnez. Si qu’amender le vous couvient; Hastivement li termes vient. Encor vous puis je commander Si qu’il vous couvient amender Un autre fait qui me desplait, De ce q’vous prenistes plait Contre dame de tel vaillance Et de si tres noble puissance, Que je ne say haute personne, Tant com li siecles environne, Prince ne duc, conte ne roy, Qui osast faire tel desroy, Guillaume, comme vous feïstes Dou plait qu’a li entrepreïstes. Et meïstes force et vigueur En aler avant par rigueur; Einsi l’avez continué; S’avez vostre sens desnué De courtoisie et d’ordenance. Se ce ne fust la pacïence Qui est en li, vous perdissiez Tant qu’a meschief le portissiez.” GUILLAUME Quant j’oÿ ce, je fui dolens; Mais je ne fui feintis ne lens De li demander humblement Qu’elle me devisast briefment De la dame la verité D’un petit de sa poësté. RAISON Lors dist: “Guillaume, volentiers. Mais je n’en dirai hui le tiers, Non mie, par Dieu, le centisme. Car dés le ciel jusques en bisme Ses puissances par tout s’espandent, Et de ses puissances descendent Circonstances trop mervilleuses, Et sont a dire perilleuses, Qui s’apruevent par leur contraire. Par ces raisons s’en couvient taire Pour les entendemens divers Qui sont aucune fois pervers. La dame a nom Bonneürté, Qui tient en sa main Seürté En la partie de Fortune. Car il n’est personne nesune Cui Fortune peüst abatre, Se la dame le vuet debatre. Et quant elle vuet en Nature Ouvrer par especial cure, La la voit on sans nul moien Voire li astronomien Qui congnoissent les nations Parmi les constellations, C’est assavoir és enfans nestre De quel couvine il doivent estre. Dont, quant la chiere dame regne Et uns enfés naïst en son regne, Se Bonneürtez l’entreprent, Nature point ne l’en reprent, Eins l’en laist moult bien couvenir, Comment qu’il en doie avenir. Voirs est que Nature norrit Par quoy li enfés vit et rit. Et Bonneürtez le demeinne Tout parmi l’eüreus demainne, Tant qu’il est temps qu’en lui appere Que de Bonneürté se pere. Or sont celle gent si parent, Dont elle est en euls apparent Parmi le bien qu’il en reçoivent, Afin que ne lui n’en deçoivent. Or vous vueil je dire en appert En quels manieres elle appert, En aucunes, non pas en toutes; Et si ne faites nulles doubtes Des paroles que j’en diray, Car de riens ne vous mentiray. Elle appert en prosperité Et en issir de povreté; Elle appert en acquerre amis Et en punir ses anemis Par victoire, sans nul tort faire. Elle appert en tout bon affaire, Et quant elle appert en amours, C’est quant amans, par reclamours, Par servir ou par ses prieres Et en toutes bonnes manieres, Puet en pais de dame joïr Dou droit especial joïr, Qu’Amours donne de sa franchise. La est Bonneürtés assise Entre ami et loial amie Qui ne vuelent que courtoisie Et ont par certeinne affiance Li uns a l’autre grant fiance. La les tient elle en moult grant point. Elle est a tous biens mettre a point. S’en est moult plus gaie et plus cointe. Elle est de tous les biens acointe. Elle appert en mains esbanois, Tant en joustes comme en tournois, Pour chevalerie essaucier Et les fais des bons avancier A la congnoissance des dames. La croist honneur; la chiet diffames. Car tels a esté diffamez Qui puis est chieris et amez De ceuls qui ains le diffamoient, Pour ce qu’apertement veoient Qu’il met son corps en aventure; Dont tels fois est qu’il aventure Dou fait d’armes qu’il a empris, Tant qu’il vient au souverein pris. Einsi Bonneürtez avance Les siens de sa haute puissance. Se Bonneürtez par nature, Par fortune ou selonc droiture, Appert en la chevalerie, Elle appert aussi en clergie. La tient elle honneur en ses mains. A l’un plus et a l’autre mains En fait ses larges departies; S’en donne les plus grans parties A ceuls qui tiennent miex l’adresse Ou Bonneürtés les adresse. Aussi appert elle en science, Et se s’enclot en conscience, Pour garder ceuls aucune fois En cui est pais et bonne fois, Qui n’ont pas par voie autentique Mis leur scens en fourme publique, Eins sont sage secretement. La se tient elle closement; La li tiennent grant compaignie Loiaus Secrez et Bonne Vie. La se vuet elle reposer Et les cuers a point disposer En la vie contemplative. Or revient par la voie active Pour esmouvoir ceuls de parler Qui tiennent volentiers parler Des biens de contemplation; Dont maint, par bonne entention, S’enlcinent si a sa doctrine Que chascuns par soy se doctrine D’estre diligens et hastis De devenir contemplatis. Que vous iroie je contant? En Bonneürté a de biens tant Que jamais n’aroie compté Le centisme de sa bonté. Dont au monde n’a grant signeur Ne dame, tant aient d’onneur, Qu’il ne leur fust et bel et gent, S’estre pooient de sa gent. Atant m’en tais; je n’en di plus, Mais que venir vueil au seurplus Des .ij. poins dont condampnés estes. Et s’ay mes raisons toutes prestes Dou tiers point que je vous diray, Dou quel je vous condempneray. Il est bien veritable chose Que s’aucuns a .i. plait s’oppose S’il se trait a production Et il vient a probation, Se s’entention bien ne prueve, Verité de droit li reprueve Qu’il en doit estre condempnez. Cils drois est de si lonc temps nez Qu’il n’est memoire dou contraire. Or veons a quoy je vueil traire, Et s’entendez bien a mon dit: De quanque la dame vous dit De son fait, vous vous opposastes Et dou prouver vous avansastes. Mais vous avez si mal prouvé Qu’il vous doit estre reprouvé A vostre condempnation, Selonc la mienne entention. Vous n’avez ci dit que paroles Qui sont aussi comme frivoles. Belles sont a conter en chambre, Mais elles ne contiennent membre Dont pourfis vous peüst venir Pour vostre prueve soustenir. Et si avons si bien gardé Com nous poons, et regardé, Pour querir loyal jugement. S’il vous plaist a savoir comment, On vous en dira les parties, Comment elles sont departies. Et de vostre erreur tous les poins. Et se vous veez qu’il soit poins Qu’on vous die vostre sentence, Se nous dites que vos cuers pense. Qu’il vous en plaist, on le fera Si a point que bien souffira.” GUILLAUME “Dame, bien vous ay entendu, Et s’ay bonne piece attendu Que je fusse sentenciez. Se vous pri que vous en soiez Diligens de moy delivrer, Quant a ma sentence livrer. Dés que mes fais est si estrois Que je doy des amendes trois Et qu’autrement ne puet aler, Je n’en quier plus faire parler.” RAISON “Guillaume, soiez tous certeins Que de droit y estes ateins; Se n’en serons point negligens. Or soiez aussi diligens, Et puis maintenant vous levez Pour faire ce que vous devez Vers celui qui pour juge siet. S’en fera ce que bon l’en siet. Dés or mais a lui appartient, Car tout le droit en sa main tient.” GUILLAUME A ce mot au juge en alay Et d’un genouil m’agonouillay. La li presentai je mon corps Par si couvenable recors, Comme je peüs et li sceüs dire; Dont il prist un petit a rire. Lors pris mes gans, si li tendi; Dont il qui bien y entendi Les prist, et puis si les laissa. Aprés .i. po se rabaissa, Si que secondement les prist, Puis les laissa, puis les reprist, En signe de moy moustrer voie Que troie amendes li devoie. Moult bien le me signefia, Et pour verité m’affia Qu’il les me couvenroit paier. Lors me dist il, sans delaier, Que je me ralasse seoir, Car il se voloit pourveoir Quel penitence il me donroit, Et que brief m’en delivreroit. Lors pres de la dame se trait, Et Raison aussi, tout attrait, A leur secret conseil se mist Et de bas parler s’entremist. Mais a leur parler bassement Pris un petit d’aligement, Pour ce que je bien percevoie Que leurs consaus estoit de joie, Car d’eures en autres rioient, Et a ce droit point qu’il estoient Au plus estroit de leur conseil, Avis me dist: “Je vous conseil Que ceste dame resgardez Et songneusement entendez Aus drois poins de sa qualité. La verrez vous grant quantité De sa grace et de son effort. S’en averez le cuer plus fort Pour endurer et pour souffrir Ce que drois vous vorra offrir.” Lors li dis je: “Biaus dous amis, Mais vous m’en faites le devis Qui congnoissez de moult de choses Les apparans et les encloses. Souvent en estes a l’essay, C’est une chose que bien say.” Adont dist Avis: “Ce vaut fait. Or entendez bien tout a fait: Quant aus parties deviser, Se bien vous volez aviser, Elle ot vestu une chemise Qui est appellee Franchise Pour secrés amans afranchir Et de Sobreté enrichir En la partie de Silence Parmi l’acort de Congnoissance. Car pour tant qu’elle n’est veüe Sa cause doit estre teüe. Et sa pelice, c’est Simplesse Si souëf que point ne la blesse, Car elle est de Beniveillance, Orfroisié de Souffissance, A pelles de Douce Plaisance Qui bons cuers en tous biens avance. Et li changes qu’elle a vestu Par tres honnourable vertu Fu fais de Loial Acointance Et ridez de Continuance A pointes de Perseverence Egalment, sans desordenance. Or est cils changes biaus et lés, Et est de son droit appellés Pour certainne condition Honneste Conversation. Et la sainture qu’elle ha sainte N’est pas en amours chose fainte, C’est propre loial Couvenance, Cloee de ferme Fiance. Quar qui couvenances affie, Necessité est qu’on s’i fie. Et li mordans, pour ce qu’il poise, Sert d’abaissier tençon et noise, Si que jusqu’a ses piez li bat. Et si piet deffont maint debat Entre amie et loial amy, Quant aucuns amans dit: ‘Aimy! De ma dame sui refusez; Mais mes drois n’est pas abusez, Car je croy bien qu’elle le fit A s’onneur et a mon profit.’ Einsi si piet la gent demainne, Cui elle tient en son demainne; Car il sont chaucié d’Aligence, Lacié a laz de Diligence. Et s’a mis blans gans en ses mains, Li quel sont fait ne plus ne mains Entre Charité et Largesse, Dont elle depart la richesse D’Amours qu’on ne puet espuisier Ne par nul jour apetisier. Plus en prent on, plus en demeure De jour en jour et d’eure en heure. Dou mantel vous vueil aviser Comme il est biaus a deviser, Et mieudres que biaus qui s’en cuevre Par dit, par maintieng, et par ouevre. Lainne de bons Appensemens Avecques courtois Parlemens, Scienteuse Introduction, Et amiable Entention Furent ensamble compilees, De Bonté proprement drapees; Et de ses choses asamblant Fu fais li dras de Bon Samblant, Tains en une gaie couleur De tres honnourable valeur Qui est appellee Noblesse, Et est fourrez de Gentillesse. Or est Bonneürtez couverte Dou mantel, et est chose aperte Que par dessous tous biens enclot. Mais veritablement esclot Quanqu’il a sous sa couverture Li apparans de sa figure, Si comme en sa fisonomie Li bien de toute courtoisie Tres souffissanment y apperent, Dont ses damoiselles se perent. Et elle est aussi bien paree D’elles, sans estre separee D’elles et de leur bon arroy. Car elles souffissent pour roy Et pour souvereinne roÿne. Pour ces raisons vous determine Que Bonneürtez dou tout passe Toutes roÿnes et trespasse. Se je voloie sa coronne Deviser, qui est belle et bonne, Trop longuement vous en tenroie; Car je voy bien la droite voie Que leur consaus va a declin. Atant pais de ce vous declin.” GUILLAUME Quant leur consaus fu affinez, Li juges s’est vers moy tournés, LE JUGE En disant: “Guillaume, par m’ame, Ytant vous di de par ma dame Et de par Raison ensement, Et je sui en l’acordement, Que de .iij. amendes devez Devisees, et eslevez, Lesqueles vous devez sans faille Par jugement, comment qu’il aille. Il vous couvient, chose est certeinne, Faire .i. lay pour la premereinne Amiablement, sans tenson; Pour la seconde une chanson De .iij. vers et a un refrein — Oëz, comment je le refrein — Qui par le refrein se commence, Si comme on doit chanter a dance; Et pour la tierce, une balade. Or n’en faites pas le malade, Eins respondez haitiement Aprés nostre commandement De tous poins vostre entention. Je fais ci ma conclusion.” GUILLAUME Et pour ce que trop fort mespris, Quant a dame de si haut pris M’osay nullement aastir De plait encontre li bastir, Je, Guillaumes dessus nommez, Qui de Machau sui seurnommez, Pour miex congnoistre mon meffait, Ay ce livret rimé et fait. S’en feray ma dame present, Et mon service li present, Li priant que tout me pardoint. Et Diex pais et honneur li doint Et de paradis la grant joie Tele que pour moy la voudroie. Mais pour ce que je ne vueil mie Que m’amende ne soit paié. Pour la paier vueil sans delay Commencier .i. amoureus lay. Explicit le Jugement le Roy de Navarre contre le Jugement dou Roy de Behaingne.

The Judgement of the King of Navarre At the passing of a beautiful summer That had been pleasant and joyful, Ornamented with flowers and leaves, Adorned with shrubbery, Drenched by sweet dew, Dried by the seasonable heat That the sun provided it, A summer when the birds Held their assemblies with song and hockets Through meadows, arbors, and glades In the season’s service and honor So all should linger Despite the weather that, by its nature, Changes summer’s warmth into cold A little after autumn comes, When everyone who has vines to pick Does his harvest and puts it into casks, When, with little trouble, there is to be had Drink made from peaches, must, pears, and grapes, Which is shared with neighbors, When the wheat sprouts in the ground And the leaf falls from the oak Because of nature or a gusting wind, In the year thirteen hundred forty-nine, On the ninth day of November, I was walking about my room. And had the air been clear and pure, I’d have been elsewhere; but it was So dark that the mountains and plains Were full of haze. And so I sheltered indoors. For all that ordinarily was all green Had been changed into another hue Because the north wind had robbed everything of color, Cutting down many a flower With the coldness of its sword. So there I suffered sadness All alone in my room and thought How the world in every way Was ruled by barstool wisdom: How justice and truth Have been murdered by the iniquity Of Greed, which in many realms Rules as sovereign lady, As mistress, as queen (For Greed spawns hatred, While Generosity gives, bestows glory; Truly that’s an irrefutable notion, Which one can prove and clearly see Through just and accurate experience); How no one does his duty; How everyone seeks to deceive His neighbor, for I see no father Or son, no daughter, sister, or brother, No mother, stepmother, or cousin, No aunt, uncle, or neighbor, man or woman, No husband, wife, lover, or beloved Such that one does not deceive the other, And if anyone refrains from this, Every man regards him suspiciously And says he’s a hypocrite, Were he even St. John the Hermit; How the lords pillage their subjects, Rob, despoil, and mistreat them, Put them all to death Without pity or compassion So that great misfortune, I think, Comes from joining vice and power. And one indeed often sees just this, And nothing makes a heart so criminal As great power when used for evil. Now I witness everyone abusing it Because I see no powerful man Without ten, now twenty, now a hundred Towers, troops, catapults, or arbalests To despoil brave men and cowards. For avarice captures them So no one escapes their grasp Unless he’s one of those with nothing to lose. They have no desire to rob men like these, For the man with nothing does not interest them. Such men are never troubled, But the greedy have a failing, which is that The more they have, the more they want, And the more powerfully rich they are, They are that much more greedy and miserly, For the burning avarice feeding on them Grows younger the longer they live. And from this comes the tempest That destroys the world and rages on, The strange events and misfortune That today are so commonplace No one hears news from anywhere That might be agreeable or pleasant; For there’s a greater difference Between the conditions I witnessed in my youth And those that now are so unpleasant Than there is between winter and summer. But what grieves me more To endure, and troubles me more too, Is that God is accorded little reverence And that there is no order to anything; And today everyone ruins himself With what is called vituperation. Therefore, more than I dare say, Melancholy had taken hold of me, But whoever knew the half of it Would think much less of me. And because melancholy Extinguishes every happy thought, And also because I saw well I could do nothing about this, And because if anyone had discovered My state of mind he’d only have mocked it, I abandoned my sad meditations And tried to concern myself with other matters, Thinking that he pleases God Who makes the best of things. And then another thought occurred To me because it is proven folly For any man to be saddened By something he cannot better; And I determined that if the weather Were even ten times worse, Even a hundred times, or truly a hundred thousand, There would be no counsel wiser Than to let all this be Since it cannot be changed, And instead to act like the wise man Who says and demonstrates in his writing That, when he has considered everything, Imagined everything, seen all there is, Tested, examined, observed The world, it is all vanity, And there is no other course But to be happy and do good. And just as I was at the point of Abandoning the reverie I was in, A thought occurred to me Even more bizarre and frightening, More troubling by half And much more filled with sadness. This was of those horrible, uncanny events Unlike the others That anyone might remember, Since in reading history I have not Discovered any so unusual, So hard to bear, or so threatening By a fourth or even a tenth part As these of my own time have been. For it has been a rather common occurrence That the sun and the moon, the stars, The sky and earth have been seen Displaying the signs of war, Misery, and pestilence, Offering tokens and manifestations, For everyone could see with his own eyes Eclipses of the moon and sun Much fuller and darker Than others had been for many years past, And as a sign of misfortune these two bodies lost For a long time their color and light. Furthermore, there was a star with tresses That seemed to be fire with a tail, And it prognosticated Murder and conflagration. The heavens, which saw from their heights The evil fortune to come Into the world, wept in many places And cried tears of blood from pity, And because of the strange rain issuing from them, The earth trembled with fear (So said several who saw this), Because of which villages and cities were destroyed In Germany and Carinthia, Somewhat more than forty altogether, Although I cannot tell their exact number. But the event is well known in Rome Because an abbey there Of St. Paul’s was brought to ruin by it. But the Lord who made everything Through His direct intervention, Like a sovereign gracious ruler Over all things, showed us the meaning Of these marvelous tokens And dispelled our doubts So directly and properly That every man saw it clearly. For the battles and the wars Were so great throughout every land That no one knew in all the world, As much as it encompasses, Any country, kingdom, or region Where there was no strife; For this reason five hundred thousand men and women Would have lost their bodies and souls If He who is in harmony with all good Had not taken pity on them, And many countries were destroyed by it, And the results endure still. The story would be long to tell About captures and outrages, The savage killings as well Of noblemen and knights, Of clerks, townspeople, squires, And of poor people of little note Who died as a result or were brought to ruin, Of the kings, dukes, lords, and counts, For so many of them perished in this way, Some by fire, others in war, That everyone was completely confounded by it. After this appeared a group of scoundrels Who were false, traitorous, and heretical: This was shameful Judea, The evil, the disloyal, Who hate good