Praying him that he must done his assay
To get the fleece of gold, if that he may,
Of which the king assenteth to his boone,
And doth him honour, as it is doone,

So ferforth, that his doughter and his heire,
Medea, which that was so wise and faire,
That fairer saw there never man with eie,
He made her done to Jason companie
At meat, and sitte by him in the hall.
Now was Jason a seemely man withall,
And like a lord, and had a great renoun,
And of his looke as royall as a lioun,
And godly of his speech, and famillere,
And coud of love all the craft and art plenere
Withouten booke, with everiche observaunce,
And as fortune her ought a foule mischaunce,
She woxe enamoured vpon this man.

"Jason," (quod she) "for ought I see or can,
As of this thing, the which ye ben about,
Ye and your selfe ye put in much dout,
For who so woll this aventure atcheve,
He may nat wele asterten as I leve,
Withouten death, but I his helpe be,
But nathelesse, it is my will," (quod she)
"To forthren you, so that ye shall nat die,
But turnen sound home to your Thessalie."

“

My right lady," (quod this Jason) "tho, That ye have of my death or my wo Any regard, and done me this honour, I wot well, that my might, ne my labour, May nat deserve it my lives day,

God thanke you, there I ne can ne may,
Your man am I, and lowely you beseech
To ben my helpe, withouten more speech,
But certes for my death shall I not spare.'
Tho gan this Medea to him declare
The perill of this case, fro point to point
Of his batayle, and in what desioint
He mote stonde, of which no creature
Save only she, ne might his life assure:
And shortly, right to the point for to go,
They ben accorded fully betwixt hem two,
That Jason shall her wedde, as true knight,
And terme yset to come soone at night
Unto her chambre, and make there his othe
Upon the goddes, that he for lefe or lothe
Ne shulde her never falsen night ne day,
To ben her husband whyle he live may,
As she that from his deth him saved here,
And her vpon at night they mete yfere,
And doth his othe, and gothe with her to bedde,
And on the morow vpward he him spedde,
For she hath taught him how he shall nat faile
The filces to winne, and stinten his bataile,
And saved him his life, and his honour,
And gate him a name, as a conquerour,
Right through the sleight of her enchantment,
Now hath Jason the filese, and home is went
With Medea, and treasours fell great wonne,
But vnwist of her father she is gonne
To Thessalie, with duke Jason her lefe,
That afterward hath broght her to mischeife,
For as a traytour he is from her go,
And with her left yong children two,
And falsely hath betraied her, alas,
And ever in love a chefe traytour he was,
And wedded yet the thirde wife anon,
That was the doughter of king Creon,

This is the meede of loving and guerdon,
That Medea received of duke Jason

Right for her trouth, and for her kindnesse,
That loved him better than her selfe I gesse,
And left her father, and her heritage,
And of Jason this is the vassalage,
That in his dayes nas never none yfound
So false a lover, going on the ground,
And therfore in her letter thus she said,
First whan she of his falsenesse him vpbraid:
"Why liked thee my yellow haire to see,
More than the bounds of mine honestie ?
Why liked me thy youth and thy fairenesse,
And of thy tong the infinite graciousnesse?
O haddest thou in thy conquest dead ybe,
Ful mikel vntrouth had there diede with thee."
Well can Ovide her letter in verse endite.
Which were as now too long for to write.

THE

LEGEND OF LUCRECE OF ROME.

Now mote I saine thexiling of kings
Of Rome, for hir horrible doings
Of the last king Tarquinius,

As saith Ovid, and Titus Liuivs,

But for that cause tell I nat this storie,
But for to praysen, and drawen in memorie
The very wife, the very Lucresse,
That for her wifehood, and her stedfastnesse,
Nat only that the painems her commend,
But that cleped is in our legend

The great Austyn, that hath compassioun
Of this Lucrece that starfe in Rome toun,
And in what wise I woll but shortly treat,
And of this thing I touch but the great.

