Classic Poem

In the Romain actes writen is thus:
Whilom an emperour in the citee
Of Roome regned, clept Iereslaus,
Which his noble estat and hy dignitee
Gouerned wysly; and weddid had he
The doghtir of the kyng of Vngarie,
A fair lady to euery mannes ye

And for þat beautee in womman allone
Withouten bontee is nat commendable,
Shee was therto a vertuous persone,
And specially pitous and merciable
In all hir wirkes, which ful couenable
And pertinent is vnto wommanhede
Mercy causith good renon fer to sprede

Now in my tale foorth wole I proceede
As þat this emperour in his bed lay
Vpon a nyght, a thoght gan in him breede
Vnto the Holy Land to take his way,
And on the morwe, left lenger delay,
His wyf and his brothir he made appeere
Before him, and hem seide in this maneere:

‘My deere wyf, myn hertes ioie and hele,
that thyng þat stablisshid in myn herte is,
I can nat hyde fro thee ne concele,
Ne nat ne wole, and shortly it is this:
Vnto the Holy Land I wole ywis,
And forthy make I thee principally
Of al th'empire, me absent, lady,

‘Bytakynge and committynge vnto thee
Of peple and land the charge special,
And vndir thee my brothir heer shal be
Steward of it to rule and gouerne al
That to me and my peple, greet and smal,
Profitable is, by conseil and assent
Algate of thee and thyn auysament

‘Althogh thee thynke this purpos sodeyn,
Yit be nat heuy, but in gree it take
With Goddes grace my comynge ageyn
Shal nat be longe to. I for thy sake
Wole the shorter abood ther make
Truste me weel, as blyue as þat I may
Haaste I me wole fro thennes away’

To whom with spirit of humilitee
She seide, ‘Syn it is your good plesance
To departe hens and go to þat contree,
I take moot algates, in souffrance,
Your wil and shal, with hertes obeissance.
As treewe as turtle þat lakkith hir feere
In your absence I shal be, my lord deere.

‘Ful sore I am agast and greetly dreede
that neuere yee shuln thennes with your lyf
Retorne, almighty God yow saue and speede’
He hir yaf wordes confortatyf,
And kiste hir, and seide, ‘Farewel, wyf
Be nat abassht, ne nat dreedith, I preye,’
And foorth he hastith him in his iourneye

The sorwe of herte and cheer of heuynesse
Which this good lady at his departynge
Made, the book nat can telle or expresse,
Wherfore of þat haue I no knowlechynge
Eek kepte I nat the belle of sorwe out rynge,
Thogh þat I kneew wel euery circumstance
Of hir wo and hir heuy contenance

But whan this emperour was thus agoon,
His brothirs herte was so eleuat
And so prowd þat by wight ne sette he noon
Himself forgat he for his hy estat
The pore and simple folk this potestat
Oppressid sore and dide hem greet duresse.
The riche he robbid eek of hir richesse

And yit this wikkid man, this seneschal,
Meeued was werse, and to fulfill it thoghte
He dide his might and his peyne total
And all weyes serchid he and soghte,
And to brynge it aboute he faste wroghte,
Althogh he faillid at preef and assay
He was knyt vp with a wommanly nay

He day by day lay on this emperice
To make hir vnto him flesshly consente,
But shee answerde, ‘It wer ouer greet vice
To me, if I therto myn herte bente.
Nay, brothir, nay, God woot I neuere it mente,
Ne neuere shal. I truste in Goddes grace
Yee goon wrong, yee mischosen han your place

‘In al your lyf yee neuere, ne noon othir,
Shal make me consente to þat synne
For shame, fy, þat yee, my lordes brothir,
And whom þat he right feithful trust hath inne,
Sholde any swich tale to me begynne,
Which wer ageyn his and your honestee,
And myn, þat am his wyf, wel knowen yee.

‘A treewe wyf I lyue wole and dye
His wole I be, to whom þat I am bownde
Whyle he lyueth and I, withouten lye.
Trustith wel, it noon othir shal be fownde.’
But, for al this, at euery tyme and stownde
He stired hire whan he fond hir soul
Vnto this deede vicious and foul

And whan shee sy shee mighte haue no reste—
Nat wolde he stynte of his iniquitee—
Shee aftir three or four of the gretteste
Of al th'empire sente, and thus spak shee:
‘Sires, the cause þat hath meeued me
For yow to sende is this, as I shal seyn,
Of which I sore encombred am, certeyn

‘Yee woot wel þat my lord the emperour
In his absence hath maad me principal
Of th'empire, and his brothir gouernour
And steward vndir me for to rule al,
With this addicioun þat he nat shal
Wirke, my conseil and assent vnhad
This was my lordes wil, and thus he bad.

‘And, nathelees, the poore he hath oppressid
And robbid ryche folk, yee woot, I trowe,
And werse thyng which shal nat been expressid
As now he wolde han doon—myself it knowe—
Wherfore vpon the feith which þat yee owe
To my lord, and on his part, I yow charge
Enprisone him. Let him nat goon at large

‘Fettreth him faste’ And they answerden thus,
‘Madame, he hath doon many a wikkid deede
Syn our lord wente, it wel knowe is to vs
To your commandement, as we moot neede,
We wole obeie, but withoute dreede
Yee muste in this warrante vs and allowe,
Lest our lord whan he comth vs disallowe.’

