i. [Confessor] 5 L    10 15 [Amans] 20 [Confessor] 25 30 Confessio Amantis 35 40 45 50 55 60 65 70 75 80 85 90 95 100 105 110 115 120 125 130 Confessor 135 140 L;   145 150 155 160 165 170 175 180 185 190 195 200 205 210 215 220 225 230 235 240 245 250 255 260 265 270 275 280 285 290 295 300 305 310 315 320 325 330 335 Confessor 340 345 350 355 360 L    365 370 375 380 Confessor 385 390 395 Amans 400 405 410 415 [Confessor] ii. 420 L    425 430 435 440 445 450 455 460 465 470 Opponit Confessor 475 Confessio Amantis 480 485 490 495 500 505 510 515 520 525 530 535 540 545 550 555 560 565 570 575 580 585 590 595 Confessor 600 605 610 615 L    620 Amans 625 630 635 [Confessor]; 640 L    645 650 655 660 665 670 675 680 685 690 695 Confessor 700 705 710 Amans 715 720 Confessor 725 730 L    735 740 745 750 755 760 765 Confessor 770 775 780 L    785 790 795 800 805 810 815 L    820 825 830 [Confessor] 835 Amans 840 iii. [Confessor] 845 L    850 [Amans] [Confessor] [Amans] [Confessor] 860 864 Confessio Amantis 870 875 880 885 890 895 900 905 910 915 920 925 930 Confessor 935 940 945 950 955 960 965 970 L    975 980 985 990 995 1000 1005 1010 1015 1020 1025 1030 1035 1040 1045 1050 1055 1060 1065 Confessor 1070 1075 1080 [Amans] 1085 iv. [Confessor] 1090 L    1095 1100 1105 1110 1115 Opponit Confessor [Amans] [Confessor] Confessio Amantis 1125 1130 1135 1140 1145 1150 1155 1160 1165 1170 1175 1180 1185 1190 Confessor 1195 1200 L    1205 1210 1215 1220 1225 1230 1235 1240 1245 1250 1255 1260 1265 1270 1275 1280 1285 1290 1295 1300 1305 1310 1315 1320 1325 1330 L    1335 1340 1345 1350 1355 1360 1365 1370 1375 1380 1385 1390 1395 1400 1405 1410 1415 1420 1425 1430 1435 1440 1445 1450 1455 1460 1465 1470 1475 1480 1485 1490 Confessor 1496 1500 Confessio Amantis 1505 1510 1515 1520 1525 1530 Confessor Confessio Amantis 1535 [Confessor] [Amans] 1540 1545 1550 1555 1560 1565 1570 1575 1580 1585 1590 1595 1600 1605 1610 Confessor 1615 1620 1625 1630 1635 1640 1645 1650 1655 1660 1665 1670 1675 1680 1685 L    1690 1695 1700 1705 1710 1715 1720 1725 Amans 1730 1735 Confessor 1740 1745 Amans 1750 Confessor 1755 1759 L    1765 1770 1775 1780 1785 1790 1795 1800 1805 1810 1815 1820 1825 1830 1834 Nota 1840 1845 1850 1855 Confessor Nota 1860 1865 1870 1875 1880 1885 L    1890 1895 1900 1905 1910 1915 1920 1925 1930 1935 1940 1945 1950 1955 1960 1965 1970 1975 1980 1985 1990 1995 2000 2005 2010 2015 2020 2025 2030 2035 2040 2045 2050 2055 2060 2065 2070 2075 2080 2085 2090 2095 2100 2105 2110 2115 2120 2125 2130 2135 2140 2145 2150 2155 2160 2165 2170 2175 2180 2185 2190 2195 Confessor 2200 Amans 2205 L    2209 Confessor 2215 L    2221 L    2226 2230 L    2236 2240 Amans [Confessor] 2246 2250 v. [Confessor] L    2255 2260 2265 2270 2275 2280 2285 2290 2295 L    2300 2305 2310 2315 L    2320 2325 2330 2335 2340 2345 2350 2355 2360 2365 L    2370 2375 2380 2385 2390 2395 2400 2405 2410 2415 2420 2425 2430 2435 L    2440 2445 2450 2455 2460 2465 2470 2475 2480 Confessor Amans 2486 2490 Confessor 2495 2500 2504 Nota 2510 2515 2520 2525 2530 2535 2540 2545 L    2550 2555 2560 2565 2570 2575 2580 2585 2590 2595 L    2600 2605 2610 2615 2620 2625 2630 2635 2640 L    2645 2650 2655 2660 2665 2670 2675 2680 2685 2690 2695 2700 2705 2710 2715 Confessor 2720 2725 2730 2735 2739 Amans 2745 2749 Confessor Amans 2755 Confessor Amans 2761 Confessor 2765 2770

Incipit Liber Tercius Ira suis paribus est par furiis Acherontis,    Quo furor ad tempus nil pietatis habet. Ira malencolicos animos perturbat, vt equo    Iure sui pondus nulla statera tenet. Omnibus in causis grauat Ira, set inter amantes    Illa magis facili sorte grauamen agit: Est vbi vir discors leuiterque repugnat amori,    Sepe loco ludi fletus ad ora venit.1 "If thou the vices lest to knowe, Mi sone, it hath noght ben unknowe, Fro ferst that men the swerdes grounde, That ther nis on upon this grounde, A vice forein fro the lawe, Wherof that many a good felawe Hath be distraght be sodein chance. And yit to kinde no plesance It doth, bot wher he most achieveth His pourpos, most to kinde he grieveth, As he which out of conscience Is enemy to pacience And is be name on of the sevene, Which ofte hath set this world unevene, And cleped is the cruel Ire, Whos herte is everemore on fyre To speke amis and to do bothe, For his servantz ben evere wrothe."    "Mi goode fader, tell me this: What thing is Ire?"       "Sone, it is That in oure Englissh Wrathe is hote, Which hath hise wordes ay so hote, That all a mannes pacience Is fyred of the violence. For he with him hath evere fyve Servantz that helpen him to stryve: The ferst of hem Malencolie Is cleped, which in compaignie An hundred times in an houre Wol as an angri beste loure, And no man wot the cause why. Mi sone, schrif thee now forthi: Hast thou be Malencolien?"    "Ye, fader, be Seint Julien, Bot I untrewe wordes use, I mai me noght therof excuse. And al makth love, wel I wot, Of which myn herte is evere hot, So that I brenne as doth a glede For Wrathe that I mai noght spede. And thus fulofte a day for noght Save onlich of myn oghne thoght I am so with miselven wroth, That how so that the game goth With othre men, I am noght glad; Bot I am wel the more unglad, For that is othre mennes game It torneth me to pure grame. Thus am I with miself oppressed Of thoght, the which I have impressed, That al wakende I dreme and meete That I with hire alone meete And preie hire of som good ansuere. Bot for sche wol noght gladly swere, Sche seith me nay withouten oth; And thus wexe I withinne wroth, That outward I am al affraied, And so distempred and esmaied, A thousand times on a day Ther souneth in myn eres 'Nay,' The which sche seide me tofore. Thus be my wittes as forlore; And namely whan I beginne To rekne with miself withinne How many yeres ben agon, Siththe I have trewly loved on And nevere tok of other hede, And evere aliche fer to spede I am, the more I with hir dele, So that myn happ and al myn hele Me thenkth is ay the leng the ferre, That bringth my gladschip out of herre, Wherof my wittes ben empeired, And I, as who seith, al despeired. For finaly, whan that I muse And thenke how sche me wol refuse, I am with anger so bestad, For al this world mihte I be glad: And for the while that it lasteth Al up so doun my joie it casteth, And ay the furthere that I be, Whan I ne may my ladi se, The more I am redy to wraththe, That for the touchinge of a laththe Or for the torninge of a stree I wode as doth the wylde se, And am so malencolious, That ther nys servant in myn hous Ne non of tho that ben aboute, That ech of hem ne stant in doute And wenen that I scholde rave For anger that thei se me have. And so thei wondre more and lasse, Til that thei sen it overpasse. Bot, fader, if it so betide, That I aproche at eny tide The place wher my ladi is, And thanne that hire like ywiss To speke a goodli word unto me, For al the gold that is in Rome Ne cowthe I after that be wroth, Bot al myn anger overgoth; So glad I am of the presence Of hire, that I all offence Forgete, as thogh it were noght, So overgladed is my thoght. And natheles, the soth to telle, Ageinward if it so befelle That I at thilke time sihe On me that sche miscaste hire yhe, Or that sche liste noght to loke, And I therof good hiede toke, Anon into my ferste astat I torne, and am withal so mat, That evere it is aliche wicke. And thus myn hand agein the pricke I hurte and have do many day, And go so forth as I go may, Fulofte bitinge on my lippe, And make unto miself a whippe With which in many a chele and hete Mi wofull herte is so tobete, That all my wittes ben unsofte And I am wroth, I not how ofte; And al it is malencolie Which groweth of the fantasie Of love, that me wol noght loute. So bere I forth an angri snoute Ful manye times in a yer. Bot, fader, now ye sitten hier In loves stede, I yow beseche That som ensample ye me teche, Wherof I mai miself appese."    "Mi sone, for thin hertes ese I schal fulfille thi preiere, So that thou miht the betre lere What mischief that this vice stereth, Which in his anger noght forbereth, Wherof that after him forthenketh, Whan he is sobre and that he thenketh Upon the folie of his dede; And of this point a tale I rede. [The Tale of Canace and Machaire]    Ther was a king which Eolus Was hote, and it befell him thus, That he tuo children hadde faire. The sone cleped was Machaire, The dowhter ek Canace hihte. Be daie bothe and ek be nyhte, Whil thei be yonge, of comun wone In chambre thei togedre wone, And as thei scholden pleide hem ofte, Til thei be growen up alofte Into the youthe of lusti age, Whan kinde assaileth the corage With love and doth him for to bowe, That he no reson can allowe, Bot halt the lawes of nature. For whom that love hath under cure, As he is blind himself, riht so He makth his client blind also. In such manere as I you telle As thei al day togedre duelle, This brother mihte it noght asterte That he with al his hole herte His love upon his soster caste. And so it fell hem ate laste, That this Machaire with Canace Whan thei were in a privé place, Cupide bad hem ferst to kesse, And after sche which is maistresse In kinde and techeth every lif Withoute lawe positif, Of which sche takth no maner charge, Bot kepth hire lawes al at large, Nature, tok hem into lore And tawht hem so, that overmore Sche hath hem in such wise daunted, That thei were, as who seith, enchaunted. And as the blinde another ledeth And til thei falle nothing dredeth, Riht so thei hadde non insihte; Bot as the bridd which wole alihte And seth the mete and noght the net, Which in deceipte of him is set, This yonge folk no peril sihe, Bot that was likinge in here yhe, So that thei felle upon the chance Wher witt hath lore his remembrance. So longe thei togedre assemble, The wombe aros, and sche gan tremble, And hield hire in hire chambre clos For drede it scholde be disclos And come to hire fader ere. Wherof the sone hadde also fere, And feigneth cause for to ryde; For longe dorste he noght abyde, In aunter if men wolde sein That he his soster hath forlein. For yit sche hadde it noght beknowe, Whos was the child at thilke throwe. Machaire goth, Canace abit, The which was noght delivered yit, Bot riht sone after that sche was. Now lest and herkne a woful cas. The sothe, which mai noght ben hid, Was ate laste knowe and kid Unto the king, how that it stod. And whan that he it understod, Anon into malencolie, As thogh it were a frenesie, He fell, as he which nothing cowthe How maistrefull love is in yowthe. And for he was to love strange, He wolde noght his herte change To be benigne and favorable To love, bot unmerciable Betwen the wawe of wod and wroth Into his dowhtres chambre he goth, And sih the child was late bore, Wherof he hath hise othes swore That sche it schal ful sore abye. And sche began merci to crie, Upon hire bare knes and preide, And to hire fader thus sche seide: 'Ha mercy! Fader, thenk I am Thi child, and of thi blod I cam. That I misdede yowthe it made, And in the flodes bad me wade, Wher that I sih no peril tho. Bot now it is befalle so, Merci, my fader, do no wreche!' And with that word sche loste speche And fell doun swounende at his fot, As sche for sorwe nedes mot. Bot his horrible crualté Ther mihte attempre no pité. Out of hire chambre forth he wente Al full of wraththe in his entente, And tok the conseil in his herte That sche schal noght the deth asterte, As he which malencolien Of pacience hath no lien, Wherof his wraththe he mai restreigne. And in this wilde wode peine, Whanne al his resoun was untame, A kniht he clepeth be his name, And tok him as be weie of sonde A naked swerd to bere on honde, And seide him that he scholde go And telle unto his dowhter so In the manere as he him bad, How sche that scharpe swerdes blad Receive scholde and do withal So as sche wot wherto it schal. Forth in message goth this kniht Unto this wofull yonge wiht, This scharpe swerd to hire he tok. Wherof that al hire bodi qwok, For wel sche wiste what it mente, And that it was to thilke entente That sche hireselven scholde slee. And to the kniht sche seide: 'Yee, Now that I wot my fadres wille, That I schal in this wise spille, I wole obeie me therto, And as he wole it schal be do. Bot now this thing mai be non other, I wole a lettre unto mi brother, So as my fieble hand may wryte, With al my wofull herte endite.' Sche tok a penne on honde tho, Fro point to point and al the wo, Als ferforth as hireself it wot, Unto hire dedly frend sche wrot, And tolde how that hire fader grace Sche mihte for nothing pourchace. And over that, as thou schalt hiere, Sche wrot and seide in this manere: 'O thou my sorwe and my gladnesse, O thou myn hele and my siknesse, O my wanhope and al my trust, O my desese and al my lust, O thou my wele, o thou my wo, O thou my frend, o thou my fo, O thou my love, o thou myn hate, For thee mot I be ded algate. Thilke ende may I noght asterte, And yit with al myn hole herte, Whil that me lasteth eny breth, I wol thee love into my deth. Bot of o thing I schal thee preie, If that my litel sone deie, Let him be beried in my grave Beside me, so schalt thou have Upon ous bothe remembrance. For thus it stant of my grevance. Now at this time, as thou schalt wite, With teres and with enke write This lettre I have in cares colde: In my riht hond my penne I holde, And in my left the swerd I kepe, And in my barm ther lith to wepe Thi child and myn, which sobbeth faste. Now am I come unto my laste. Farewel, for I schal sone deie, And thenk how I thi love abeie.' The pomel of the swerd to grounde Sche sette, and with the point a wounde Thurghout hire herte anon sche made, And forthwith that al pale and fade Sche fell doun ded fro ther sche stod. The child lay bathende in hire blod Out rolled fro the moder barm, And for the blod was hot and warm, He basketh him aboute thrinne. Ther was no bote for to winne, For he, which can no pité knowe, The king cam in the same throwe, And sih how that his dowhter dieth And how this babe al blody crieth; Bot al that mihte him noght suffise, That he ne bad to do juise Upon the child, and bere him oute, And seche in the forest aboute Som wilde place, what it were, To caste him out of honde there, So that som beste him mai devoure, Where as no man him schal socoure. Al that he bad was don in dede. Ha, who herde evere singe or rede Of such a thing as that was do? Bot he which ladde his wraththe so Hath knowe of love bot a lite. Bot for al that he was to wyte, Thurgh his sodein malencolie To do so gret a felonie.    