Consider wel, with every circumstaunce,

Of what estat so-ever that thou be—

Riche, strong, or mighty of puissaunce,

Prudent or wyse, discrete or avisee,

The doom of folke in soth thou mayst nat flee;

What-ever that thou do, trust right wel this,

A wikked tonge wol alway deme amis.

For in thy port or in thyn apparayle

If thou be clad or honestly be-seyn,

Anon the people, of malice, wol nat fayle,

Without advyce or reson, for to sayn

That thyn array is mad and wrought in vayn;

What! suffre hem spekë!—and trust right wel this,

A wikked tonge wol alway deme amis.

Thou wilt to kinges be equipolent,

With gretë lordes even and peregal;

And, if thou be to-torn and al to-rent,

Than wol they say, and jangle over-al,

Thou art a slogard, that never thryvë shal;

Yet suffre hem spekë!—and trust right wel this,

A wikked tonge wol alway deme amis.

If thou be fayr, excelling of beautee,

Than wol they say, that thou art amorous;

If thou be foul and ugly on to see,

They wol afferme that thou art vicious,

The peple of langage is so dispitous;

Suffre hem spekë, and trust right wel this,

A wikked tonge wol alway deme amis.

And if it fallë that thou take a wyf,

[Than] they wol falsly say, in hir entent,

That thou art lykly ever to live in stryf,

Voyd of al rest, without alegëment;

Wyves be maistres, this is hir jugëment;

Yet suffre hem spekë—and trust right wel this,

A wikked tonge wol alway deme amis.

And if it so be that, of parfitnesse,

Thou hast avowed to live in chastitee,

Thán wol folk of thy persone expresse

Say thou art impotent t'engendre in thy degree;

And thus, whether thou be chast or deslavee,

Suffre hem spekë—and trust right wel this,

A wikked tonge wel alway deme amis.

And if that thou be fat or corpulent,

Than wol they say that thou art a glotoun,

A devourour, or ellës vinolent;

If thou be lene or megre of fassioun,

Cal thee a nigard, in hir opinioun;

Yet suffre hem spekë—and trust right wel this,

A wikked tonge wol alway deme amis.

If thou be richë, som wol yeve thee laud,

And say, it cometh of prudent governaunce;

And som wol sayen, that it cometh of fraud,

Outher by sleight, or by fals chevisaunce;

To say the worst, folk have so gret plesaunce;

Yet suffre hem sayë—and trust right wel this,

A wikked tonge wol alway deme amis.

If thou be sad or sobre of countenaunce,

Men wol say—thou thinkest som tresoun;

And if [that] thou be glad of daliaunce,

Men wol deme it dissolucioun,

And calle thy fair speche, adulacioun;

Yet let hem spekë—and trust right wel this,

A wikked tonge wol alway deme amis.

Who that is holy by perfeccioun,

Men, of malyce, wol calle him ipocryte;

And who is mery, of clene entencioun,

Men say, in ryot he doth him delyte;

Som mourne in blak; som laughe in clothes whyte;

What! suffre them spekë—and trust right wel this,

A wikked tonge wol alway deme amis.

Honest array, men deme, †is pompe and pryde,

And who goth poore, men calle him a wastour;

And who goth [mene], men marke him on every syde,

And saye that he is a spye or a gylour;

Who wasteth, men seyn [that] he hath tresour;

Wherfore conclude, and trust [right] wel this,

A wikked tonge wil alway deme amis.

Who speketh mochë, men calle him prudent;

And who debateth, men say, he is hardy;

And who saith litel with gret sentiment,

Som men yet wol edwyte him of foly;

Trouth is put down, and up goth flatery;

And who list plainly know the cause of this,

A wikked tonge wol alway deme amis.

For though a man were al-so pacient

As was David, through his humilitee,

Or with Salamon in wysdom as prudent,

Or in knighthode egal with Josuë,

Or manly proved as Judas Machabee,

Yet, for al that—trust right wel this,

A wicked tonge wol alway deme amis.

And though a man hadde the high prowesse

Of worthy Hector, Troyes champioun,

The love of Troilus or the kindenesse,

Or of Cesar the famous high renoun,

With Alisaundres dominacioun,

Yet, for al that—trust right wel this,

A wikked tonge wol alway deme amis.

And though a man of high or low degree

Of Tullius hadde the sugred eloquence,

Or of Senek the greet moralitee,

Or of Catoun the foresight or prudence,

Conquest of Charles, Arthurs magnificence,

Yet, for al that—trust right wel this,

A wikked tonge wol alway deme amis.

Touching of women the parfit innocence,

Thogh they had of Hestre the mekenes,

Or of Griseldes [the] humble pacience,

Or of Judith the proved stablenes,

Or Policenes virginal clennes,

Yit dar I say and truste right wel this,

A wikked tonge wol alway deme amis.

The wyfly trouthë of Penelope,

Though they it hadde in hir possessioun,

Eleynes beautè, the kindnes of Medee,

The love unfeyned of Marcia Catoun,

Or of Alcest the trewe affeccioun,

Yit dar I say and truste right wel this,

A wikked tonge wol alway deme amis.

Than sith it is, that no man may eschewe

The swerde of tonge, but it wol kerve and byte,

Ful hard it is, a man for to remewe

Out of hir daunger, so they hem delyte

To hindre or slaundre, and also to bakbyte;

For [this] hir study fynally it is

And hir plesaunce, alwey to deme amis.

Most noble princes, cherisshers of vertue,

Remembreth you of high discrecioun,

The first vertue, most plesing to Jesu,

(By the wryting and sentence of Catoun),

Is a good tonge, in his opinioun;

Chastyse the révers, and of wysdom do this,

Withdraw your hering from al that deme amis.