When Ardea besieged was about With Romanes, that full sterne were and stout, Full long lay the siege, and little wroughten, So that they were halfe idle, as hem thoughten, And in his play Tarquinius the yong, Gan for to yape, for he was light of tong, And said, that "it was an idle life, No man did there no inore than his wife, And let vs speke of wives that is best, Praise every man his owne as him lest, And with our speech let vs case our herte." A knight (that hight Collatin) vp stert, And sayd thus, "Nay, sir, it is no nede To trowen on the word, but on the dede: I have a wife," (quod he) "that as I trow Is holden good of all that ever her know, Go we to Rome to night, and we shull see." Tarquinius answerde, "That liketh mee." To Rome they be comen, and fast hem dight To Colatins house, and downe they light, Tarquinius, and eke this Colatine, The husbond knew the efters well and fine, And full prively into the house they gone. Nor at the gate porter was there none, And at the chamber dore they abide : This noble wife sate by her beds side Discheueled, for no mallice she ne thought, And soft wooll sayth Liuie, that she wrought, To kepe her from slouth and idlenesse, And bad her servaunts doné hir businesse, And asketh hem, "What tidings heren ye? How sayth men of the siege, how shall it be?

2

God would the wals were fallen adoun,
Mine husbond is too long out of this toun,
For which drede doth me sore to smert,
Right as a sword it stingeth to mine herte,
Whan I thinke on this or of that place,
God save my lord, I pray him for his grace:"
And therwithall so tenderly she gan weepe,
And of her werke she tooke no more keepe,
But meekely she let her eyen fall,
And thilke semblant sate her well withall,
And eke her teares full of heavinesse,
Embelessed her wifely chastnesse.
Her countenance is to her herte digne,
For they acordeden in deed and signe,
And with that word her husbond Collatin,
Or she of him was ware, came stertling in,
And said, "Drede thee nat, for I am here,"
And she anone vp rose, with blisfull chere,
And kissed him, as of wives is the wonne.

Tarquinius, this proud kings sonne
Conceived hath her beautie and her chere,
Her yellow haire, her bountie, and her manere,
Her hew, her words, that she hath complained,
And by no craft her beautie was nat fained,
And caught to this lady such desire,
That in his herte he brent as any fire,
So woodly, that his wit was all forgotten,
For well thought he she should nat be gotten,
And aye the more he was in dispaire,
The more coveiteth, and thought her faire,
His blind lust was all his coveiting.
On morrow, whan the bird began to sing,
Unto the siege he commeth full prively,
And by himselfe he walketh soberly,
The image of her recording alway new,
Thus lay her hair, and thus fresh was her hew,
Thus sate, thus span, this was her chere,
Thus fair she was, and this was her manere:
All this conceit his herte hath new itake,
And as the see, with tempest all to shake,
That after whan the storme is all ago,
Yet woll the water quappe a day or two,
Right so, though that her forme were absent,
The pleasaunce of her forme was present,
But nathelesse, nat pleasaunce, but delite,
Or an vnrightfull talent with dispite,
"For maugre her, she shall my lemman be:
Hap helpeth hardy man alway," (quod he)
"What end that I make, it shall be so,"
And girt him with his sword, and gan to go,
And he forthright, till to Rome he come,
And all alone his way that he hath nome,
Unto the house of Colatin full right,
Doun was the Sunne, and day hath lost his light,
And in he come, vnto a privie halke,
And in the night full theefely gan he stalke,
Whan every wight was to his rest brought,
Ne no wight had of treason such a thought,
Whether by window, or by other gin,
With swerd ydraw, shortly he commeth in
There as she lay, this noble wife Lucresse,
And as she woke, her bedde she felt presse:
"What beast is that,"(quod she) "that wayeth thus?
"I am the kings sonne Tarquinius,"

(Quod he) but and thou crie, or any noise make, Or if thou any creature awake,

By thilke God, that formed man of live,
This swerd through thine berte shall I rive,"
And therwithall vnto her throte he stert,
And set the swerd all sharpe on her herte:

No word she spake, she hath no might therto,
What shall she saine. her wit is all ago,
Right as whan a wolfe findeth a lamb alone,
To whom shall she complaine or make mone:
What, shall she fight with an hardy knight,
Well wote men a woman hath no might:
What, shall she crie, or how shall she astert,
That hath her by the throte, with swerd at herte?
She asketh grace, and said all that she can.