‘What, sires,’ quod shee, ‘doutith yow right noght,
For if my lord kneew as mochil as I,
That he hath doon sholde be deer boght
that I yow charge wole I stande by’
They made anoon areest on his body,
And into prison they him threew and caste,
And fettred him in yren bondes faste,

Wher he abood til þat word comen was,
How þat the emperour was hoom comynge
Thanne he thus thoghte, ‘How shal I doon, allas?
Now knowe shal my lord, by enquerynge,
The verray cause of myn enprisonynge,
Wherthurgh his grace I vttirly shal leese,
Or par cas my lyf. I ne shal nat cheese

‘In feith, if I may it shal nat be so.’
A messager as blyue ordeyned he,
And made him to the emperice go,
And byseeche hir, of hir hy bontee,
Syn shee had ay been of hir grace free,
that shee so mochil grace wolde him do
As come and speke a word with him or two.

Vnto the dore of his prison shee cam.
Withouten danger shee therto obeide.
‘What is your wil?’ quod shee ‘Lo, heer I am’
He lookid pitously and meekly preide,
‘O gracious lady, reewe on me,’ he seide;
‘If þat my lord me fynde heer in prison,
My deeth wole it been and confusion

‘My gentil lady, what shal yow profyte
To do me of a mescheuous deeth sterue?
If þat I lyue may, wole I me qwyte
Treewely to yow and your thank disserue
What yow list me commande, I wole obserue
And do as humblely as any man
that in this world lyueth do may or can’

And she anoonright, meeued of pitee,
Seide, ‘If I wiste þat of thy folie
Thow stynte woldest, and amende thee
Hensfoorth, and thee vnto vertu applie,
My grace wolde I nat to thee denye’
He seide and swoor al þat he cowde swere,
Amende he wolde and wel aftir him bere

O noble lady, symple and innocent,
Trustynge vpon his ooth and his promesse,
Ful wo is me for thy wo consequent.
Often happith wommannes tendrenesse
Torneth hir vnto harm and to duresse.
This emperice fond it so by preef,
Whom þat forsworn man greet harm dide, and greef.

This man shee took out of the prison hous,
And made him bathid been, and fresshly shaue,
And dide him clothe in clothes precious,
And a fressh courser eek she made him haue,
And seide, ‘Now, brothir, so God yow saue!
Takith your hors, and ryde foorth with me
Toward my lord’; and foorth with hir roode he.

And as they riden right in the hy way
Ny a foreste, an hert before hem ran
Ther nas but ‘Ryde on, ryde’ and ‘Hay, dogge, hay’
Euery man dooth his peyne in what he can,
The hert to sue. Ther lefte no man
With this good lady sauf this wikkid wight,
This steward which brak al þat he had hight.

Par auenture men wole han meruaille
That damoisele with hir had shee noon.
No force of þat: the book withouten faille
Makith no mynde as mochil as of oon.
This chaunce shoop many a yeer agoon
That tyme, par cas, was no swich array
As þat in sundry contrees is this day

Whan this knyght sy ther was noon but they two,
To th'emperice he seide in this maneere:
‘It is ago fern syn I spak yow to
Of loue. Come on now, my lady deere,
With me into this priuee foreste heere,
That Y of yow may haue my talent
Now shal be doon þat I longe haue ment’

‘What, fool, took I thee nat out of prisoun
No lenger hens than yistirday,’ quod shee,
‘In trust and hope of thy correccioun,
As thow swoor and behightest vnto me,
And now to thy folie and nycetee
Retourne woldest thow? Nay, doutelees,
It shal nat be Stynte and holde thy pees

‘Ther neuere shal man do with me þat deede,
Sauf my lord th'emperour, which þat of right
Licenced is therto O, God forbeede
that by myn honestee sette I so light
Peyne thee nat therto, for in thy might
Shal it nat be thy wil for to perfourme
By no way wole I me therto confourme’

And he answerde and spak vnreuerently:
‘But if þat thow consente wilt to me,
In this foreste as swythe right wole Y
Hange thee by thyn heer vpon a tree,
Wher no wight shall thee fynde, and so,’ quod he,
‘Of wikkid deeth thow sterue shalt and die
Truste on noon help at al, ne remedie’

‘By thy manaces sette I nat a myte,’
Shee seide ‘Of hem haue I no dreede at al
Thogh thow me thretne myn heed of to smyte,
And do me what torment thow canst, I shal
Thee werne ay þat This for answer final
Take if thee list, for, to þat poynt me dryue,
Thow neuere shalt whyles I am on lyue

‘Thow woost wel in effect thus seide I eer.’
He strypid hir anoon, left al delay,
Vnto hir smok, and heeng hir by hir heer
Vpon an ook, and by hir hir palfray
He stonde leet, and foorth on deuel way
Rood this tirant, this man malicious,
This cruel-herted man enuenymous

And whan he had his felawshipe atake,
He bleew and blustred and made heuy cheere,
And a strong lesyng he gan to hem make
He seide, ‘Allas, þat I nere on my beere,
So wo is me for þat my lordes feere,
My lady, is me reft by force of men.’
God yeue him sorwe, and all swiche! [Amen]

O false lyer, o thow cofre and cheste
Of vnclennesse, o styknynge aduoutour,
In wil, seye I, and willy to inceste,
O false man to God, and thow traitour
To thy lord and brothir, the emperour,
O enemy to wyfly chastitee,
And in thy wirkes ful of crueltee,

O cursid feendly wrecche, why hast thow
Deceyued and betrayed innocence?
What wilt thow seye and how wilt thow looke, how,
Whan thow comest to thy lordes presence,
And art opposid by his excellence,
How þat it with his lady hath betid?
I am seur þat the trouthe shal been hid

For as wel as þat to thy conpaignie
Thow lyedist whan thow hem ouertook,
As lowde wilt thow vnto thy lord lye,
I woot wel, and that with bold face and look.
Nathelees, of this tretith nat the book,
Wherfore to my tale wole I go,
Of this lady and foorth telle of hir wo.