Forthi, my sone, how so it stonde, Be this cas thou miht understonde That if thou evere in cause of love Schalt deme, and thou be so above That thou miht lede it at thi wille, Let nevere thurgh thi Wraththe spille Which every kinde scholde save. For it sit every man to have Reward to love and to his miht, Agein whos strengthe mai no wiht. And siththe an herte is so constreigned, The reddour oghte be restreigned To him that mai no bet aweie, Whan he mot to nature obeie. For it is seid thus overal, That nedes mot that nede schal Of that a lif doth after kinde, Wherof he mai no bote finde What nature hath set in hir lawe Ther mai no mannes miht withdrawe, And who that worcheth theragein, Fulofte time it hath be sein, Ther hath befalle gret vengance, Wherof I finde a remembrance. [The Tale of Tiresias and the Snakes]    Ovide after the time tho Tolde an ensample and seide so, How that whilom Tiresias, As he walkende goth per cas, Upon an hih montaine he sih Tuo serpentz in his weie nyh, And thei, so as nature hem tawhte, Assembled were, and he tho cawhte A yerde which he bar on honde, And thoghte that he wolde fonde To letten hem, and smot hem bothe: Wherof the goddes weren wrothe; And for he hath destourbed kinde And was so to nature unkinde, Unkindeliche he was transformed, That he which erst a man was formed Into a womman was forschape. That was to him an angri jape; Bot for that he with Angre wroghte, His Angres angreliche he boghte.    Lo thus, my sone, Ovide hath write, Wherof thou miht be reson wite, More is a man than such a beste. So mihte it nevere ben honeste A man to wraththen him to sore Of that another doth the lore Of kinde, in which is no malice, Bot only that it is a vice. And thogh a man be resonable, Yit after kinde he is menable To love, wher he wole or non. Thenk thou, my sone, therupon And do Malencolie aweie; For love hath evere his lust to pleie, As he which wolde no lif grieve."    "Mi fader, that I mai wel lieve; Al that ye tellen it is skile. Let every man love as he wile, Be so it be noght my ladi, For I schal noght be wroth therby. Bot that I wraththe and fare amis, Alone upon miself it is, That I with bothe love and kinde Am so bestad, that I can finde No weie how I it mai asterte. Which stant upon myn oghne herte And toucheth to non other lif, Save only to that swete wif For whom, bot if it be amended, Mi glade daies ben despended, That I miself schal noght forbere The Wraththe which that I now bere, For therof is non other leche. Now axeth forth, I yow beseche, Of Wraththe if ther oght elles is, Wherof to schryve."       "Sone, yis." Ira mouet litem, que lingue frena resoluens    Laxa per infames currit vbique vias. Rixarum nutrix quos educat ista loquaces,    Hos Venus a latere linquit habere vagos. Set pacienter agens taciturno qui celet ore,    Vincit, et optati carpit amoris iter.2    "Of Wraththe the secounde is Cheste, Which hath the wyndes of tempeste To kepe, and many a sodein blast He bloweth, wherof ben agast Thei that desiren pes and reste. He is that ilke ungoodlieste Which many a lusti love hath twinned; For he berth evere his mowth unpinned, So that his lippes ben unloke And his corage is al tobroke, That everything which he can telle, It springeth up as doth a welle, Which mai non of his stremes hyde, Bot renneth out on every syde. So buillen up the foule sawes That Cheste wot of his felawes. For as a sive kepeth ale, Riht so can Cheste kepe a tale. Al that he wot he wol desclose, And speke er eny man oppose. As a cité withoute wal, Wher men mai gon out overal Withouten eny resistence, So with his croked eloquence He spekth al that he wot withinne; Wherof men lese mor than winne, For ofte time of his chidinge He bringth to house such tidinge, That makth werre ate beddeshed. He is the levein of the bred, Which soureth al the past aboute. Men oghte wel such on to doute, For evere his bowe is redi bent, And whom he hit I telle him schent, If he mai perce him with his tunge. And ek so lowde his belle is runge, That of the noise and of the soun Men feeren hem in al the toun Welmore than thei don of thonder. For that is cause of more wonder; For with the wyndes whiche he bloweth Fulofte sythe he overthroweth The cites and the policie, That I have herd the poeple crie, And echon seide in his degré, 'Ha wicke tunge, wo thee be!' For men sein that the harde bon, Althogh himselven have non, A tunge brekth it al to pieces. He hath so manye sondri spieces Of vice, that I mai noght wel Descrive hem be a thousendel. Bot whan that he to Cheste falleth, Ful many a wonder thing befalleth, For he ne can nothing forbere.    "Now tell me, sone, thin ansuere, If it hath evere so betidd, That thou at eny time hast chidd Toward thi love."        "Fader, nay; Such Cheste yit unto this day Ne made I nevere, God forbede: For er I sunge such a crede, I hadde levere to be lewed; For thanne were I al beschrewed And worthi to be put abak With al the sorwe upon my bak That eny man ordeigne cowthe. Bot I spak nevere yit be mowthe That unto Cheste mihte touche, And that I durste riht wel vouche Upon hirself as for witnesse; For I wot, of hir gentilesse That sche me wolde wel excuse, That I no suche thinges use. And if it scholde so betide That I algates moste chide, It myhte noght be to my love. For so yit was I nevere above, For al this wyde world to winne That I dorste eny word beginne, Be which sche mihte have ben amoeved And I of Cheste also reproeved. Bot rathere, if it mihte hir like, The beste wordes wolde I pike Whiche I cowthe in myn herte chese, And serve hem forth instede of chese, For that is helplich to defie; And so wolde I my wordes plie, That mihten Wraththe and Cheste avale With tellinge of my softe tale. Thus dar I make a foreward, That nevere unto my ladiward Yit spak I word in such a wise, Wherof that Cheste scholde arise. This seie I noght, that I fulofte Ne have, whanne I spak most softe, Per cas seid more thanne ynowh; Bot so wel halt no man the plowh That he ne balketh otherwhile, Ne so wel can no man affile His tunge, that som time in rape Him mai som liht word overscape, And yit ne meneth he no Cheste. Bot that I have agein hir heste Fulofte spoke, I am beknowe; And how my will is, that ye knowe. For whan my time comth aboute, That I dar speke and seie al oute Mi longe love, of which sche wot That evere in on aliche hot Me grieveth, thanne al my desese I telle, and though it hir desplese, I speke it forth and noght ne leve. And thogh it be beside hire leve, I hope and trowe natheles That I do noght agein the pes; For thogh I telle hire al my thoght, Sche wot wel that I chyde noght. Men mai the hihe God beseche, And He wol hiere a mannes speche And be noght wroth of that he seith; So gifth it me the more feith And makth me hardi, soth to seie, That I dar wel the betre preie Mi ladi, which a womman is. For thogh I telle hire that or this Of love, which me grieveth sore, Hire oghte noght be wroth the more, For I withoute noise or cri Mi pleignte make al buxomly To puten alle wraththe away. Thus dar I seie unto this day Of Cheste in ernest or in game Mi ladi schal me nothing blame.    Bot ofte time it hath betidd That with miselven I have chidd, That no man couthe betre chide. And that hath ben at every tide Whanne I cam to miself alone. For thanne I made a privé mone, And every tale by and by, Which as I spak to my ladi, I thenke and peise in my balance And drawe into my remembrance; And thanne, if that I finde a lak Of eny word that I mispak, Which was to moche in eny wise, Anon my wittes I despise And make a chidinge in myn herte, That eny word me scholde asterte Which as I scholde have holden inne. And so forth after I beginne And loke if ther was elles oght To speke, and I ne spak it noght. And thanne, if I mai seche and finde That eny word be left behinde, Which as I scholde more have spoke, I wolde upon miself be wroke, And chyde with miselven so That al my wit is overgo. For no man mai his time lore Recovere, and thus I am therfore So overwroth in al my thoght, That I myself chide al to noght. Thus for to moche or for to lite Fulofte I am miself to wyte. Bot al that mai me noght availe, With Cheste thogh I me travaile. Bot oule on stock and stock on oule: The more that a man defoule, Men witen wel which hath the werse; And so to me nys worth a kerse, Bot torneth on myn oghne hed, Thogh I, til that I were ded, Wolde evere chyde in such a wise Of love as I to you devise. Bot, fader, now ye have al herd In this manere how I have ferd Of Cheste and of dissencioun, Gif me youre absolucioun."    "Mi sone, if that thou wistest al, What Cheste doth in special To love and to his welwillinge, Thou woldest flen his knowlechinge And lerne to be debonaire. For who that most can speke faire Is most acordende unto love: Fair speche hath ofte brought above Ful many a man, as it is knowe, Which elles scholde have be riht lowe And failed mochel of his wille. Forthi hold thou thi tunge stille And let thi witt thi wille areste, So that thou falle noght in Cheste, Which is the source of gret destance. And tak into thi remembrance If thou miht gete pacience, Which is the leche of alle offence, As tellen ous these olde wise. For whan noght elles mai suffise Be strengthe ne be mannes wit, Than pacience it oversit And overcomth it ate laste; Bot he mai nevere longe laste, Which wol noght bowe er that he breke. Tak hiede, sone, of that I speke."    "Mi fader, of your goodli speche And of the witt which ye me teche I thonke you with al myn herte. For that world schal me nevere asterte, That I ne schal your wordes holde, Of pacience as ye me tolde, Als ferforth as myn herte thenketh, And of my wraththe it me forthenketh. Bot, fader, if ye forthwithal Som good ensample in special Me wolden telle of som cronique, It scholde wel myn herte like Of pacience for to hiere, So that I mihte in mi matiere The more unto my love obeie And puten mi desese aweie." [The Patience of Socrates]    "Mi sone, a man to beie him pes Behoveth soffre as Socrates Ensample lefte, which is write. And for thou schalt the sothe wite Of this ensample what I mene, Although it be now litel sene Among the men thilke evidence, Yit he was upon pacience So sett, that he himself assaie In thing which mihte him most mispaie Desireth, and a wickid wif He weddeth, which in sorwe and strif Agein his ese was contraire. Bot he spak evere softe and faire, Til it befell, as it is told, In wynter, whan the dai is cold, This wif was fro the welle come, Wher that a pot with water nome Sche hath, and broghte it into house, And sih how that hire seli spouse Was sett and loked on a bok Nyh to the fyr, as he which tok His ese for a man of age. And sche began the wode rage, And axeth him what devel he thoghte, And bar on hond that him ne roghte What labour that sche toke on honde, And seith that such an housebonde Was to a wif noght worth a stre. He seide nowther 'nay' ne 'ye,' Bot hield him stille and let hire chyde; And sche, which mai hirself noght hyde, Began withinne for to swelle, And that sche broghte in fro the welle, The waterpot sche hente alofte And bad him speke, and he al softe Sat stille and noght a word ansuerde. And sche was wroth that he so ferde, And axeth him if he be ded. And al the water on his hed Sche pourede oute and bad awake. Bot he, which wolde noght forsake His pacience, thanne spak, And seide how that he fond no lak In nothing which sche hadde do. For it was wynter time tho, And wynter, as be weie of kinde Which stormy is, as men it finde, Ferst makth the wyndes for to blowe, And after that withinne a throwe He reyneth and the watergates Undoth; 'And thus my wif algates, Which is with reson wel besein, Hath mad me bothe wynd and rein After the sesoun of the yer.' And thanne he sette him nerr the fer, And as he mihte hise clothes dreide, That he no more o word ne seide; Wherof he gat him somdel reste, For that him thoghte was the beste.    I not if thilke ensample yit Accordeth with a mannes wit, To soffre as Socrates tho dede: And if it falle in eny stede A man to lese so his galle, Him oghte among the wommen alle In loves court be juggement The name bere of Pacient, To give ensample to the goode Of pacience how that it stode, That othre men it mihte knowe. And, sone, if thou at eny throwe Be tempted, agein Pacience, Tak hiede upon this evidence; It schal per cas thee lasse grieve."    "Mi fader, so as I believe, Of that schal be no maner nede, For I wol take so good hiede, That er I falle in such assai, I thenke eschuie it, if I mai. Bot if ther be oght elles more Wherof I mihte take lore, I preie you, so as I dar, Now telleth, that I mai be war, Some other tale in this matiere."    "Sone, it is evere good to lere Wherof thou miht thi word restreigne, Er that thou falle in eny peine. For who that can no conseil hyde, He mai noght faile of wo beside, Which schal befalle er he it wite, As I finde in the bokes write. [Of Jupiter, Juno, and Tiresias]    Yit cam ther nevere good of strif, To seche in all a mannes lif. Thogh it beginne on pure game, Fulofte it torneth into grame And doth grevance upon som side. Wherof the grete clerk Ovide After the lawe which was tho Of Jupiter and of Juno Makth in his bokes mencioun How thei felle at dissencioun In manere as it were a borde, As thei begunne for to worde Among hemself in priveté. And that was upon this degree, Which of the tuo more amorous is, Or man or wif? And upon this Thei mihten noght acorde in on, And toke a jugge therupon, Which cleped is Tiresias, And bede him demen in the cas; And he withoute avisement Agein Juno gaf juggement. This goddesse upon his ansuere Was wroth and wolde noght forbere, Bot tok awey foreveremo The liht fro bothe hise yhen tuo. Whan Jupiter this harm hath sein, An other bienfait theragein He gaf, and such a grace him doth, That for he wiste he seide soth, A sothseiere he was forevere. Bot yit that other were levere, Have had the lokinge of his yhe, Than of his word the prophecie. Bot how so that the sothe wente, Strif was the cause of that he hente So gret a peine bodily.    Mi sone, be thou war ther by, And hold thi tunge stille clos. For who that hath his word desclos Er that he wite what he mene, He is fulofte nyh his tene And lest ful many time grace, Wher that he wolde his thonk pourchace. And over this, my sone diere, Of othre men, if thou miht hiere In priveté what thei have wroght, Hold conseil and descoevere it noght, For Cheste can no conseil hele, Or be it wo or be it wele. And tak a tale into thi mynde, The which of olde ensample I finde. [The Tale of Phebus and Cornide]    Phebus, which makth the daies lihte, A love he hadde, which tho hihte Cornide, whom aboven alle He pleseth. Bot what schal befalle Of love ther is no man knoweth, Bot as fortune hire happes throweth. So it befell upon a chaunce, A yong kniht tok hire aqueintance And hadde of hire al that he wolde. Bot a fals bridd, which sche hath holde And kept in chambre of pure yowthe, Discoevereth all that evere he cowthe. This briddes name was as tho Corvus, the which was thanne also Welmore whyt than eny swan, And he (that schrewe) al that he can Of his ladi to Phebus seide. And he for wraththe his swerd outbreide, With which Cornide anon he slowh. Bot after him was wo ynowh, And tok a full gret repentance, Wherof in tokne and remembrance Of hem whiche usen wicke speche, Upon this bridd he tok this wreche, That ther he was snow whyt tofore, Evere afterward colblak therfore He was transformed, as it scheweth, And many a man yit him beschreweth And clepen him into this day A raven, be whom yit men mai Take evidence, whan he crieth, That som mishapp it signefieth. Be war therfore and sei the beste, If thou wolt be thiself in reste, Mi goode sone, as I thee rede. [Jupiter and Laar]    For in another place I rede Of thilke nimphe which Laar hihte. For sche the priveté be nyhte, How Jupiter lay be Jutorne, Hath told, god made hire overtorne. Hire tunge he kutte, and into helle Forevere he sende hir for to duelle, As sche that was noght worthi hiere To ben of love a chamberere, For sche no conseil cowthe hele. And suche adaies be now fele In loves court, as it is seid, That lete here tunges gon unteid. Mi sone, be thou non of tho, To jangle and telle tales so, And namely that thou ne chyde, For Cheste can no conseil hide, For Wraththe seide nevere wel."    "Mi fader, soth is everydel That ye me teche, and I wol holde The reule to which I am holde, To fle the Cheste, as ye me bidde, For wel is him that nevere chidde. Now tell me forth if ther be more As touchende unto Wraththes lore." Demonis est odium quasi Scriba, cui dabit Ira    Materiam scripti cordi ad antra sui. Non laxabit amor odii quem frena restringunt,    Nec secreta sui iuris adire sinit.3 "Of Wraththe yit ther is another, Which is to Cheste his oghne brother, And is be name cleped Hate, That soffreth noght withinne his gate That ther come owther love or pes, For he wol make no reles Of no debat which is befalle. Now spek, if thou art on of alle, That with this vice hast ben withholde."    "As yit for oght that ye me tolde, Mi fader, I not what it is." "In good feith, sone, I trowe yis."    "Mi fader, nay, bot ye me lere." "Now lest, my sone, and thou schalt here. Hate is a wraththe noght schewende, Bot of long time gaderende, And duelleth in the herte loken, Til he se time to be wroken. And thanne he scheweth his tempeste Mor sodein than the wilde beste, Which wot nothing what merci is. Mi sone, art thou knowende of this?"    "Mi goode fader, as I wene, Now wot I somdel what ye mene. Bot I dar saufly make an oth, Mi ladi was me nevere loth. I wol noght swere, natheles, That I of hate am gulteles; For whanne I to my ladi plie Fro dai to dai and merci crie, And sche no merci on me leith Bot schorte wordes to me seith, Thogh I my ladi love algate, Tho wordes moste I nedes hate, And wolde thei were al despent, Or so ferr oute of londe went That I nevere after scholde hem hiere. And yit love I my ladi diere. Thus is ther Hate, as ye mai se Betwen my ladi word and me; The word I hate and hire I love, What so me schal betide of love.    Bot forthere mor I wol me schryve, That I have hated al my lyve These janglers, whiche of here Envie Ben evere redi for to lie. For with here fals compassement Fuloften thei have mad me schent And hindred me fulofte time, Whan thei no cause wisten bi me, Bot onliche of here oghne thoght. And thus fuloften have I boght The lie, and drank noght of the wyn. I wolde here happ were such as myn. For how so that I be now schrive, To hem ne mai I noght forgive, Til that I se hem at debat With love, and thanne myn astat Thei mihten be here oghne deme, And loke how wel it scholde hem qweme To hindre a man that loveth sore. And thus I hate hem everemore, Til love on hem wol don his wreche. For that schal I alway beseche Unto the mihti Cupido, That he so mochel wolde do, So as he is of love a godd, To smyte hem with the same rodd With which I am of love smite; So that thei mihten knowe and wite How hindringe is a wofull peine To him that love wolde atteigne. Thus evere on hem I wayte and hope, Til I mai sen hem lepe a lope, And halten on the same sor Which I do now: for overmor I wolde thanne do my myht So for to stonden in here lyht, That thei ne scholden finde a weie To that thei wolde, bot aweie I wolde hem putte out of the stede Fro love, riht as thei me dede With that thei speke of me be mowthe. So wolde I do, if that I cowthe, Of hem, and this, so God me save, Is al the hate that I have, Toward these janglers everydiel; I wolde alle othre ferde wel. Thus have I, fader, said mi wille; Say ye now forth, for I am stille."    "Mi sone, of that thou hast me said I holde me noght fulli paid. That thou wolt haten eny man, To that acorden I ne can, Thogh he have hindred thee tofore. Bot this I telle thee therfore, Thou miht upon my beneicoun Wel haten the condicioun Of tho janglers, as thou me toldest, Bot furthermor, of that thou woldest Hem hindre in eny other wise, Such Hate is evere to despise. Forthi, mi sone, I wol thee rede, That thou drawe in be frendlihede That thou ne miht noght do be hate; So miht thou gete love algate And sette thee, my sone, in reste, For thou schalt finde it for the beste. And over this, so as I dar, I rede that thou be riht war Of othre mennes hate aboute Which every wysman scholde doute. For Hate is evere upon await, And as the fisshere on his bait Sleth, whan he seth the fisshes faste, So, whan he seth time ate laste, That he mai worche another wo, Schal no man tornen him therfro, That Hate nyle his felonie Fulfille and feigne compaignie Yit natheles, for Falssemblant Is toward him of covenant Withholde, so that under bothe The privé wraththe can him clothe, That he schal seme of gret believe. Bot war thee wel that thou ne lieve Al that thou sest tofore thin yhe, So as the Gregois whilom syhe. The bok of Troie whoso rede, Ther mai he finde ensample in dede. [The Tale of King Namplus and the Greeks]    Sone after the destruccioun, Whan Troie was al bete doun And slain was Priamus the king, The Gregois, whiche of al this thing Ben cause, tornen hom agein. Ther mai no man his happ withsein; It hath be sen and felt fulofte, The harde time after the softe. Be see as thei forth homward wente, A rage of gret tempeste hem hente; Juno let bende hire parti bowe, The sky wax derk, the wynd gan blowe, The firy welkne gan to thondre, As thogh the world scholde al to sondre; Fro hevene out of the watergates The reyni storm fell doun algates And al here takel made unwelde, That no man mihte himself bewelde. Ther mai men hiere schipmen crie, That stode in aunter for to die. He that behinde sat to stiere Mai noght the forestempne hiere; The schip aros agein the wawes, The lodesman hath lost his lawes, The see bet in on every side. Thei nysten what fortune abide, Bot sette hem al in Goddes wille, Wher He hem wolde save or spille. And it fell thilke time thus: Ther was a king, the which Namplus Was hote, and he a sone hadde At Troie, which the Gregois ladde, As he that was mad prince of alle, Til that fortune let him falle. His name was Palamades, Bot thurgh an hate natheles Of some of hem his deth was cast And he be tresoun overcast. His fader, whan he herde it telle, He swor, if evere his time felle, He wolde him venge, if that he mihte, And therto his avou behihte. And thus this king thurgh privé hate Abod upon await algate, For he was noght of such emprise To vengen him in open wise. The fame, which goth wyde where, Makth knowe how that the Gregois were Homward with al the felaschipe Fro Troie upon the see be schipe. Namplus, whan he this understod, And knew the tydes of the flod, And sih the wynd blew to the lond, A gret deceipte anon he fond Of privé hate, as thou schalt hiere, Wherof I telle al this matiere. This king the weder gan beholde, And wiste wel thei moten holde Here cours endlong his marche riht, And made upon the derke nyht Of grete schydes and of blockes Gret fyr agein the grete rockes To schewe upon the helles hihe, So that the flete of Grece it sihe. And so it fell riht as he thoghte: This flete, which an havene soghte, The bryghte fyres sih aferr, And thei hem drowen nerr and nerr, And wende wel and understode How al that fyr was mad for goode, To schewe wher men scholde aryve, And thiderward thei hasten blyve. In Semblant, as men sein, is guile, And that was proved thilke while; The schip, which wende his helpe acroche, Drof al to pieces on the roche, And so ther deden ten or twelve; Ther mihte no man helpe himselve, For ther thei wenden deth ascape, Withouten help here deth was schape. Thus thei that comen ferst tofore Upon the rockes be forlore, Bot thurgh the noise and thurgh the cri These othre were al war therby. And whan the dai began to rowe, Tho mihten thei the sothe knowe, That wher thei wenden frendes finde, Thei founden frenschipe al behinde. The lond was thanne sone weyved, Wher that thei hadden be deceived, And toke hem to the hihe see; Therto thei seiden alle yee, Fro that dai forth and war thei were Of that thei hadde assaied there.    Mi sone, hierof thou miht avise How fraude stant in many wise Amonges hem that guile thenke; Ther is no scrivein with his enke Which half the fraude wryte can That stant in such a maner man. Forthi the wise men ne demen The thinges after that thei semen, Bot after that thei knowe and finde. The mirour scheweth in his kinde As he hadde al the world withinne, And is in soth nothing therinne; And so farth Hate for a throwe: Til he a man hath overthrowe, Schal no man knowe be his chere Which is avant, ne which arere. Forthi, mi sone, thenke on this."    "Mi fader, so I wole ywiss; And if ther more of Wraththe be, Now axeth forth per charité, As ye be youre bokes knowe, And I the sothe schal beknowe." Qui cohibere manum nequit, et sit spiritus eius    Naribus, hic populo sepe timendus erit. Sepius in luctum Venus et sua gaudia transfert,    Cumque suis thalamis talis amicus adest. Est amor amplexu non ictibus alliciendus,    Frangit amicicias impetuosa manus.4 "Mi sone, thou schalt understonde That yit towardes Wraththe stonde Of dedly vices othre tuo: And for to telle here names so, It is Contek and Homicide, That ben to drede on every side. Contek, so as the bokes sein, Folhast hath to his chamberlein, Be whos conseil al unavised Is Pacience most despised, Til Homicide with hem meete. Fro Merci thei ben al unmeete, And thus ben thei the worste of alle Of hem whiche unto wraththe falle, In dede bothe and ek in thoght. For thei acompte here wraththe at noght, Bot if ther be schedinge of blod; And thus lich to a beste wod Thei knowe noght the God of lif. Be so the have or swerd or knif Here dedly wraththe for to wreke, Of pité list hem noght to speke; Non other reson thei ne fonge, Bot that thei ben of mihtes stronge. Bot war hem wel in other place, Where every man behoveth grace, Bot ther I trowe it schal hem faile, To whom no merci mihte availe, Bot wroghten upon tiraundie, That no pité ne mihte hem plie. Now tell, my sone."       "Fader, what?" "If thou hast be coupable of that."    "Mi fader, nay, Crist me forbiede! I speke onliche as of the dede Of which I nevere was coupable Withoute cause resonable.    