"No wolt thou nat," (quod this cruell man) "As wisely Jupiter my soule save,

I shall in thy stable slea thy knave,
And lay him in thy bed, and loud crie,
That I thee find in such avoutrie,
And thus thou shalt be dead, and also lese
Thy name, for thou shalt nat chese."
This Romans wives loveden so her name
At thilke time, and dreden so the shame,
That what for fere of slander, and drede of death
She lost both at ones wit and breath,
And in a swough she lay, and woxe so dead,
Men mighten smite off her arme or head,
She feleth nothing, neither foule ne faire.

Tarquinius, that art a kings heire,
And shouldest as by linage and by right
Done as a lord, and a very knight,
Why hast thou done dispite to chivalrie?
Why hast thou done thy lady villanie?
Alas, of thee this was a villanous dede,
But now to the purpose, in the story I rede,
Whan he was gon, and this mischaunce is fall,
This lady sent after her friendes all,
Father, mother, and husbond, all ifere,
And discheveled with her haire clere,
In habite such as women vsed tho
Unto the burying of hir frends go,
She sate in hall, with a sorowfull sight,
Her friends asken what her aylen might,
And who was dead, and she sate aye weeping,
A word for shame ne may she forth out bring,
Ne vpon hem she durst nat behold,
But at the last of Tarquiny she hem told
This rufull case, and all this thing horrible,
The wo to tell were impossible

That she and all her friends make at ones,
All had folkes hertes ben of stones,
It might have maked hem vpon her rew,
Her berte was so wifely and so trew,
She said, that for her gilt ne for her blame
Her husbond should nat have the foule name,
That would she nat suffren by no way :
And they answerde all vnto her fay,
That they foryave it her, for it was right,
It was no gilt, it lay nat in her might,
And saiden her ensamples many one,
But all for naught, for thus she said anone:
"Be as be may," (quod she) "of forgiving,
I will nat have no forgift for nothing,'
But prively she cought forth a knife,
And therwithall she raft her selfe her life,
And as she fell adowne she cast her looke,
And of her clothes yet heed she tooke,
For in her falling yet she had a care,
Least that her feet or such things lay bare,
So well she loved cleannesse, and eke trouth,
Of her had all the towne of Rome routh,
And Brutus hath by her chast blood swore,
That Tarquin should ybanished be therfore,
And all his kinne, and let the people call,
And openly the tale he told hem all,

And openly let carry her on a bere

This Minos hath a monster, a wicked best,

THE

LEGEND OF ARIADNE OF ATHENS.

JUDGE infernall Minos, of Crete king,
Now commeth thy lot, thou commest on the ring,
Nat for thy sake only written is this storie,
But for to clepe ayen vnto memorie,
Of Theseus the great vntrouth of love,
For which the gods of Heaven above

Ben wroth, and wrath have take for thy sinne,
Be red for shame, now I thy life beginne.

Minos, that was the mighty king of Crete,
That had an hundred cities strong and grete,
To schoole hath sent his sonne Androgeus
To Athens, of the which it happed thus,
That he was slaine, learning phylosophie,
Right in that citie, nat but for envie.

The great Minos, of the which I speke,
His sonnes death is come for to wreke,
Alcathoe he besieged hard and long,
But nathelesse, the walles be so strong,
And Nisus, that was king of that cite,
So chivalrous, that little dredeth he,
Of Minos or his hoast tooke he no cure,
Till ou a day befell an aventure,
That Nisus doughter stood vpon the wall,
And of the siege saw the manner all:
So happed it, that at scarmishing,
She cast her herte vpon Minos the king,
For his beautie, and his chevalrie,
So sore, that she wende for to die.
And shortly of this processe for to pace,
She made Minos winnen thilke place,
So that the citie was all at his will,
To saven whom him list, or eles spill,
But wickedly he quit her kindnesse,
And let her drench in sorrow and distresse,
Nere that the gods had of her pite,
But that tale were too long as now for me.
Athenes wan this king Minos also,
As Alcathoe, and other townes mo,

And this the effect, that Minos hath so driven
Hem of Athenes, that they mote him yeven
Fro yere to yere her owne children dere
For to be slaine, as ye shall after here.