Whan þat shee so had hanged dayes three,
By þat foreste rood ther on huntynge
An erl, þat was of a strange contree,
Beforn whos howndes was a fox rennynge,
And they aftir it blyue folewynge,
And as þat they ran, they hadden a sent
Of the lady, and thidir be they went,

And theras shee heeng, they stood at a bay
This erl, of þat meruaillynge him greetly,
Thidir him hyeth in al þat he may,
And whan he hir ther hangynge sy,
He seide, ‘Womman, what art thow, and why
Hangest thow in this wyse vpon the tree?’
‘A strange womman, sir, am I,’ quod shee,

‘Of fer parties. How into this place
I cam, God woot.’ Shee wolde by no way
Deskeuere what shee was, ne what fallace
Was doon to hir. Cloos shee kepte hir ay,
And tolde nat o word of hir affray
Than axed hir the erl, ‘Whos hors is this
that by thee standith?’ Quod shee, ‘Myn it is.’

Wherby the erl anoonright vndirstood
that it noon othir wyse mighte be
But shee sum gentil womman was of blood,
And in his herte routhe of hir had he,
And seide to hir, ‘If it lyke thee,
Vnto my wil thee confourme and enclyne,
Deliure wole I thee out of thy pyne.

‘Lo, this I meene, this is myn entente
A yong doghtir haue I, in soothfastnesse,
Of which I wolde, if þat thee list assente,
Thow took on thee to be gouerneresse,
And teche hir as longith to a maistresse
that lordes children han in gouernaille,
And wel wole I thee qwyte thy trauaille
‘Myn entente is þat, and othir right noon’
‘Sire,’ quod shee, ‘gladly wole I obeye
To yow in þat,’ and shee was take anoon
Doun fro the tree, and, shortly for to seye,
With him to his castel shee rood hir weye,
And of the chyld shee took the gouernance,
Which torned hir, aftir, to greet nusance.

Shee with this yong chyld in the chambre lay
Euery nyght wher lay th'erl and the contesse,
Betwixt whos beddes brente a lampe alway,
And wel beloued for hir hy goodnesse
Of euery wight was, bothe more and lesse,
This emperice til vpon a nyght,
Giltlees, hir good loos refte a wikkid wight.

Ther was a styward in this erles hous
that to hir ofte had spoke of flesshly loue,
To whom seide ay this lady gracious,
‘Maad haue I an avow to God aboue
Loueres alle fro myn herte shoue,
Sauf oonly him whom, of Goddes precept,
To loue I holde am, and þat shal be kept.

‘I truste in God Myn herte shal nat change
Fro þat, whil my lyf shal soiourne in me’
‘O, wilt thow so, wilt thow make it so strange?
Wilt thow noon othir wyse do?’ quod he
‘that I seid haue I wole holde,’ quod shee.
And whan he sy noon othir remedie,
He wroothly wente out of hir conpaignie,

And fro thensfoorth conpassid in his wit
How to be venged vpon hir and wroken,
And on a nyght, vnhappyly shoop it
Left was the erles chambre dore vnstoken,
To which he cam, and fond it was nat loken,
And theefly in staal this wikkid persone,
Wheras he fond hem slepynge euerychone.

And he espyde by the lampes light
The bed wheras þat lay the emperice
With th'erles doghtir, and as blyue right
This feendly man his purposid malice
Thoghte for to fulfill and accomplice
And so he dide. A long knyf he out drow
And therwithal the mayden chyld he slow.

Hir throte with þat knyf on two he kutte,
And as this emperice lay slepynge,
Into hir hand this bloody knyf he putte
For men sholde haue noon othir deemynge
But shee had gilty been of this murdrynge
And whan þat he had wroght this cursidnesse,
Anoon out of the chambre he gan him dresse.

The contesse aftir, of hir sleep awakid,
To th'emperices bed gan caste hir look,
And sy the bloody knyf in hir hond nakid,
And for the fere shee tremblid and qwook,
And rogged on hir lord and him awook,
Preyynge him to the bed he looke wolde
And ther a meruaillous thyng seen he sholde.