Bot this is noght to mi matiere Of schrifte. Why we sitten hiere? For we ben sett to schryve of love, As we begunne ferst above. And natheles I am beknowe That as touchende of loves throwe, Whan I my wittes overwende, Min hertes contek hath non ende, Bot evere it stant upon debat To gret desese of myn astat As for the time that it lasteth. For whan mi fortune overcasteth Hire whiel and is to me so strange, And that I se sche wol noght change, Than caste I al the world aboute And thenke hou I at home and oute Have al my time in vein despended, And se noght how to ben amended, Bot rathere for to be empeired, As he that is wel nyh despeired. For I ne mai no thonk deserve, And evere I love and evere I serve, And evere I am aliche nerr. Thus, for I stonde in such a wer, I am, as who seith, out of herre; And thus upon miself the werre I bringe, and putte out alle pes, That I fulofte in such a res Am wery of myn oghne lif. So that of Contek and of strif I am beknowe and have ansuerd, As ye, my fader, now have herd. Min herte is wonderly begon With conseil, wherof Witt is on, Which hath Resoun in compaignie; Agein the whiche stant partie Will, which hath Hope of his acord, And thus thei bringen up Descord. Witt and Resoun conseilen ofte That I myn herte scholde softe, And that I scholde Will remue And put him out of retenue, Or elles holde him under fote. For as thei sein, if that he mote His oghne rewle have upon honde, Ther schal no witt ben understonde. Of Hope also thei tellen this, That overal, wher that he is, He set the herte in jeupartie With wisshinge and with fantasie, And is noght trewe of that he seith, So that in him ther is no feith. Thus with Reson and Wit avised Is Will and Hope aldai despised. Reson seith that I scholde leve To love, wher ther is no leve To spede, and Will seith theragein That such an herte is to vilein, Which dar noght love and, til he spede, Let Hope serve at such a nede. He seith ek, where an herte sit Al hol governed upon Wit, He hath this lyves lust forlore. And thus myn herte is al totore Of such a Contek as thei make. Bot yit I mai noght Will forsake, That he nys maister of my thoght, Or that I spede, or spede noght."    "Thou dost, my sone, agein the riht; Bot love is of so gret a miht, His lawe mai no man refuse, So miht thou thee the betre excuse. And natheles thou schalt be lerned That Will scholde evere be governed Of Reson more than of Kinde, Wherof a tale write I finde. [The Tale of Diogenes and Alexander]    A philosophre of which men tolde Ther was whilom be daies olde, And Diogenes thanne he hihte. So old he was that he ne mihte The world travaile, and for the beste He schop him for to take his reste, And duelte at hom in such a wise, That nyh his hous he let devise Endlong upon an axeltré To sette a tonne in such degré, That he it mihte torne aboute; Wherof on hed was taken oute, For he therinne sitte scholde And torne himself so as he wolde, To take th'eir and se the hevene And deme of the planetes sevene, As he which cowthe mochel what. And thus fulofte there he sat To muse in his philosophie Solein withoute compaignie: So that upon a morwetyde, As thing which scholde so betyde, Whan he was set ther as him liste To loke upon the sonne ariste, Wherof the propretes he sih, It fell ther cam ridende nyh King Alisandre with a route. And as he caste his yhe aboute, He sih this tonne, and what it mente He wolde wite, and thider sente A knyht, be whom he mihte it knowe, And he himself that ilke throwe Abod, and hoveth there stille. This kniht after the kinges wille With spore made his hors to gon And to the tonne he cam anon, Wher that he fond a man of age, And he him tolde the message, Such as the king him hadde bede, And axeth why in thilke stede The tonne stod, and what it was. And he, which understod the cas, Sat stille and spak no word agein. The kniht bad speke and seith, 'Vilein, Thou schalt me telle, er that I go; It is thi king which axeth so.' 'Mi king?' quod he, 'That were unriht.' 'What is he thanne?' seith the kniht, 'Is he thi man?' 'That seie I noght,' Quod he, 'bot this I am bethoght, Mi mannes man hou that he is.' 'Thou lyest, false cherl, ywiss,' The kniht him seith, and was riht wroth, And to the king agein he goth And tolde him how this man ansuerde. The king, whan he this tale herde, Bad that thei scholden alle abyde, For he himself wol thider ryde. And whan he cam tofore the tonne, He hath his tale thus begonne: 'Al heil,' he seith, 'what man art thou?' Quod he, 'Such on as thou sest now.' The king, which hadde wordes wise, His age wolde noght despise, Bot seith, 'Mi fader, I thee preie That thou me wolt the cause seie, How that I am thi mannes man.' 'Sire king,' quod he, 'and that I can, If that thou wolt.' 'Yis,' seith the king. Quod he, 'This is the sothe thing: Sith I ferst resoun understod, And knew what thing was evel and good, The will which of my bodi moeveth, Whos werkes that the God reproeveth, I have restreigned everemore, As him which stant under the lore Of reson, whos soubgit he is, So that he mai noght don amis. And thus be weie of covenant Will is my man and my servant, And evere hath ben and evere schal. And thi will is thi principal, And hath the lordschipe of thi witt, So that thou cowthest nevere yit Take o dai reste of thi labour; Bot for to ben a conquerour Of worldes good, which mai noght laste, Thou hiest evere aliche faste, Wher thou no reson hast to winne. And thus thi will is cause of sinne, And is thi lord, to whom thou servest, Wherof thou litel thonk deservest.' The king of that he thus answerde Was nothing wroth, bot whanne he herde The hihe wisdom which he seide, With goodly wordes this he preide, That he him wolde telle his name. 'I am,' quod he, 'that ilke same, That which men Diogenes calle.' Tho was the king riht glad withalle, For he hadde often herd tofore What man he was, so that therfore He seide, 'O wise Diogene, Now schal thi grete witt be sene; For thou schalt of my gifte have What worldes thing that thou wolt crave.' Quod he, 'Thanne hove out of mi sonne, And let it schyne into mi tonne; For thou benymst me thilke gifte, Which lith noght in thi miht to schifte. Non other good of thee me nedeth.'    This king, whom every contré dredeth, Lo, thus he was enformed there. Wherof, my sone, thou miht lere How that thi will schal noght be lieved, Where it is noght of wit relieved. And thou hast seid thiself er this How that thi will thi maister is; Thurgh which thin hertes thoght withinne Is evere of Contek to beginne, So that it is gretli to drede That it non homicide brede. For love is of a wonder kinde, And hath hise wittes ofte blinde, That thei fro mannes reson falle; Bot whan that it is so befalle That will schal the corage lede, In loves cause it is to drede. Wherof I finde ensample write, Which is behovely for to wite. [The Tale of Pyramus and Thisbe]    I rede a tale, and telleth this: The Cité which Semiramis Enclosed hath with wall aboute, Of worthi folk with many a route Was enhabited here and there; Among the whiche tuo ther were Above alle othre noble and grete, Dwellende tho withinne a strete So nyh togedre, as it was sene, That ther was nothing hem betwene, Bot wow to wow and wall to wall. This o lord hadde in special A sone, a lusti bacheler, In al the toun was non his pier. That other hadde a dowhter eke, In al the lond that for to seke Men wisten non so faire as sche. And fell so, as it scholde be, This faire dowhter nyh this sone As thei togedre thanne wone, Cupide hath so the thinges schape, That thei ne mihte his hand ascape, That he his fyr on hem ne caste: Wherof her herte he overcaste To folwe thilke lore and suie Which nevere man yit miht eschuie; And that was love, as it is happed, Which hath here hertes so betrapped, That thei be alle weies seche How that thei mihten winne a speche, Here wofull peine for to lisse.    Who loveth wel, it mai noght misse, And namely whan ther be tuo Of on acord, how so it go, Bot if that thei som weie finde. For love is evere of such a kinde And hath his folk so wel affaited, That howso that it be awaited, Ther mai no man the pourpos lette. And thus betwen hem tuo thei sette An hole upon a wall to make, Thurgh which thei have her conseil take At alle times whan thei myhte. This faire maiden Tisbee hihte, And he whom that sche loveth hote Was Piramus be name hote. So longe here lecoun thei recorden, Til ate laste thei acorden Be nihtes time for to wende Alone out fro the tounes ende, Wher was a welle under a tree; And who cam ferst, or sche or he, He scholde stille there abide. So it befell the nyhtes tide This maiden, which desguised was, Al prively the softe pas Goth thurgh the large toun unknowe, Til that sche cam withinne a throwe Wher that sche liketh for to duelle, At thilke unhappi freisshe welle, Which was also the forest nyh Wher sche comende a leoun syh Into the feld to take his preie, In haste and sche tho fledde aweie, So as fortune scholde falle, For feere and let hire wympel falle Nyh to the welle upon th'erbage. The leoun in his wilde rage A beste, which that he fond oute, Hath slain, and with his blodi snoute, Whan he hath eten what he wolde, To drynke of thilke stremes colde Cam to the welle, where he fond The wympel, which out of hire hond Was falle, and he it hath todrawe, Bebled aboute and al forgnawe; And thanne he strawhte him for to drinke Upon the freisshe welles brinke, And after that out of the plein He torneth to the wode agein. And Tisbee dorste noght remue, Bot as a bridd which were in mue Withinne a buissh sche kepte hire clos So stille that sche noght aros; Unto hirself and pleigneth ay.    And fell, whil that sche there lay, This Piramus cam after sone Unto the welle, and be the mone He fond hire wimpel blodi there. Cam nevere yit to mannes ere Tidinge, ne to mannes sihte Merveile, which so sore aflihte A mannes herte, as it tho dede To him, which in the same stede With many a wofull compleignynge Began his handes for to wringe, As he which demeth sikerly That sche be ded. And sodeinly His swerd al nakid out he breide In his folhaste, and thus he seide: 'I am cause of this felonie, So it is resoun that I die, As sche is ded because of me.' And with that word upon his kne He fell, and to the goddes alle Up to the hevene he gan to calle, And preide, sithen it was so That he may noght his love as tho Have in this world, that of her grace He miht hire have in other place, For hiere wolde he noght abide, He seith. Bot as it schal betide, The pomel of his swerd to grounde He sette, and thurgh his herte a wounde He made up to the bare hilte. And in this wise himself he spilte With his folhaste and deth he nam. For sche withinne a while cam, Wher he lai ded upon his knif. So wofull yit was nevere lif As Tisbee was, whan sche him sih. Sche mihte noght o word on hih Speke oute, for hire herte schette, That of hir lif no pris sche sette, Bot ded swounende doun sche fell. Til after, whanne it so befell That sche out of hire traunce awok, With many a wofull pitous lok Hire yhe alwei among sche caste Upon hir love, and ate laste Sche cawhte breth and seide thus: 'O thou which cleped art Venus, Goddesse of love, and thou, Cupide, Which loves cause hast for to guide, I wot now wel that ye be blinde, Of thilke unhapp which I now finde Only betwen my love and me. This Piramus, which hiere I se Bledende, what hath he deserved? For he youre heste hath kept and served, And was yong and I bothe also. Helas, why do ye with ous so? Ye sette oure herte bothe afyre, And maden ous such thing desire Wherof that we no skile cowthe; Bot thus oure freisshe lusti yowthe Withoute joie is al despended, Which thing mai nevere ben amended. For as of me this wol I seie, That me is levere for to deie Than live after this sorghful day.' And with this word, where as he lay, Hire love in armes sche embraseth, Hire oghne deth and so pourchaseth That now sche wepte and nou sche kiste, Til ate laste, er sche it wiste, So gret a sorwe is to hire falle, Which overgoth hire wittes alle. As sche which mihte it noght asterte, The swerdes point agein hire herte Sche sette, and fell doun therupon, Wherof that sche was ded anon. And thus bothe on o swerd bledende Thei weren founde ded liggende.    Now thou, mi sone, hast herd this tale, Bewar that of thin oghne bale Thou be noght cause in thi folhaste, And kep that thou thi witt ne waste Upon thi thoght in aventure, Wherof thi lyves forfeture Mai falle. And if thou have so thoght Er this, tell on and hyde it noght."    "Mi fader, upon loves side Mi conscience I woll noght hyde, How that for love of pure wo I have ben ofte moeved so, That with my wisshes if I myhte, A thousand times, I yow plyhte, I hadde storven in a day; And therof I me schryve may, Though love fully me ne slowh, Mi will to deie was ynowh, So am I of my will coupable. And yit is sche noght merciable, Which mai me give lif and hele. Bot that hir list noght with me dele, I wot be whos conseil it is, And him wolde I long time er this, And yit I wolde and evere schal, Slen and destruie in special. The gold of nyne kinges londes Ne scholde him save fro myn hondes, In my pouer if that he were; Bot yit him stant of me no fere For noght that evere I can manace. He is the hindrere of mi grace; Til he be ded I mai noght spede. So mot I nedes taken hiede And schape how that he were aweie, If I therto mai finde a weie."    "Mi sone, tell me now forthi, Which is that mortiel enemy That thou manacest to be ded."    "Mi fader, it is such a qwed, That wher I come, he is tofore, And doth so, that mi cause is lore." "What is his name?"       "It is Daunger, Which is mi ladi consailer. For I was nevere yit so slyh, To come in eny place nyh Wher as sche was be nyht or day, That Danger ne was redy ay, With whom for speche ne for mede Yit mihte I nevere of love spede; For evere this I finde soth, Al that my ladi seith or doth To me, Daunger schal make an ende, And that makth al mi world miswende. And evere I axe his help, bot he Mai wel be cleped Sanz Pité; For ay the more I to him bowe, The lasse he wol my tale alowe. He hath mi ladi so englued, Sche wol noght that he be remued; For evere he hangeth on hire seil, And is so privé of conseil, That evere whanne I have oght bede, I finde Danger in hire stede And myn ansuere of him I have; Bot for no merci that I crave, Of merci nevere a point I hadde. I finde his ansuere ay so badde, That werse mihte it nevere be. And thus betwen Danger and me Is evere werre til he dye. Bot mihte I ben of such maistrie, That I Danger hadde overcome, With that were al my joie come. Thus wolde I wonde for no sinne, Ne yit for al this world to winne, If that I mihte finde a sleyhte, To leie al myn astat in weyhte; I wolde him fro the court dissevere, So that he come ageinward nevere. Therfore I wisshe and wolde fain That he were in som wise slain; For while he stant in thilke place, Ne gete I noght my ladi grace. Thus hate I dedly thilke vice, And wolde he stode in non office In place wher mi ladi is; For if he do, I wot wel this, That owther schal he deie or I Withinne a while; and noght forthi On my ladi fulofte I muse, How that sche mai hirself excuse, If that I deie in such a plit. Me thenkth sche mihte noght be qwyt That sche ne were an homicide. And if it scholde so betide, As God forbiede it scholde be, Be double weie it is pité. For I, which al my will and witt Have gove and served evere yit, And thanne I scholde in such a wise In rewardinge of my servise Be ded, me thenkth it were a rowthe. And furthermor, to telle trowthe, Sche, that hath evere be wel named, Were worthi thanne to be blamed And of reson to ben appeled, Whan with o word sche mihte have heled A man, and soffreth him so deie. Ha, who sawh evere such a weie? Ha, who sawh evere in such destresse - Withoute pité gentilesse, Withoute mercy wommanhede, That wol so quyte a man his mede, Which evere hath be to love trewe? Mi goode fader, if ye rewe Upon mi tale, tell me now, And I wol stinte and herkne yow."    "Mi sone, attempre thi corage Fro Wraththe, and let thin herte assuage. For whoso wole him underfonge, He mai his grace abide longe, Er he of love be received; And ek also, bot it be weyved, Ther mihte mochel thing befalle, That scholde make a man to falle Fro love, that nevere afterward Ne durste he loke thiderward. In harde weies men gon softe, And er thei clymbe avise hem ofte. Men sen alday that rape reweth; And whoso wicked ale breweth, Fulofte he mot the werse drinke: Betre is to flete than to sincke; Betre is upon the bridel chiewe Thanne if he felle and overthrewe - The hors - and stikede in the myr. To caste water in the fyr Betre is than brenne up al the hous. The man which is malicious And folhastif, fulofte he falleth, And selden is whan love him calleth. Forthi betre is to soffre a throwe Than be to wilde and overthrowe. Suffrance hath evere be the beste To wissen him that secheth reste. And thus, if thou wolt love and spede, Mi sone, soffre as I thee rede. What mai the mous agein the cat? And for this cause I axe that, Who mai to love make a werre, That he ne hath himself the werre? Love axeth pes and evere schal, And who that fihteth most withal Schal lest conquere of his emprise. For this thei tellen that ben wise, Wicke is to stryve and have the werse; To hasten is noght worth a kerse; Thing that a man mai noght achieve, That mai noght wel be don at eve, It mot abide til the morwe. Ne haste noght thin oghne sorwe, Mi sone, and tak this in thi witt: He hath noght lost that wel abitt.    Ensample that it falleth thus, Thou miht wel take of Piramus, Whan he in haste his swerd outdrowh And on the point himselve slowh For love of Tisbee pitously, For he hire wympel fond blody And wende a beste hire hadde slain; Wher as him oghte have be riht fain, For sche was there al sauf beside. Bot for he wolde noght abide, This meschief fell. Forthi be war, Mi sone, as I thee warne dar, Do thou nothing in such a res, For suffrance is the welle of pes. Thogh thou to loves court poursuie, Yit sit it wel that thou eschuie That thou the court noght overhaste, For so miht thou thi time waste; Bot if thin happ therto be schape, It mai noght helpe for to rape. Therfore attempre thi corage; Folhaste doth non avantage, Bot ofte it set a man behinde In cause of love, and that I finde Be olde ensample, as thou schalt hiere, Touchende of love in this matiere. [The Tale of Phebus and Daphne]    A maiden whilom ther was on, Which Daphne hihte, and such was non Of beauté thanne, as it was seid. Phebus his love hath on hire leid, And therupon to hire he soghte In his folhaste, and so besoghte, That sche with him no reste hadde; For evere upon hire love he gradde, And sche seide evere unto him nay. So it befell upon a dai, Cupide, which hath every chance Of love under his governance, Syh Phebus hasten him so sore. And for he scholde him haste more, And yit noght speden ate laste, A dart thurghout his herte he caste, Which was of gold and al afyre, That made him manyfold desire Of love more thanne he dede. To Daphne ek in the same stede A dart of led he caste and smot, Which was al cold and nothing hot. And thus Phebus in love brenneth, And in his haste aboute renneth, To loke if that he mihte winne; Bot he was evere to beginne, For evere awei fro him sche fledde, So that he nevere his love spedde. And for to make him full believe That no Folhaste mihte achieve To gete love in such degree, This Daphne into a lorer tre Was torned, which is evere grene, In tokne, as yit it mai be sene, That sche schal duelle a maiden stille, And Phebus failen of his wille.    Be suche ensamples, as thei stonde, Mi sone, thou miht understonde, To hasten love is thing in vein, Whan that fortune is theragein. To take where a man hath leve Good is, and elles he mot leve; For whan a mannes happes failen, Ther is non haste mai availen."    "Mi fader, grant merci of this! Bot while I se mi ladi is No tre, bot halt hire oghne forme, Ther mai me no man so enforme, To whether part fortune wende, That I unto mi lyves ende Ne wol hire serven everemo."    "Mi sone, sithen it is so, I seie no mor; bot in this cas Bewar how it with Phebus was. Noght only upon loves chance, Bot upon every governance Which falleth unto mannes dede, Folhaste is evere for to drede, And that a man good consail take, Er he his pourpos undertake, For consail put Folhaste aweie."    "Now goode fader, I you preie, That for to wisse me the more, Som good ensample upon this lore Ye wolden telle of that is write, That I the betre mihte wite How I Folhaste scholde eschuie, And the wisdom of conseil suie."    "Mi sone, that thou miht enforme Thi pacience upon the forme Of olde essamples, as thei felle, Now understond what I schal telle. [The Tale of Athemas and Demephon]    Whan noble Troie was belein And overcome, and hom agein The Gregois torned fro the siege, The kinges founde here oghne liege In manye places, as men seide, That hem forsoke and desobeide. Among the whiche fell this cas To Demephon and Athemas, That weren kinges bothe tuo, And bothe weren served so. Here lieges wolde hem noght receive, So that thei mote algates weyve To seche lond in other place, For there founde thei no grace. Wherof thei token hem to rede, And soghten frendes ate nede And ech of hem asseureth other To helpe as to his oghne brother, To vengen hem of thilke oultrage And winne agein here heritage. And thus thei ryde aboute faste To gete hem help, and ate laste Thei hadden pouer sufficant, And maden thanne a covenant, That thei ne scholden no lif save, Ne prest, ne clerc, ne lord, ne knave, Ne wif, ne child, of that thei finde, Which berth visage of mannes kinde, So that no lif schal be socoured, Bot with the dedly swerd devoured. In such Folhaste here ordinance Thei schapen for to do vengance. Whan this pourpos was wist and knowe Among here host, tho was ther blowe Of wordes many a speche aboute. Of yonge men the lusti route Were of this tale glad ynowh; Ther was no care for the plowh. As thei that weren Folhastif, Thei ben acorded to the strif, And sein it mai noght be to gret To vengen hem of such forfet. Thus seith the wilde unwise tonge Of hem that there weren yonge. Bot Nestor, which was old and hor, The salve sih tofore the sor, As he that was of conseil wys. So that anon be his avis Ther was a privé conseil nome. The lordes ben togedre come; This Demephon and Athemas Here pourpos tolden, as it was; Thei sieten alle stille and herde, Was non bot Nestor hem ansuerde. He bad hem, if thei wolde winne, Thei scholden se, er thei beginne, Here ende, and sette here ferste entente, That thei hem after ne repente. And axeth hem this questioun, To what final conclusioun Thei wolde regne kinges there, If that no poeple in londe were; And seith, it were a wonder wierde To sen a king become an hierde, Wher no lif is bot only beste Under the liegance of his heste. For who that is of man no king, The remenant is as nothing. He seith ek, if the pourpos holde To sle the poeple, as thei tuo wolde, Whan thei it mihte noght restore, Al Grece it scholde abegge sore, To se the wilde beste wone Wher whilom duelte a mannes sone. And for that cause he bad hem trete, And stinte of the manaces grete. Betre is to winne be fair speche, He seith, than such vengance seche; For whanne a man is most above, Him nedeth most to gete him love.    Whan Nestor hath his tale seid, Agein him was no word withseid; It thoghte hem alle he seide wel. And thus Fortune hire dedly whiel Fro werre torneth into pes. Bot forth thei wenten natheles, And whan the contres herde sein How that here kinges be besein Of such a pouer as thei ladde, Was non so bold that hem ne dradde, And for to seche pes and grith Thei sende and preide anon forthwith, So that the kinges ben appesed, And every mannes herte is esed; Al was forgete and noght recorded. And thus thei ben togedre acorded; The kinges were agein received, And pes was take and wraththe weived, And al thurgh conseil which was good Of him that reson understod.    Be this ensample, sone, attempre Thin herte and let no will distempre Thi wit, and do nothing be myht Which mai be do be love and riht. Folhaste is cause of mochel wo; Forthi, mi sone, do noght so. And as touchende of Homicide Which toucheth unto loves side, Fulofte it falleth unavised Thurgh Will, which is noght wel assised Whan Wit and Reson ben aweie, And that Folhaste is in the weie, Wherof hath falle gret vengance. Forthi tak into remembrance To love in such a maner wise That thou deserve no juise. For wel I wot, thou miht noght lette That thou ne schalt thin herte sette To love, wher thou wolt or non; Bot if thi wit be overgon, So that it torne into malice, Ther wot no man of thilke vice What peril that ther mai befalle. Wherof a tale amonges alle, Which is gret pité for to hiere, I thenke for to tellen hiere, That thou such moerdre miht withstonde, Whan thou the tale hast understonde. [The Tale of Orestes]    Of Troie at thilke noble toun, Whos fame stant yit of renoun And evere schal to mannes ere, The siege laste longe there, Er that the Greks it mihten winne, Whil Priamus was king therinne; Bot of the Greks that lyhe aboute Agamenon ladde al the route. This thing is knowen overal, Bot yit I thenke in special To my matiere therupon Telle in what wise Agamenon, Thurgh chance which mai noght be weived, Of love untrewe was deceived. An old sawe is, 'Who that is slyh In place where he mai be nyh, He makth the ferre lieve loth.' Of love and thus fulofte it goth. Ther while Agamenon batailleth To winne Troie, and it assailleth, Fro home and was long time ferr, Egistus drowh his qweene nerr, And with the leiser which he hadde This ladi at his wille he ladde. Climestre was hire rihte name, Sche was therof gretli to blame, To love there it mai noght laste. Bot fell to meschief ate laste, For whan this noble worthi kniht Fro Troie cam, the ferste nyht That he at home abedde lay, Egistus, longe er it was day, As this Climestre him hadde asent, And weren bothe of on assent, Be treson slowh him in his bedd. Bot moerdre, which mai noght ben hedd, Sprong out to every mannes ere, Wherof the lond was full of fere.    Agamenon hath be this qweene A sone, and that was after sene. Bot yit as thanne he was of yowthe, A babe, which no reson cowthe, And as Godd wolde, it fell him thus. A worthi kniht Taltabius This yonge child hath in kepinge, And whan he herd of this tidinge, Of this treson, of this misdede, He gan withinne himself to drede, In aunter if this false Egiste Upon him come, er he it wiste, To take and moerdre of his malice The child, which he hath to norrice. And for that cause in alle haste Out of the lond he gan him haste And to the king of Crete he strawhte And him this yonge lord betawhte, And preide him for his fader sake That he this child wolde undertake And kepe him til he be of age, So as he was of his lignage; And tolde him over al the cas, How that his fadre moerdred was, And hou Egistus, as men seide, Was king, to whom the lond obeide. And whanne Ydomeneux the king Hath understondinge of this thing, Which that this kniht him hadde told, He made sorwe manyfold And tok this child into his warde, And seide he wolde him kepe and warde, Til that he were of such a myht To handle a swerd and ben a knyht, To venge him at his oghne wille. And thus Horestes duelleth stille: Such was the childes rihte name, Which after wroghte mochel schame In vengance of his fader deth.    