Whan that a man was brought into his presence,
He would him eat, there helpeth no defence:
And every third yeare withouten dout,
They casten lotte, as it came about,
On rich and poore, he must his soune take,
And of his childe he must present make
To Minos, to save him or to spill,

Or let his beast devour him at his will.
And this hath Minos done right in dispite,
To wreke his sonne was set all his delite,
And make bem of Athenes his thrall
Fro yere to yere, while he liven shall.
And home he saileth whan this toun is won,
This wicked custome is so long yron,
Till of Athenes king Egeus

Mote senden his owne sonne Theseus,
Sens that the lotte is fallen him ypou
To ben devoured, for grace is there non.
And forth is ladde this wofull yong knight
Unto the country of king Minos full of might,
And in a prison fettred fast is he,
Till the time he should yfreten be.

Well maist thou wepe, O wofull Theseus,
That art a kings sonne, and damned thus,
Me thinketh this, that thou art depe yhold
To whom that saved thee fro cares cold,
And now if any woman helpe thee,
Well oughtest thou her servaunt for to bee,
And ben her true lover yere by yere,
But now to come ayen to my matere.

The toure, there this Theseus is throw,
Down in the bottome derk, and wonder low,
Was joyning to the wall of a foreine,
Longing vnto the doughtren tweine
Of Minos that in hir chambers grete
Dwelten above the maister strete
Of the towne, in joy and in sollas:
Not I nat how it happed percaas,
As Theseus complained him by night,
The kings doughter, that Ariadne bight,
And eke her suster Phedra, herden all
His complaint, as they stood on the wall,
And looked vpon the bright Moone,
Hem list nat to go to bed so soone:
And of his wo they had compassion,
A kings sonne to be in such prison,

And ben devoured, thought hem great pite:
Thau Ariadne spake to her suffer free,
And said: "Phedra lefe suster dere,
This wofull lords sonne may ye nat here,
How pitously he complaineth his kin,
And eke his poore estate that he is in?
And guiltlesse, certes now it is routh,
And if ye woll assent, by my trouth,
He shall ben holpen, how so that we do."
Phedra answerde, " Iwis me is as wo
For him, as ever I was for any man,
And to his helpe the best rede I can,
Is, that we done the gailer prively
To come and speke with vs hastely,

And done this wofull man with him to come,
For if he may this monster overcome,
Than were he quit, there is none other boot,
Let vs well taste him at his herte root,
That if so be that he a weapon have,
Where that he his life dare kepe or save,
Fighten with this fiend, and him defend,
For in the prison, here as he shall discend,

Ye wote well, that the beast is in a place
That is not derke, and hath roume and eke space
To welde an axe, or swerde, staffe, or knife,
So that me thinketh he should save his life,
If that he be a man, he shall do so:
And we shall make him balles eke also
Of wexe and towe, that whan he gapeth fast,
Into the beestes throte he shall hem cast,
To sleke his honger, and encomber his teeth,
And right anon whan that Theseus seeth
The beest acheked, he shall on him leepe
To sleen him, or they comen more to keepe:
This weapen shal the gailer, or that tide,
Full prively within the prison hide:
And for the house is crencled to and fro,
And hath so queint waies for to go,
For it is shapen as the mase is wrought,
Thereto have I a remedy in my thought,
That by a clewe of twine, as he hath gon,
The same way he may returne anon,
Folowing alway the threde, as he hath come,
And whan this beest is overcome,
Than may he flien away out of this stede,
And eke the gailer may he with him lede,
And him avaunce at home in his countre,
Sens that so great a lords sonne is he."

This is my rede, if that ye dare it take.
What shold I lenger sermon of it make,
The gailer cometh, and with him Theseus,
Whan these things ben accorded thus.

