My righte lady,' quod this woful man, Whom I most drede and love as I best can,

And lothest were of al this world displese, Nere it that I for yow have swich disese, That I moste dyen heer at your foot

anon,

1315 Noght wolde I telle how me is wo bigon; But certes out her moste I dye or pleyne; Ye slee me giltelees for verray peyne. (590) But of my deeth, thogh that ye have no routhe,

Avyseth yow, er that ye breke your trouthe. 1320

Repenteth yow, for thilke god above,
Er ye me sleen by-cause that I yow love.
For, madame, wel ye woot what ye han
hight;

Nat that I chalange any thing of right
Of
yow my sovereyn lady, but your grace;
But in a gardin yond, at swich a place,
Ye woot right wel what ye bihighten me;
And in myn hand your trouthe plighten
(600)

ye

To love me best, god woot, ye seyde so,
Al be that I unworthy be therto. 1330
Madame, I speke it for the honour of yow,
More than to save myn hertes lyf right
now;

I have do so as ye comanded me;
And if ye vouche-sauf, ye may go see.
Doth as yow list, have your biheste in
minde,
1335
For quik or deed, right ther ye shul me
finde;

In yow lyth al, to do me live or deye;But wel I woot the rokkes been aweye!' He taketh his leve, and she astonied stood,

(611) 1340

In al hir face nas a drope of blood;
She wende never han come in swich a

And swowneth, that it routhe was to see;
But why it was, to no wight tolde she; 1350
For out of toune was goon Arveragus.
But to hir-self she spak, and seyde thus,
With face pale and with ful sorweful
chere,

In hir compleynt, as ye shul after here: 'Allas,' quod she, 'on thee, Fortune,

I pleyne, 13.55 That unwar wrapped hast me in thy cheyne ;

For which, t'escape, woot I no socour
Save only deeth or elles dishonour; (630)
Oon of thise two bihoveth me to chese.
But nathelees, yet have I lever lese 1360
My lyf than of my body have a shame,
Or knowe my-selven fals, or lese my name,
And with my deth I may be quit, y-wis.
Hath ther nat many a noble wyf, er
this,

1364

(650)

They of Messene lete enquere and seke Of Lacedomie fifty maydens eke, 1380 On whiche they wolden doon hir lecherye; But was ther noon of al that companye That she nas slayn, and with a good entente

Chees rather for to dye than assente
To been oppressed of hir maydenhede. 1385
Why sholde I thanne to dye been in
drede?

(659)

Lo, eek, the tiraunt Aristoclides That loved a mayden, heet Stimphalides, Whan that hir fader slayn was on a night, Un-to Dianes temple goth she right, 1390 And hente the image in hir handes two, Fro which image wolde she never go. No wight ne mighte hir handes of it arace, Til she was slayn right in the selve place. Now sith that maydens hadden swich despyt 1395

To been defouled with mannes foul delyt, Wel oghte a wyf rather hir-selven slee Than be defouled, as it thinketh me. (670) What shal I seyn of Hasdrubales wyf, That at Cartage birafte hir-self hir lyf? For whan she saugh that Romayns wan the toun,

1401

Whan Habradate was slayn, his wyf so dere

Hirselven slow, and leet hir blood to glyde

1415

In Habradates woundes depe and wyde, And seyde, "my body, at the leeste way, Ther shal no wight defoulen, if I may." What sholde I mo ensamples heer-of sayn,

(691) 1419 Sith that so manye han hem-selven slayn Wel rather than they wolde defouled be? I wol conclude, that it is bet for me To sleen my-self, than been defouled thus. I wol be trewe un-to Arveragus, Or rather sleen my-self in som manere, As dide Demociones doghter dere,

1426

Another Theban mayden dide right so; For oon of Macedoine hadde hir oppressed, She with hir deeth hir maydenhede redressed.

1436 What shal I seye of Nicerates wyf, That for swich cas birafte hir-self hir lyf? How trewe eek was to Alcebiades (711) His love, that rather for to dyen chees 1440 Than for to suffre his body unburied be! Lo which a wyf was Alcestè,' quod she. 'What seith Omer of gode Penalopee? Al Grece knoweth of hir chastitee.

Pardee, of Laodomya is writen thus, 1445 That whan at Troye was slayn Protheselaus,

No lenger wolde she live after his day.

The same of noble Porcia telle I may; With-oute Brutus coude she nat live, (721) To whom she hadde al hool hir herte yive.

1450

'Is ther oght elles, Dorigen, but this?' (741) 'Nay, nay,' quod she, 'god help me so, as wis; 1470 This is to muche, and it were goddes wille.' 'Ye, wyf,' quod he, 'lat slepen that is stille;

It may be wel, paraventure, yet to-day.
Ye shul your trouthe holden, by my fay!
For god so wisly have mercy on me, 1475
I hadde wel lever y-stiked for to be,
For verray love which that I to yow have,
But-if ye sholde your trouthe kepe and

save.

(750) Trouthe is the hyeste thing that man may kepe:

But with that word he brast anon to wepe, 1480 And seyde, 'I yow forbede, up peyne of deeth,

That never, whyl thee lasteth lyf ne breeth,

To no wight tel thou of this aventure.
As I may best, I wol my wo endure,
Ne make no contenance of hevinesse, 1485
That folk of yow may demen harm or
gesse.'