and love evil of all kinds, Who gave and promised so much Gold and silver to the Christian people That they in many places Poisoned the wells, streams, and fountains That had been clear and healthy, And so many lost their lives Because all who used them Died quite suddenly, and in this way Ten times a hundred thousand certainly Perished in the countryside and towns as well Before this deadly affliction Was taken notice of. But He who sits on high and sees far, Who governs everyone and provides all things, Did not wish for this treason To be hidden any longer; instead He revealed And made it known so widely They lost their lives and goods. For all the Jews were put to death, Some hanged, others burned alive, One drowned, another beheaded By the axe’s blade or sword, And likewise many Christians Died a shameful death because of this. At this time a company came together At the urging of Hypocrisy, their lady, And these people beat themselves with whips And crucified themselves flat on the ground While singing to a catchy tune Some new song or other; And according to them they were worthier Than any saint in Paradise. But the Church dealt with them By forbidding them to whip themselves And condemning their song, Which little children were singing, And by excommunicating all of them Through the power granted it by God Because their self-abuse And song were heresy. And when Nature saw what was happening, That her work was in these ways destroying itself And men were killing each other And poisoning the waters In order to annihilate the human race Because of greed and envy, She, beautiful and noble, was much displeased, Quite vexed, greatly pained. So she made her way without delay To Jupiter and had forged Lightning, thunder, and storms On working days and feasts. Because she was so eager for the task, She paid no mind to either weekday or holiday. Afterward Nature ordered The four winds over which she had command: That each should make ready And prepare to race off And issue from their caverns To give rise to raging cyclones So that there should be no king’s realm, Nowhere in heaven, the earth, sea, or clouds Where the air would not be troubled; And they should do the worst they could. For when she saw her works destroyed, She wished the air corrupted as well. And when the winds had taken their leave And Jupiter had forged everything, Lightning, storms, and turbulence, Then one might have seen them Marvelously disperse in all directions And thunder quite horribly, Blow in gusts, let fall hail and rain in torrents, Disturb the clouds, the sea, Shake the woods, make the rivers flood, And force all things that live On the earth to seek shelter To save themselves because they feared death. This turn of events was quite remarkable, Terrifying, and filled with peril! For stones fell from the sky, Killing whatever they touched, Men, beasts, women; And in many places lightning and tempests Descended with great flames And turned a multitude of villages into dust; Nor was there anyone in the world so brave Who didn’t then have a coward’s heart; For it seemed that the world Was about to fall into ruin and end. But no one could have survived Had this weather lasted long, And so these storms came to an end, But they gave rise to such haze, Such filth, and such vapors As were hardly loved; For the air that had been clear and pure Was now vile, black, and cloudy, Horrible and fetid, putrefied and infected; And so it became completely corrupted; And about this corruption Men held the view It was corrupting them in turn And they were thus losing their health. For everyone was badly afflicted, Discolored, and made ill; People had buboes and large swellings From which they died, and, to be brief, Few dared to venture into the open air Or talk at close quarters with one another Because their infected breath Corrupted others who were healthy. And if anyone fell ill, And some friend visited him, That man faced the same peril From which five hundred thousand died So that father failed son, Mother failed daughter, Son and daughter failed mother From fear of this plague; And no one was so true a friend He was not thereupon ignored, The recipient of little help If he fell ill with the disease. And there was no physician or healer Who knew enough to name the cause Of its appearance, or even what it was (And none of them applied any remedy), Beyond that this was a disease One called an epidemic. When from His house God saw That the corruption in the world Was this great everywhere, It is no wonder He was eager To take a cruel revenge For the great disorder; And so at once, waiting no longer, In order to have His justice and vengeance, From his cage He released Death, Full of rage and anger And lacked any check, bridle, or rein, Any faith, love, or moderation, So very proud and arrogant he was, So gluttonous and famished He could not be satisfied By anything he could consume. And he hastened throughout the world, Killing and running down one and all, Whomever he chanced upon, Nor could he be resisted. And, in short, he undid so many, Struck down and devoured so great a multitude That every day could be found Huge heaps of women, youths, Boys, old people, those of all degrees, Lying dead inside the churches; And they were thrown together In great trenches, all dead from the buboes. Because the cemeteries were found to be So full of corpses and biers It was necessary to lay out new ones. These were strange new tidings. And so there was many a fine town Where no boy or girl, no man or woman Was seen to come and go, Nor was anyone found there to talk to Because all of them had died This unbelievable death. And they lay ill no more than three days, Sometimes less; the time was short. And there were certainly many Who died of it suddenly; For those same men who bore them To the church did not return (This was often witnessed), But instead were to die right there. And whoever wished to undertake Discovering or putting down in writing The number of those who died, Those who are still here and once were, And all those to come, Never would he be able to compass it, However hard he might labor. For no one could count them, Imagine, conceive, or tell of them, Compute, make known, or record them. And, to be sure, many times I have heard it said and openly That in thirteen hundred and forty-nine, Only nine survived of every hundred, And so one saw that, because people were lacking, Many a fine, noble estate Lay idle without those to work it. No man had his fields plowed, His grain sowed, or his vines tended Though he’d have paid out triple wages, No surely, not even for twenty times the rate, Because so many had died; and thus it happened The cattle lay about The fields completely abandoned, Grazing in the corn and among the grapes, Anywhere at all they liked, And they had no master, no cowherd, No man at all to round them up; And there wasn’t anyone who might call them back, No one to claim them as his own. There were many estates That remained without owners; Nor did the living dare to stay Any time at all inside the houses Where the dead had been Either in winter or summer. And if anyone did so, He himself then risked dying. And when I witnessed these events That were so strange and ominous, I was not at all so brave I did not become quite cowardly. For all the most courageous trembled From the fear of death that overcame them, And so I quite thoroughly confessed myself Of all the sins I had committed, Putting myself into a state of grace In order to accept death where I was If it should please Our Lord. Therefore with uncertainty and fear, I closed myself up inside the house And determined resolutely In my mind I’d not leave Until the time when I should learn What conclusion this might come to; And I would leave it for God to decide. And so for a long time, may God help me, There I remained, knowing little Of what was happening in the city, And there more than twenty thousand died, Though of this I knew nothing And so felt less sadness; For I did not wish to know anything So that my sorrows would be fewer, Even though many of my friends Had died and been put in the ground. And so I remained long in hiding, Just like a hawk in moult, Until at last one time I heard (Which made me greatly rejoice) Bagpipes, trumpets, kettledrums, And more than seven pairs of instruments. Then I went to a window And asked what this might be, And at once one of my friends Who had heard me answered That those who remained were acting Just as if all of them were getting married, Feasting, and celebrating weddings. For the deadly plague of the buboes That was called an epidemic Had completely ceased everywhere; And people were no longer dying. And when I saw them celebrating Joyfully and with good cheer, And all just as merrily As if they had lost nothing, I wasn’t troubled in the least, But regained at once my composure, Turning my eyes and face To the air that was so sweet And clear it encouraged me Then to leave the prison Where I had passed the season. At that moment, I was beyond grief and worry, And I mounted on my palfrey, Grisart, who moved at a pace Quite calm, as was his nature. And I went quickly to the fields In order to ride for pleasure, To entertain and solace myself, And to claim as my own the sweetness That comes from the peace and from the enjoyment In which the heart willingly delights That feels no concern for the pain Arising from either trouble or strife, But would instead pursue Whatever might bestow honor. I was very excited about The honorable thing I was bent on. I had the desire and the urge (If, in my good time, I could manage it) To catch some hares by surprise And then be able to hunt them down. Now, someone might ask If hare hunting is honorable. My answer to this question would be That it’s an honor, diversion, and delight; It’s a sport that the nobility value, Something of a gracious enterprise And quite advantageous to undertake Because it improves one nicely; Certainly, the activity itself is pleasant enough, And honor comes with accomplishing it, So at this time I had so directed My attention toward that end And was thinking of nothing else. And the good hare hounds I had So multiplied my enjoyment I could not have felt weary After releasing them And watching them run off Just so in a pack across the fields, And then there were the songs Of birds, lovely to hear, As well as the air of the mild weather Soothing my whole body. One could easily believe that if Some people were to ride up So that they might speak to me, Even if I should benefit thereby, I should indeed not notice, So much had I to this sport devoted my attention. It was then that an adventure befell me Which frightened me somewhat, Yet quickly became pleasant enough, Just as I will relate immediately Hereafter; I’ll not lie about it at all. While I was disporting myself there — I who had forgotten all Those other melancholic thoughts, As much the sad as the pleasant ones — A lady of great nobility, Nicely decked out with rich clothes, Appeared with a beautiful company. Yet I didn’t see them at all Because I was back from the road And, moreover, because of how I was attending to And had concentrated all my attention on My hunting alone; But the lady was the first to take notice Of me before anyone else spied me there Or before anyone made a sign of doing so, That is, from among the company Escorting her noble person. Then she summoned a squire And said to him: “Do you see that man there Pleasantly disporting and enjoying himself? Go to him and then report to me Who he is, and return quickly Without delaying there at all.” At this the squire did not fail, But came to me in some haste And loudly said hello. I didn’t stop what I was doing, And I said to him: “You’re welcome, fair sir.” He returned, without saying any more, As fast as he could to the lady: “Lady,” he said, “By the faith I owe my soul, That’s Guillaume de Machaut over there. Know well that nothing interests him Save what he is pursuing. He is so involved with his hunting I believe firmly he has no time for anything but His hounds and himself.” When the lady heard these words, She seemed to rejoice at heart, And this was no simple outward show, But the absolute truth, Because her heart was joyful, her manner happy, Like a woman gay and merry, Not for my sake, I don’t mean that at all, But rather for another reason entirely, Because of a particular matter In which she took much interest. And she was eager to bring to my attention In order to delight and entertain herself And, in turn, to sink me into melancholy. This I did not fail to do, For I was mocked by her, Reproached and contradicted Just as if I had sinned Quite grievously against the woman. After the squire related All he wished about me, The lady said in a loud voice: “Now let’s see just how Agreeable and sharp Guillaume is. As far as I know, he is knowledgeable About all kinds of merriment According with morality. By night, he stays awake studying, And then by day he labors his body With the work the good man looks for, Who seeks what brings and confers honor; And so he goes around amusing himself At all times by doing what is proper. Such activities do cultivate the demeanor To maintain a man in worthiness. But shortly I will take from him A large part of his enjoyment Because I will have some fun at his expense That will puzzle the man a good while. I have been eager to do that for a long time; So in this fashion I will fulfill my wish. Now return to him as fast as possible Because I am quite anxious He be brought over here. So tell the man In as few words as you can manage To proceed here directly. And say to him firmly It must be with no excuse And no matter what other business he has, And it is at my command.” “Lady, as you order,” Said the squire, “Without any ‘but,’ I will go tell him just what You have said, or as close to it as I am able; I am quite ready to do this.” Then the squire rode off In my direction until he approached me And as he drew near, He called out to me while still riding, Galloping at a quick pace Until he came fairly close. And as soon as I heard his voice, I quickly went toward him Because I had known the man a long time. And as a token of his great joy, He saluted me by God the Father And by His sweet dear mother. And I responded at once, Greeting him courteously. Then I inquired what news, Good and pleasing, there might be for me, If my lady were hale and happy, At peace, not annoyed by anything. “Guillaume, have no fear at all Because my lady is in every way At peace, in good health, happy, and well; And that this is certain You will be able to learn rather quickly From what you’ll hear me say. For it’s quite true she summons you, Not really commanding you to go to her But asking in such a fashion It counts the same as an order, Neither begging nor commanding. Instead it pleases her to request, Somewhere between ‘green’ and ‘ripe.’ Yet mark this point for certain: It is her intention beyond any doubt For you to come to her willingly Making no excuses; She trusts you will do so, And thus, if you please, you’ll go to her And there express your pleasure.” After these words, I answered him: “My very dear friend, this much I will tell you, Regarding my lady, neither a fourth nor even a third Of what I am, but my entire being Is completely hers, with nothing held back. And I could not restrain myself From going to her, nor would wish to, Inasmuch as I would truly sense What my lady would think about it. And so when she sends for me, It would surely be madness to believe I would ever think twice about it. But I do want to ask you about a small point, Just so there will be nothing to remedy: How far is my lady from this spot?” “Guillaume, here is my answer: It is not quite three days’ travel. And may those days dawn brightly!” I said: “Let us go on now without delay, And let us ride night and day To do what is good for my lady. I cannot better replenish myself With joy than by doing her pleasure; And so I will offer no resistance at all.” “Guillaume, I have listened attentively To what you’ve said in response. And I would like to appease you a little With something other than a kiss. Look toward the broad clearing A bit below that fallow field: That’s my lady with a great troop, And she has drawn herself up there for your sake. At that spot she attends you; be certain of it. Now let your heart be not at all troubled By any fear of having to travel too far Because you can speak to her over there.” At these words, my face brightened, And I turned my eyes toward The place he had indicated. And when I saw her waiting there, That my journey was shortened, I was scarcely annoyed, But pleased instead; and I began to laugh And started to say to him: “Good friend, you have nearly made me Melancholy with your jokes, Your trickery, and your true words When you gave me to believe Through a clever lie that my lady was far away; It has pleased me much to realize The truth of what you lied about Because you afterward spoke the truth, Namely that my lady was rather close by. I’m on my way; come along now, Or stay here as you please.” “Guillaume, there is still time For a discussion; no need to hurry. You will get there soon enough If my lady can arrange it. And if you have some skill in debating, It will be good in this situation Where you will play the lawyer’s role; For you could be taken by surprise If you prove unable to defend yourself.” We bandied about these words And with such game amused ourselves; Thus absorbed in talk we rode on Until nearing the lady’s entourage. Then I went on ahead, and seeing Her noble person replete With honor, grace, and learning, As a sign of great reverence I made to get off my horse. But at once she started to forbid it, Saying quite politely: “Oh no, Guillaume, this will surely not do. You must not dismount. Speak to me from your horse.” And when I heard this, I obliged And gave her as fine a greeting As I could and knew how to, And in the manner I should have, Just as I had learned To honor people of such rank. And without dissembling, she in turn Knew how to take care of the rest, Responding in friendship, Guarding her honor and integrity. Then she spoke to me quite firmly:v THE LADY “Guillaume, you have acted Too much the stranger. You would not have come here Had it not been for my messenger. You have become, I think, Too wise or too backward, Inattentive and disagreeable, Eager for your sport, Or else you value ladies too little. When I climbed the ground over there On that highest rise, I took the path on the right And looked toward the left; Quite clearly I saw you riding, Whistling up and calling your hounds. I heard you doing this And likewise saw You and your goings-on. So I believe quite surely, Guillaume, you must have seen us. And why, then, when hearing Our horses pass by and whinny Did you not deign come forward Until I gave you the order, Just as if I made it a command? So I thank you just as much for this As I should and no more.” GUILLAUME Then I said to her: “For God’s sake, My lady, don’t say so. I will reply to that, saving your honor, For by the faith I owe our Lord I saw nothing and heard nothing either, So much was my heart enthralled By the hunting I was intent on, By the goal I wanted to attain. And so I was spellbound. My lady, only involuntarily would I do Anything against your will. And how would it profit me To do something so petty and spiteful? I know well I would be demeaned by this. And so you should excuse me.” THE