The time of yeres overgeth, That he was man of brede and lengthe, Of wit, of manhod, and of strengthe, A fair persone amonges alle. And he began to clepe and calle, As he which come was to manne, Unto the King of Crete thanne, Preiende that he wolde him make A kniht and pouer with him take, For lengere wolde he noght beleve, He seith, bot preith the king of leve To gon and cleyme his heritage And vengen him of thilke oultrage Which was unto his fader do. The king assenteth wel therto, With gret honour and knyht him makth, And gret pouer to him betakth, And gan his journé for to caste, So that Horestes ate laste His leve tok and forth he goth. And he that was in herte wroth, His ferste pleinte to bemene, Unto the cite of Athene He goth him forth and was received, So there was he noght deceived. The duc and tho that weren wise Thei profren hem to his servise; And he hem thonketh of here profre And seith himself he wol gon offre Unto the goddes for his sped, As alle men him geven red. So goth he to the temple forth. Of giftes that be mochel worth His sacrifice and his offringe He made; and after his axinge He was ansuerd, if that he wolde His stat recovere, thanne he scholde Upon his moder do vengance So cruel, that the remembrance Therof mihte everemore abide, As sche that was an homicide And of hire oghne lord moerdrice. Horestes, which of thilke office Was nothing glad, as thanne he preide Unto the goddes there and seide That thei the juggement devise, How sche schal take the juise. And therupon he hadde ansuere, That he hire pappes scholde of tere Out of hire brest his oghne hondes, And for ensample of alle londes With hors sche scholde be todrawe, Til houndes hadde hire bones gnawe Withouten eny sepulture. This was a wofull aventure! And whan Horestes hath al herd, How that the goddes have ansuerd, Forth with the strengthe which he ladde The duc and his pouer he hadde, And to a cité forth thei gon, The which was cleped Cropheon, Where as Phoieus was lord and sire, Which profreth him withouten hyre His help and al that he mai do, As he that was riht glad therto, To grieve his mortiel enemy. And tolde hem certein cause why, How that Egiste in mariage His dowhter whilom of full age Forlai, and afterward forsok, Whan he Horestes moder tok.    Men sein, 'Old senne newe schame': Thus more and more aros the blame Agein Egiste on every side. Horestes with his host to ride Began, and Phoieus with hem wente; I trowe Egiste him schal repente. Thei riden forth unto Micene, Wher lay Climestre thilke qweene, The which Horestes moder is. And whan sche herde telle of this, The gates weren faste schet, And thei were of here entré let. Anon this cité was withoute Belein and sieged al aboute, And evere among thei it assaile, Fro day to nyht and so travaile, Til ate laste thei it wonne; Tho was ther sorwe ynowh begonne.    Horestes dede his moder calle Anon tofore the lordes alle And ek tofor the poeple also, To hire and tolde his tale tho, And seide, 'O cruel beste unkinde, How mihtest thou thin herte finde, For eny lust of loves drawhte, That thou acordest to the slawhte Of him which was thin oghne lord? Thi treson stant of such record, Thou miht thi werkes noght forsake; So mot I for mi fader sake Vengance upon thi bodi do, As I comanded am therto. Unkindely for thou hast wroght, Unkindeliche it schal be boght: The sone schal the moder sle, For that whilom thou seidest "yee" To that thou scholdest "nay" have seid.' And he with that his hond hath leid Upon his moder brest anon, And rente out fro the bare bon Hire pappes bothe and caste aweie Amiddes in the carte weie, And after tok the dede cors And let it drawe awey with hors Unto the hound and to the raven; Sche was non other wise graven.    Egistus, which was elles where, Tidinges comen to his ere How that Micenes was belein, Bot what was more herd he noght sein. With gret manace and mochel bost He drowh pouer and made an host And cam in rescousse of the toun. Bot al the sleyhte of his tresoun Horestes wiste it be aspie, And of his men a gret partie He made in buisshement abide, To waite on him in such a tide That he ne mihte here hond ascape: And in this wise as he hath schape The thing befell, so that Egiste Was take, er he himself it wiste, And was forth broght hise hondes bounde, As whan men han a tretour founde. And tho that weren with him take, Whiche of tresoun were overtake, Togedre in o sentence falle. Bot false Egiste above hem alle Was demed to diverse peine, The worste that men cowthe ordeigne, And so forth after be the lawe He was unto the gibet drawe, Where he above alle othre hongeth, As to a tretour it belongeth.    Tho fame with hire swifte wynges Aboute flyh and bar tidinges, And made it cowth in alle londes How that Horestes with hise hondes Climestre his oghne moder slowh. Some sein he dede wel ynowh, And som men sein he dede amis, Diverse opinion ther is. That sche is ded thei speken alle, Bot pleinli hou it is befalle, The matiere in so litel throwe In soth ther mihte no man knowe Bot thei that weren ate dede. And comunliche in every nede The worste speche is rathest herd And lieved, til it be ansuerd. The kinges and the lordes grete Begonne Horestes for to threte To puten him out of his regne. 'He is noght worthi for to renge, The child which slowh his moder so,' Thei saide; and therupon also The lordes of comun assent A time sette of parlement, And to Athenes king and lord Togedre come of on acord, To knowe hou that the sothe was. So that Horestes in this cas Thei senden after, and he com. King Menelay the wordes nom And axeth him of this matiere. And he, that alle it mihten hiere, Ansuerde and tolde his tale alarge, And hou the goddes in his charge Comanded him in such a wise His oghne hond to do juise. And with this tale a duc aros, Which was a worthi knight of los, His name was Menesteus, And seide unto the lordes thus: 'The wreeche which Horestes dede, It was thing of the goddes bede, And nothing of his crualté; And if ther were of mi degree In al this place such a kniht That wolde sein it was no riht, I wole it with my bodi prove.' And therupon he caste his glove, And ek this noble duc alleide Ful many another skile, and seide Sche hadde wel deserved wreche, Ferst for the cause of spousebreche, And after wroghte in such a wise That al the world it oghte agrise, Whan that sche for so foul a vice Was of hire oghne lord moerdrice. Thei seten alle stille and herde, Bot therto was no man ansuerde, It thoghte hem alle he seide skile, Ther is no man withseie it wile; Whan thei upon the reson musen, Horestes alle thei excusen. So that with gret solempneté He was unto his digneté Received, and coroned king. And tho befell a wonder thing: Egiona, whan sche this wiste, Which was the dowhter of Egiste And soster on the moder side To this Horeste, at thilke tide, Whan sche herde how hir brother spedde, For pure sorwe, which hire ledde, That he ne hadde ben exiled, Sche hath hire oghne lif beguiled Anon and hyng hireselve tho. It hath and schal ben everemo, To moerdre who that wole assente, He mai noght faille to repente. This false Egiona was on, Which for to moerdre Agamenon Gaf hire acord and hire assent, So that be Goddes juggement, Thogh that non other man it wolde, Sche tok hire juise as sche scholde; And as sche to another wroghte, Vengance upon hireself sche soghte, And hath of hire unhappi wit A moerdre with a moerdre quit. Such is of moerdre the vengance.    Forthi, mi sone, in remembrance Of this ensample tak good hiede. For who that thenkth his love spiede With moerdre, he schal with worldes schame Himself and ek his love schame."    "Mi fader, of this aventure Which ye have told, I you assure Min herte is sory for to hiere, Bot only for I wolde lere What is to done, and what to leve.    And over this now be your leve, That ye me wolden telle I preie, If ther be lieffull eny weie Withoute senne a man to sle."    "Mi sone, in sondri wise, ye. What man that is of traiterie, Of moerdre or elles robberie Atteint, the jugge schal noght lette, Bot he schal slen of pure dette, And doth gret senne, if that he wonde. For who that lawe hath upon honde, And spareth for to do justice For merci, doth noght his office, That he his mercy so bewareth, Whan for o schrewe which he spareth A thousand goode men he grieveth. With such merci who that believeth To plese God, he is deceived, Or elles resoun mot be weyved. The lawe stod er we were bore, How that a kinges swerd is bore In signe that he schal defende His trewe poeple and make an ende Of suche as wolden hem devoure. Lo thus, my sone, to socoure The lawe and comun riht to winne, A man mai sle withoute sinne, And do therof a gret almesse, So for to kepe rihtwisnesse. And over this for his contré In time of werre a man is fre Himself, his hous, and ek his lond Defende with his oghne hond, And slen, if that he mai no bet, After the lawe which is set."    "Now, fader, thanne I you beseche Of hem that dedly werres seche In worldes cause and scheden blod, If such an homicide is good." "Mi sone, upon thi question The trowthe of myn opinion, Als ferforth as my wit arecheth And as the pleine lawe techeth, I woll thee telle in evidence, To rewle with thi conscience." Quod creat ipse deus, necat hoc homicida creatum,    Vltor et humano sanguine spargit humum. Vt pecoris sic est hominis cruor, heu, modo fusus,    Victa iacet pietas, et furor vrget opus. Angelus "In terra pax" dixit, et vltima Cristi    Verba sonant pacem, quam modo guerra fugat.5 "The hihe God of His justice That ilke foule horrible vice Of Homicide he hath forbede, Be Moises as it was bede. Whan Goddes Sone also was bore, He sende Hise anglis doun therfore, Whom the schepherdes herden singe, Pes to the men of welwillinge In erthe be among ous here. So for to speke in this matiere After the lawe of charité, Ther schal no dedly werre be. And ek nature it hath defended And in hir lawe pes comended, Which is the chief of mannes welthe, Of mannes lif, of mannes helthe. Bot dedly werre hath his covine Of Pestilence and of Famine, Of Poverté and of alle wo, Wherof this world we blamen so, Which now the werre hath under fote, Til God Himself therof do bote. For alle thing which God hath wroght In erthe, werre it bringth to noght. The cherche is brent, the priest is slain, The wif, the maide is ek forlain, The lawe is lore, and God unserved. I not what mede he hath deserved That suche werres ledeth inne. If that he do it for to winne, Ferst to acompte his grete cost Forth with the folk that he hath lost, As to the worldes rekeninge Ther schal he finde no winnynge; And if he do it to pourchace The hevene mede, of such a grace I can noght speke, and natheles Crist hath comanded love and pes, And who that worcheth the revers, I trowe his mede is ful divers. And sithen thanne that we finde That werres in here oghne kinde Ben toward God of no decerte, And ek thei bringen in poverte Of worldes good, it is merveile Among the men what it mai eyle, That thei a pes ne conne sette. I trowe senne be the lette, And every mede of senne is deth; So wot I nevere hou that it geth. Bot we that ben of o believe Among ousself, this wolde I lieve That betre it were pes to chese, Than so be double weie lese.    I not if that it now so stonde, Bot this a man mai understonde, Who that these olde bokes redeth, That Coveitise is on which ledeth, And broghte ferst the werres inne. At Grece if that I schal beginne, Ther was it proved hou it stod: To Perce, which was ful of good, Thei maden werre in special, And so thei deden overal, Wher gret richesse was in londe, So that thei leften nothing stonde Unwerred, bot onliche Archade. For there thei no werres made, Because it was bareigne and povere, Wherof thei mihten noght recovere; And thus poverté was forbore, He that noght hadde noght hath lore. Bot yit it is a wonder thing, Whan that a riche worthi king, Or other lord, what so he be, Wol axe and cleyme propreté In thing to which he hath no riht, Bot onliche of his grete miht. For this mai every man wel wite, That bothe kinde and lawe write Expressly stonden theragein. Bot he mot nedes somwhat sein, Althogh ther be no reson inne, Which secheth cause for to winne. For Wit that is with Will oppressed Whan Coveitise him hath adressed And alle Resoun put aweie, He can wel finde such a weie To werre, where as evere him liketh, Wherof that he the world entriketh, That many a man of him compleigneth. Bot yit alwei som cause he feigneth, And of his wrongful herte he demeth That al is wel, what evere him semeth, Be so that he mai winne ynowh. For as the trew man to the plowh Only to the gaignage entendeth, Riht so the werreiour despendeth His time and hath no conscience. And in this point for evidence Of hem that suche werres make, Thou miht a gret ensample take, How thei her tirannie excusen Of that thei wrongfull werres usen, And how thei stonde of on acord, The souldeour forth with the lord, The povere man forth with the riche, As of corage thei ben liche, To make werres and to pile For lucre and for non other skyle. Wherof a propre tale I rede, As it whilom befell in dede. [The Tale of Alexander and the Pirate]    Of him whom al this erthe dradde, Whan he the world so overladde Thurgh werre, as it fortuned is, King Alisandre, I rede this: How in a marche, where he lay, It fell per chance upon a day A rovere of the see was nome, Which many a man hadde overcome And slain and take here good aweie. This pilour, as the bokes seie, A famous man in sondri stede Was of the werkes whiche he dede. This prisoner tofor the king Was broght, and there upon this thing In audience he was accused. And he his dede hath noght excused, Bot preith the king to don him riht, And seith, 'Sire, if I were of miht, I have an herte lich to thin; For if the pouer were myn, Mi will is most in special To rifle and geten overal The large worldes good aboute. Bot for I lede a povere route And am, as who seith, at meschief, The name of pilour and of thief I bere; and thou, which routes grete Miht lede and take thi begete, And dost riht as I wolde do, Thi name is nothing cleped so, Bot thou art named "Emperour." Oure dedes ben of o colour And in effect of o decerte, Bot thi richesse and my poverte Tho ben noght taken evene liche. And natheles he that is riche This dai, tomorwe he mai be povere; And in contraire also recovere A povere man to gret richesse Men sen: 'forthi let rihtwisnesse Be peised evene in the balance.'    