2055

That al the folk that is a-lyve
Ne han the cunning to discryve
The thinges that I herde there,
What aloude, and what in ere.
But al the wonder-most was this:-
Whan oon had herd a thing, y-wis,
He com forth to another wight,
And gan him tellen, anoon-right,
The same that to him was told,
Or hit a furlong-way was old,
But gan somwhat for to eche

To this tyding in this speche
More than hit ever was.

They were a-chekked bothe two,
And neither of hem moste out go;
For other so they gonne croude,
Til eche of hem gan cryen loude,
Lat me go first!' 'Nay, but lat me!
And here I wol ensuren thee
With the nones that thou wolt do so,
That I shal never fro thee go,
But be thyn owne sworen brother!
We wil medle us ech with other,
That no man, be he never so wrothe,
Shal han that oon of two, but bothe
At ones, al beside his leve,
Come we a-morwe or on eve,

Be we cryed or stille y-rouned.'

2095

(1010) 2100

2105

And nat so sone departed nas

That he fro him, that he ne mette With the thridde; and, or he lette Any stounde, he tolde him als;

And leet hem gon. Ther mighte I

seen

(980)

Wenged wondres faste fleen,

2071

Were the tyding sooth or fals,

(990) 2080

2085

(1030) 2120

And, lord! this hous, in alle tymes, Was ful of shipmen and pilgrymes, With scrippes bret-ful of lesinges, Entremedled with tydinges, And eek alone by hem-selve. O, many a thousand tymes twelve Saugh I eek of these pardoneres, Currours, and eek messangeres, With boistes crammed ful of lyes As ever vessel was with lyes. And as I alther-fastest wente Aboute, and dide al myn entente Me for to pleye and for to lere, And eek a tyding for to here,

2125

(1040) 2130

2135

And, whan that was ful y-spronge,

And woxen more on every tonge
Than ever hit was, thit wente anoon
Up to a windowe, out to goon;
Or, but hit mightë out ther pace,
Hit gan out crepe at som crevace,
And fleigh forth faste for the nones.

And somtyme saugh I tho, at ones,
A lesing and a sad soth-sawe,

That gonne of aventure drawe (1000) 2090 Out at a windowe for to pace;

And, when they metten in that place,

That I had herd of som contree

That shal not now be told for me ;For hit no nede is, redely;

Folk can singe hit bet than I;

For al mot out, other late or rathe,

Alle the sheves in the lathe ;-(1050) 2140

I herde a gret noise withalle

Thogh every wight ne may hit nat y-see.
Bernard the monk ne saugh nat al, parde!
Than mote we to bokes that we finde,
Through which that olde thinges been in
minde,

And to the doctrine of these olde wyse,
Yeven credence, in every skilful wyse, 20
And trowen on these olde aproved stories
Of holinesse, of regnes, of victories,
Of love, of hate, of other sundry thinges,
Of whiche I may not maken rehersinges.
And if that olde bokes were a-weye,
Y-loren were of remembraunce the keye.
Wel oghte us than on olde bokes leve,

25

TEXT B (Later Version).

The prologe of .ix. goode Wimmen.

A THOUSAND tymes have I herd men telle,

That ther is joye in heven, and peyne in helle;

And I acorde wel that hit is so; But natheles, yit wot I wel also, That ther nis noon dwelling in this contree, 5 That either hath in heven or helle y-be, Ne may of hit non other weyes witen, But as he hath herd seyd, or founde hit writen ;

10

For by assay ther may no man hit preve.
But god forbede but men shulde leve
Wel more thing then men han seen with
ye!
Men shal nat wenen every-thing a lyë
But-if him-self hit seeth, or elles dooth;
For, god wot, thing is never the lasse
sooth,

14

44

Swiche as men callen daysies in our toun.
To hem have I so greet affeccioun,
As I seyde erst, whan comen is the May,
That in my bed ther daweth me no day
That I nam up, and walking in the mede
To seen these floures agein the sonne
sprede,

Whan it up-riseth by the morwe shene, 49
The longe day, thus walking in the grene.
And whan the sonne ginneth for to weste,
Than closeth hit, and draweth hit to reste.
So sore hit is afered of the night,

Is comen, and that I here the foules singe,

And that the floures ginnen for to springe, Farwel my book and my devocioun !

Now have I than swich a condicioun, That, of alle the floures in the mede, 41 Than love I most these floures whyte and rede,

Swiche as men callen daysies in our toun. To hem have I so greet affeccioun, 44 As I seyde erst, whan comen is the May, That in my bed ther daweth me no day That I nam up, and walking in the mede To seen this flour agein the sonne sprede,

54

As she, that is of alle floures flour,
Fulfilled of al vertu and honour,
And ever y-lyke fair, and fresh of hewe;
And I love hit, and ever y-lyke newe,
And ever shal, til that myn herte dye;
Al swere I nat, of this I wol nat lye,
Ther loved no wight hotter in his lyve.
And whan that hit is eve, I renne
blyve,
As sone as ever the sonne ginneth weste,
To seen this flour, how it wol go to reste,
For fere of night, so hateth she derknesse!
Hir chere is pleynly sprad in the bright-

nesse

60

Of the sonne, for ther hit wol unclose. 65 Allas! that I ne had English, ryme or

prose,

Fain wolde I preisen, if I coude aright; 59 But wo is me, hit lyth nat in my might!

For wel I wot, that folk han her-beforn
Of making ropen, and lad a-wey the corn;
And I come after, glening here and
there,

And am ful glad if I may finde an ere
Of any goodly word that they han left. 65
And, if hit happe me rehersen eft
That they han in her fresshe songes sayd,
I hope that they wil nat ben evel apayd,
Sith hit is seid in forthering and honour
Of hem that either serven leef or flour. 70

[Cf. p. 354, col. 2, ll. 188-196.]

For trusteth wel, I ne have nat undertake

As of the leef, ageyn the flour, to make;
Ne of the flour to make, ageyn the leef,
No more than of the corn ageyn the
sheef.

For, as to me, is leefer noon ne lother; 75
I am with-holde yit with never nother.
I not who serveth leef, ne who the flour;
That nis nothing the entent of my labour.
For this werk is al of another tunne,
Of olde story, er swich stryf was begunne.
But wherfor that I spak, to yeve cre-
dence

79

To bokes olde and doon hem reverence,
Is for men shulde autoritees beleve,
Ther as ther lyth non other assay by

preve.

For myn entent is, or I fro yow fare, 85
The naked text in English to declare
Of many a story, or elles of many a geste,
As autours seyn; leveth hem if yow leste!

And loveth so sore, that ye ben verrayly The maistresse of my wit, and nothing I. My word, my werk, is knit so in your bonde,

That, as an harpe obeyeth to the honde go And maketh hit soune after his fingeringe,

Right so mowe ye out of myn herte bringe

Swich vois, right as yow list, to laughe or pleyne.

Be ye my gyde and lady sovereyne;

As to myn erthly god, to yow I calle, 95 Bothe in this werke and in my sorwes alle.

But wherfor that I spak, to give credence

To olde stories, and doon hem reverence, And that men mosten more thing beleve Then men may seen at eye or elles preve?