LADY “Guillaume, I don’t want to fool with this further. Because it is so, my heart believes you. But on the other hand a different matter Has arisen — and very seriously — To your discredit, and it needs explaining. And I will keep you very busy And offer much argument against you If you do not admit your error. Guillaume, listen and pay attention: You have sinned against women, And so you have taken on a burden You will not be able to hold up under Or put down when you would like.” With these strange words, Perverse in their severity, She showed me a manner Bitter, cruel, hurtful, and haughty As a sign of her great anger In order to make my heart heavy, And also to make fearful, hesitant, And full of uncertainty my every thought. She took pains in doing so Because she was convinced That, valuing her so highly, I should fear her anger greatly. And this I did; I started to fear her When I heard these words, Not because of any misdeed I myself had supposedly committed; Rather because I feared those gossip-mongers Who are at times harmful Because of their falseness and envy To good people who lead decent lives. And so I dreaded this turn of events. Yet I was certain I had done No harm in my whole life To any woman whomsoever, And with this in mind I answered her: GUILLAUME “Lady, you have brought up something That heaps great dishonor upon me, But the trial is not yet arranged Or begun in proper form. For a certain judgment to be rendered, You must tell me how I have erred and also explain in detail All the facts of the matter. At present your purpose here Remains secret and hidden If not divulged to me, I will not be able to respond. Now please, if you will, expound upon That matter troubling you; And if you agree to do so, You will be following the proper path Of the law, for otherwise I would not be able To learn what the issue is and dispute it. If not, you ought to grant I should go free and clear Of the allegation you have made against me. I expect proper justice in this matter.” THE LADY “Guillaume, you already know And will hear nothing more from me. Instead this is how things stand. If I know about it, you know too, Because the case against you is something You have written down in one of your books, Something well laid out and described therein. So look through your books. I know well you are not drunk When you compose your love poems. And so you know well, with regard to your own tales, When you compose and complete them, If you did right or wrong there Because into these works you put your heart As much in a single word as in six. If you please, go look there Because you will get nothing more From me for the present. Be sure this is my intention.” GUILLAUME “Madam, what have you said? As you are very well aware, You know much more than you admit. I have all sorts of written texts In front of me, of various kinds, Devoted to very different themes, Each of which is quite unlike every other. Examining all these at the same time, And each one rather thoroughly, Section by section and sentence by sentence, From the beginning of the first To the very end of the last If I wished to look through all of them: This I should indeed like to avoid, All this would take too long. And in addition I might not Come across what you are taking issue with If you do not tell me more. For I would never seek to read such a thing, Madam, except to contradict you. Yet it is hardly to be expected That I would prove able to decipher A hidden thought of yours Except through the proper key That might unlock your heart; And so I might be informed about this, Let your mouth tell it to me. If I refuse to respond After you have told me yourself, Then I’d certainly agree to whatever Condemnation and reproof you utter. Madam, if you please, now decide If my view here is mistaken According to your own opinion.” THE LADY “Guillaume, since this is how things stand, I agree completely with this point. At the moment I admit myself defeated; But this matter of your transgression, Which is so grave against women, Would call for a severe punishment Should someone wish to exact it. So from this point listen carefully To what I will say from my own mouth Because the issue touches me right to the heart. And after I have told you about it, I will reproach you in such a place Where you will be much blamed for this, Losing your reputation among ladies. One time an issue was Advanced in a very pleasant poem, Prettily embellished and with refinement, But afterward quite unfortunately developed. At first it was supposed, And, in supposing, proposed That a lady of great worthiness Through a very loving bond Did love a faithful lover So that at all times, in loving well, She was at heart a loyal beloved. And he, obedient to courtesy, Always loved her with a good heart And expended his energy In cherishing and honoring her. And in order to deepen her love He upheld everything noble: Honor, courtesy, and generosity. He was a handsome man, strikingly so, Renowned for his limbs, body, And countenance, perfect in grace, And as well proven in deeds of arms As any man could be Who had spent his life and energy Devoted to tournaments and jousting, As well as all other pursuits pertaining to love. Though they loved each other in this fashion And always closely observed The courtly rules of faithfulness In both reason and truth, Such a chance befell them, Whether through nature or violence, That the lover did pass away. And the lady, when she learned this, Lived on sorrowful and abandoned, A true beloved no longer loved. Because her heart was still aflame And the heart of the worthy lover Had been undone by nature, Her heart was the more afflicted By the fact of his demise. I will say no more about the matter. Instead I would like to bring up another In order to set it beside this one, In order to make my comparison. Listen now, Guillaume, and learn. Another lover of high degree, As worthy as the one I have already mentioned in his deeds In grace as much as in virtue, And in all other respects Rightly and honorably endowed, Also loved a lady With no thought of evil or infamy, And this he made known to her, And when she had learned the truth, She received him willingly And granted the man her love Joyfully, offering no refusal. I have no intention of drawing this out, But he loved her faithfully And trusted her very much, Without any hesitation or doubt Because he thought he had acquired All her love for the rest of his life And would never have to share it. Yet his path was quite different. When he was the most happily Joined to her and confident In the promise of being loved, She did him wrong, Outrageously and with no excuse, And in this he discovered her falseness Toward him, her disloyalty as well, And it could not be denied. If this gave him much pain, That’s hardly much of a surprise. But it’s not the same at all As what causes me to sorrow, the love affair That death brought to an end. Guillaume, if you have listened to me, You should very readily Acknowledge your misdeed In order to lessen your shame. You have stated and recounted, And also decided, advised of these facts, In a conclusive judgment That this man experiences much more misfortune, Grief, torment, ill, and suffering, — The one who found his lady false To him through her double dealing — Than does the gracious, dear lady Whose sweet lover had been joined Irrevocably to her heart Through love and not otherwise. Then she learned he was in the grasp Of death and should there remain So she will never see him again. And how did you dare say this Or write it down in your book? It’s true that you have done so, And thus you have grievously erred. Therefore I advise you to do what you can To void this judgment And overturn it at once. If you are truly a worthy man, Guillaume, You could do so rather easily By affirming exactly the opposite. For the opposite view is the correct one Wherever people esteem proper loving.” GUILLAUME “Madam, by the faith I owe Holy Church, Where all my trust lies, I would do so for no reason; Instead, I will pursue the matter To the very end now that I am involved. Since my judgment was made public By me, I have upheld and will uphold it, As long as I can. Yet whoever might come forward To defend the other side Quite willingly I will submit To whatever I must submit. For I am hardly powerful enough, And my endurance is scarcely so great, Or my storehouse of knowledge, for that matter, That I could not be overcome. But if I can, I will prevail. Should I prove unable, I will pay the price. Let’s look now to how we should proceed. I don’t want to banter more about the issue. But nevertheless, my sweet lady, So your heart will not be cross with me, We will deal with this matter Openly, not in secret, In a way that will preserve your peace of mind And uphold my honor as well. For it would be to my great shame, As you yourself have admitted, If on my own I should reverse myself About this case I judged, As was my right, having done so in such a way That I accomplished it all alone. We will find ourselves a powerful judge, Someone of sufficient renown Who would be a wise and discreet man; And he shall be told from beginning to end The private details of this affair Involving you and me. Let it be done as we agree. Yet you should assume the responsibility For selecting such a man as you’d prefer. You will hear me voice no opposition, Rather I am in agreement on this point from now on With whatever pleases you and no ‘buts’ about it. Truly, my heart is already in this, Because it will be a pleasant task To hear the arguments rehearsed And the parties dispute With subtlety, with impressive reasoning That will merit some kind of judgment.” THE LADY At these words the lady began to laugh And at once, while laughing, to speak: “Guillaume, I very much agree With what you’ve just said; And I will speak to it, no matter what. And so, for whatever it’s worth, I nominate and choose the man named The king of Navarre. He is a prince who loves honor And hates dishonor of every kind, A man wise, loyal, and truthful, Reasonable too in all his doings. He knows so much, is so worthy I could choose no one better, to speak the truth. The case will appeal to him Because he is quite romantically inclined, Wise, courteous, and well taught. He loves the honor and the glory Of arms, love, and ladies. He is the king who would never Support any kind of infamy. He is devoid of all uncouthness And graced with all the nobility Belonging to high rank. I couldn’t say enough of his virtues If speaking of them all day long.” In this way we came to an agreement, Just as it is recorded above. Then we spoke much about love And, as we talked, rode on Until we fell into the righteous bonds Of repose, joy, and solace, Which means into a sweet state Whose conditions were so pleasant They could be no better, to my taste; It was of the highest degree, Full of good sense, so I think, Delight, and sweet leisure too, Where a heart that seeks to act accordingly Might discover peace. A handsome manor stood at the spot Where she wished to halt. Many there helped her dismount And attended to the lady; And, without delay, she was led Inside a room decorated So well, so beautifully, so expertly, And in all things so richly That never before (which made me greatly marvel) Had I ever laid eyes on anything similar. And, quickly, everyone, high and low alike, Made her welcome and honored her. And she very much seemed to be mistress there Because in great nobility she was Seated on cushions made of silk. Yet she was very wise and self-contained, And of such a confident age She was quite pleasantly youthful, Being neither “green” nor “ripe.” More than any other, she was meek, friendly, and noble. Very well attended the lady was By a virtuous and beautiful entourage. None was a country girl; Twelve damsels there were instead Who attended to her day and night, Served and instructed her as well. The first was Understanding, Who showed her the difference Between virtues and vices, Between good deeds and evil ones as well, With the help of Discretion, who escorted her To a mirror that gleamed so brightly No one could ever grasp Or gaze on a clearer reflecting glass. Reason held this in her right hand, A scale in her left, Where the lady looked at herself More often than anyone could say. There she saw clearly, With no obscurity or impediment, What God and Nature might grant A truly fortunate person. And that is to abandon evil and do good, And not to wish to cross anyone. For the man is a fool who does something To another he does not wish done to him. And if there might be in her person Or noble body, of such beautiful shape, Or in her heart any fault or vice, Or malicious thought of any kind, It could never be so well hidden that It could not be seen in the mirror. And there without doubt she gazed on The nature and manner of all things, How Reason justly rules Through fair, good, and loyal precept. And so there she found an example Of everything she ought to do. Moreover the scales of justice Showed to her the truth That she should in every instance live As correctly as the scales, To which one in no way can add Or take from and not have it noticed. The third was named Temperance, Who wore a garland of endurance On her head as an adornment; And with this, to increase her worthiness, She had a confident manner And was wise in her speech, mature too, Not in deed, or in her behavior, or her countenance Was there any vice or impropriety. The fourth, and well I remember her, Was Peace, who held Concord By the finger out of friendship And spoke to her quite sweetly, With a laughing heart, a happy face: “My sweet sister, my dear friend, If we intend to live in joy, Peace, leisure, and wealth In regard to all we say and do, Let us allow no anger into our hearts, And let us have no truck with the arrogance Bearing the name of revenge, For whoever intends avenging the shame done him Makes it increase, further disgracing himself. Let us hold to good people in friendship, And let us take pity on evildoers Because no man ever attained perfection Who was eager to avenge the wrongs done him.” The fifth among them was called Faith, who was escorted in grand style By steadfast Constancy, Who so strengthened and strengthens her Nothing disturbs or worries the lady; Instead she was like a castle built on rock, Strong and secure on its foundation, Free from unpredictable change. The seventh was Charity, Who felt such great pity For those she knew to be in need She gave them whatever she possessed. But she could never give so much She did not have much more to share. Afterward Honesty seated Herself quietly and with much politeness, And this lady was adorned in great nobility With the mantle of simplicity, For she was proper, beyond reproach In her heart, body, hand, and speech. The ninth was Prudence. In her heart she bore Wisdom, Whom she guarded so closely She burned with fierce love for her. She knew well the reason why heavenly bodies Are suspended within the firmament; Why the sun endures In conflagration and the moon in ice; All about the stars and the planets, As well as the limits of the twelve signs; Why God through Nature did assemble Wet, dry, cold, and hot together; And why the four elements Were ordered in such a fashion That earth always remains below And water clings quite closely to it; Fire always rises to the heights, And air remains in the middle. In short, of celestial movements And also of earthly matters She knew so much she was a master, Possessed of such a lively and able wit No one could explain it. For she could answer Any question a person might ask, And no one could improve on what she said. Right next to Prudence sat Generosity, who sees nothing But rather gives with both hands, More to one and less to another, Gold, silver, chargers, hunting birds, estates, And whatever else she might acquire, Counties, duchies, and baronetcies In perpetuity and for life. She has kept nothing from any of these Save honor. This she has clung to. Nobility has so instructed her, And furthermore, which increases her worthiness, She condemned Avarice As the worst vice of all. The next, about whom I’ll not be silent, Was Wariness of Misdeed, Who was so afraid of error She could hardly attend To any matter save for being on her guard. In all her doings she was a coward, But Shame and Fear protected her And were everywhere her companions. The twelfth was Sufficiency, Who in quite humble tranquillity Was richly turned out And gorged to overflowing, Full too of all earthly goods. There was nothing she needed Nor did she lack a thing. She was beyond the grasp of Fortune And her most fearsome domination. She ate little at her meals Because she was more sated by an egg Than another might be by a cow. She was as happy as could be And perfect in her virtue. She still is and always will be As long as the world endures, For she is, to judge rightly, The blessing one should most desire. But just as many rivers Provide water and many lights Glow and give off their brightness To every place they reach, These twelve noble damsels, Who were the servants of all good things, Each one according to her nature, In customs, manner, and appearance, Embellished this lady’s Heart, body, honor, and soul. So adorned by them was she, Nurtured and enlightened, That each improved the lady With whatever good flowed from her And shared with the lady The virtue she bore within. And the noble creature, in addition, Possessed endowments from Nature: A cultivated manner, loyalty, Noble bearing, good breeding, Grace, pleasantness, and courtesy, And these much improved her. But her sovereign goodness Surpassed by a great deal her beauty. When I saw her enthroned In such exalted fashion and so very nobly Adorned with great riches, And, too, served and honored With such affection by all the men and women, My heart filled with doubts That made their way there through folly And genuine melancholy. For I was taken much aback, And also struck completely dumb, At the same time so tempted by error I thought I had been enchanted. But in this state of bemusement I did not long remain Because I followed the advice of Discretion, Who made my presence of mind return In the proper fashion through Reason, Who is always ready at the right moment To bring back to themselves the true hearts Who have wandered too far off the mark. Then Reason fixed me with a look And ever since has maintained in her keeping My heart, senses, and thoughts, So I could resist and struggle Against misbegotten notions, And, too, expel the temptations That intended to enjoy the victory Of making me think incorrectly. By then, I had gotten beyond this thought, And the lady, her ideas well considered, Addressed me quite wisely And, as she talked, inspired me To respond after she finished talking; Thus I could speak better and with more flourish. THE LADY And she said to me: “Guillaume, fair sir, What we said out in the fields Is what we should discuss first. So let’s repeat our argument In the presence of these twelve damsels, Who are wise, good, and beautiful, And also of the many good people who will be present. They will listen to us willingly.” GUILLAUME I did not hesitate long at all, But fell to my knees straightaway And answered her humbly: “My dear lady, I have already said enough. Would that it please God in Paradise The man who is to hear our pleadings Were in this place right now, That is, the good king who will know how To listen and pay attention quite