The lusty fresshe somers day,

And Phebus with his bemes clere,

Towardes night, they drawe away,

And no lenger liste appere;

That, in this present lyf now here

Nothing abit in his fairnesse,

Save women ay be founde intere

And devoid of doublenesse.

The see eke, with his sterne wawes,

Ech day floweth newe again,

And, by concours of his lawes,

The ebbe foloweth, in certain;

After gret drought ther comth a rain,

That farewel here al stabelnesse,

Save that women be hole and plain;

Yet ay be-war of doublenesse.

Fortunes wheel goth round aboute

A thousand tymes, day and night:

Whos cours standeth ever in doute

For to transmew; she is so light.

For which adverteth in your sight

Th'untrust of worldly fikelnesse,

Save women, which of kindly right

Ne have no tache of doublenesse.

What man may the wind restraine

Or holde a snake by the tail,

Or a sliper eel constraine

That it nil voide, withouten fail;

Or who can dryve so a nail

To make sure new-fangelnesse,

Save women, that can gye hir sail

To rowe hir boot with doublenesse.

At every haven they can aryve

Wher-as they wote is good passage;

Of innocence, they can not stryve

With wawes nor no rokkes rage;

So happy is hir lodemanage,

With nelde and stoon hir cours to dresse,

That Salamon was not so sage

To find in hem no doublenesse.

Therfor who-so hem accuse

Of any double entencioun,

To speke, rowne, other to muse,

To pinche at hir condicioun;

Al is but fals collusioun,

I dar right wel the sothe expresse;

They have no better proteccioun

But shroude hem under doublenesse.

So wel fortúned is hir chaunce

The dys to turnen up-so-doun,

With sys and sink they can avaunce,

And than, by revolucioun,

They sette a fel conclusioun

Of ambes as, in sothfastnesse;

Though clerkes make mencioun

Hir kind is fret with doublenesse.

Sampsoun had experience

That women were ful trewe founde,

Whan Dalida, of innocence,

With sheres gan his heer to rounde;

To speke also of Rosamounde

And Cleopatras feithfulnesse,

The stories plainly wil confounde

Men that apeche hir doublenesse.

Sengle thing ne is not preised,

Nor oo-fold is of no renoun;

In balaunce whan they be peised,

For lakke of weght they be bore doun;

And for this cause of just resoun,

These women alle, of rightwisnesse,

Of chois and free eleccioun

Most love eschaunge and doublenesse.

Lenvoy.

O ye women, which been enclyned,

By influence of your nature,

To been as pure as gold y-fyned

In your trouth for to endure,

Arm your-self in strong armure

Lest men assaile your sikernesse:

Set on your brest, your-self t'assure,

A mighty sheld of doublenesse.

What wight on-lyve trusteth in hir cheres

Shal haue at last his guerdon and his mede;

They can shave nerer then rasóurs or sheres;

Al is nat gold that shyneth! Men, take hede;

Hir galle is hid under a sugred wede.

Hit is ful hard hir fantasy t'aspy;

Bewar therfore; the blinde et many a fly.

Women, of kinde, have condicions three;

The first is, that they be fulle of deceit;

To spinne also hit is hir propertee;

And women have a wonderful conceit,

They wepen ofte, and al is but a sleight,

And whan they list, the tere is in the y;

Bewar therfore; the blinde et many a fly.

What thing than eyr is lighter and meveable?

The light, men say, that passeth in a throw;

Al if the light be nat so variable

As is the wind that every wey [can] blow;

And yet, of reson, som men deme and trow

Women be lightest of hir company;

Bewar therfore; the blind et many a fly.

In short to say, though al the erth so wan

Were parchëmyn smothe, whyte and scribable,

And the gret see, cleped the occian,

Were torned in inke, blakker then is sable,

Ech stik a penne, ech man a scriveyn able,

They coud nat wryte wommannes traitory;

Bewar therfore; the blinde et many a fly.

And ayenward the strait commaundement

Which that I had; and thus, in myn entent,

I was vexed and tourned up and doun;

And yet at last, as in conclusioun,

I cast my clothes on, and went my way,

This foresayd charge having in rémembraunce,

Til I cam to a lusty green valey

Ful of floures, to see, a gret plesaunce;

And so bolded, with their benygn suffraunce

That rede this book, touching this sayd matere,

Thus I began, if it plese you to here.

Nat long ago, ryding an esy paas,

I fel in thought, of joy ful desperate

With greet disese and payne, so that I was

Of al lovers the most unfortunate,

Sith by his dart most cruel, ful of hate,

The deeth hath take my lady and maistresse,

And left me sole, thus discomfit and mate,

Sore languisshing, and in way of distresse.

Than sayd I thus, 'it falleth me to cesse

Eyther to ryme or ditees for to make,

And I, surely, to make a ful promesse

To laugh no more, but wepe in clothes blake.

My joyful tyme, alas! now is it slake,

For in my-self I fele no maner ese;

Let it be written, such fortune I take,

Which neither me, nor non other doth plese.

If it were so, my wil or myn entent

Constrayned were a joyful thing to wryte,

Myn pen coud never have knowlege what it ment;

To speke therof my tonge hath no delyte.

And with my mouth if I laugh moche or lyte,

Myn eyen shold make a countenaunce untrewe;

My hert also wold have therof despyte,

The weping teres have so large issewe.

These seke lovers, I leve that to hem longes,

Which lede their lyf in hope of alegeaunce,

That is to say, to make balades and songes,

Every of hem, as they fele their grevaunce.