Whan he was wel awakid of his sleep,
He lookid therto as shee him besoghte,
And it byheeld, and of it took good keep,
And of þat meschief him sore forthoghte,
Deemynge þat this cursid deede wroghte
This emperice, as þat it was ful lyk
To been, and vp he threew an heuy syk,

And hir awook, and thus to hir he cryde,
‘Womman, what is þat in thyn hand I see?
What hast thow doon, womman? For him þat dyde,
What wikkid spirit hath trauaillid thee?’
And, as soone as þat adawid was shee,
The knyf fil out of hir hond in the bed
And shee byheeld the clothes al bybled,

And the chyld deed: ‘Allas!’ shee cryde, ‘allas!
How may this be? God woot al, I noot how.
I am nat pryuee to this heuy cas
The gilt is nat myn. I the chyld nat slow.’
To which spak the contesse, ‘What seist thow?
Excuse the nat. Thow maist nat seyn nay
The knyf al bloody in thyn hand I say’

And thus vnto hir lord shee cryde anoon:
‘Slee this cursid feend þat our chyld hath slayn
Lat hir no lengere on lyue goon.
that Y neuere had hir seen wolde I ful fayn,
But or shee heer cam þat shee had be flayn,
For so greet wo cam neuere to myn herte.
Slee hir as blyue. Lat nat hir asterte.’

Although þat shee wer in this cas vengeable,
For causes two me thynkith it smal vice
(Shee was in þat in partie excusable):
Oon is shee wende þat the emperice
Hir chyld had slayn of purposid malice,
And so it seemed as by liklyhede,
Albeit þat nat wer it so in dede;

that othir cause, as woot euery man,
In the world so louynge tendrenesse
Is noon as is the loue of a womman,
To hir chyld namely, and, as I gesse,
To hir housbonde also, wherof witnesse
We weddid men may bere if þat vs lyke,
And so byhoueth a thank vs to pyke.

Now foorth, how the erl to th'emperice him hadde,
And how þat he gouerned þat mateere,
Herkneth. With heuy cheere and wordes sadde
To hir he spak and seide in this maneere:
‘Womman, with my swerd slee wolde I thee heere,
Sauf for awe of God, at whos reuerence
that deede wole I putte in abstinence.

‘Thow haue shalt, for me, noon harm at al,
But whoso trustith on the curtesie
Of thee, ful soone he deceyued be shal.
Whan þat thow wer on a tree hangid hye,
Wheras thow likly haddest been to dye,
Thow woost wel, therfrom I deliured thee
And with my doghtres deeth thow qwit hast me.

‘Vnkynde womman, walke on foorth thy way.
Hye thee hens, and neuere see my face
For if þat I heeraftir thee see may—
Outhir in this or eny othir place
Of my lordshipe—thow noon othir grace
Shalt han, but die a deeth ful villenous,
Thow wikkid woman, fals and traiterous.’

This innocent lady no word ageyn
Spak, for shee spoken had ynow beforn,
Excusynge hir, but al was in veyn,
For whan þat shee had al yseyd and sworn,
Shee with the erl and his wyf was doun born,
And, sikirly, wheras þat no credence
May been had, wysdam conseilith silence.

What leeue þat shee took ne woot I nat,
Or þat shee fro þat place was ywent—
The book maketh no mencion of that—
But hir palfray shee hirself hath hent,
And so foorth rood toward the orient
O emperice, our lord God gye thee,
For yit thee folwith more aduersitee.

As shee rood, on hir right hand shee espyde
A galwe tree to which men a theef ledde
Hanged to been, and to hir horses syde
The spore gooth. Shee faste hir thidir spedde
For verray routhe hir thoghte hir herte bledde,
And to the officers meekly shee preide
In this wyse, and right thus shee to hem seide:

‘Sires, if yow list this mannes lyf saue
I reedy am to yeue yow good meede.’
‘We wole wel,’ quod they ‘What shul we haue?
What lykith yow for his lyf vs to beede?
Paieth therfore wel, and yee shul speede’
They of the paiement accorded were
Shee paide, and this man foorth shee took with here.

‘Be to me treewe now,’ quod she, ‘my freend,
Syn fro thy deeth deliured haue Y thee’
‘Yis, certes, lady, elles to the feend
Body and soule bytake Y,’ seide he
‘Noon othir wolde I for al Cristientee
Been vnto yow,’ and foorth shee rood hir way,
And on his foot this man hir folwith ay,

Til þat they drow vnto a citee ny,
Whidir beforn shee bad him for to go
And take hir in, so þat shee honestly
Mighte inned been, and he dide right so,
And taried nat his lady longe fro,
But ageyn hir as blyue right this man
To brynge hir thidir faste wente and ran.

Shee cam into hir in, and abood ther
Dayes dyuerse for hir ese and reste,
And in the citee fame wydewher
Sprang, how a lady, the womanlyeste
Of cheer, port, shap and eek the faireste
That any wight beholde mighte or see,
Was come and inned hir in the citee.

Many a lusty man, in loues art
Expert and sotil, drow hem to hir in,
Weenynge han geten þat of which no part
They gete kowde, for noon art ne gyn
To th'ententes corrupt þat they wer in
Shee wolde for no thyng bowe and enclyne.
Hir hertes castel kowde they nat myne.

As fer as the boundes of honestee
Requeren, shee made hem disport and cheere,
But passynge it, for al hir sotiltee,
For profre of meede ne for fair preyeere,
Shee change nolde hir vertuous maneere.
The lessons þat they in Ouyde had red
Halp hem right noght. They wenten thens vnsped.

O yee þat seyn wommen be variant,
And can nat sad been if they been assaillid,
Yee been ful vnkonnynge and ignorant,
And of the soothe foule yee han fallid.
Constance is vnto wommanhode entaillid.
Out of þat fee they nat be dryue may.
Swich hir nature is, thogh sum men sayn nay.