intelligently, To keep silent, and then judge After he has heard What will be told him. He will know well how to deliberate And then, even better, what to decide. And I believe firmly he will judge According to the testimony he should hear. Yet nevertheless, since it pleases you, You can certainly speak before the debate, Making suppositions without any prejudice. And I, intending no malice, Will listen willingly to you, And if I think it good, I will respond.” THE LADY “Guillaume, you answer quite eloquently; However, listen to me just a little. Get up now, for it pleases us That you say no more while kneeling. And if you have something else to say, Speak whatever way you please, Either seated or standing, For this much is all we require.” GUILLAUME Then I quickly got up To carry out her command Once she had spoken her mind. And then right opposite her I proceeded to sit down In order to face her directly. For whoever looks a person in the face, Intending his speech to find favor, He will hear much better what is said And the point being made as well. Then the lady assumed a manner That was forceful, assured, a way of Speaking with such pretty eloquence Everyone thought She was looking at the written text Of what she said and recounted. For no one could speak better Even if planning his words in advance. She organized her discussion, Starting from the very beginning When she sent to have me searched out And then, the second time, fetched; Also how I’d made my way to her and how She had attacked me With angry words; And how she’d been cruel, Reproaching me roughly, Only to make me squirm And sink me into melancholy, Which she knew quite handily how to do. Shall I go on telling you about it? She expended so much fine talk She brought out the facts Of the matter fully in a declaration, Point by point, step by step, So ably that nothing needed correction. And in this way all the young ladies Were quickly, and beyond any doubt, rendered Knowledgeable and enlightened about this case, Completely informed as well Of all that had been discussed And concluded below in the fields. After these explanatory words, Which were ably spoken and well organized, My heart suddenly felt joy Because, while listening, I heard Horses come up and people talking; For at that very hour the good and worthy king Had come, for pleasure, into our presence, The man we had chosen for a judge. And the lady, who was looking At the door and was not slow to do so, Saw and recognized him as he entered; And she rose to her feet at once, Proceeding to greet him And waiting for no one to do so. Seeing her, he stepped forward And embraced her lightly, As she did him with much humility, Welcoming the man courteously, Joyfully, and with a pleasant look. And he said to her: “My dear lady, I am quite unhappy you came forward. Why did you not remain With propriety on your throne?” “Dear sir, so God guide me, I should never have done what Would seem quite improper to me But it is said — something true enough And rather easy to credit — that in the case of Those of exalted rank and lesser persons, All honor should be paid to every great lord. But let’s drop the matter. It should delay us but little. Instead, let us take our seats on the throne. There I would like to see about Telling you an extraordinary thing Quite unlike other marvels. Go on ahead; I’ll follow along, Keeping quite close to you.” “By God, my lady, I shall not do so. At the very moment I ascend You will go up right by my side; Never will you make me agree That we should not proceed together. I believe I have already been too forward.” On this point they easily concurred And then ascended together. And after going up, Again, in their great humility, They argued about sitting down. But in the end they sat, And once they were seated, The lady spoke, her thoughts composed: “Sire, listen to me a little while And take some pleasure In attending diligently to What I would like to tell you. You see there Guillaume de Machaut. He’s a man indifferent To whether he upholds wrong or right. In fact, he would just as soon defend The wrong as the right, As you will presently hear. We have entered into a debate About an outrageous deed, And this argument, sire, we should put before you, But only if you would not be annoyed. By his wish and my own, You were chosen to be the judge. And so for us it is a happy chance, Fair sir, that you have arrived here. And you’ll find this a happy chance If you have any interest in love. For the issue of our disagreement concerns Something that pleases the romantically inclined Since it’s about love, the lover, and the beloved, And of their noble governance. Guillaume says, maintains, and affirms As true and unassailable fact That when a man has given all his heart To a lady, thus becoming her lover, And she grants him her affection, And so he thinks the woman a true beloved, But then he has the experience Of finding her proven false; This man, he says, feels more pain Than a lady who discovers Faithfulness in her true lover, And she in turn loves him as much As any lady can love a man, Completely and without bitterness. But then it chances that death, Which with stealth stings mankind, Takes the life from her lover. And when she learns he has passed away, Has been completely undone, Has been married to death, And their affair has thus ended, Would that first man grieve like this woman? Not at all! It could not happen. This view is indefensible, And so I have made, do make, and wish to make A protest to the contrary. That is the gist of our dispute. And we would like you to be its Judge; thus you would decide According to the disputation you’d hear.” THE JUDGE “I will answer you, my dear lady, By the faith I owe God and my own soul, From my own perspective That to occupy the privileged position Of a judge is a very noble thing, Especially for someone who risks so much As to judge questions of Love. But because the petitions offered here Have greatly pleased me, I will undertake the office Without improper thoughts or malice. If I have but a little sense, I will learn From the speeches I hear; And if I can be well counseled, I would be much happier than if I received five hundred marks of gold. And yet I do inform you, Dear lady, I will choose Such advisers as I desire From among your splendid entourage, Which has accompanied you. Truly, it is fitting for a competent judge Weighing a decision To take counsel from all sides. We’ll take it, whether this is correct or not. So I ask you for this to be done, Either with courtesy or grace. And yet, no matter what anyone says, Proper justice most certainly needs help So that it may at once proceed with grace To assist the rendering of judgment in every court.” THE LADY “Fair sir, concerning your request, I certainly agree it is proper. Choose now whomever you wish, And you will have nothing to complain about.” THE JUDGE “My lady, I choose Understanding, Who is the very substance of good counsel. Discretion will be at her side, And he will not protest at all Because she is his good friend; Willingly he will accompany her. And I should also be pleased for Reason To be present, who deceives no one But instead is always for her part Ready with good advice. So she will listen to the testimony In order to make it part of the judgment. She will know how to advise me well. I will never need to review anything. Moderation will stand by her; For whoever does not moderate his judgment Will not be able to proceed correctly And come to the proper point Where he can release the parties And deliver justice to each.” The Lady heartily agreed And spoke to him enthusiastically: “Fair sir, you have done well In obtaining such advisers!” THE JUDGE “It will benefit me, my noble lady, Because my heartfelt desire is That I be well attended. For the man not so attended is shamed. By their mutual agreement, I am now the judge In the particular case of the dispute Dividing these two parties That awaits a just decision. Now the court is assembled and ready; And the way is quite clear, I think, For us to be able to proceed. Lady, you will speak first And formulate your complaint, Not because I ask that the details Of the case be recounted to me, Since I am already adequately informed, But rather because the parties to this trial Should explain to me what is so untoward It makes you sorrow and complain; And also in order to charge Guillaume With his wrongdoing, if he is indeed wrong. Otherwise, I cannot know the situation.” THE LADY “Sir, this point pleases me. Since we’ve begun the pleading, I will formulate my complaint in a rhetorical figure From the works of Nature, All for Guillaume, who has turned from The truth and has in this way erred. You know about the turtle dove, Which is pretty, noble, and attractive, Quiet, happy, sweet, and beautiful While her mate is alive, And if it happens she loses him Through death, it is readily apparent She will never find joy, For she demonstrates this through signs. Her heart is so filled with passionate burning She will never perch on greenery; Instead she always seeks out darkness, Strange places full of misery, Dead trees, fallow fields, and crossroads. Her perch is often found in such locations When she wishes to take her rest. She will permit her heart nothing But a sorrowful life, So grief-stricken she is for her mate. I say it is just the same for a lady Who has sworn fealty to Love. When she has lost her lover Through death, her heart becomes So distressed she will never find joy; Instead she seeks places, times, people, and paths Where there is always total sadness; She chooses a simple habit instead of finery, Shadows instead of sunlight; And rather than the gaiety that comes From wearing chaplets of flowers, Weeping and tears flow from her face. And if she looks for any relief at all, She does so modestly. The lady who remains in mourning for her lover Conducts herself this way, That is, when she is a true beloved. Now I will speak to the other side. When the stork is unfaithful And her mate learns the facts of the matter, I am convinced he is greatly upset And feels much anger in his heart. But he can find relief Because he can avenge himself. And so he immediately begins to search. Through the bird nests he looks for Those of his own kind Until he finds a multitude of them. Then he assembles these around his own nest, And when he has them all together, They hold a great council And, afterward, make that one suffer Death who, so they say, has wronged him. There she is undone and devoured. The male has lightened the burden of his pain After taking revenge in this fashion. Similarly, I maintain that a man Must be fierce as a lion In the face of any wrong done him. And he can imagine many ways He might consider In order to end his trouble, Many different kinds of schemes. But the lady has no recourse at all, Nothing to heal her pain Once she sees her lover die. And she suffers a hundred times more misery Than that other lover ever feels. Guillaume, find an answer now for this. If you are wrong, then make amends.” GUILLAUME After these arguments, I drew myself up And addressed my words To the judge, who attended closely to What she said and what I was saying. And I told him: “Sir, without doubt My lady, whatever the outcome, Has stated her case wisely and well, And with a subtle understanding Well supplied with lively arguments So as to establish her comparisons, Which are nicely developed and ably disposed, So thoroughly expounded as well That whoever wished to offer improvements Would find this impossible, I believe. And what she has recounted You have well remarked, Heard, sensed, and understood. For from her mouth all this made its way Into your heart as you listened; And so there is no need to repeat it. Furthermore I believe without question That it comes from genuine feelings, What she has brought up, that is, Maintaining her grace and goodness, And it lacks vain intention of any kind. And I hold an opinion that is different From her own; and I will state my reasons why, If it pleases and interests you, Not in order to undermine her point of view, But rather to make my own case. A man can quite well value his own position Without belittling the contrary view.” THE JUDGE “Guillaume, I won’t contradict you. Say whatever it pleases you to say, Either quickly or taking your time. Work at this as you like. I would very much like to listen and hear, And I have enough leisure to wait.” GUILLAUME “Many thanks, sire. I will speak, And I believe I’ll say nothing false. I tell you that unfaithfulness on the part of a lady Is such a bitter and difficult thing For a lover’s heart, so unnatural as well, That, when the fact of it has taken firm hold, It will never depart for a single day. Now the man does not know where to go In order to seek relief; If he thinks to avenge himself Through murder (and well might he do so), He should be firmly opposed By the prospect of great madness And a powerful, encompassing grief, A fire to afflict every passion, A water to extinguish sweetness, Nourishment for every mischance; For to commit murder would be a sin. And a sin that tortures the heart Is one way death can begin, The death of what is called mortal life. For whoever languishes thus is not alive at all. In my case, the one I am presenting to you Now in your presence, There is more grief and burning torment Than in the other, and it is much harder to bear. And so I ask now if For this reason I might claim victory.” TEMPERANCE Immediately Temperance arose Who was holding Endurance by the hand, And she spoke in a temperate fashion, Saying: “Guillaume, how Dare you ask for the decision on your behalf? I am amazed that you should consider this After offering only a brief argument: Either your intelligence is quite limited Or you are ruled by overconfidence. Don’t you know who determines What is the right when parties argue, Desiring a decision and waiting for it? I would like very much for you to know That Reason is in charge, And along with her, her entourage; Each of them holds a prominent position Among us other damsels. Don’t doubt this in the least. For no decision can be rendered If they all are not a part of its making So that things might be done properly If the one who made the laws does not lie. I myself have the responsibility Of resisting any kind of malice, Which many times diverts the right; And by my efforts I put things back on track. When a proper trial takes shape, And I see it going awry, I can very well do what is needed For it to be put right and returned to form. If there is too much, I can remove something, And now please note this point well: If there is too little, I can add something Whenever I wish to make the proper effort. And if everything is just right, I can make certain it remains so. That is the office of Temperance Anytime there is some need. Now I wish to speak of something else That contradicts your view. You have defended an opinion That does you little honor, And it concerns what my worthy lady Maintained about the stork: How she is put to death After having proved unfaithful to her mate. Do you believe my lady meant That the female who did wrong To the male who loves her Should be made to suffer death? Not at all! Truly that would be folly. And my lady does not maintain in any way He should kill her or have her killed. Instead she advises he struggle Against the temptations Of those false ideas That might come into his mind. Furthermore, although it might happen That she die naturally, It would be better (justice upholds it) Had she remained alive. For as long as the person lives Who sins in mad error, One has no pain, no sorrow, No grief, suffering, or mischance That one cannot overcome. When feeling pain of some kind, He must truly think, Having served her faithfully, That he has not deserved this at all. This is a valid thought, Useful for comforting the man. What else should I tell you? There are as many remedies In love as painful wounds, However bitter, painful, or hard to bear. Each points to its proper remedy, Teaches the man what is good to seek. But a lady who witnesses The death of her very sweet lover In whom on no day of his life Was found anything but courtesy, She could be so terribly stricken And so grievously, beaten down so far as well She will never prove able to recover; Instead, she will not fail to die. Written tradition informs us This has happened many times. And so I will relate a short tale That will bring great shame upon you And great honor to my lady, As well as much clarity to my lord, For he will see more distinctly How foolishly you err. Not long ago it happened That a great lady came to Paris, And she brought along a daughter of hers Who, intending neither deception nor trouble, Fell in love with a noble knight, A man wise, courteous, happy, and sophisticated, Skilled at arms, strong and powerful, Possessing every grace. News of him came to her That greatly afflicted her heart, For he had been killed in a tournament. ‘Alas!’ she said, ‘What grief This news brings me!’ With this word, the young girl Fell to the earth in a heap. Quickly her mother went over, Running to her with great sorrow; And she began to cry softly And had her carried to a bed. There she found little comfort Because her heart was so terribly afflicted, And her face so pale and discolored, Her body so stricken, And her limbs so withered She could hardly stand Or hold anything in her hands. And she did not recover enough afterward To be able to eat or drink. Physicians were sent for, And it was asked of them If she could be saved from death; And that each should see about Bringing her back to health, if it could be done; And that they should boldly demand A great deal of what these people possessed, As much as they desired to have. And these men diligently applied themselves, As they quite eagerly and with care Attempted to devise A cure for her if they could. First they examined her urine, And then they palpated her. One after the other they touched her Wherever palpation should be done: The feet, the wrists, and then the temples. And after this they discussed examples Of the various cures they had brought about And successfully accomplished in many places; But the more examples they discussed, The more bewildered they were. Her urine was judged healthy, And the examination did not reveal Any symptoms of coldness or heat From which they would have gotten indications About where or what this illness came from, Or what remedy was called for In order to soothe her somewhat Or alleviate her ills altogether, But in the end one of them took stock And spoke these words of wisdom: ‘Colleagues, I’ve seen in her urine A little something of what’s causing this, Namely that she is troubled in spirit. Now our science casts little light On this point unless one thinks it over. For we are aware of a saying The good philosopher affirmed: He states, and I believe what he says, That illnesses of every kind — And there are never exceptions — Are cured by their contraries. And so we cannot infer at this point That there is only one contrary Side in regard to this particular illness. For these sudden maladies Can arise for two reasons: That’s to say, so God guide me, Great sorrow or overwhelming joy. And as a cause joy requires Her to be made angry and irritated, And sorrow asks for just the opposite: One should make merry In her presence, do what would please her And whatever she asks for; And minstrels too should be summoned To entertain her. Then it will be necessary for her to admit The cause of the illness So she can be given certain advice. This is what I advise and counsel. So let one of us go very quietly In order to speak to her privately.’ They were agreed on this point; And so one went to ask her What you have already heard. Her heart was hardly happy about this. Instead she answered quite unwillingly, And yet still told him Face to face the whole truth So ably that she hesitated not at all. Then he asked her this, As ably as he could in all honesty: ‘Young lady, answer me one question That I will now put to you; Would you want from this moment on To see him alive, Even if this were in such a way That he would never show you the demeanor, The speech, the look of a lover?’ And she answered: ‘Alas! Sir, may God grant me health, Such is indeed my wish, And I would willingly see him alive Again even if it were That he has taken another beloved, Who would be served by me All my life, even to taking off her shoes. Please press me no more about this; For my heart breaks completely with sorrow, A sorrow so bitter and deep Every time anyone speaks of him to me. So I do not want to hear about it anymore.’ After this word, he left And walked to the place Where the others were awaiting him, And they were eager and anxious To learn what end she might come to. And he told them she would die: ‘I see no recovery from this. Her heart has been locked within the tower Of Love by the key of Sadness, Where she suffers great distress, And thus she shall die Soon; she shall never escape. Because of this we will depart; We will remain here no longer.’ Within the hour they left the place, Saying to the mother: ‘My lady, nothing can be done, But please do your best To watch over and stay close to her.’ After they left, she cried out All at once in a loud voice: ‘Oh! Sweet mother, I’m dying. I commend you to God, sweet lady!’ And just at that moment, she gave up the ghost. The girl was lamented by the household, And her mother suffered terribly. But of this I’ll take no account Because it adds nothing to my theme. Guillaume, where will you discover The proof you need to establish That a man would be compelled to die As a result of the experience you describe, Namely the betrayal of his dear beloved, When it is already well established That after she sinned so wickedly, He did in fact remain alive? The case of the young girl is true, But it would certainly be too hard to believe That his misfortune was greater Than hers. Well you know it!” GUILLAUME “Temperance, you speak very prettily Every time you wish to. On this occasion especially You have spoken quite wisely. And whatever you have said here I affirm And do not shrink from believing. But this has nothing to do With my case in any way. When this noble maiden Granted her devotion to the knight And he became her true lover And was afterward delivered so quickly to death, For which reason Love held her so violently That death presently struck her down without delay, Love showed her great favor in this, For the blow passed quickly. In any case, she did have to die; No one contests this fact Whom death does not come to seize. No person might avoid it. When a man is unhappily condemned To death by the sentence Of a good judge without impropriety And that judge puts him in a miserable prison Enclosed within some horrible place Where he could be eaten by worms Or by a host of other vermin, And he serves a long sentence, His neck and arms hung with irons And his legs as well — that’s hell for sure. There he’s turned away from faith In order to renounce his Creator; Willingly he’d renounce Him For whoever might deliver him from that place. But at the time he is arrested, Condemned to death in a just decision, It avails him much more to be delivered By death than to live on in such suffering. So it is with the true lover Who has been betrayed in loving a lady, With the same result as described above. I affirm and state in my poem That no misfortune compares to The suffering his heart endures As long as he and she live on. Also I know quite well that Nature Has established by her proper right That a person will be forgotten Who dies and cannot be had back Either through great trouble or for treasure. On this point I expect the decision for myself; I could not wish to be judged by one better.” PEACE After these words Peace rose up And said, like one well schooled: “Guillaume, you have buttressed Your argument rather sufficiently According to your lights; But you have cut it much too short To gain the judgment for yourself so quickly. For there is another point that deprives you of it. You have drawn on Nature To prove your case, a fair enough point That has been well understood. But I have laid another trap For this, a quite formidable one In which you shall be caught, And it’s contained in a true exemplum, One quite useful to recall. And so I offer it to you Because it serves my purpose well. Dido, queen of Carthage, Felt very great sorrow and anger Because of the love she bore Aeneas, Who had pledged her his faith To take her as his woman and wife. And the traitor called her his lady, His heart, his love, and his goddess, His sovereign mistress as well. Then he sailed off across the ocean Like a thief, he and his companions, So that Dido never saw him again. Hear now what she did: When he’d failed her by breaking the promise He had agreed to make in good faith, Just as many lovers do Who pretend to be loyal lovers, That desperate and crazed woman, Whom love had shamed, whom love had driven mad, Found the sword of Aeneas And tried it out on her own body, Not sparing herself Until she made it bathe in her blood. And so she died in pain Because she loved and went mad. Yet she did not die alone, But cut instead the throats of two, For she was carrying the child of Aeneas, And afterward she was much mourned and lamented. But before she killed herself, She ordered a blazing fire To be laid in her presence. And when in her desperation She killed herself, the woman struck so forcefully That with the blow she fell into the fire And was at once consumed and burned up. In this way Dido ended her life. This is the truth, I firmly believe, For so I found it in written history. To conclude, Guillaume, truly My view is just the opposite of yours In the light of and in view of The reasons I’ve laid out above. For it can be clearly seen That misery, pain, and torment Cannot be compared To what she was intent on paying in return For the grief brought by her lover. And if a man found himself among A great horde of his enemies, All of whom had promised him Death and indeed could kill him As they wished whenever they liked, Though living in this fear Disregarding the pain and terror, Still he might find consolation. Yet there is an even stronger argument: Whoever might take him to hang on the gibbet At that very moment with no reprieve, He would yet be comforted And sustained and heartened By the hope of escaping: And neither evil error nor despair Might assault him As long as he holds on to Hope; For Hope will accompany him Right until the moment he dies. You have also made a point Against Love that’s badly off the mark: It is that Nature has control Over the people of Love at her will, And thus if Nature commands, No one would disobey that command. She asks that one forget The death of both lover and beloved Because in this instance nothing can be restored By great treasure or by taking action. Let her command; indeed we welcome it. We do not have any worries on this score Because this doesn’t concern me at all. For Good Love keeps for herself — And herself alone — a lover’s heart Without any command from Nature. Whoever does not agree is not forced, And yet one is so constrained by Love, He must, feeling that power, obey. Anyone who resists is a fool. Guillaume, I advise you therefore To drop this unpersuasive argument That maintains Nature has the ability To enforce her own command, Whatever its value, in matters of love; Nature lends a good appearance To a lover’s frivolous thought, And this makes him foolishly determine To do something Love hates. And because of such foolishness, Much misfortune results That is worth rather less than nothing. I need discuss it no further Because no point of honor is involved. I am Peace, who would willingly Always do what’s good and bring down Evil; Concord would do the same, For whatever I desire, so does she At all times, both morning and night. Thus I hold her by the hand In order to do what might please her. Go on with your argument, Guillaume, in the way you must, Without being hindered by Nature. If, by my advice, you follow the principles Of Discretion, you will do wisely.” GUILLAUME “Peace, young lady, faith in you Brings all good things, that is something true. So I will guard myself from wrongdoing. But I wish to defend my opinion As forcefully as I can. In this regard I will relate an exemplum, Which here follows, in order to prove my view And refute your mistaken opinion. In Orleans there formerly was a clerk Who was renowned and said to be A noble cleric, a valiant and powerful man, And so was neither miserly nor cheap, A lord of laws, and of decrees The master, and a man quite discreet In the demonstration of what he knew And the valor that was his. He had been born in Provence, Though well connected by blood to princes And counts in France, If indeed my story is true. He was attended by noble people, The competent and the learned in great number, And had among his company Many well-born knights To whom he would give rich robes. This quality very well became him, Because in order to merit his good will They took pains to serve him. Now he was very much taken in love With a worthy damsel Who lived near Montpellier, The daughter of a valiant knight, Descended from a very aristocratic line. And the relationship had been established So firmly between these two It could not have been better. Each of them had committed to the other, He as her loyal lover, And she as a loyal beloved; And always, moreover, all their life They upheld truly The courtly rules of faithfulness. But the distance between them became quite great, For he went to live in Orleans And she remained in Provence. Even so, quite ably, as it behooved them, They maintained the secrets of love With letters they sent to one another By their special messengers, Honest men, discreet and wise. They carried on in this fashion for some time. But Fortune, who destroys quickly Much of honor throughout the land, Saw to it that he had a terrible shock, Much worse than losing five hundred marks of gold, Just as I will now relate. It happened one day, Which dawned evilly for him, That a messenger arrived From Provence, a man noble and adroit Who was bringing him a sealed letter Enclosed within a little chest. This he took and looked over, Refraining from reading out loud, For it contained many private things. And at the very end the letter Related how his beloved had been married To the worthiest man of that region And was at that time big with child. ‘Oh no!’ he said, ‘My heart is breaking. Oh Death, why don’t you take me now? I’m almost ready to hang myself!’ Then he started pulling out his hair And, afterward, tearing his robe. When his people saw him in such a state, They moved quickly forward, And each one tried to restrain him. But he escaped them by force. Down to the town he fled. He became deaf and dumb, And from the time he left that place He never spoke again with his mouth A word that any living man Might understand, however well he knew him. Nor from the time this happened Did he ever return home; Instead he slept on rubbish heaps, Becoming accustomed to this. And when his friends would restrain him And tie him up somewhere, He would refuse to eat or drink. Instead, and this is certain, he went mad. And so they let him go free and clear To roam where he liked in the open. But he never did any harm To any man other than himself. Twenty years altogether he remained in this state; And he was grieved for and lamented By the people who knew him, Many of whom wept bitterly. So from up high he was pulled down low. A long discussion is hardly needed To establish a certain truth, Namely that he felt more misery and pain Than any hundred ladies ever experienced Who witnessed the deaths of their lovers. When it pleases you, take this into consideration And refrain from judging incorrectly.” FAITH Faith immediately got to her feet Like someone wise and well schooled In law, custom, and practical matters; And she said: “Guillaume, you have certainly Spent your time here foolishly, Straying from the path of justice, At least in some respects. And I intend to make a discrimination — That is to say, a division By way of a distinction — Between things that do not enforce belief And those that are able to achieve Being believed Or considered possible, Of which I would prize the latter And put little stock in the former At the urging of my friend Constancy, Who argues in all my disputes And supports my side, giving me strength To uphold everyone who trusts in me. That this clerk was of great valor, A noble man, and very powerful, Renowned for his great gentility, And, too, provided quite abundantly With worldly goods, Smitten and burning with love, A friend of the heart, loved by his beloved; And, further, that in all courtliness They had formed their liaison Through a most loving bond, Keeping the secrets Of love as long as they did live; Also that he was living in Orleans, Well connected by blood to people In France with such honor It could not be greater — All these things are possible. Also, in regard to the quite horrible illness That attacked him so suddenly that It came upon him as he read the letter And then lasted quite long, Enduring twenty years altogether — Once again I say this could well be. For God has ordained So many secret things in this earthly life That could not be explained Through the wisdom of mortal man. Furthermore, from your own knowledge You have just now said By your own admission that this letter Contained even more secret matters. Now no one knows whence they came, And so I have truly found a point You have not proved in the least: That this was sent to him by his beloved. This reason makes it impossible For anyone in any way to decide The matter in your favor. And I certainly know other things That will be discussed, if I can bring it about, In order to defeat you utterly, If someone here can address them.” GUILLAUME “Young lady, kindly stop Your threatening, if you please, For it will profit you nothing And grieves my heart.” CHARITY Charity then reflected And said: “Faith, listen to this! I should like to tell you something extraordinary.” And then she whispered in her ear Secretly what she had in mind. When she heard this, Faith demurely began To laugh a little And, smiling, started to say: “Charity, my dear young lady, This matter is something for you to bring up Cheerfully and in a pleasant fashion. You are better able to recount it, — And this is certain — than am I. Indeed, you have got a head start Because it is something you feel, And thus I beg you to do so.” “Faith, my very sweet and dear friend, I will not fail you at all in this, But will make known my view, For the thoughts of Two people together are useful When the pair is trustworthy; And so I will speak to Guillaume about it, Demonstrating to him a particular point That will make him acknowledge defeat If he is not too foolish or malevolent. Now, friend Guillaume, listen to this: The power that has caused me To be called Charity Ordains I be proven so through my works, And the signs of this are seen In all those closest to me. They are the noble, faithful hearts Who enter the royal court Of Good Love, which has no peer. Now note where I appear: I am manifest in fulfilled promises And reasonable generosity, Especially in the bestowing of gifts And the pardoning of any wrongdoing: For happy are those who give And also those who forgive. Let’s examine what Love demands One give her, and more she does not command. She expressly asks for the hearts Of good people to be hers completely. She demands this be granted her And desires as well that some deeds Be pardoned, according to the rule Whose justifications I here propose. And I will demonstrate this through a figure That Good Love embodies in my own person, Doing so briefly and not drawing it out. A prominent man owns an orchard In which there are a great many trees. Most important, planted in that place Is a very graceful grafting That appeals more to the rich man And pleases him much more Than do all the rest; And he has loved her As long as she has been called ‘grafting.’ Now it happens that time passes Until the youth of the little one ends; Into the wind her limbs reach So that she enters into that second age That is called the middle years, As her branches extend on all sides While they enlarge her beauty And increase her goodness In order to draw toward the goal That is termed perfection So as to delight and amuse him By bearing flowers, leaves, and fine fruit. At this moment, it will happen, I suggest, That the lord will ask How the grafting is doing And what her condition is. The gardener might then say: ‘Sire, I can truly tell you What seems to me good news about her; Ask no longer how she is doing, But rather how he does, For your grafting is a perfect tree And in such estate takes great delight In bearing flowers, leaves, and fine fruit, And thus has lost the name of “grafting” And gained that of “tree,” Under which one can find shade And relax quite pleasantly.’ Now I will sing and respond as well In order to make my meaning clearer, And in this regard I will ask the following question: Should one grieve at heart For that which improves, If she has lost an insignificant name Either through nature or good works In order to gain a much greater title? I answer no, not at all, For this would be terrible foolishness. But whatever a man loves dearly Or has bought at a high price, Were he to see it completely perish, And it were not possible to save it, Grievous misfortune might be his lot, And he might lose his head, Indeed his whole self. I know this as a fact Because some have done so, True lovers as much as beloveds. Now I will say something about the issue That has moved me to speak. This beautiful maiden Who was the clerk’s beloved, Was the graceful scion Planted like a sweet young girl Within the magnificent orchard of Love. There she could grow up so much, Her branches extended so far, So finely clad with leaves, So cunningly adorned with flowers That she compared to the very best. Now for a moment I wish to reflect In order to describe these parts: The branches of good reputation; The leaves of being well spoken of; The flowers of having the ability To conduct proper dealings with others, In her appearance as much as in her actions. In this condition, she says: ‘Friend, take this. I give you for your enjoyment The favor of bearing the fruit of honor.’ Then come to him many thoughts Born of necessity: To have her married According to the advice of her family. If she does so, he should not Worry about it so much that He begins to despair. Instead, he ought to wish and hope It profits and honors her When through a lord’s favor She is rightfully called a lady. This reason encourages the virtuous heart To love far better than before. So from this point on I maintain He did not love her with a good intention. Surely this is quite apparent Since Good Love wants him to suffer, Offering his body to such torment. Guillaume, fair sir, I’ll say no more about it. Say whatever you wish.” GUILLAUME “Charity, so God give me joy, You have ably and in a subtle fashion Brought up several points — and with pretty words. But I do not see that what you’ve said Has done me any damage at all. I have a brief as consistent And compelling as before In its evidence; and so I maintain I shall never be defeated Unless confronted with other arguments. One point remains established That makes it necessary for someone to prove The opposite of what I say; If not, I will consider only as inconsequential All you have brought up, Notwithstanding your great goodness And that you have done this in a worthy cause, To lend your opinion authority And denigrate my own. So I intend to say a little something About the clerk who was a true lover And then plunged into such misfortune For twenty full years, as I have related. Now prove to me only the third of these points: That any lady ever suffered So terribly she offered her body to death. Prove this point alone, But this you will not be able to do.” THE AUTHOR This Charity then wanted to say something, And she had her mouth already open To give shape to her speech. But Honesty was so quick She was ready even faster And said: “Charity, sweet friend, Let me speak, if you please; For I will never be satisfied If I do not speak my mind In order to trouble his heart.” Charity was in complete agreement, And then Honesty presented Her view in an honest fashion, And this the court warmly welcomed. HONESTY And she said: “Guillaume, now listen: You have laid little foundation For the point you’re trying to establish. And I will tell you why. It is true enough he experienced A great misfortune that came suddenly on him. But immediately, that moment past, His terrible troubles were gone as well. Even though it may last long, A grief that pierces right to the heart Will never endure beyond its time. And if any sorrow touches his heart, There can be no emotion Unless there is consent. This principle is easy enough to credit. He had lost his memory, Reason, bearing, and understanding; Thus it can be clearly seen He had no will at all, Only a heart eager for The incredible foolishness he was doing. When he lay down on a dung heap, That was his peace, his bed. In every way, that was his delight, A place where he slept deeply. There is yet another matter You have yourself brought up. It is certain — and well you know it — That when his friends restrained him And in different places locked him up, He never ate or drank, But, instead, continually raged at Whoever held him again his will; He did nothing for anyone And lived in the open like an animal. His was a quite disgraceful life, Shameful had he taken account of it; But he felt no shame at all. So I have proved my point sufficiently And reproved your wrong opinion By the single point I have brought up. And a lady who comes to know The death of her lover will find more than a hundred times The suffering in a single day than will that man In a century through such a blow As you have described here above. Guillaume, you will either suffer Or you will bring up another point Because you are defeated in this one, And it is not worth a penny to you.” GUILLAUME “Honesty, in truth, I will not do so. I will speak a little more about this issue, Since I have much with which to defend myself If you would please hear me out. When he lost all his senses Because of the pain that assailed him And deprived him of all the honor he had, He lost much more than what little he retained. You say he did not feel any pain Because he was disoriented In his behavior and understanding. But it is certainly quite otherwise Because, before a man can lose his mind Or madness afflict him, An illness grips and seizes him That drives him to madness. Now I will argue this briefly In order to demonstrate vividly to you What proof I can offer for my view In order to gain the judgment for myself. When two causes are brought together And manifest themselves within a single body, The one that arises first Sets things into motion Because it has the first effect And therefore it is the chief cause. And if someone removes the first cause, Then the second disappears of its own accord. Now some might say: ‘Guillaume, verbi gracia, But what is your point?’ Here, right now, is the explanation. We witness a dog going mad; But what brings on this madness? It’s from a worm that pierces his tongue. Afterward the cause spreads so widely He loses the ability to drink and eat, And then must go mad. This is then the first cause From which the madness derives. And when for this reason the dog cannot bark, That’s the time to take care He does not bite people. Now to bring this point home better, I’ll talk about what happened to A dog that did go mad, One that was loved in a rich man’s home. Listen now to the crux of the matter. The rich man had heard spoken about The cause of such a malady And wished to see it for himself, The better to learn about it. So he had his dog taken by force, Tied up, tightly bound, and spread-eagled, And then its tongue pulled completely out So that the worm could be plainly seen. Then the worm was extracted; And when it had been fully drawn out, The dog began to lick the hands Of the man he had felt touch him; And it was entirely cured. And so I affirm that this was the obvious Cause of an obscure malady; Therefore I maintain that the attack Of grievous illness the man’s body suffered Kept him in the condition he was in; And so my point is quite adequately proved And your grievous error corrected.” THE AUTHOR After this, Frankness stood up And was not very timid; She had good will and a pleasant expression, And her manner was gracious. Then she started to speak And said the following in her remarks: FRANKNESS “It has been in most places — and always — Observed about true loving That women have conducted themselves better And have remained more faithful in it Than men everywhere. This I think to prove — and it’s right to do so — With some instances I intend to relate Because they are relevant to my theme. When those of Athens had put Androgeus To death, Minos, the king of Crete, Felt such bitterness on this account That by wise and prudent means, Through the force of arms and war, He made desolate all their land. And because of this outrage, Minos Forced a deadly service upon them, That every year they were to send him One man; but they were to cast lots And for that man upon whom the lot fell It was a quite fatal mischance. For King Minos would have him Devoured there without delay By a monster quite strange, Very malevolent, and dangerous too. But no one ought to wonder If Minos wished to oversee all this, Or if he were strongly moved to do so, Because he was the father of Androgeus. Now it happened that the lot fell On Theseus, and this dismayed Many, for he was the son of the king, A noble man, valiant, and of fair appearance. But because of the death of Androgeus, Theseus went to Crete To have himself killed by the monster If he should not manifest his prowess And prove able to defend himself against him. Otherwise he could expect death. And if God should grant him victory, He would acquire honor and glory, For he would free the Athenians And acquit them of their servitude. Yet nothing would have availed him, wood or iron, Had it not been for beautiful Ariadne, Who forgot about Minos, her father, And Androgeus, her dear brother, Her land, and her blood relations, For the sake of Theseus, to whom she gave Her heart, and so she showed him How to kill the proud monster In order to deliver himself from bondage. And she gave him her maidenhood So he would make her his wife And take her to his own country Along with Phaedra, her beloved sister, Whom she would leave behind on no account. Theseus, perjuring himself, Swore to her by his gods and law He would never prove false And always be faithful to her. He lied saying this, the traitor. Why wasn’t he drowned in the sea? After completing his mission, He embarked them on his ships. But he grievously betrayed her When he left Ariadne asleep And all alone in a strange land, Abandoned, sorrowing, and deceived, And led off the young girl, Her sister Phaedra, and made her his wife. This betrayal was quite fatal. Also, I will talk about Jason, Who took by force through Medea’s arts The golden fleece of Colchis, And that trickster overcame The fiery breath of the bulls, Put to sleep the guardian dragon, More dreadful than any other beast, And defeated the armed knights In their hundreds and thousands. But no man could have accomplished all this Had Medea not done it for him. She deserted her country and father, Had her brother dear cut to pieces. Because of her great foolishness, she killed Pelia. And this all was to make Jason king. Whatever she owned, she gave him freely; Her honor and love she bestowed upon him. But Jason abandoned Medea For Creusa, demeaning himself greatly And sinning grievously When he left her and took up with the other woman. When Medea learned the news, Hardly pleasant or appealing to her, She was so desperate, So insane, so crazed, She killed her own Two children to spite Jason Because they resembled him; And then she torched her own house. Afterward the wretched woman fled Through the air with her serpents. But later in foreign lands These women were crowned queens. For Aegeus, the king of Athens, Was beguiled by Medea; Bacchus honored Ariadne Greatly, for he dearly loved her. These two married the women In their own countries and crowned them. And so, Guillaume, that is the gist. Loyalty as great as that of women Cannot be found in any man, Nor would men ever be as deeply Inflamed by the spark of love As a worthy lady would. For when there is less love, There is that much less suffering Because it comes from feeling pain. And I cannot agree That, enduring the ills of love, Any man would feel as much as a woman. And the man has a hundred Remedies unavailable to women.” GUILLAUME “Young lady, the treason Of either Theseus or Jason Has nothing to do with our issue, And that was hardly the first Or last betrayal There’s been with lovers, As often with women as with men. And I wouldn’t give two apples For proving your point By bringing up such examples. For if I intended to establish my case By examples, I would find More than ten, indeed more than twenty of them. Everyone knows well what happened To the lover of the Chatelaine De Vergy: he loved her with a love So certain he killed himself unhesitatingly When he saw her dead for the sake of his love. Virtuous Lancelot and Tristan Endured ten times more pain Than any woman could suffer, As much as she could subject herself to it, And they were a hundred times more loyal Than Jason was disloyal, Or Theseus either, who sinned greatly Against Ariadne when he seduced Phaedra. Still, I wish to tell of another If you are willing to listen to me. A lady was loved By a knight without any baseness, And she gave him a ring that was Quite beautiful (it was neither cheap nor ugly), On the condition he always wear And never remove it From his finger unless she did. And the knight, who was Hers completely, promised this in good faith, And then the lady put it on his finger. Now it happened she had a husband Whose heart was gloomy and vexed Because he recognized the ring, Having seen it another time. So he went at once to ask The woman and command her To furnish it on the spot On pain of losing his favor. The lady said she had it, But where, she did not really know. So she made a show of going to look for it And, opening a drawer, Like a cunning and sharp woman Spoke this secret message to one of her people: ‘Go directly to my lover And tell him I am in for a bad time Unless he sends my ring back; And do not delay along the way, For my master wishes to have it Without hearing excuses. Make it clear he shouldn’t fail me. For if he does, I am shamed And in danger of losing my honor And the favor of my lord.’ The messenger did not delay at all, But proceeded faster than a walk To the knight and told him everything I related earlier in my tale. When the knight heard this, His heart nearly broke Because he feared his lady Might be dishonored or accused on his account. So he said: ‘Friend, by the faith I owe her, She will have my finger along with the ring, For I will not remove it.’ So then he took out a knife, Cut off his finger, and sent it to her Along with the ring she had put there. Could anyone do something more loyal Than this, or more loving? Surely, not at all. Such is my view. For her lover was very trustworthy, And so I should very much dare expect A judgment of truth with no more debate, For men should have more respect And in every case be counted superior To women, whose words You maintain that I consider frivolous, Because as everyone says — and this you know well — Virtue should triumph everywhere. And these men were considered Virtuous and loyal in every royal court, However much the ladies did for their lovers And no matter how much they suffered. But people say — and true it is — It’s always one extreme or the other, Too much or too little. This is how I see it: These extremes are not worthy of praise. However, anyone caught in the snares Of love who shows moderation Acts wisely and well. And the sage, a man who does not lie, says The fortunate hold to the middle path Wherever they go.” PRUDENCE Prudence responded to this, And she neither implicated nor involved herself In the issue at hand. And this lady said: “Guillaume, now I see well your intention. But I hold a contrary view, One very different from yours. It is well known that the Chatelaine Died for the sake of a young man Because he could not keep her secret. Instead, he related all their affair To the Duchess of Burgundy. And the Duchess did a terrible thing When at a feast she let it slip She knew all about the business Of the trickery with the little dog. So the Chatelaine died saying ‘alas’ Because of her lover’s error. And when the lover saw his beloved Dead and undone because of his gossiping, If he killed himself, he did what he should, For he deserved to suffer another kind of death And did nothing but what was just When he killed himself to punish his misdeed; For they should have had wild horses Tear him to pieces for what he’d done. So it is my view the Chatelaine Suffered more misfortune and hurt When she had to die for no reason Than did the young man who killed himself And deserved to hang; For this reason his torment was less. And if Tristan and Lancelot Were valiant, I dare well say Their valor and prowess Meant glory, honor, and riches to them; And no man might acquire Such goods without suffering some earthly pain. And so, Guillaume, I dare say The ladies in question endured A hundred times more pain and torment Than the lovers to whom they were committed, For they suffered mournful thoughts, Fears that confounded them, As well as the words of slanderers. And if these men had waited ten years, Never would they have found perfect joy; For whoever waits is quite annoyed, And nothing grieves the human heart so much As slander and nagging thoughts. And the ladies found no benefit in all this Except what little joy they received. And so it is with many ladies Who surrender their hearts and souls And whatever they own to their lovers; And when each woman has given so much That their men acquire knightly honor, Which is manifest in word and action, The women draw no other salary Save a little glory from what they do. The men have the kernel; the women the chaff, For the honor belongs to the men, whatever might happen. And if misfortune is sometimes their lot, The ladies are the first to suffer. Surely this is an inadequate reward When for good they get strife in return. In regard to the man who cut off his finger, He struck an unfortunate blow in truth. For Guillaume, whatever anyone might say, I consider this quite foolish And intend to argue a little against this view. For there were three or four Paths that should have sufficed, But he chose the worst of all. And furthermore I do not believe at all That the woman who was his beloved, If the love she felt had been faithful, Would not have preferred the risky business Of her husband and his anger, Even if it meant the bond ought to have been Broken between those two right at that moment, Rather than depriving her lover of a finger So he would always be disfigured, Less esteemed, and quite impaired.” GUILLAUME “Frankness, no doubt you have Spoken well, for you can speak ably. But I know for certain Your conscience says otherwise And you have argued the opposite Of what truly lies in your heart. But, I ask you, please Let us focus our debate, For we have moved too far from the question Broached at its beginning. It is indisputable, as I affirm, There is nothing stable in a woman’s heart , Nothing certain, no constancy of any kind Save complete changeability. And since she is so fickle That she is firm about or convinced of nothing And alters for the slightest reason, It follows she laughs or cries over trifles; And so great joy and immense suffering Cannot remain with her for very long Because her nature leads her To laugh easily and cry over little things; She agrees readily and demurs just as fast. She has her say but then denies it, And she forgets utterly And easily what she does not see. Now since she cannot ever possess Her lover again, for money, For tears, moaning, lamentation, Or for anything she might do; And also since by her nature She forgets quite readily Any person out of her sight, One could well conclude that if she experienced Loss and hurt because of her lover, She would be ready again in such a short time ‘That for the one lost, two recovered’ Would be the reproach made to her. In contrast, a man’s heart is firm, secure, Wise, experienced, and mature, Virtuous and strong in endurance, But humble in suffering adversity. And when all aflame With amorous burning, his heart is so committed It would rather die behind its shield Than be seen beaten down or vanquished. What I maintain is hardly arguable, For everyone says so and agrees And since everyone says the same I have written it in my poem. So I say in conclusion That, considering the nature Of men and women, no woman Can suffer as much torment, However much she moans and carries on, As any man’s heart can bear, For it is simply not in her nature. Reason and good custom concur. In any case, the misfortune that ends Is less severe than the one that does not, But rather endures right to death, Killing whoever suffers the ill.” GENEROSITY Generosity, who was sitting nearby, Then spoke up, for it suited her well to do so, And she said: “Guillaume, truly, I am astonished how You dare to malign women, For you should not talk this way. And any blame in what you have said Falls more on you than on women. You have said in your poem (And surely you are wrong) How everyone considers it the truth That all women are fickle, And their word is worth no more Than a weathercock in the wind. But this entire company Believes the opposite and is against you. So for this reason you can certainly say You are not endorsed And must pay the piper. I don’t know what more to say, For no one can construct a valid Argument on a faulty premise.” WARINESS “I cannot hold my peace,” Declared Wariness of misdeed, “Rather I will speak what is on my mind, For all my heart shakes and