For she that was my joy and my plesaunce,

Whos soule I pray god of his mercy save,

She hath my wil, myn hertes ordinaunce,

Which lyeth here, within this tombe y-grave.

Fro this tyme forth, tyme is to hold my pees;

It werieth me this mater for to trete;

Let other lovers put hem-self in prees;

Their seson is, my tyme is now forgete.

Fortune by strength the forcer hath unshet

Wherin was sperd al my worldly richesse,

And al the goodes which that I have gete

In my best tyme of youthe and lustinesse.

Love hath me kept under his governaunce;

If I misdid, god graunt me forgifnesse!

If I did wel, yet felte I no plesaunce;

It caused neither joy nor hevinesse.

For whan she dyed, that was my good maistresse,

Al my welfare than made the same purchas;

The deeth hath set my boundes, of witnes,

Which for no-thing myn hert shal never pas.'

In this gret thought, sore troubled in my mynde,

Aloon thus rood I al the morow-tyde,

Til at the last it happed me to fynde

The place wherin I cast me to abyde

Whan that I had no further for to ryde.

And as I went my logging to purvey,

Right sone I herde, but litel me besyde,

In a gardeyn, wher minstrels gan to play.

With that anon I went me bakker-more;

My-self and I, me thought, we were y-now;

But twayn that were my frendes here-before

Had me espyed, and yet I wot nat how.

They come for me; awayward I me drow,

Somwhat by force, somwhat by their request,

That in no wyse I coud my-self rescow,

But nede I must come in, and see the feest.

At my coming, the ladies everichoon

Bad me welcome, god wot, right gentilly,

And made me chere, everich by oon and oon,

A gret del better than I was worthy;

And, of their grace, shewed me gret curtesy

With good disport, bicause I shuld nat mourne.

That day I bood stille in their company,

Which was to me a gracious sojourne.

The bordes were spred in right litel space;

The ladies sat, ech as hem semed best.

Were non that did servyce within that place

But chosen men, right of the goodliest:

And som ther were, peravénture most fresshest,

That sawe their juges, sitting ful demure,

Without semblaunt either to most or lest,

Notwithstanding they had hem under cure.

Among al other, oon I gan espy

Which in gret thought ful often com and went

As man that had ben ravished utterly,

In his langage nat gretly diligent;

His countenaunce he kept with greet tourment,

But his desyr fer passed his resoun;

For ever his eye went after his entent

Ful many a tyme, whan it was no sesoun.

To make good chere, right sore him-self he payned,

And outwardly he fayned greet gladnesse;

To singe also by force he was constrayned

For no plesaunce, but very shamfastnesse;

For the complaynt of his most hevinesse

Com to his voice alwey without request,

Lyk as the sowne of birdes doth expresse

Whan they sing loude, in frith or in forest.

Other ther were, that served in the hal,

But non lyk him, as after myn advyse;

For he was pale, and somwhat lene with-al;

His speche also trembled in fereful wyse;

And ever aloon, but when he did servyse.

Al blak he ware, and no devyce but playn.

Me thought by him, as my wit coud suffyse,

His hert was no-thing in his own demeyn.

To feste hem al he did his diligence,

And wel he couth, right as it semed me.

But evermore, whan he was in presence,

His chere was don; it wold non other be.

His scole-maister had suche auctoritè

That, al the whyle he bood stille in the place,

Speke coude he nat, but upon her beautè

He loked stil, with right a pitous face.

With that, his heed he tourned at the last

For to behold the ladies everichon;

But ever in oon he set his ey stedfast

On her, the which his thought was most upon.

And of his eyen the shot I knew anon

Which federed was with right humble requestes.

Than to my-self I sayd, 'By god aloon,

Suche oon was I, or that I saw these gestes.'

Out of the prees he went ful esely

To make stable his hevy countenaunce;

And, wit ye wel, he syghed tenderly

For his sorowes and woful remembraunce.

Than in him-self he made his ordinaunce,

And forth-withal com to bringe in the mes;

But, for to juge his most ruful semblaunce,

God wot, it was a pitous entremes!

After diner, anon they hem avaunced

To daunce about, these folkes everichoon;

And forth-withal this hevy lover daunced

Somtyme with twayn, and somtyme but with oon.

Unto hem al his chere was after oon,

Now here, now there, as fel by aventure;

But ever among, he drew to her aloon

Which he most dredde of living creature.

To myn advyse, good was his purveyaunce

Whan he her chase to his maistresse aloon,

If that her hert were set to his plesaunce

As moche as was her beauteous persone.

For who that ever set his trust upon

The réport of the eyen, withouten more,

He might be deed and graven under stoon

Or ever he shulde his hertes ese restore.

In her fayled nothing, as I coud gesse,

O wyse nor other, prevy nor apert;

A garnison she was of al goodnesse

To make a frounter for a lovers hert;

Right yong and fresshe, a woman ful covert;

Assured wel her port and eke her chere,

Wel at her ese, withouten wo or smert,

Al underneth the standard of Daungere.

To see the feest, it weried me ful sore;

For hevy joy doth sore the hert travayle.

Out of the prees I me withdrew therfore,

And set me down aloon, behynd a trayle

Ful of leves, to see, a greet mervayle,

With grene withies y-bounden wonderly;

The leves were so thik, withouten fayle,

That thorough-out might no man me espy.

To this lady he com ful curteisly

Whan he thought tyme to daunce with her a trace;

Sith in an herber made ful pleasauntly

They rested hem, fro thens but litel space.

Nigh hem were none, a certayn of compace,

But only they, as fer as I coud see;

And save the trayle, ther I had chose my place,

Ther was no more betwix hem tweyne and me.