They stidefast been, as fer as Y woot,
But it be wher they take han a purpos
that naght is, which, be it neuere so hoot,
They change, lest it hurte mighte hir loos,
And keepen it secree, couert and cloos,
Vnexecut, thogh of hem nat a fewe
The reuers doon. What, the feend is a shrewe.

Let al this passe. Ther cam to the port
Of this citee a ship with marchandyse
Charged, wherof hir man made report
To his lady. Shee bad him in al wyse
Go thidir and see, and him wel auyse
What thyng therin was, and word hoom hir brynge,
Withoute any delay or taryynge.

He thidir wente, and clothes precious
Amonges othir thynges ther he fond
Ful ryche was the stuf, and plenteuous,
Of the ship, and the maistir by the hond
He took and seide, ‘Ga we to the lond,
To my ladyes in Shee wolde bye,
If þat yow list, sum of your marchandie’

‘I wole gladly,’ seide the shipman,
And to the ladyes in they bothe two
Goon, but before dressith him hir man
And reported hir as him oghte do,
What he had in the ship seen, and, therto,
That the shipman was comen he hir tolde,
Axynge hir if shee with him speke wolde.

‘Yis,’ quod shee, ‘let him in come, I the preye’
He entred, and vnto him thus spak shee:
‘Sire, yee han in your ship, heer Y seye,
Dyuerse precious clothes, and if yee
Wolden some of hem brynge hidir to me,
As þat we mighte accorde, wolde Y paye
In honde, and nat your paiement delaye.’

‘Madame, I grante,’ he seide, and took his leeue,
And with him hir seruant to the ship wente,
To whom the shipman by the way gan meeue,
‘Freend, I am set on a certein entente,
Vnto the whiche if þat thow wilt assente
And do thy deuer and my conseil hyde,
That thow me kneew thow blysse shalt the tyde.

‘O may I truste, may I truste in thee?
Thow helpe me maist, and no wight but thow.
If thow wilt so in this necessitee,
Gold and siluer wole I thee yeue ynow’
‘Yis,’ quod this seruant, ‘that I make avow
To God, if þat it in my power lye,
Myn help to thee ne wole Y nat denye

‘If thow heeraftir fynde þat I gabbe,
Of my promesse thanne dokke me
I neuere was yit of my tonge a labbe
that thyng þat me told is in priuetee
Keepe I can wel Be in noon aweertee,
But anoon to me telle out al thy gole,
For treewe and trusty be to thee Y wole’

‘Grant mercy,’ seide the shipman, ‘iwis.
Now feele I confort. Now dar Y bywreye
To thee myn hertes secree, which is this:
Swich excellence of beautee is, Y seye,
In thy lady, þat but if thow purueye
For me þat Y hir loue may obteene,
Ful shorte shuln my dayes been, Y weene.’

Quod this seruant, ‘Looke how Y may profyte
In this. Let see and me sette in the way
How Y shal do, and so shal Y me qwyte
that Y thy thank disserue shal for ay
Al shal be doon right to thyn owne pay
Telle on, how wilt thow þat I me gouerne?’
The shipman seide, ‘And þat I wole as yerne.

‘On my behalue to thy lady weende
And to hir seye þat in no maneere
Clothes out of my ship may I hir seende
If hir good lust be in my ship appeere,
Shee shal seen what hir list with ful good cheer,
But out of my ship wole Y nothyng selle
Right euene thvs vnto hir seye and telle.

‘But of o thyng thow must thee wel auyse—
Good heede therof take and nat ne faille—
Be thow wel waar, in al maneere wyse,
that the wynd thanne be good, hens to saille.
Al þat thow doost elles may nat auaille.
For lede hir hoom wole Y to my contree
Lo, this is al þat Y desire of thee.’

Ful sooth is seid, the fals and coueitous
Been soone accordid. Allas, this onhede
Synful shal be wikkid and treccherous
O emperice, God the gye and lede
Thow haast, or this, had trouble greet and drede,
And yit a sharp storm is vnto thee shape,
But, thankid be God, al thow shalt eschape.

Now to purpos. Than seide this seruant
To the shipman, ‘Come of, yeue me meede,
For heer Y swer and make couenaunt
This shal be doon. Haue therof no dreede’
He had Y not what, the deuel him speede,
For his labour to be doon in this caas,
And to his lady dressith he his paas.

He tolde hir how the shipman wolde naght
Deliure clothes out of his vessel,
But, if it lykid hir to bye aght,
Thidir shee muste come, and he ful wel
With hir wolde do. She kneew no del
Of the treson purposid twixt hem two,
And seide, ‘In Goddes name it shal be do.

‘I reedy am to go whan þat Y shal,
Syn þat thow seist it may noon othir be,
But outhir moot Y goon or leuen al.
Let vs go thidir as swythe,’ quod shee.
‘A nay, madame, it may nat be,’ seide he
‘Swich occupacion hath he this day,
That he vnto yow nat entende may.

‘Madame, vs muste abyden his leisir
Theron I wole awayte bysyly
And whan tyme is yee shuln han your pleisir
Often vpon him awayte moot Y,
To wite and knowe wel and redily
The tyme whan we shal vs thidir dresse
Madame, for yow this best is, Y gesse.’