And forth he cleped a squyer and
a mayde:

'Goth forth anon with Dorigen,' he sayde, (760) 'And bringeth hir to swich a place

anon.'

Amidde the toun, right in the quikkest

strete,

As she was boun to goon the wey forthright

Toward the gardin ther-as she had hight.
And he was to the gardinward also; 1505
For wel he spyed, whan she wolde go
Out of hir hous to any maner place.
But thus they mette, of aventure or
grace;
(780)

And he saleweth hir with glad entente,
And asked of hir whiderward she wente?
And she answerde, half as she were mad,
'Un-to the gardin, as myn housbond bad,
My trouthe for to holde, allas! allas!'
Aurelius gan wondren on this cas,
And in his herte had greet compassioun
Of hir and of hir lamentacioun,
And of Arveragus, the worthy knight,
That bad hir holden al that she had
hight,
(790)

1516

So looth him was his wyf sholde breke hir trouthe;

Thus can a squyer doon a gentil dede,
As well as can a knight, with-outen drede.'
She thonketh him up-on hir knees al
bare,
1545
And hoom un-to hir housbond is she fare,
And tolde him al as ye han herd me sayd;
And be ye siker, he was so weel apayd, (820)
That it were inpossible me to wryte;
What sholde I lenger of this cas endyte?
Arveragus and Dorigene his wyf 1551
In sovereyn blisse leden forth hir lyf.
Never eft ne was ther angre hem bitwene;
He cherisseth hir as though she were
1554

a quene;

And she was to him trewe for evermore. Of thise two folk ye gete of me na-more. Aurelius, that his cost hath al forlorn, Curseth the tyme that ever he was born: 'Allas,' quod he, 'allas! that I bihighte Of pured gold a thousand pound of wighte (832) 1560 Un-to this philosophre! how shal I do? I see na-more but that I am fordo. Myn heritage moot I nedes selle,

And been a begger; heer may I nat dwelle,

And shamen al my kinrede in this place,
But I of him may gete bettre grace. 1566
But nathelees, I wol of him assaye, (839)
At certeyn dayes, yeer by yeer, to paye,
And thanke him of his grete curteisye;
My trouthe wol I kepe, I wol nat lye.' 1570
With herte soor he gooth un-to his cofre,
And broghte gold un-to this philosophre,
The value of fyve hundred pound, I gesse,
And him bisecheth, of his gentillesse,
To graunte him dayes of the remenaunt,
And seyde, maister, I dar wel make
avaunt,
1576

And seyde thus, whan he thise wordes herde: (858) 'Have I nat holden covenant un-to thee?" 'Yes, certes, wel and trewely,' quod he. 'Hastow nat had thy lady as thee lyketh?' No, no,' quod he, and sorwefully he syketh.

1590 'What was the cause? tel me if thou can.” Aurelius his tale anon bigan,

And tolde him al, as ye han herd bifore; It nedeth nat to yow reherce it more.

He seide, Arveragus, of gentillesse, 1595 Had lever dye in sorwe and in distresse Than that his wyf were of hir trouthe fals.' (869) The sorwe of Dorigen he tolde him als, How looth hir was to been a wikked wyf, And that she lever had lost that day hir lyf,

1600

And that hir trouthe she swoor, thurgh innocence:

'She never erst herde speke of apparence; That made me han of hir so greet pitee. And right as frely as he sente hir me, As frely sente I hir to him ageyn. 1605 This al and som, ther is na-more to seyn.' This philosophre answerde, ⚫ leve brother,

Everich of yow dide gentilly til other. (880) Thou art a squyer, and he is a knight; But god forbede, for his blisful might, 1610 But-if a clerk coude doon a gentil dede As wel as any of yow, it is no drede!

Sire, I relesse thee thy thousand pound, As thou right now were cropen out of the ground, 1614

Ne never er now ne haddest knowen me. For sire, I wol nat take a peny of thee For al my craft, ne noght for my travaille. Thou hast y-payed wel for my vitaille; (890) It is y-nogh, and farewel, have good day:' And took his hors, and forth he gooth his way. 1620 Lordinges, this question wolde I aske

now,

Which was the moste free, as thinketh yow? Now telleth me, er that ye ferther wende. I can na-more, my tale is at an ende. (896)

Inuocacio ad Mariam.

AND thou that flour of virgines art alle, Of whom that Bernard list so wel to wryte, 30

To thee at my biginning first I calle; Thou comfort of us wrecches, do me

endyte

Thy maydens deeth, than wan thurgh hir meryte

The eternal lyf, and of the feend victorie, As man may after reden in hir storie. 35 Thou mayde and mooder, doghter of thy sone,

Thou welle of mercy, sinful soules cure, In whom that god, for bountee, chees to wone,

Thou humble, and heigh over every creature,

Thou nobledest so ferforth our nature, 40 That no desdeyn the maker hadde of kinde,

His sone in blode and flesh to clothe and winde.

Withinne the cloistre blisful of thy sydes Took mannes shap the eternal love and

pees,

That of the tryne compas lord and gyde is, 45 Whom erthe and see and heven, out of relees,

Ay herien; and thou, virgin wemmelees, Bar of thy body, and dweltest mayden pure,

The creatour of every creature.

Assembled is in thee magnificence 50 With mercy, goodnesse, and with swich pitee