I herd the lover syghing wonder sore;

For ay the neer, the sorer it him sought.

His inward payne he coud not kepe in store,

Nor for to speke, so hardy was he nought.

His leche was neer, the gretter was his thought;

He mused sore, to conquere his desyre;

For no man may to more penaunce be brought

Than, in his hete, to bringe him to the fyre.

The hert began to swel within his chest,

So sore strayned for anguish and for payne

That al to peces almost it to-brest,

Whan bothe at ones so sore it did constrayne;

Desyr was bold, but shame it gan refrayne;

That oon was large, the other was ful cloos;

No litel charge was layd on him, certayn,

To kepe suche werre, and have so many foos.

Ful often-tymes to speke him-self he peyned,

But shamfastnesse and drede sayd ever 'nay';

Yet at the last so sore he was constrayned,

Whan he ful long had put it in delay,

To his lady right thus than gan he say

With dredful voice, weping, half in a rage:—

'For me was purveyd an unhappy day

Whan I first had a sight of your visage!

I suffre payne, god wot, ful hoot brenning,

To cause my deeth, al for my trew servyse;

And I see wel, ye rekke therof nothing,

Nor take no hede of it, in no kins wyse.

But whan I speke after my best avyse,

Ye set it nought, but make ther-of a game;

And though I sewe so greet an entrepryse,

It peyreth not your worship nor your fame.

Alas! what shulde be to you prejudyce

If that a man do love you faithfully

To your worship, eschewing every vyce?

So am I yours, and wil be verily;

I chalenge nought of right, and reson why,

For I am hool submit to your servyse;

Right as ye liste it be, right so wil I,

To bynde my-self, where I was in fraunchyse!

Though it be so, that I can nat deserve

To have your grace, but alway live in drede,

Yet suffre me you for to love and serve

Without maugrè of your most goodlihede;

Both faith and trouth I give your womanhede,

And my servyse, withoute ayein-calling.

Love hath me bounde, withouten wage or mede,

To be your man, and leve al other thing.'

Whan this lady had herd al this langage,

She yaf answere ful softe and demurely,

Without chaunging of colour or corage,

No-thing in haste, but mesurabelly:—

'Me thinketh, sir, your thought is greet foly!

Purpose ye not your labour for to cese?

For thinketh not, whyl that ye live and I,

In this matére to set your hert in pees!'

Lamant. 'Ther may non make the pees, but only ye,

Which ar the ground and cause of al this werre;

For with your eyen the letters written be,

By which I am defyed and put a-fer.

Your plesaunt look, my verray lode-sterre,

Was made heraud of thilk same défyaunce

Which utterly behight me to forbarre

My faithful trust and al myn affyaunce.'

La Dame. 'To live in wo he hath gret fantasy

And of his hert also hath slipper holde,

That, only for beholding of an y,

Can nat abyde in pees, as reson wolde!

Other or me if ye list to beholde,

Our eyen are made to loke; why shuld we spare?

I take no kepe, neither of yong nor olde;

Who feleth smert, I counsayle him be ware!'

Lam. 'If it be so, oon hurte another sore,

In his defaut that feleth the grevaunce,

Of very right a man may do no more;

Yet reson wolde it were in remembraunce.

And, sith Fortune not only, by her chaunce,

Hath caused me to suffre al this payn,

But your beautè, with al the circumstaunce,

Why list ye have me in so greet disdayn?'

La D. 'To your persone ne have I no disdayn,

Nor ever had, trewly! ne nought wil have,

Nor right gret love, nor hatred, in certayn;

Nor your counsayl to know, so god me save!

If such beleve be in your mynde y-grave

That litel thing may do you greet plesaunce,

You to begyle, or make you for to rave,

I wil nat cause no suche encomberaunce!'

Lam. 'What ever it be that me hath thus purchased,

Wening hath nat disceyved me, certayn,

But fervent love so sore hath me y-chased

That I, unware, am casten in your chayne;

And sith so is, as Fortune list ordayne,

Al my welfare is in your handes falle,

In eschewing of more mischévous payn;

Who sonest dyeth, his care is leest of alle.'

La D. 'This sicknesse is right esy to endure,

But fewe people it causeth for to dy;

But what they mene, I know it very sure,

Of more comfort to draw the remedy.

Such be there now, playning ful pitously,

That fele, god wot, nat alther-grettest payne;

And if so be, love hurt so grevously,

Lesse harm it were, oon sorowful, than twayne!'

Lam. 'Alas, madame! if that it might you plese,

Moche better were, by way of gentilnesse,

Of one sory, to make twayn wel at ese,

Than him to stroy that liveth in distresse!

For my desyr is neither more nor lesse

But my servyce to do, for your plesaunce,

In eschewing al maner doublenesse,

To make two joyes in stede of oo grevaunce!'

La D. 'Of love I seke neither plesaunce nor ese,

Nor greet desyr, nor right gret affyaunce;

Though ye be seke, it doth me nothing plese;

Also, I take no hede to your plesaunce.

Chese who-so wil, their hertes to avaunce,

Free am I now, and free wil I endure;

To be ruled by mannes governaunce

For erthely good, nay! that I you ensure!'

Lam. 'Love, which that joy and sorowe doth departe,

Hath set the ladies out of al servage,

And largëly doth graunt hem, for their parte,

Lordship and rule of every maner age.

The poor servaunt nought hath of avauntage

But what he may get only of purchace;

And he that ones to love doth his homage,

Ful often tyme dere bought is the rechace.'

La D. 'Ladies be nat so simple, thus I mene,

So dul of wit, so sotted of foly,

That, for wordes which sayd ben of the splene,

In fayre langage, paynted ful plesauntly,

Which ye and mo holde scoles of dayly,

To make hem of gret wonders to suppose;

But sone they can away their hedes wrye,

And to fair speche lightly their eres close.'