This humble lamb, this lady innocent,
Of al this treson no notice hauynge,
Seide, ‘As þat thow doost, holde Y me content.’
Thus hir seruant delayed hir goynge
Til þat the wynd wel stood the ship to brynge
Out of the port, and thidir he hir spedde,
And þat in haaste. Hir he to the ship ledde.

Whan shee withyn the shipbord entred was,
Vp gooth the sail at the top of the mast
Hir man, of purpos, lefte on londe, allas
Quod shee, ‘Nat was Y waar of this forcast,’
And therwithal out to weepe shee brast,
And seide, ‘What treson doost thow, shipman,
To me?’ ‘Nay,’ quod he, ‘no treson, womman,

‘Nat meene I, but thus, lo, thus wole I do,
Flesshly the knowe and aftir wedde thee.’
‘A vow,’ quod shee, ‘maad haue I God vnto
that neuere so shal ther man do to me,
For thyng in this world, outake oonly he
To whom Y am ybownden to and knyt
The labour is in vein to speke of it’

‘Keepe in thy wordes, womman, I thee rede,’
Quod he. ‘Considere and thynke wel, þat thow
Of thy lyf standist in peril and drede,
For in middes of the see been we now.
To me conforme—it shal be for thy prow—
Elles into the see wole I thee caste
Truste me wel, so wole Y do as faste’

‘Now wel,’ quod shee, ‘syn Y may nat asterte
My deeth but Y your entente fulfille,
Although it be greetly ageyn myn herte,
Yit rather than þat yee me sle or kille,
Wole Y assente, so it be your wille
In the ende of the ship for to ordeyne
An honest place and pryuee for vs tweyne.

‘It is nat, as I hope, your entente
In open sighte of folk do with me so
Hard were it make me therto consente,
For þat a greet encrees were of my wo
Yit leuer wer it me my lyf forgo.
A pryuee place, as I seide, purueye
For vs, þat folk see nat how we foleye’

He in the ship, wheras was his plesance,
A place ordeyned, curtyned aboute,
Into the which with heuy contenance,
Whyles he speek with his meynee withoute,
Shee entred hath, and anoon gan to loute
To God. Right on hir knees shee hir prayeere
Made as I to yow shal rehercen heere.

‘O God, our lord, Ihesu, our saueour,
that fro my youthe haast kept me to this day,
Curteys Ihesu, me keepe now this hour
From al pollucioun so þat Y may,
With herte cleene in this woful affray,
My soule yilde to thy deitee.
Mercyful lord, of this byseeche Y thee.’

Nat endid was hir orison vnnethes
But swich a tempest aroos in the see
that the ship brast and hir took hir dethes
They þat therin weren, the hool meynee,
Sauf oonly this maistir shipman and shee.
By oon of the bordes shee faste hir heeld,
Which from hir deeth was hir deffense and sheeld,

And broghte hir vp vnto the land saufly.
To anothir bord this maistir shipman
Eek claf, and was sauf. This fil wondirly
Many maistries our lord God do can
And þat this lady, this noble womman
Was sauf, this maistir shipman kneew no deel,
Ne shee þat he fortuned had so weel.

Of this shipman speke Y no more as now,
But this lady vnto a nonnerie
that was but ther faste by hir drow,
Wher the ladyes of hir conpaignie
Wer ful glad, and of hir genterie
Receyued hir, althogh þat no notice
They hadde of hir estat of emperice.

And ther abood shee a long tymes space
In holy lyf and vertuous clennesse,
Vnto whom God yaf and shoop swich a grace
that shee kowde hele folk of hir seeknesse,
What so it wer, and thidir gan hem dresse
From euery part and euery contree
They þat felten any infirmitee.

Than shoop it he þat to the emperour
Was brothir, which this lady on a tree
By hir heer vp heeng, þat cursid traitour,
Mirour of malice and iniquitee,
As foul a leepre was as mighte be
Lo, thogh God him to wreke a whyle abyde,
The fals and wikkid qwytith he sum tyde.

The knyght eek which the erles doghtir slow,
The emperice and shee bothe sleepynge
As Y before told haue vnto yow,
Was blynd and deef, and also the tremblynge
Of palesie sore gan him wrynge.
No force how sore swich a wrecche smerte
That to wommen so cruel is of herte.

The theef which to the maistir of the ship
Betrayed th'emperice, his lady, als
From harm ne greef kowde nat make a skip—
God sheelde he sholde, he þat was so fals
To hir þat from the roop kepte his hals—
Potagre and gowty and halt he was eek,
And was in othir sundry wyse seek.

The shipman had also the franesie
that with this emperice hadde ment
Fulfillid his foul lust of aduoutrie.

Which was in him ful hoot and ful feruent.
See how all hem þat to this innocent,
This noble lady, had ydoon greuance,
Our lord God qwitte with strook of vengeance
Yee men, whos vsage is, women to greeue,
And falsely deceyue hem and bytraye,
No wondir is thogh yee mishappe and cheeue
God qwyte yow wole and your wages paye
In swich wyse þat it yow shal affraye
Let Goddes wreches hensfoorth yow miroure,
For, but if yee do, yee shul bye it soure.

Now to the emperour torne wole Y,
Which, whan he herde þat in an abbeye
Of nonnes was a womman so holy
And therto so konnynge, he herde seye,
That voide kowde shee and dryue aweye
Seeknesses alle, of what kynde or nature
They weren, and hem hele wel and cure,

Right thus vnto his brothir seide he tho:
‘To this holy womman best is þat we,
As faste as we may make vs reedy, go,
Syn so good and so gracious is shee
that of thy leepre shee may cure thee.’
This was assentid. They hem haaste and hye
In what they may vnto þat nonnerie.