The king his hardi contienance Behield, and herde hise wordes wise, And seide unto him in this wise: 'Thin ansuere I have understonde, Wherof my will is, that thou stonde In mi service and stille abide.' And forthwithal the same tide He hath him terme of lif withholde, The mor and for he schal ben holde, He made him kniht and gaf him lond, Which afterward was of his hond An orped kniht in many a stede, And gret prouesce of armes dede, As the croniqes it recorden.    And in this wise thei acorden, The whiche of o condicioun Be set upon destruccioun. Such capitein such retenue. Bot for to se to what issue The thing befalleth ate laste, It is gret wonder that men caste Here herte upon such wrong to winne, Wher no begete mai ben inne, And doth desese on every side: Bot whan reson is put aside And will governeth the corage, The faucon which that fleth ramage And soeffreth nothing in the weie, Wherof that he mai take his preie, Is noght mor set upon ravine, Than thilke man which his covine Hath set in such a maner wise. For al the world ne mai suffise To will which is noght resonable.    Wherof ensample concordable Lich to this point of which I meene, Was upon Alisandre sene, Which hadde set al his entente So as fortune with him wente, That reson mihte him non governe, Bot of his will he was so sterne, That al the world he overran And what him list he tok and wan. In Ynde the superiour Whan that he was ful conquerour, And hadde his wilful pourpos wonne Of al this erthe under the sonne, This king homward to Macedoine, Whan that he cam to Babiloine, And wende most in his empire, As he which was hol lord and sire, In honour for to be received, Most sodeinliche he was deceived, And with strong puison envenimed. And as he hath the world mistimed Noght as he scholde with his wit, Noght as he wolde it was aquit.    Thus was he slain that whilom slowh, And he which riche was ynowh This dai, tomorwe he hadde noght. And in such wise as he hath wroght In destorbance of worldes pes, His werre he fond thanne endeles, In which forevere desconfit He was.       Lo now, for what profit Of werre it helpeth for to ryde, For coveitise and worldes pride To sle the worldes men aboute, As bestes whiche gon theroute. For every lif which reson can Oghth wel to knowe that a man Ne scholde thurgh no tirannie Lich to these othre bestes die, Til kinde wolde for him sende. I not hou he it mihte amende, Which takth awei foreveremore The lif that he mai noght restore.    Forthi, mi sone, in alle weie Be wel avised, I thee preie, Of slawhte er that thou be coupable Withoute cause resonable."     [On Crusades] "Mi fader, understonde it is, That ye have seid; bot over this I prei you tell me 'nay' or 'yee,' To passe over the grete see To werre and sle the Sarazin, Is that the lawe?"       "Sone myn, To preche and soffre for the feith, That have I herd the Gospell seith; Bot for to slee, that hiere I noght. Crist with his oghne deth hath boght Alle othre men, and made hem fre, In tokne of parfit charité; And after that He tawhte Himselve, Whan He was ded, these othre tuelve Of Hise Apostles wente aboute The holi feith to prechen oute, Wherof the deth in sondri place Thei soffre, and so God of His grace The feith of Crist hath mad aryse. Bot if thei wolde in other wise Be werre have broght in the creance, It hadde yit stonde in balance. And that mai proven in the dede; For what man the croniqes rede, Fro ferst that holi cherche hath weyved To preche, and hath the swerd received, Wherof the werres ben begonne, A gret partie of that was wonne To Cristes feith stant now miswent. Godd do therof amendement, So as he wot what is the beste. Bot, sone, if thou wolt live in reste Of conscience wel assised, Er that thou sle, be wel avised. For man, as tellen ous the clerkes, Hath God above alle ertheli werkes Ordeined to be principal, And ek of soule in special He is mad lich to the Godhiede. So sit it wel to taken hiede And for to loke on every side, Er that thou falle in Homicide, Which senne is now so general, That it welnyh stant overal, In holi cherche and elles where. Bot al the while it stant so there, The world mot nede fare amis. For whan the welle of pité is Thurgh coveitise of worldes good Defouled with schedinge of blod, The remenant of folk aboute Unethe stonden eny doute To werre ech other and to slee. So is it al noght worth a stree, The charité wherof we prechen, For we do nothing as we techen. And thus the blinde conscience Of pes hath lost thilke evidence Which Crist upon this erthe tawhte. Now mai men se moerdre and manslawte Lich as it was be daies olde, Whan men the sennes boghte and solde.    In Grece afore Cristes feith, I rede, as the cronique seith, Touchende of this matiere thus, In thilke time hou Peleus His oghne brother Phocus slowh; Bot for he hadde gold ynowh To give, his senne was despensed With gold, wherof it was compensed. Achastus, which with Venus was Hire Priest, assoilede in that cas, Al were ther no repentance. And as the bok makth remembrance, It telleth of Medee also; Of that sche slowh her sones tuo, Egeus in the same plit Hath mad hire of hire senne quit. The sone ek of Amphioras, Whos rihte name Almeus was, His moder slowh, Eriphile; Bot Achilo the Priest and he, So as the bokes it recorden, For certein somme of gold acorden That thilke horrible sinfull dede Assoiled was. And thus for mede Of worldes good it falleth ofte That Homicide is set alofte Hiere in this lif; bot after this Ther schal be knowe how that it is Of hem that suche thinges werche, And hou also that holi cherche Let suche sennes passe quyte, And how thei wole hemself aquite Of dedly werres that thei make. For who that wolde ensample take, The lawe which is naturel Be weie of kinde scheweth wel That Homicide in no degree, Which werreth agein charité, Among the men ne scholde duelle. For after that the bokes telle, To seche in al this worldesriche, Men schal noght finde upon his liche A beste for to take his preie. And sithen kinde hath such a weie, Thanne is it wonder of a man, Which kynde hath and resoun can, That he wol owther more or lasse His kinde and resoun overpasse, And sle that is to him semblable. So is the man noght resonable Ne kinde, and that is noght honeste, Whan he is worse than a beste.    Among the bokes whiche I finde Solyns spekth of a wonder kinde, And seith of fowhles ther is on, Which hath a face of blod and bon Lich to a man in resemblance. And if it falle him so per chance, As he which is a fowhl of preie, That he a man finde in his weie, He wol him slen, if that he mai. Bot afterward the same dai, Whan he hath eten al his felle, And that schal be beside a welle, In which whan he wol drinke take, Of his visage and seth the make That he hath slain, anon he thenketh Of his misdede, and it forthenketh So gretly, that for pure sorwe He liveth noght til on the morwe. Be this ensample it mai wel suie That man schal Homicide eschuie, For evere is merci good to take, Bot if the lawe it hath forsake And that justice is theragein. For ofte time I have herd sein Amonges hem that werres hadden, That thei som while here cause ladden Be merci, whan thei mihte have slain, Wherof that thei were after fain. And, sone, if that thou wolt recorde The vertu of Misericorde, Thou sihe nevere thilke place, Where it was used, lacke grace. For every lawe and every kinde The mannes wit to merci binde; And namely the worthi knihtes, Whan that thei stonden most uprihtes And ben most mihti for to grieve, Thei scholden thanne most relieve Him whom thei mihten overthrowe, As be ensample a man mai knowe. [The Tale of Telaphus and Teucer]    He mai noght failen of his mede That hath merci, for this I rede, In a cronique and finde thus. Whan Achilles with Telaphus His sone toward Troie were, It fell hem, er thei comen there, Agein Theucer the king of Mese To make werre and for to sese His lond, as thei that wolden regne And Theucer pute out of his regne. And thus the marches thei assaile, Bot Theucer gaf to hem bataille; Thei foghte on bothe sides faste, Bot so it hapneth ate laste, This worthi Grek, this Achilles, The king among alle othre ches, As he that was cruel and fell, With swerd in honde on him he fell, And smot him with a dethes wounde, That he unhorsed fell to grounde. Achilles upon him alyhte, And wolde anon, as he wel mihte, Have slain him fullich in the place; Bot Thelaphus his fader grace For him besoghte, and for pité Preith that he wolde lete him be, And caste his schield betwen hem tuo. Achilles axeth him why so, And Thelaphus his cause tolde, And seith that he is mochel holde, For whilom Theucer in a stede Gret grace and socour to him dede, And seith that he him wolde aquite, And preith his fader to respite. Achilles tho withdrowh his hond. Bot al the pouer of the lond, Whan that thei sihe here king thus take, Thei fledde and han the feld forsake. The Grecs unto the chace falle, And for the moste part of alle Of that contré the lordes grete Thei toke, and wonne a gret begete. And anon after this victoire The king, which hadde good memoire, Upon the grete merci thoghte, Which Telaphus toward him wroghte, And in presence of al the lond He tok him faire be the hond, And in this wise he gan to seie: 'Mi sone, I mot be double weie Love and desire thin encress; Ferst for thi fader Achilles Whilom ful many dai er this, Whan that I scholde have fare amis, Rescousse dede in mi querele And kepte al myn astat in hele. How so ther falle now distance Amonges ous, yit remembrance I have of merci which he dede As thanne: and thou now in this stede Of gentilesce and of franchise Hast do mercy the same wise. So wol I noght that eny time Be lost of that thou hast do by me; For hou so this fortune falle, Yit stant mi trust aboven alle, For the mercy which I now finde, That thou wolt after this be kinde: And for that such is myn espeir, As for my sone and for myn eir I thee receive, and al my lond I give and sese into thin hond.' And in this wise thei acorde, The cause was misericorde. The lordes dede here obeissance To Thelaphus, and pourveance Was mad so that he was coroned: And thus was merci reguerdoned, Which he to Theucer dede afore.    Lo, this ensample is mad therfore, That thou miht take remembrance, Mi sone; and whan thou sest a chaunce, Of other mennes passioun Tak pité and compassioun, And let nothing to thee be lief, Which to another man is grief. And after this if thou desire To stonde agein the vice of Ire, Consaile thee with Pacience, And tak into thi conscience Merci to be thi governour. So schalt thou fiele no rancour, Wherof thin herte schal debate With Homicide ne with hate For Cheste or for Malencolie. Thou schalt be soft in compaignie Withoute Contek or Folhaste: For elles miht thou longe waste Thi time, er that thou have thi wille Of love; for the weder stille Men preise, and blame the tempestes."    "Mi fader, I wol do youre hestes, And of this point ye have me tawht, Toward miself the betre sawht I thenke be, whil that I live. Bot for als moche as I am schrive Of Wraththe and al his circumstance, Gif what you list to my penance, And asketh forthere of my lif, If otherwise I be gultif Of enything that toucheth sinne."    "Mi sone, er we departe atwinne, I schal behinde nothing leve."    "Mi goode fader, be your leve Thanne axeth forth what so you list, For I have in you such a trist, As ye that be my soule hele, That ye fro me wol nothing hele, For I schal telle you the trowthe."    "Mi sone, art thou coupable of Slowthe In eny point which to him longeth?"    "My fader, of tho pointz me longeth To wite pleinly what thei meene, So that I mai me schrive cleene."    "Now herkne, I schal the pointz devise; And understond wel myn aprise: For schrifte stant of no value To him that wol him noght vertue To leve of vice the folie. For word is wynd, bot the maistrie Is that a man himself defende Of thing which is noght to comende, Wherof ben fewe now aday. And natheles, so as I may Make unto thi memoire knowe, The pointz of Slowthe thou schalt knowe." Explicit Liber Tercius.