Lam. 'Ther is no man that jangleth busily,

And set his hert and al his mynd therfore,

That by resoun may playne so pitously

As he that hath moche hevinesse in store.

Whos heed is hool, and sayth that it is sore,

His fayned chere is hard to kepe in mewe;

But thought, which is unfayned evermore,

The wordes preveth, as the workes sewe.

La D. 'Love is subtel, and hath a greet awayt,

Sharp in worching, in gabbing greet plesaunce,

And can him venge of suche as by disceyt

Wold fele and knowe his secret governaunce;

And maketh hem to obey his ordinaunce

By chereful wayes, as in hem is supposed;

But whan they fallen in-to repentaunce,

Than, in a rage, their counsail is disclosed.'

Lam. 'Sith for-as-moche as god and eke nature

Hath †love avaunced to so hye degrè,

Moch sharper is the point, this am I sure,

Yet greveth more the faute, wher-ever it be.

Who hath no cold, of hete hath no deyntè,

The toon for the tother asked is expresse;

And of plesaunce knoweth non the certeyntè

But it be wonne with thought and hevinesse.'

La D. 'As for plesaunce, it is nat alway oon;

That you is swete, I thinke it bitter payne.

Ye may nat me constrayne, nor yet right non,

After your lust, to love that is but vayne.

To chalenge love by right was never seyn,

But herte assent, before bond and promyse;

For strength nor force may not atteyne, certayn,

A wil that stant enfeffed in fraunchyse!'

Lam. 'Right fayr lady, god mote I never plese,

If I seke other right, as in this case,

But for to shewe you playnly my disese

And your mercy to abyde, and eke your grace.

If I purpose your honour to deface,

Or ever did, god and fortune me shende!

And that I never rightwysly purchace

Oon only joy, unto my lyves ende!'

La D. 'Ye and other, that swere suche othes faste,

And so condempne and cursen to and fro,

Ful sikerly, ye wene your othes laste

No lenger than the wordes ben ago!

And god, and eke his sayntes, laughe also.

In such swering ther is no stedfastnesse,

And these wrecches, that have ful trust therto,

After, they wepe and waylen in distresse.'

Lam. 'He hath no corage of a man, trewly,

That secheth plesaunce, worship to despyse;

Nor to be called forth is not worthy

The erthe to touch the ayre in no-kins wyse.

A trusty hert, a mouth without feyntyse,

These ben the strength of every man of name;

And who that layth his faith for litel pryse,

He leseth bothe his worship and his fame.'

La D. 'A currish herte, a mouth that is curteys,

Ful wel ye wot, they be not according;

Yet feyned chere right sone may hem apeyse

Where of malyce is set al their worching;

Ful fals semblant they bere and trew mening;

Their name, their fame, their tonges be but fayned;

Worship in hem is put in forgetting,

Nought repented, nor in no wyse complayned.'

Lam. 'Who thinketh il, no good may him befal;

God, of his grace, graunt ech man his desert!

But, for his love, among your thoughtes al,

As think upon my woful sorowes smert;

For of my payne, wheder your tender hert

Of swete pitè be not therwith agreved,

And if your grace to me were discovert,

Than, by your mene, sone shulde I be releved.'

La D. 'A lightsom herte, a folly of plesaunce

Are moch better, the lesse whyl they abyde;

They make you thinke, and bring you in a traunce;

But that seknesse wil sone be remedyed.

Respite your thought, and put al this asyde;

Ful good disportes werieth men al-day;

To help nor hurt, my wil is not aplyed;

Who troweth me not, I lete it passe away.'

Lam. 'Who hath a brid, a faucon, or a hound,

That foloweth him, for love, in every place,

He cherissheth him, and kepeth him ful sound;

Out of his sight he wil not him enchace.

And I, that set my wittes, in this cace,

On you alone, withouten any chaunge,

Am put under, moch ferther out of grace,

And lesse set by, than other that be straunge.'

La D. 'Though I make chere to every man aboute

For my worship, and of myn own fraunchyse,

To you I nil do so, withouten doute,

In eschewing al maner prejudyse.

For wit ye wel, love is so litel wyse,

And in beleve so lightly wil be brought,

That he taketh al at his own devyse,

Of thing, god wot, that serveth him of nought.'

Lam. 'If I, by love and by my trew servyse,

Lese the good chere that straungers have alway,

Wherof shuld serve my trouth in any wise

Lesse than to hem that come and go al-day,

Which holde of you nothing, that is no nay?

Also in you is lost, to my seming,

Al curtesy, which of resoun wold say

That love for love were lawful deserving.'

La D. 'Curtesy is alyed wonder nere

To Worship, which him loveth tenderly;

And he wil nat be bounde, for no prayere,

Nor for no gift, I say you verily,

But his good chere depart ful largely

Where him lyketh, as his conceit wil fal;

Guerdon constrayned, a gift don thankfully,

These twayn may not accord, ne never shal.'

Lam. 'As for guerdon, I seke non in this cace;

For that desert, to me it is to hy;

Wherfore I ask your pardon and your grace,

Sith me behoveth deeth, or your mercy.

To give the good where it wanteth, trewly,

That were resoun and a curteys maner;

And to your own moch better were worthy

Than to straungers, to shewe hem lovely chere.'

La D. 'What cal ye good? Fayn wolde I that I wist!

That pleseth oon, another smerteth sore;

But of his own to large is he that list

Give moche, and lese al his good fame therfore.