quivers When for no reason I hear Ladies maligned and defamed. Now listen to my question. Fair Guillaume, I ask you If that woman alters or changes Who is all the days of her life A loyal beloved, never betraying In deed, desire, or thought?” GUILLAUME “Surely, damsel, not at all! But I believe not one such would be found Among five hundred thousand, For this seed is too thinly sown.” WARINESS “My fair sir, may God preserve me, Your point of view is quite strange And your words amaze me! You must have been to the school Of constant change, or so I believe; And because your own heart is fickle, You believe everyone is the same As you. But, please God, it is not so! For I will prove the contrary In fact, whomever it should displease!” GUILLAUME “Damsel, I hope you won’t be dismayed If I look at you in a friendly way, For I do not dislike you enough To frown at you. And if my words are unwelcome, It’s a good cart that never overturns. But I believe I speak the truth, However much you would like to dispute it. So I am quite badly treated here If for speaking the truth I am beaten down.” SUFFICIENCY And then Sufficiency rose to her feet And said: “Guillaume, without a doubt, You have now misspoken. Look to what you are saying! For no man who wishes to speak the truth Would be able to defame women Or what they are (this is well known) Since so much good can be said; And so I advise and enjoin you Not to say, without counsel, any more, For you are a very young man To make arguments like these.” GUILLAUME Then I heard a murmuring, For each lady was whispering About how forcefully I was upholding What I had said about women; And I saw each was giving the impression She was displeased. And taking note of how They were speaking and the looks on their faces, And that all were eager To add fuel to the fire, I made a request to the judge, Who seemed fairly honest to me, And I begged him humbly And stated in my proposal That they should speak at once And thus have done more quickly. For so they were doing, it seemed to me, Talking all at once, that is; And at this the judge started to smile, For he saw they were all growing angry. And, to be sure, I felt quite great joy Seeing them in such a state. But the judge, who was intent on Making a wise judgment, Immediately imposed silence on them, With the exceptions of Sufficiency And Wariness of misdeed as well. And Wariness began to rehearse A story that reflected her viewpoint, And she began in this fashion. WARINESS “What did Thisbé do for Pyramus? When she saw him naked and dead Because of her, without any recourse, She became so grief-stricken She ran herself through with a sword, Right through the body, and left it there. For she would not live on after him, But instead put an end to her love and life With laments, tears, and wailing. Surely this was a perfect love. For there is no pain or suffering That can be compared to death; Nor could anyone convince me That any man’s heart could break So cruelly, or that he could injure himself As did Thisbé for love. And whoever would say a man is strong In suffering the hardships of loving, With a heart stronger than adamant Or any diamond might be, I would not give for his strength A bit of putrid peel, Nor do I value highly his fortitude, His virtue or maturity either, Or anything he endures. But when a woman suffers pain She conceals in her heart, She proceeds to Give herself to it body and soul. But, Guillaume, I don’t believe at all That any man has ever been seen Who died from a lack of reward Or who was not quickly comforted, However disconsolate his heart might have been; Nor is there any pain comparable To death, however grievous it may seem, No more than fire depicted in a painting Can be compared to fire in nature. For Nature cannot produce anything, No matter how contrary to the human body, Comparable to death, Nor can a heart endure anything like it.” SUFFICIENCY “Wariness, stop your arguing, For I wish to help you a bit In bringing your point To an even truer conclusion, Although you’ve developed it quite well And reasonably, better than others could. Sufficiency then began by saying The following for all to hear: “Leander, that handsome and clever man, Was friendly with a young girl Named Hero the beautiful; In all the land there was no Damsel so attractive, None so noble by far or so lovely; Nor was there in Abydos or Crete Any love affair as secret, For no one knew of their bond Save a serving woman Who had raised beautiful Hero. She alone was in the know. They loved each other with a quite perfect love. It was very hard for them to meet, For between Hero and Leander Extended an arm of the sea That was so wide and deep No one had ever found its bottom. And this troubled them greatly. But every night Leander Passed over that arm of the sea in the open Completely naked, alone, with no boat or barge. Beautiful Hero of the noble appearance Had a house with a tower Where every night she waited for him, Keeping a candle burning Toward which Leander often directed himself When the sea threw him off course. Now it happened that the sea, troubled by A strong wind, rose high, And it became roiled by the wind That disturbed and roused it. Leander stayed on the shore, Struggling mightily against his heart, For Love enjoined and commanded him, As did his heart, that he should determine to cross. And on the other side, summoning him, He saw the most beautiful woman in the world; And so the miserable man did not know what to do, Nor could he figure a way out of the fix, For the sea, he saw, was so threatening It was impossible to traverse. And all the region was in an uproar With storm and thundering. But in the end Love so inspired him He leapt into the water, Where he quickly drowned, For he could not make his way to her. And, surely, this was a great loss, For he was a man quite valiant and wise. Beautiful Hero did not know what to say; So much anguish and anger did she feel She could find consolation in nothing. She wished very much to be dead When her lover was so delayed. From the heart she sighed; from the eyes she cried. That night she had more than a thousand thoughts, Multiplied some five hundred thousand times. All she could do was call upon Neptune, the god of the sea, And she promised him calves and heifers, Oblations and sacrifices If only he would calm the sea So Leander might cross it. She continued all night doing so And held the burning candle in her hand Until a new day dawned at last. But this day brought her ill luck, For in the waves she spied Leander, Who was floating aimlessly. And when she could see him close up, She threw herself upon his body Right at the foot of her tower; And she held him close, Crazed as she was, and cried out: ‘Alas!’ Beautiful Hero met her end in this way, Drowned in the sea from grief Along with her lover because of love. And so there is no pain or misfortune That might afflict a lover’s heart And bring on such grievous pain As that which spared nothing, Which made Hero die For the sake of the lover she saw dead. Nor could anyone with reason Make a true comparison to anything else, No more than bitterness set against balm. And so, Guillaume, I counsel you To suspend this debate, For truly you are mistaken.” GUILLAUME “Young lady, if I am in the wrong, I know well I shall be condemned, But not by you; for the passing Of this sentence ought not To come from your mouth Since you are involved. Instead it must be pronounced by the judge, Who will decide fittingly and truthfully. But my heart greatly rejoices In what I have heard you say; For truly it all helps my case.” SUFFICIENCY “Helps yours, fair Guillaume? How so?” GUILLAUME “Young lady, now please listen, And I will tell you without delay. When Love so tightly snared Leander, who was swimming across the sea Naked, without boat or oar, At midnight or thereabouts, The fool who erred terribly In crossing the sea for the sake of love, Did more and suffered worse Than did Hero, who gave herself to death, If one considers the great perils That in the end destroyed him, Since Hero did not do the same out of love for him, Notwithstanding her death and lamentation. For he who first does Something honorable is commonly said To get the grace from the good deed, Not the one for whom it is done. And he is truer to Love who bestows Than he who gives in return. So it is with all kinds of service, And likewise with every kind of mistreatment. For whoever troubles himself to hurt another Ought surely to bear the punishment for it. Thus, my dear damsel, you Who are very keen to honor the beautiful lady, To speak the truth, you should certainly Have the honor of this encounter. For you have discoursed ably, Skillfully, and wisely; but surely God made you speak for my sake, For I am the one who will profit from it. And so, noble and worthy lady, I think you understand quite well The opinions of the two parties. And if the ladies who have here sided Against me wish to say something more, I will offer no protest, But I have said what I think In the presence of the ladies here assembled, And it is sufficient, I do not doubt at all, To win the debate for me.” THE LADY And then the sovereign lady, True leader of the twelve Who had spoken on her side (And this pleased the judge greatly), Said this so all could hear: “I find nothing that has happened In our debate displeasing; Instead I am quite well satisfied And wish to be done with it now. Sir judge, render your decision So that sentence may be passed. I have very high hopes For the judgment I expect from you. When it pleases you to decide, You have competent and assured counselors Who are cool-headed and quite mature. So proceed, if you please, to deliberate; I so advise and recommend, And take this matter under advisement at once. You could do no better Than to request in a fitting way Some good advice and afterward rehearse The issues that bear on the judgment, According to our understanding, Preserving our honor at all times. This you ought to do, my lord, For you certainly are so competent You shall not be found wanting in any way.” THE JUDGE The judge, listening closely To her words, paid such good attention He did not fail to understand them. His advisers he assembled at once, And then they retired. Now I did not know at the moment What they said in private. But quite soon afterward a lover Who was very fond of me did me the favor Of telling me about everything, Not through favoritism on his part, But because of his good breeding, So that I would not disagree at all Or be surprised by anything And thus could assume a manner Of complete composure and assurance; For I was obliged to react the same To a decision for me as to one against. And so I set myself upon this course; Therefore my heart was put more at ease. When they had disposed themselves in council, The judge said: “I have been commissioned To be a competent and trustworthy judge, Amicable toward the two parties To the same degree and without bias. Thus I must examine quite carefully All the evidence as it was presented To us while we listened So I can judge faithfully. This is what good judges should do. And you all should exert yourselves To advise me in good faith. So let everyone say what she wishes Because we have time for it.” And immediately afterward Discretion, Who was at the side of Understanding, said: DISCRETION “I am Discretion, who must attend carefully To how I should advise you, For someone might be quite unwilling To judge without good advice. I advise you to do what is good And undo what is wrong. And thus it is your task, So nothing may lack perfection, To attend to four things That are not so troublesome A man cannot see to them properly If he wishes to spend some time on them. As for this judgment you must render, You must undertake first To learn what the wrong might be And against whom it has been done. And then you must also come to learn And seek out with great wisdom, Having already discovered the wrong And the injured party as well, In order to understand the matter entirely — Namely what moved the man to do it. Now of the four things you have three. And the fourth is the most difficult And you must carefully attend to it In whatever way it can be best seen to: And that is you should pay attention To following the principles of nature Or of custom related to law. In this way, you will judge on a sound basis. Now I will say no more. Whoever wishes, let her speak. For my part, I have said enough.” UNDERSTANDING Understanding, who paid attention To the points Discretion had well developed, Said loudly: “Discretion, my friend, Has just given voice to several issues He has described, And these I have noted well Because I am Understanding, Who lends good Discretion the substance To devise what he devises, With which he advises this good company. I make understood the meaning of Discretion, And he makes Understanding increase Through the courtly advice he gives Many a person by his right. Judge, please make plain How closely you will hold To the terms and customs of Discretion. Do so and you act wisely. And as for me who am his companion, Listen to how I instruct you. This debate has been here conducted, Proceeding through its different stages Until the point of hearing a judgment. Look to who shall be pleased with it. Judge according to the testimony That has been offered before you. In this way you cannot go wrong; For if anyone wished to fault you, The pleadings would demonstrate The rationale to justify you. Be bold in your judgment And require that with full understanding The condemned party pay the price. You have the right to command him. I, Understanding, am in agreement. And I accept also the opinion Of Moderation, who is seated there At the side of Reason, and this suits her well, And Reason will also say Whatever she deems appropriate.” MODERATION Then Moderation rose, Saying: “My highly esteemed friend Understanding, I wish to say nothing You might find objectionable; Instead I very much agree With what you have been saying here. And in your honor I will speak of it To the judge, this noble lord Who is courteous and friendly, Wise, valiant, and honorable.” Then toward him she turned her face In such a flirtatious fashion He could not refrain from laughing. And Moderation began to say to him: “Fair sir, you have been fortunate In the counsel you sought out. At first you had a quite good Beginning with Discretion, For one assuredly should in a royal court Receive advice as trustworthy as this. I do not say another company Would not proffer advice As proper and as well considered, Fittingly dressed out with proper speech. But let us look to the nature Of Discretion as he himself understands it. He provides counsel free and clear, Expecting no reward at all in return Except that the judge might do What would bring peace, honor, and thanks. And Understanding, his companion, Accompanies him for the same salary, Without demanding anything further; And so a trustworthy judge rests easy, One advised by such as these. Therefore, sire, you ought to be happy about it. Although they have spoken ably, I will say something more about a point Discretion has taken notice of — And yet has not described at length — And that Understanding has understood. Now in this case they have been obliged To exert themselves to honor me; And so I will offer it to you Because I have certainly noticed They have paid me due heed. Even so, I will go ahead and say Some things about my nature. I am moderated Moderation, Temperate in all good deeds, And also I am moderating, Firm, stable, and strong in endurance For all who wish without trickery To make proper use of moderation; And whoever does not, what will be, will be. And let him be mindful of his own hurt. In this regard, a master of great wisdom, Who had a very virtuous conscience, Was instructing his disciple And explaining the teachings about me, Saying: ‘Friend, I admonish you. If you do not acquire Moderation yourself, She will make herself felt in you regardless. Remember this saying well: If she comes to you, you are done for. But if you welcome her, you will be all right.’ Now I would like to review thoroughly all the points Discretion and Understanding raise. They have served out generously And courteously their good advice, Just as one serves at a meal, Without judging the particulars of the case. And since they have served well, They have earned thanks. I would like to add up the bill And give everyone his due. Guillaume, who once was So well mannered in all his actions, So honest and courteous as well, Conforming to the chastisements of love, Launched an attack against Frankness And all those of her high rank When my lady properly approached him About the deed she reprimanded him for, And he felt himself upbraided For just case and reproached as well. He then proceeded forcefully, Putting every effort into it, To defend himself against her. This fact distresses me a great deal Because he acted immoderately. For these reasons, he has abandoned The rules and principles of Moderation, And this will trouble him greatly When I bring him back to me; For I will turn him away from honor When Understanding informs him Of the misdeed he has committed. He should have properly measured The station of the gentle, honored person Of that sovereign lady; For in all the Christian realm There is no man who, if he knew her — And it is good to believe it would be so — Would not honor her highly And would not measure himself As humble and of lesser courtliness In regard to her great nobility; And so Guillaume was deceived When he did not perceive this. For he began much too haughtily, And so has advanced himself but little In the competent presentation of his case. And this is quite enough to have him punished. Now let us look to the issue itself From its proper commencement In order to distinguish between the parties, How they are divided, In order to learn which one is in error. I say Guillaume is wrong, For of all cruel misfortunes, Death is the absolute worst; Which is to say, it surpasses all miseries, And that is because no one recovers from it. For a person can suffer more easily What he can recover from. I do not wish to go on further, For to condemn him I have enough Evidence, much more grievous things that are Simpleminded, foolish, inane, and vainglorious. Sir judge, now listen to me; For the sake of the goal at which you aim, Namely the rendering of a faithful judgment, I wish to consider somewhat How this trial was conducted. And if you please, look Into this a little yourself So you can the better refrain From judging in any but the proper fashion. For you will recognize the point On which justice is properly fixed When a judge aims at true justice. I want you to be certain That Guillaume is to be reproached For the part of his argument That has been badly presented, Notwithstanding that in every way And in everything the law is against him; And so my lady is completely victorious, As much in the debate as in the correctness Of her complaint, which has been completely Clarified and put out of doubt. My lady has through her damsels Alleged quite pertinent reasons And facts that are all true, Firm, assured, and unassailable, All drawn from written tradition And connected to the law. But whoever might want to recount all this Would have too much to consider here. And, furthermore, one thing is certain: The court has been sufficiently provided With all that anyone wished to say On my lady’s behalf with no infamy; And so I