Knowen vnto th'abbesse and hir couent
How þat the emperour was ny comynge,
Ageyn him in processioun arn they went
Hir seruice ful deuoutly syngynge,
And dide al þat was to swich cas longynge,
And, whan he in th'abbeye was alight,
Thus of th'abbesse he axid anoonright:

‘Is ther any swich womman in this hous
As folkes hele kan of hir seeknesse?
Men seyn, heer is a womman merueillous
Shal it be fownden so,’ he seide, ‘abbesse?’
And shee answerde, ‘Sir, in soothfastnesse
A good womman dwellynge is with vs heere
Which in vertu we knowen noon hir peere.’

Shee dide hir come anoon to his presence,
But with hir veil hir face hid had shee,
To been vnknowe, and dide him reuerence,
As longid vnto his hy dignitee.
And right as blyue of hir axid he,
‘Can yee my brothir of his maladie
Of leepre cure, and of meselrie?

‘If þat yee can, now tell on, Y yow preye,
For your labour ful wel qwyte wole Y.’
But or þat shee aght wolde answer and seye
Shee caste hir look aboute, and ther sy
The emperoures brothir stande by
that leepre was, and eek tho othir three
that had hir doon so greet aduersitee,

That is to seyn, the knyght, theef and shipman,
And thanne shee spak and seide in this wyse,
‘Sire, noon þat is heer Y cure can.
I may nat take vpon me þat empryse—
Therto may nat my konnynge souffyse—
But if þat they an open shrifte make
Of hir offenses dirke and synnes blake’

To his brothir than spak this emperour:
‘Among all vs thee openly confesse.
Spare nat to deskeuere thyn errour,
Syn þat thow therby maist of thy seeknesse
Cured be. Telle out al thy wikkidnesse.
Be nat abassht. It manly is to synne,
But feendly is longe lye therynne.’

For forme a confession made he,
Swich as it was, but how the emperice
His lordes wyf he heeng vpon a tree
By hir heer, tolde he nat þat curside vice,
For torne it sholde him into preiudice
And harm also. Deskeuere kepte he noght
Yit aftirward he therto was ybroght.

Whan þat his lewde shrifte was ydo,
‘Sire,’ quod shee, ‘laboure Y sholde in veyn,
If aght I leide your brothir vnto
For he maad haath noon hool shrifte ne pleyn.’
This emperour vnto him spak ageyn:
‘Woost thow nat weel thow art a foul mesel?
Telle out, let see, shryue thee cleene and wel,

‘Or truste me weel, for þat encheson
Thow voide shalt out of my conpaignie.’
‘O lord,’ he seide, ‘but if your pardon
Yee me promette, I dar nat specifie
O word of my gilt. I yow mercy crye.’
Quod th'emperour, ‘What, haast thow agilt me?’
‘Certes, right greeuously, my lord,’ seide he.

‘Now,’ quod the emperour, ‘and haast thow so?’
And of the emperice he thoghte nat,
But, weenynge shee many a day ago
Deed had been, seide, ‘What offense is that?
Be nat aferd, but telle on plein and plat
For what so þat it be, Y foryeue al
Truste wel, þat Y seye, Y holde shal’

Therwithal was his brothir herted weel
Al how the emperice had he betrayed
Before hem al he tolde out euerydeel,
Wherof the emperour was sore affrayed
His brothres reward had nat been vnpayde
Nad promesse of the emperour him bownde
To pardoun, for which, wo was him þat stownde.

Almoost he was out of himself, certeyn—
So seith the book, and þat was no meruaille
What lord is þat if swich a word sodeyn
To him cam of his wyf, whos gouernaille
Was hires lyk, but ny, to, sholde him faille
His wit and his good disposicioun
For the sodeyn woful impression?

For falle anoon sholde in his remembrance
Hir vertuous manere and wommanhede,
Hir beautee, shap, good cheer and daliance
Al this considered, withouten drede,
Out of the weye of ioie him wolde lede
The mis of so vertuous a persone,
And yit nat for þat enchesoun allone,

But also the vnkyndely tresoun
Of his brothir þat him to him had qwit
So falsely, me thynkith by resoun
Stike right ny vnto his herte oghte it
And causen him ful many an heuy fit:
But nathelees, wit axith, and prudence,
Al thyng þat fallith take in pacience.

Now to my purpos. Th'emperour tho spak
To his brothir and thus he to him seide:
‘Thow cursid wrecche, thow demoniak!
that our lord God which for vs all deide
The strook of his vengeance vpon thee leide
No wondir is. Had Y this beforn wist,
Thy body sholde han the grownd swept and kist,

‘And therto eek as sharp punisshement
As þat dyuyse ther kowde any wight
Thow sholdest han ypreeued by the sent,
But holde wole Y þat Y thee haue hight.’
And thanne confesse him began the knyght
that the erles doghtir slow as shee sleep.
Lo, thus he seide, takith now good keep.