Oon shulde nat make a graunt, litel ne more,

But the request were right wel according;

If worship be not kept and set before,

Al that is left is but a litel thing.'

Lam. 'In-to this world was never formed non,

Nor under heven crëature y-bore,

Nor never shal, save only your persone,

To whom your worship toucheth half so sore,

But me, which have no seson, lesse ne more,

Of youth ne age, but still in your service;

I have non eyen, no wit, nor mouth in store,

But al be given to the same office.'

La D. 'A ful gret charge hath he, withouten fayle,

That his worship kepeth in sikernesse;

But in daunger he setteth his travayle

That feffeth it with others businesse.

To him that longeth honour and noblesse,

Upon non other shulde nat he awayte;

For of his own so moche hath he the lesse

That of other moch folweth the conceyt.'

Lam. 'Your eyen hath set the print which that I fele

Within my hert, that, where-so-ever I go,

If I do thing that sowneth unto wele,

Nedes must it come from you, and fro no mo.

Fortune wil thus, that I, for wele or wo,

My lyf endure, your mercy abyding;

And very right wil that I thinke also

Of your worship, above al other thing.'

La D. 'To your worship see wel, for that is nede,

That ye spend nat your seson al in vayne;

As touching myn, I rede you take no hede,

By your foly to put your-self in payne.

To overcome is good, and to restrayne

An hert which is disceyved folily.

For worse it is to breke than bowe, certayn,

And better bowe than fal to sodaynly!'

Lam. 'Now, fair lady, think, sith it first began

That love hath set myn hert under his cure,

I never might, ne truly I ne can

Non other serve, whyle I shal here endure;

In most free wyse therof I make you sure,

Which may not be withdrawe; this is no nay.

I must abyde al maner aventure;

For I may not put to, nor take away.'

La D. 'I holde it for no gift, in sothfastnesse,

That oon offreth, where that it is forsake;

For suche gift is abandoning expresse

That with worship ayein may not be take.

He hath an hert ful fel that list to make

A gift lightly, that put is in refuse;

But he is wyse that such conceyt wil slake,

So that him nede never to study ne muse.'

Lam. 'He shuld nat muse, that hath his service spent

On her which is a lady honourable;

And if I spende my tyme to that entent,

Yet at the leest I am not reprevable

Of feyled hert; to thinke I am unable,

Or me mistook whan I made this request,

By which love hath, of entreprise notable,

So many hertes gotten by conquest.'

La D. 'If that ye list do after my counsayl,

Secheth fairer, and of more higher fame,

Whiche in servyce of love wil you prevayl

After your thought, according to the same.

He hurteth both his worship and his name

That folily for twayne him-self wil trouble;

And he also leseth his after-game

That surely can not sette his poyntes double.'

Lam. 'This your counsayl, by ought that I can see,

Is better sayd than don, to myn advyse;

Though I beleve it not, forgive it me,

Myn herte is suche, so hool without feyntyse,

That it ne may give credence, in no wyse,

To thing which is not sowning unto trouthe;

Other counsayl, it ar but fantasyes,

Save of your grace to shewe pitè and routhe.'

La D. 'I holde him wyse that worketh folily

And, whan him list, can leve and part therfro;

But in conning he is to lerne, trewly,

That wolde him-self conduite, and can not so.

And he that wil not after counsayl do,

His sute he putteth in desesperaunce;

And al the good, which that shulde falle him to,

Is left as deed, clene out of rémembraunce.'

Lam. 'Yet wil I sewe this mater faithfully

Whyls I may live, what-ever be my chaunce;

And if it hap that in my trouthe I dy,

That deeth shal not do me no displesaunce.

But whan that I, by your ful hard suffraunce,

Shal dy so trew, and with so greet a payne,

Yet shal it do me moche the lesse grevaunce

Than for to live a fals lover, certayne.'

La D. 'Of me get ye right nought, this is no fable,

I nil to you be neither hard nor strayt;

And right wil not, nor maner customable,

To think ye shulde be sure of my conceyt.

Who secheth sorowe, his be the receyt!

Other counsayl can I not fele nor see,

Nor for to lerne I cast not to awayte;

Who wil therto, let him assay, for me!'

Lam. 'Ones must it be assayd, that is no nay,

With such as be of reputacioun,

And of trew love the right devoir to pay

Of free hertes, geten by due raunsoun;

For free wil holdeth this opinioun,

That it is greet duresse and discomfort

To kepe a herte in so strayt a prisoun,

That hath but oon body for his disport.'

La D. 'I know so many cases mervaylous

That I must nede, of resoun, think certayn,

That such entree is wonder perilous,

And yet wel more, the coming bak agayn.

Good or worship therof is seldom seyn;

Wherefore I wil not make no suche aray

As for to fynde a plesaunce but barayn,

Whan it shal cost so dere, the first assay.'

Lam. 'Ye have no cause to doute of this matere,

Nor you to meve with no such fantasyes

To put me ferre al-out, as a straungere;

For your goodnesse can think and wel avyse,

That I have made a prefe in every wyse

By which my trouth sheweth open evidence;

My long abyding and my trew servyse

May wel be knowen by playn experience.'

La D. 'Of very right he may be called trew,

And so must he be take in every place,

That can deserve, and let as he ne knew,

And kepe the good, if he it may purchace.

For who that prayeth or sueth in any case,

Right wel ye wot, in that no trouth is preved;

Suche hath ther ben, and are, that geten grace,

And lese it sone, whan they it have acheved.'

Lam. 'If trouth me cause, by vertue soverayne,

To shew good love, and alway fynd contráry,

And cherish that which sleeth me with the payne,

This is to me a lovely adversary!