desire; (see note) swords sharpened there is a thing on earth inimical to; (see note) deranged nature; (see note) but rather by; one at odds called Both to speak and to do wrong angry; (see note) called burned away by them; (see note) called grimace knows confess Unless burning coal succeed (see note) rage dream; dream pledge herself frightened disconcerted (upset) [That] sounds; ears as if abandoned Since; one far from succeeding deal fortune; health ever; longer the farther out of kilter are damaged beset thin strip of wood straw rage; sea is not think that I am raving mad happens time it pleases her perchance goes away truth [would] see eye return; checkmated the same bad against (i.e., emotional swings) pummeled ill-willed (prickly) know not not obey me Thus; angry expression (nose bent out of shape); (see note) role (place as love's representative); (see note) learn incites it is regrettable to him (he regrets) (see note) called was called (see note) habitation dwelt nature attacks the heart; (see note) [Such] that abides by (obeys) escape whole kiss (see note) instruction conquered (see note) has no fear at all bird; alight food saw that which; pleasing to their eye lost copulate father's notice dared On the chance that; say robbed of virginity admitted at that time remains Who had not yet listen and hear (see note) like one who knew nothing distant; (see note) gentle wave of insanity and rage saw pay dearly (see note) saw; then vengeance in a faint must elude fetter (moral restraint) wild insane pain calls employed; message (see note) blade knew where this must lead creature shook with fear knew slay Yes die (see note) Insofar as write pen in hand then knows health despair disease; pleasure delight; woe must; for sure This finish; escape breath know ink written chilling dread bosom; lies soon die pay for wan from where bathing [Having] rolled out from; mother's; (see note) since therein forgiveness to be gained moment saw satisfy So that he would not pass sentence; (see note) seek whatever it might be wild animal come to his rescue deed sung or declared blame (see note) arbitrate; powerfully positioned destroy; (see note) [That] which; nature behooves; (see note) Regard for creature [persist] harshness (see note) according to nature (see note) strength (see note) once walking went by chance; (see note) saw near his path taught them Copulating; grabbed stick; (see note) attempt stop them; struck Both because he; (see note) Unnaturally [So] that; who first transformed infuriating prank paid for know (see note) honorable Because another carries out the teaching whether put; aside believe reasonable (see note) Provided that it is not put upon may escape it [That] which stands remedy confess Contention (Quarreling); (see note) (see note) same most rude [person] Who; estranged unlocked emotion; broken loose runs boils; malicious words knows sieve holds ale; (see note) And [will] speak before asking anyone lose war; bed's head yeast; (t-note) dough nearby such a person to fear count him ruined sound Often times So that; heard bone; (see note) by a thousandth-part rather; stupid set back could impose by mouth That [which] (i.e., his beloved's authority) at any time so advantageously positioned choose cheese; (see note) assists digestion pledge By chance plow does not stumble once in a while haste casual word slip out command admit continuously passionate discomfort keeping back nothing without her permission believe nonetheless (i.e., to break the law); (see note) implore what bold humbly [Such] that time furtive lament review; weigh fault excessive in any way disparage should slip out of me left unspoken said take vengeance overwhelmed lost; (see note) to no result too; little blame belabor myself owl; branch; (see note) which [one] is not; sprig of cress If I Give knew flee acquaintanceship with it intelligence restrain your desire discord healer (see note) By patience endures it (the problem) bow before he breaks; (see note) what state of things (world) shall for me never arise cling to far as; considers And [as far as] I regret my wrath earn quiet for himself Must suffer; (see note) recorded (see note) seen for himself to try displease desires; shrewish taken hapless husband Near insane rage silent; (t-note) claimed; did not care undertook straw hide [her emotions] swell [with rage]; (see note) what held behaved dead told him to wake up spoke found no fault anything that then nature in a moment He (Winter) stirred up According to; (see note) sat himself nearer; fire dried [Such] that know not; still did then circumstance lose by any time against perhaps vex you less [there] shall be to avoid it take instruction learn knows Never yet has come; from; (see note) harm; (see note) jest (game) banter words themselves comparison woman arbitrate thinking it over Against two eyes favor in compensation [Jupiter] knew; [Tiresias] spoke the truth prophet would be preferable to the other (Tiresias) vision; eyes whatever the truth might be suffered (i.e., guard your speech) near; torment loses keep no secret Whether it be (see note) (see note) who then was called; (see note) Except desired from its earliest youth told (Phebus); unsheathed killed woeful enough felt remorse vengeance where curses speak [only] the best; (see note) advise read; (see note) Because; by beside be overthrown conceal many their tongues gossip norm of practice; (see note) called (see note); (t-note) know not teach visible gathering; (t-note) locked avenged understand dare; swear hateful bow (ingratiate myself) bestows entirely exhausted dearly lady's words confess calumniators; their scheming undone knew against me The dregs by their own judge; (t-note) please them intensely (fervently) vengeance spy leap; leap go lame from place pleased with my blessing counsel wary fear in ambush [hooked] tight woe upon another person would not; crime by conspiracy Retained believe eye Greeks once saw (see note) (see note) fate oppose By sea; (see note) seized variegated bow heaven began split powerless have control over himself Who stood at risk guide ship's prow hear waves helmsman; sense of direction knew not; to expect Whether; destroy Was called had conquered By some overthrown promised secret hatred ambush disposition avenge himself; manner tides; sea toward invented weather knew; must Their; along his right border kindling and blocks [of wood] shine [as beacons]; high hills [would] see befell just as he planned at a distance nearer believed well make landfall hasten quickly in this instance thought to get its help died there where they thought their death were lost dawn Then soon quit take themselves back; sea agreed [more] cautious Because of what; experienced who intend guile scribe; ink (see note) according to what (see note) fares; for a time before; behind indeed acknowledge near two others their are dreadful in all ways; (see note) To Mercy unequal worthless Unless insane beast Provided that they; either sword avenge take let them beware be lacking to them But [rather] [Such] that; bend guilty confess I confess circumstances overturn quarrel (discord) overturns distant wasted (see note) improved made worse discouraged (in despair) attain doubt confused (unhinged) frenzy admit supplied Against this faction stands remove must uncontrolled behavior (t-note) cease permission To succeed too lowborn Who [would] not dare [to] love; until he succeeds Completely; Reason pleasure in this life lost is not (see note) (see note) you yourself instructed By; Nature (see note) once was named (see note) prepared himself had constructed Along an axletree barrel one head (end) in whatever way he wished air examine knew a great many things Alone morning happen as it pleased him arisen riding nearby troop barrel; meant know for the moment Waited; lingers spur commanded asked; that place in reply Churl thus asks false (unright) but this I have in mind is what he is lie; for sure really angry heard Ordered; wait barrel Hello a one; see the fact of the matter Since your principal ruler your intelligence hasten of what he had answered move along; sun take from me that gift bestow believed reason sustained (supported) obligatory (see note) crowd of people then; neighborhood house partition (wough) equal also knew dwelled overwhelmed pursue avoid their [So] that Their; relieve disposition conquered howsoever; spied on hinder (see note) was named passionately; (see note) called their lesson (instruction by experiences) go whether she or (That person) at night time [with] silent step; (see note) was pleased to wait ill-fortuned near coming; lion saw And she in haste then And in fear let grass had discovered dragged about (ripped) Stained [it] with blood; chewed [it] went directly flee bird; mew (cote) [dared] not move [it so] befell by moonlight ear; (see note) afflicted place lament judged crime killed took aloud stopped beating value eye misfortune (see note) command Alas cause (reason) knew wasted preferable sorrowful knew overcomes escape of one sword bleeding lying dead grief be on guard that you do not waste your reason (t-note) would have died confess myself guilty power menaced with death scoundrel before [me] lost Standoffishness; (see note) Who; lady's counselor reward succeed [to be] true turn awry ask called Pitiless ensnared does not want; removed Because; sail (i.e., keeps company with her) prayed place wicked war avoid devious means nonetheless acquitted given If pity [so far] well-reputed indicted healed (t-note) reward have pity stop; listen [to] be vassal to him [Wrath]; (see note) wait a long time difficult paths; cautiously before; advise themselves haste causes grief foul ale float bite into (i.e., the horse);overturned; (see note) became stuck fall over Patience (see note) counsel mouse [do] against ask war [Such] that; worse It is wicked sprig of cress the end of the day who can wait well; (see note) supposed a beast glad wait hasty action peace would pursue eschew Unless; circumstance be hasty moderate; passion (see note) once; one; (see note) Who; was called (see note) cried out circumstance Saw; busy himself so vigorously succeed place lead always starting over accomplished Rashness laurel; (see note) permission do without fortunes fail (see note) tree; keeps her own shape; (t-note) instruct whatever since instruct know avoid follow besieged; (see note) Greeks their own vassals; (see note) Who were depart (t-note) (see note) offense their vow known blown speech [spread] about crowd; (see note) in agreement about the violence say loss gray healing ointment saw rather than taken [So] that; [would] not repent rule there [as] kings strange fate who became a shepherd beast command also avenge them negotiate a peace stop by seek powerfully positioned their kinds were equipped peace; cessation of hostility departed be done by (see note) not very reliable; (t-note) punishment prevent overwhelmed hear here [So] that (see note) ear; (see note) evaded (see note) near distant love loathsome far away led (t-note) sent for one hidden; (see note) evident But since (t-note) before he knew it for nurturing went entrusted Because keeping (protection) guard passes [So] that; breadth; height (t-note) Praying a force [of soldiers] remain leave (permission) outrage And with great honor makes him knight entrusts complaint to express In such a manner that duke and those who success advised him [to do] are very valuable murderess duty punishment breasts; tear off bosom; with his own hands horses; torn apart by drawing grave duke Raped; forsook [her] took [in marriage] sin; (see note) himself securely shut their entrance obstructed Besieged; waylaid continually before unnatural; (see note) love's cup slaughter put aside must Unnaturally paid for Since formerly; "yes" that which you; "no" mother's breast tore; bone threw away cart's path dead body dragged buried News; ear besieged But [of] what more was said he heard nothing gathered an army rescue ambush await time captured, before [with] his hands bound traitor discovered those who were condemned to various torments by gibbet known slew so short a period of time truth; understand [what happened] Except those who; at [the] deed most quickly heard; (see note) believed; contradicted rule took fully [By] his own hand; judgment duke good reputation (fame) vengeance; took commanded (i.e., threw down the gauntlet in challenge) alleged reason vengeance adultery offend It seemed; spoke reason speak against honor knew time succeeded betrayed hanged; then by punishment to expedite because; learn avoid (see note) lawful sin various ways, yes Convicted refrains duty squanders one wicked person; (see note) aggrieves must be abandoned before; (see note) good deed maintain justice (see note) war [To] defend; own kill; find no better [solution] Concerning common law (see note) same (specific); (see note); (t-note) forbidden By Moses; commanded Peace; properly directed intention also; prohibited; (see note) most important factor confederates remedy war reduces it to nothing church; burnt raped lost know not; desert (punishment) introduces heaven's reward believe; reward; the complete opposite since by their very nature merit impoverishment harm sin; obstacle reward; sin; death; (see note) a single ourselves; believe to choose peace lose know not Covetousness is the leading factor Unassailed; (see note) barren gain a profit avoided had nothing lost nothing demand; claim because of; power know natural and written law in opposition Who seeks grounds deceives (see note) Provided that; enough [agricultural] profit Just so the warrior squanders their disposition; alike pillage reason once; fact feared tyrannized Through war (see note) borderland pirate; sea; captured Who; overwhelmed stolen their goods pillager places did before behavior give him justice akin to your own steal; everywhere poor gang pillager troops plunder called (see note) one worth poverty poor therefore; justice weighed loyal valiant knight; place prowess profit heart flies untamed rapaciousness conspiracy (see note) pleased him sun had to return into poison repaid slew; (see note) nothing peace war vanquished nature would send for him know not; remedy Who guilty (see note) ocean (see note) them according to what By war; the faith been unstable whoever reads now has become profligate might know at peace judged slay; advised has become commonplace must necessarily go astray Hardly have any fear commit war against each straw; (t-note) (t-note) sins before; (see note) killed because; enough two sons sin acquitted Absolved; payment put aside do sins slip by as absolved excuse themselves (see note) seek; kingdoms of the world in his likeness; (see note) beast; its prey nature; exceed kill what is most akin to him not befitting [his] status; (see note) (see note) Solinus; wonder of nature; (see note) birds; one bird of prey sees; match (likeness) regrets until the next day follow glad bear witness to compassion [would] see reward; (see note) Who (see note) befell to them Against; Mysia seize borderlands chose wicked [So] that loyal provided possession Rescue for me (see note) hope heir deliver mercy provision rewarded (see note) dear [cause for] grief against [Either] for calm weather commands the more reconciled guilty soul's health conceal guilty; Sloth confess myself thoroughly teaching exert himself significant accomplishment prohibit (protect) commendable