‘Notice noon,’ seide he, ‘ne knowlechynge
Haue Y of þat lady, ne who it is,
But as my lord the erl rood on huntynge
In a foreste ones, wel woot Y this,
A fair lady he fond hangynge, iwis,
On a tree by hir heer and, of pitee
And routhe meeued, hir adoun took he

‘And to his castel with him hir he ladde,
And the charge bytook to hir and cure
To keepe a yong doghtir which þat he hadde,
Hir to teche and to lerne norture.
But to me shoop ther a misauenture
I bisyed me to haue by hir leyn,
And al my labour ydil was and veyn.

‘For any craft þat euere kowde Y do,
To me shee wolde assente by no way
I kowde in no wyse brynge hir therto
Hir answer was euere oon, and that was nay,
Which was nothyng vnto my lust and pay.
Wherfore meeued was Y nat a lyte
But ful greetly, and hir Y thoghte qwyte,

‘And in hir bed as shee lay on a nyght,
This yonge maide and shee sleepynge faste,
I kilde the chyld and therwith, foorthright
The bloody knyf into the hand Y thraste
Of the lady, for þat men sholde caste
And suppose how þat no wight but shee
Mighte of this slaghtre and murdre gilty be,

‘And thens my lord maade hir voide anoon,
But wher shee becam am Y nat priuee.
God woot þat knowleche haue Y therof noon’
Than spak the theef ‘Y noot whom meene yee,
But a lady of excellent beautee
Allone and soul cam by the way rydynge
Whan for my gilt Y led was to hangynge,

‘And whan þat this lady benigne and good
Had hir look toward me cast, and espyed
From afer in what mescheef þat Y stood,
Hir herte anoon of pitee was applyed
Me to socoure and helpe, and hath hir hyed
Vnto the place wher deed sholde Y be,
And payde for my lyf, and saued me.

‘And aftirward, I as a fals traitour
Ageyn hir gentillesse and hy bontee
To a shipman which was a foul lecchour
Betrayed hir, and to his contree
Him shoop lede hir this man delauee,
And fer into the see Y saw hem saille,
But what fil aftir woot Y nat sanz faille’

‘Swich a fair lady, certein, Y receyued
Into my ship,’ seide the shipman tho,
‘And thoghte haue hir deffoulid and deceyued
Amiddes the see, but shee preide so
To God þat my desyr was Y put fro.
I mighte nat acheeue my purpoos
Whan shee had preid an hidous storm aroos,

‘And shortly of this for to speke and telle,
The wynd ful sore in the sail bleew and haf,
And the wawes began to bolne and swelle,
And our taklynge brast, and the ship claf
In two. Of seurtee loste Y ny the staf
Vndir the watir wenten euerychone
Myself except, knowe Y no sauf persone.

‘By a bord of the ship, heeld Y me faste,
And as þat my fortune shoop þat tyde
The wawes me sauf vpon the land caste.’
This emperice list no lenger hyde
What þat shee was, but spak and sumdel cryde
On hy and to hem seide in this maneere:
‘Now been yee cleene shryuen, freendes deere.

‘Now shul yee all haue of me medecyne’
Shee dide hir art and helid euery wight
Of his seeknesse and voidid al his pyne,
And from hir heed shee hath hir veil yplight
And hem hir face shewid anoonright
And as swythe as the emperour hir sy
that shee his wyf was, kneew he verraily,

And withoute delay to hir he sterte
And hir embraced in his armes tweyne
And kiste hir often with vnfeyned herte,
But fro weepynge he kowde him nat restreyne,
Thogh it nat causid wer of greef and peyne,
But of the inward ioie which þat stownde
He took, bycause he had his wyfe yfownde.

O, many a wrecche is in this lond, Y weene,
that thogh his wyflenger had been him fro,
No kus, but if it had been of the spleene
Shee sholde han had, and forthermore also
Fyndynge of hir had been to him but wo,
For him wolde han thoght þat swich a fyndynge
To los sholde han him torned, and harmynge.

No force of þat, my tale I now thus eende
Hoom vnto his paleys this emperour
And his good lady th'emperice weende
And lyueden in ioie and hy honour
Til þat the tyme of deeth cam, and his hour,
Which þat no wight eschue may, ne flee:
And whan God list, also dye shul we

My freend, aftir, I trowe, a wike or two
That this tale endid was, hoom to me cam,
And seide, ‘Thomas, hastow almoost do?
To see thy werk, hidir comen Y am.’
My tale anoon Y fette, and he it nam
Into his hand and it al ouersy,
And aftirward he seide thus therby:

‘Thomas, it is wel vnto my lykyng,
But is ther aght þat thow purposist seye
More on this tale?’ ‘Nay, my freend, nothyng.’
‘Thomas, heer is a greet substance aweye
Wher is the moralizynge, Y yow preye,
Bycome heerof? Was ther noon in the book
Out of the which þat thow this tale took?’

‘No, certes, freend, therin ne was ther noon’
‘Sikirly, Thomas, therof I meruaille
Hoom wole Y walke and retourne anoon—
Nat spare wole Y for so smal trauaille—
And looke in my book. Ther Y shal nat faille
To fynde it. Of þat tale it is parcel,
For Y seen haue it ofte, and knowe it wel’

He cam therwith, and it vnto me redde,
Leuynge it with me and hoom wente ageyn
And to this moralyzynge I me spedde,
In prose wrytynge it hoomly and pleyn,
For he conseillid me do so, certeyn,
And lo, in this wyse and maneere it seith,
Which to þat tale is good be knyt, in feith