Whan that pitè, which long a-slepe doth tary,

Hath set the fyne of al myn hevinesse,

Yet her comfort, to me most necessary,

Shuld set my wil more sure in stablenesse.'

La D. 'The woful wight, what may he thinke or say?

The contrary of al joy and gladnesse.

A sick body, his thought is al away

From hem that fele no sorowe nor siknesse.

Thus hurtes ben of dyvers businesse

Which love hath put to right gret hinderaunce,

And trouthe also put in forgetfulnesse

Whan they so sore begin to sighe askaunce.'

Lam. 'Now god defend but he be havëlesse

Of al worship or good that may befal,

That to the werst tourneth, by his lewdnesse,

A gift of grace, or any-thing at al

That his lady vouchsauf upon him cal,

Or cherish him in honourable wyse!

In that defaut what-ever he be that fal

Deserveth more than deth to suffre twyse!'

La D. 'There is no juge y-set of such trespace

By which of right oon may recovered be;

Oon curseth fast, another doth manace,

Yet dyeth non, as ferre as I can see,

But kepe their cours alway, in oon degrè,

And evermore their labour doth encrese

To bring ladyes, by their gret soteltè,

For others gilte, in sorowe and disese!'

Lam. 'Al-be-it so oon do so greet offence,

And be not deed, nor put to no juÿse,

Right wel I wot, him gayneth no defence,

But he must ende in ful mischévous wyse,

And al that ever is good wil him dispyse.

For falshed is so ful of cursednesse

That high worship shal never have enterpryse

Where it reigneth and hath the wilfulnesse.'

La D. 'Of that have they no greet fere now-a-days,

Suche as wil say, and maynteyne it ther-to,

That stedfast trouthe is nothing for to prays

In hem that kepe it long for wele or wo.

Their busy hertes passen to and fro,

They be so wel reclaymed to the lure,

So wel lerned hem to withholde also,

And al to chaunge, whan love shuld best endure.'

Lam. 'Whan oon hath set his herte in stable wyse

In suche a place as is both good and trewe,

He shuld not flit, but do forth his servyse

Alway, withouten chaunge of any newe.

As sone as love beginneth to remewe,

Al plesaunce goth anon, in litel space;

For my party, al that shal I eschewe,

Whyls that the soule abydeth in his place.'

La D. 'To love trewly ther-as ye ought of right,

Ye may not be mistaken, doutëlesse;

But ye be foul deceyved in your sight

By lightly understanding, as I gesse.

Yet may ye wel repele your businesse

And to resoun somwhat have attendaunce,

Moch better than to byde, by fol simplesse,

The feble socour of desesperaunce.'

Lam. 'Resoun, counsayl, wisdom, and good avyse

Ben under love arested everichoon,

To which I can accorde in every wyse;

For they be not rebel, but stille as stoon;

Their wil and myn be medled al in oon,

And therwith bounden with so strong a cheyne

That, as in hem, departing shal be noon,

But pitè breke the mighty bond atwayne.'

La D. 'Who loveth not himself, what-ever he be

In love, he stant forgete in every place;

And of your wo if ye have no pitè,

Others pitè bileve not to purchace;

But beth fully assured in this case,

I am alway under oon ordinaunce,

To have better; trusteth not after grace,

And al that leveth tak to your plesaunce!'

Lam. 'I have my hope so sure and so stedfast

That suche a lady shulde nat fail pitè;

But now, alas! it is shit up so fast,

That Daunger sheweth on me his crueltè.

And if she see the vertue fayle in me

Of trew servyce, then she to fayle also

No wonder were; but this is the suretè,

I must suffre, which way that ever it go.'

La D. 'Leve this purpos, I rede you for the best;

For lenger that ye kepe it thus in vayn,

The lesse ye gete, as of your hertes rest,

And to rejoice it shal ye never attayn.

Whan ye abyde good hope, to make you fayn,

Ye shal be founde asotted in dotage;

And in the ende, ye shal know for certayn,

That hope shal pay the wrecches for their wage!'

Lam. 'Ye say as falleth most for your plesaunce,

And your power is greet; al this I see;

But hope shal never out of my rémembraunce,

By whiche I felt so greet adversitè.

For whan nature hath set in you plentè

Of al goodnesse, by vertue and by grace,

He never assembled hem, as semeth me,

To put Pitè out of his dwelling-place.'

La D. 'Pitè of right ought to be resonable,

And to no wight of greet disavantage;

There-as is nede, it shuld be profitable,

And to the pitous shewing no damage.

If a lady wil do so greet out-rage

To shewe pitè, and cause her own debate,

Of such pitè cometh dispitous rage,

And of the love also right deedly hate.'

Lam. 'To comforte hem that live al comfortlesse,

That is no harm, but worship to your name;

But ye, that bere an herte of such duresse,

And a fair body formed to the same,

If I durst say, ye winne al this defame

By Crueltè, which sitteth you ful il,

But-if Pitè, which may al this attame,

In your high herte may rest and tary stil.'

La D. 'What-ever he be that sayth he loveth me,

And peraventure, I leve that it be so,

Ought he be wroth, or shulde I blamed be,

Though I did noght as he wolde have me do?

If I medled with suche or other mo,

It might be called pitè manerlesse;

And, afterward if I shulde live in wo,

Than to repent it were to late, I gesse.'

Lam. 'O marble herte, and yet more hard, pardè,

Which mercy may nat perce, for no labour,

More strong to bowe than is a mighty tree,

What vayleth you to shewe so greet rigour?

Plese it you more to see me dy this hour

Before your eyen, for your disport and play,

Than for to shewe som comfort or socour

To respite deth, that chaseth me alway!'