will be silent about my lady. And concerning Guillaume, who has been Intent on arguing his case, I will say something — for I wish to do so — But only in regard to his pleading. And I will pass over this quickly By the faith you owe all your friends. Let us see what he has brought up. Concerning the clerk who went mad, Has he proved what caused this, That it was something his lady did? Sir judge, by the faith I owe my soul, He has proved nothing of the kind; And so he ought to be reproved. And concerning the knight who in his anguish Not to violate his pledge Cut off his finger with the ring still on it, He erected in her honor a monument Full of shame and madness When in a fit of great craziness The man sent it on to his lady. For I certainly believe she found it troubling, Or at least it should have troubled her To have sent her such a thing as a present. For when a lady loves her lover, By the law of Love she claims him as her own And has the right to claim an injury, so I think. Now let us consider how in regard To this principle the knight erred. The thing she loved he harmed, And it was hers by the law of Love; And so I lodge a complaint Against Guillaume on this point Because I think he has accomplished nothing. For this instance he has presented as evidence Damages and undermines his case. And also, in regard to the Chatelaine Of Vergy, I can refute this example Sufficiently with only a little trouble, Using the reasons I will here rehearse. The evidence that Guillaume adduces, Sire, you know contends That the lover, filled with loyalty, Found falseness in his lady. And beginning with this assumption, He makes an allegation To be proven by a contrary fact. The respectable chatelaine Did not wrong her lover in any way. Instead, he himself did What caused her to kill herself. When he found out, he felt remorse And came to the recognition That vengeance was required; And so he passed judgment on himself, Punished and corrected himself for everything, And thus Guillaume, with all he has said, Has said less than nothing to his profit. I will say no more; rather Reason will say Whatever she wishes.” THE AUTHOR At these words, Reason stood up In the manner of one well schooled and wise, REASON Saying, “Let us return to the council room. There we can with truthful speech Render a truthful judgment, I think, If there is any man capable of understanding it.” At once they left that place. And they again sat down in their own seats Where they had sat earlier. With measured words, Reason then said: “Sir judge, certainly There is nothing beneath the firmament That does not seek its proper end: Some things tend toward perfection For various reasons pertaining to their own laws; And there are yet others that descend From on high where they have been, Declining from a season of summer Into the so-called winter of destruction. Just so, this pleading is tending to arrive at A speedy conclusion according to the law Through a definitive sentence, So as to perfect what has been done well And remedy what has been done badly. And the moment has arrived, as well you know, When you must speak of it Or command that it be spoken of.” THE JUDGE “Lady Reason, it is not fitting for me To speak at this present time. But I receive well the notion Of deciding. And concerning my decision, So that it may be to our liking, It is up to you to say and do Enough to efface everything wrong And restore the right to the hue Of every honorable honor, You who can paint in such colors As no one else save you can manage.” GUILLAUME Then Reason halted a little And leaned toward her right, While glancing to her left In order to see better how I was doing, REASON And she said to me: “Guillaume, fair sir, You have just now heard said It is madness to take on More than ability can compass. And yet when a man undertakes to do Something that gives offense, If he repents in the middle, Then he will still make out all right. But he who persists in his error And exerts himself to see it through Until he comes right to the very end, And at that point he finds nothing Except his own grief and harm, If then he acknowledges his own misdeed, He comes too late to repentance. Guillaume, be sure — and it’s no lie — This is how you have carried on, And so you have merited some unpleasantness That will soon fall to your lot, And it will long endure, Truly, if you do not repent. But I believe you are the kind of man Who will not deign to do so, For you were quite rude in your behavior When the lady approached you About the deed for which she reproached you, Something you did some time ago. If you had shown in yourself Any recognition of this at all, Which would have been a sign of repentance For having committed this wrong Against ladies of great worthiness, You would have acted very much the wise man. For the custom of Love is such That when any man vilifies women, If he does not recant and henceforth refrain From so doing, he must make great amends Or pay a very high price. Now concerning this initial misdeed I tell you on behalf of sovereign Love, who is master and lord, The physician for the wounds of love, Namely that a judgment has been rendered Condemning you in this matter. And so it is necessary you make amends; The time for this quickly approaches. In addition, I am empowered to order You to make amends For another deed that displeases me, In that you undertook to debate A lady of such worthiness And of such very noble authority That no highborn person I know of, So far as the world extends, No prince or duke, count or king, Would dare commit such an outrage, Guillaume, as the one you did In the dispute you undertook against her. And you put into this force and vigor As you proceeded aggressively; And you’ve continued in the same vein. In this way, you have stripped your mind Of courtesy and respectfulness. And if she did not have the patience That she does, you would have lost so much You would have come to grief.” GUILLAUME Hearing this, I was distressed; But I was neither abashed nor hesitant To ask her humbly If she would briefly explain to me The truth about the lady And something about her powers. REASON Then she said: “Guillaume, willingly. But today I will not describe even a third, No, not even a hundredth part. For from the sky down to the pit of hell, Her powers extend through all things, And from these powers flow Quite marvelous results, Things that are dangerous to utter And show this through their contraries. For these reasons, it is well to pass them over in silence Because of faulty understandings, And these sometimes are perverse. The lady’s name is Happiness, And she holds Security by the hand Among the company of Fortune. For there is no person Whom Fortune can bring down If the lady wishes to contest it. And when she intends to work through Nature Because she has some special concern She can be seen there readily In truth by the astrologers Who recognize the different nations Among the constellations, That is to say, in the birth of infants, To what sign they will belong. And so when the dear lady is regnant And an infant is born into his sign, If Happiness takes charge of him, Nature does not take him back from her, But instead very much lets her do her will, No matter how it is to turn out. It is true that Nature takes care of How the infant lives and laughs. And Happiness leads him Into the domain of good luck Until the time has come for it to show That Happiness is caring for him. Now these people are all around us, And in them the lady makes herself manifest Through the benefits they receive, As long as they do not betray her somehow. Now I want to tell you specifically In what different ways she manifests herself, In some, but not in all. And have no doubt of any kind About the words I will speak, For in no way will I lie. She appears in prosperity And in the leaving behind of poverty. She is there in the making of friends And in the punishment of enemies Through a victory, without any wrongdoing. She appears in every good deed, And when she is present in love, It is that the lover, through his demands, Through his service and pleadings, And because of proper deeds of all kinds, Is able to enjoy his lady in peace, To take pleasure in the special privilege Love grants in her generosity. There Happiness sits Between the lover and loyal beloved, Those who wish for only what is courtly And who have by an explicit pledge Placed great trust in one another. She sustains them in a quite grand style. All goods are hers to bestow properly. And so she is much more gay and friendly. She is acquainted with all good things. She appears in many diversions, In jousts as much as in tourneys, In order to exalt chivalry And advance the deeds of good men In the understanding of women. There honor grows; there infamy falls away. For the man who has been maligned Is afterward cherished and loved By those who spoke ill of him Because they see openly That he puts his life at risk; And so the time comes when he takes his chance In a trial of arms he embarks upon, Until in the end he rises to the highest rank. In this way Happiness advances Her own through her great power. If Happiness through Nature, Or by fortune, or according to custom Does appear in chivalry, She also appears in learning. There she holds honor in her hands. More to one and less to another She makes her generous distribution; And she gives out the greatest shares To those who obey better the summons Happiness issues them. She is also manifest in knowledge And encloses herself within the mind In order to safeguard at times those In whom are peace and good faith, Those who have not in any acknowledged fashion Put their wisdom into a public form, But rather are wise in secret. In them she keeps herself hidden; And in them Faithful Secrets and Good Living Afford her good companionship. And there she wishes to rest And appropriately turn those hearts Toward the contemplative life. Then by the active path she returns To encourage those to speak Who willingly hold discussion About the virtues of contemplation. And therefore many, with good intentions, Then incline themselves to her teachings, So they each teach themselves on their own How to be diligent and eager To become contemplative. Why should I go on speaking about this to you? Happiness possesses so many goods Never might I have related The hundredth part of her virtue. So in the world there is no great lord, No lady, however much honor they might possess, For whom it would not be pleasing and noble If they could be among her company. Now I will be silent. I will say no more about her, But deal instead with what remains Of the two counts on which you have been condemned. And I have my thoughts in order For what I intend to tell you about the third count On which I shall condemn you. It is certainly an indisputable fact That if someone opposes a complaint, Busies himself with producing evidence, And then comes to the test, Yet fails to prove his view adequately, The truth of the law then reproves him And he must be condemned. This legal principle arose so long ago There is no memory of its contrary. Now let us see what I wish to recount, So listen carefully to what I say. Whatever the lady told you About her evidence, you opposed, And you tried to offer proof for your view. Yet you have so badly failed to prove it You ought to be reprimanded And, as a consequence, condemned In my opinion. You have said nothing here save Words that are frivolous. They are pretty to mouth in private, But they contain no substance To afford you an advantage In sustaining the proof of your case. And so we have looked into and Examined this case as best we could In order to seek out a faithful judgment. If it pleases you to know the particulars, You will be told about the different opinions, And how they are distributed to those involved, And also all aspects of your error. And if you see it might be time For your sentence to be pronounced, Then tell us what you think in your heart. For whatever pleases you, it will be done Thoroughly enough to satisfy you.” GUILLAUME “Lady, I have listened to you quite well And have waited some time To be sentenced. So I beg you to be diligent About delivering me to it, That is, about granting me my sentence. Since what I did is so serious, Three amends are required, And since things cannot go otherwise, I do not wish to discuss the matter further.” REASON “Guillaume, be completely assured That you have received justice here. And we will not be negligent in any way. But now you should be just as diligent. So get on your feet at this time To do what you should do In the presence of that man who sits as judge. And then he will do what he thinks right. From now on the matter rests with him Since he holds in his hands all the legal power.” GUILLAUME At this word, I went over to the judge And got down on one knee. There I offered my person to him In as appropriate a speech As I was able and knew how to deliver. And it made him smile a little. I then took my gloves and tendered them to him. And he who paid this close attention Seized and then dropped them. In a moment, he leaned down again And took them up a second time, Then letting them drop, then taking them up once more As a sign to demonstrate to me how I owed him three payments for damages. Quite well he signified this to me, Assuring me in truth That I would have to pay them. Then without hesitation he told me I should go back and sit down, For he wished to look to What penance he would assign me, And to this he would shortly deliver me. Then he drew up close to the lady, As did Reason, quite demurely, And he counseled privately with them, Taking care to speak softly. But in their whispering I found some relief, Because I saw well Their council was a pleasant one, For from time to time they laughed, And just at that moment when they were Most seriously deliberating, Discretion said to me: “I advise you To look at this lady And attend carefully to The rightful aspects of her estate. There you will see a great deal Of her grace and power. And in this way you will have a much stronger heart For enduring and for suffering Whatever justice she will render you.” Then I said to him: “Dear sweet friend, You describe these things to me, You who know the obvious And hidden details of so many things. Often you take on such a task; That’s something I know well.” Discretion said then: “This merits doing. Now pay quick attention: As far as describing the parts is concerned, If this is something you wish to mark well, She has put on a shift That is called Frankness In order to liberate secret lovers And enrich them with Seriousness On behalf of Silence, With Understanding in agreement. For until she has been seen Her cause should be kept silent. And her fur tunic, that is Simplicity, So soft it does not wound her, For it comes from Goodwill, Gilt-edged by Sufficiency, With the pelts from Sweet Pleasure, Who moves good hearts toward every good. And the robe with linen sleeves that she wears In very honorable virtue Was crafted by Loyal Friendship, Pleated by Steadfastness Tipped with ribbons from Perseverance, Neatly, without any disorder. Now this robe is beautiful and flowing, And by proper right it is called, Because of its special status, Honest Familiarity, And the belt she has girded herself with Is no insignificant thing in regard to love, For it is properly called Loyal Promise, Studded with Stable Commitment, For whoever makes promises, It is necessary they be trusted. And the belt medallion, because it is heavy, Serves to beat down dissension and discord, And thus it hangs down all the way to her feet. And her feet prevent many an argument Between the beloved and loyal lover Whenever any lover cries ‘Alas! I have been refused by my lady; But my right has not been abused, For I believe she has done so To my profit and to her honor.’ And so her feet keep this company in line, Whomever she holds in her domain; For they are shod with Relief, Laced with the cord of Diligence. And she has put white gloves on her hands, Which have been equally made By both Charity and Generosity, With which she shares out the riches Of Love, which cannot be exhausted Or reduced as time goes by. The more that is taken, the more remains From day to day and hour to hour. I would like to tell you about the mantle, Which is so handsome to describe, And he who wears it finds it better than handsome In words, demeanor, and deeds. The wool of Good Reflection Along with Courtly Speech, Knowledgeable Introduction, And Friendly Intention Were woven there together, Properly felted by Goodness. And the cloth of Good Appearance Was made by assembling these things, Dyed a merry color Of most honorable worthiness That is called Nobility, And it was lined with Gentility. Now Happiness is covered With the mantle, and it is obvious That all good things are therein enclosed. But it reveals, in truth, No matter what she is beneath her covering, The appearance of her face, Which is such that in her features The benefits of courtesy of every kind Appear there in abundance, With which her damsels are adorned. And she is as well adorned As they, without being set apart From them and their beautiful array. For they are fine enough for a king, And for a sovereign queen as well. For these reasons I put it to you That Happiness completely surpasses And is of higher estate than all queens. If I wished to describe Her crown, which is beautiful and becoming, I would detain you too long; For I readily see, and there can be no doubt, That their council is drawing to a close. And so I will spare you its description.” GUILLAUME When their council ended, The judge turned my way, THE JUDGE And said: “Guillaume, by my soul, I will tell you this on my lady’s behalf And on behalf of Reason as well, And I am in agreement with them, That you owe three compensations, As these have been determined and described, And for these you are responsible According to the judgment, without fail. You must — the thing is certain — Compose a lay for the first And agreeably, without resisting; For the second, a song Of three stanzas and a refrain — Listen how I qualify this — Which begins with the refrain, Just like the ones sung at dancing; And for the third, a ballade. Now do not make as if this sickens you But rather respond happily In regard to our command, About your intentions on all these points. I make here an end.” GUILLAUME And because I so grievously erred When I dared to make trouble With a lady of such high estate In that I attempted to dispute with her, I, the Guillaume named above, Who has the surname de Machaut, In order the better to acknowledge my fault, Have composed and rhymed this little book. And of it I will make my lady a present, Offering her my service and Begging her to pardon me for everything. And may God grant her peace and honor And the great joy of Paradise Such as I would wish for myself. But because I do not want in any way That my fine should remain unpaid, I wish to retire the debt without delay By beginning work on a lay whose theme is love. Here ends The Judgment of the King of Navarre against The Judgment of the King of Bohemia.

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The miniatures (images) from MS A are not included in this digital edition, but are available in the print version. To view these images, see also the Bibliothèque nationale de France's digital edition on Gallica: https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b84490444.