La D. 'Of your disese ye may have allegeaunce;

And as for myn, I lete it over-shake.

Also, ye shal not dye for my plesaunce,

Nor for your hele I can no surety make.

I nil nat hate myn hert for others sake;

Wepe they, laugh they, or sing, this I waraunt,

For this mater so wel to undertake

That non of you shal make therof avaunt!'

Lam. 'I can no skil of song; by god aloon,

I have more cause to wepe in your presence;

And wel I wot, avauntour am I noon,

For certainly, I love better silence.

Oon shuld nat love by his hertes credence

But he were sure to kepe it secretly;

For avauntour is of no reverence

Whan that his tonge is his most enemy.'

La D. 'Male-bouche in courte hath greet commaundement;

Ech man studieth to say the worst he may.

These fals lovers, in this tyme now present,

They serve to boste, to jangle as a jay.

The most secret wil wel that some men say

How he mistrusted is on some partyes;

Wherfore to ladies what men speke or pray,

It shuld not be bileved in no wyse.'

Lam. 'Of good and il shal be, and is alway;

The world is such; the erth it is not playn.

They that be good, the preve sheweth every day,

And otherwyse, gret villany, certayn.

Is it resoun, though oon his tonge distayne

With cursed speche, to do him-self a shame,

That such refuse shuld wrongfully remayne

Upon the good, renommed in their fame?'

La D. 'Suche as be nought, whan they here tydings newe,

That ech trespas shal lightly have pardoun,

They that purposen to be good and trewe—

Wel set by noble disposicioun

To continue in good condicioun—

They are the first that fallen in damage,

And ful freely their hertes abandoun

To litel faith, with softe and fayr langage.'

Lam. 'Now knowe I wel, of very certayntè,

Though oon do trewly, yet shal he be shent,

Sith al maner of justice and pitè

Is banisshed out of a ladyes entent.

I can nat see but al is at oo stent,

The good and il, the vyce and eek vertue!

Suche as be good shal have the punishment

For the trespas of hem that been untrewe!'

La D. 'I have no power you to do grevaunce,

Nor to punisshe non other creature;

But, to eschewe the more encomberaunce,

To kepe us from you al, I holde it sure.

Fals semblaunce hath a visage ful demure,

Lightly to cacche the ladies in a-wayt;

Wherefore we must, if that we wil endure,

Make right good watch; lo! this is my conceyt.'

Lam. 'Sith that of grace oo goodly word aloon

May not be had, but alway kept in store,

I pele to god, for he may here my moon,

Of the duresse, which greveth me so sore.

And of pitè I pleyn me further-more,

Which he forgat, in al his ordinaunce,

Or els my lyf to have ended before,

Which he so sone put out of rémembraunce.'

La D. 'My hert, nor I, have don you no forfeyt,

By which ye shulde complayne in any kynde.

There hurteth you nothing but your conceyt;

Be juge your-self; for so ye shal it fynde.

Ones for alway let this sinke in your mynde—

That ye desire shal never rejoysed be!

Ye noy me sore, in wasting al this wynde;

For I have sayd y-nough, as semeth me.'

Verba Auctoris.

This woful man roos up in al his payne,

And so parted, with weping countenaunce;

His woful hert almost to-brast in twayne,

Ful lyke to dye, forth walking in a traunce,

And sayd, 'Now, deeth, com forth! thy-self avaunce,

Or that myn hert forgete his propertè;

And make shorter al this woful penaunce

Of my pore lyfe, ful of adversitè!'

Fro thens he went, but whider wist I nought,

Nor to what part he drow, in sothfastnesse;

But he no more was in his ladies thought,

For to the daunce anon she gan her dresse.

And afterward, oon tolde me thus expresse,

He rente his heer, for anguissh and for payne,

And in him-self took so gret hevinesse

That he was deed, within a day or twayne.

Lenvoy.

Ye trew lovers, this I beseche you al,

Such †avantours, flee hem in every wyse,

And as people defamed ye hem cal;

For they, trewly, do you gret prejudyse.

Refus hath mad for al such flateryes

His castelles strong, stuffed with ordinaunce,

For they have had long tyme, by their offyce,

The hool countrè of Love in obeysaunce.

And ye, ladyes, or what estat ye be,

In whom Worship hath chose his dwelling-place,

For goddes love, do no such crueltè,

Namely, to hem that have deserved grace.

Nor in no wyse ne folowe not the trace

Of her, that here is named rightwisly,

Which by resoun, me semeth, in this case

May be called La Belle Dame sans Mercy.

Verba Translatoris.

Go, litel book! god sende thee good passage!

Chese wel thy way; be simple of manere;

Loke thy clothing be lyke thy pilgrimage,

And specially, let this be thy prayere

Un-to hem al that thee wil rede or here,

Wher thou art wrong, after their help to cal

Thee to correcte in any part or al.

Pray hem also, with thyn humble servyce,

Thy boldënesse to pardon in this case;

For els thou art not able, in no wyse,

To make thy-self appere in any place.

And furthermore, beseche hem, of their grace,

By their favour and supportacioun,

To take in gree this rude translacioun,

The which, god wot, standeth ful destitute

Of eloquence, of metre, and of coloures,

Wild as a beest, naked, without refute,

Upon a playne to byde al maner shoures.

I can no more, but aske of hem socoures

At whos request thou mad were in this wyse,

Commaunding me with body and servyse.

Right thus I make an ende of this processe,

Beseching him that al hath in balaunce

That no trew man be vexed, causëlesse,

As this man was, which is of rémembraunce;

And al that doon their faythful observaunce,

And in their trouth purpose hem to endure,

I pray god sende hem better aventure.

Explicit.