Downe sate Theseus vpon his knee,
"The right lady of my life," (quod he)
"I sorowfull man, ydamned to the deth :
Fro you, whiles that me lasteth breth,
I wol nat twinne, after this aventure,
But in your service, thus I woll endure,
That as a wretch vnknow, I woll you serve
For evermore, till that mine herte sterve,
Forsake I woll at home mine heritage,
And as I said, ben of your court a page,
If that ye vouchsafe that in this place,
Ye graunt me to have soche a grace,

That I may have nat but my meate and drinke,
And for my sustinaunce yet woll I swinke,
Right as you list, that Minos ne no wight,
Sens that he saw me never with eyen sight,
Ne no man else shall me espie,
So slily, and so well I shal me grie,
And me so wel diffigure, and so low,

That in this world there shall no man me know,
To have my life, and to have presence
Of you, that done to me this excellence,
And to my father shall I sende here,
This worthy man, that is your gaylere,
And him so guerdon, that he shall well be
One of the greatest men of my countre,
And if I durst saine, my lady bright,
I am a kings sonne and eke a knight
As wold God, if that it might be,
Ye weren in my countrey all thre,
And I with you, to beare you companie,
Than shuld ye sene if that I thereof lie,
And if that I profer you in lowe manere,
To ben your page, and serven you right here,
But I you serve as lowly in that place,
I pray to Mars to yeve me scch grace,
That shames death on me there mote fall,
And death and poverte to my frends all,
And that my sprite by night mote go,
After my death, and walke to and fro,

That I mote of traitour have a name,
For which my sprit mote go, to do me shame,
And if I clayme ever other degree,
But ye vouchsafe to yeve mee,

As I have said, of shames death I dey,
And mercy, lady, I can naught else sey."

A semely knight was this Theseus to see,
And yonge, but of twenty yere and three,
But who so had ysene his countenance,
He wold have wept, for routh of his penance:
For which this Ariadne in this manere,
Answerde to his profre and to his chere.

"A kings sonne, and eke a knight," (quod she) "To ben my servaunt in so lowe degree, God shilde it, for the shame of women all, And lene me never soch a case befall, And sende you grace, and sleight of herte also You to defend, and knightly to sleen your foe, And lene hereafter I may you fiud

To me, and to my suster here so kind,
That I ne repent nat to yeve you life,
Yet were it better I were your wife,
Sith ye ben as gentill borne as I,
And have a realme nat but fast by,
Than that I suffred your gentillesse to sterve,
Or that I let you as a page serve,

It is no profite, as vnto your kinrede,

But what is that, that man woll nat do for dred,
And to my suster sith that it is so,

That she mote gone with me, if that I go,
Or els suffre death as wel as I,

That ye vnto your sonne as trewly,

Done her be wedded, at your home coming,
This is the finall end of all this thing,

Ye swere it here, vpon all that may be sworne ?"
"Ye lady mine," (quod he)" or els to torne
Mote I be with the Minotaure or to morrow,
And haveth here of mine herte blood to borow,
If that ye woll, if I had knife or speare,

would it letten out, and thereon sweare,
For than at erste, I wot ye would me leve,
By Mars, that is chiefe of my beleve,
So that I might liven, and nat faile
To morow for to taken my bataile,
I nolde never fro this place flie,
Till that ye should the very profe se,
For now, if that the soth I shall you say,
I have loved you full many a day,
Though ye ne wist nat, in my countre,
And aldermost desired you to see,
Of any earthly living creature,
Upon my truth I sweare and you assure,
This seven yere I have your servaunt be,
Now have I you, and also have ye me,
My dere herte, of Athenes duchesse."

This lady smileth at his stedfastnesse,
And at his hertely wordes, and at his chere,
And to her suster said in this manere:

"And sothly suster mine," (quod she)
"Now be we duchesses both I and ye,
And sikerde to the regals of Athenes,
And both hereafter likely to be queenes,
And saved fro his death a kings sonne,
As ever of gentill women is the wonne,
To save a gentil man, enforth hir might,
In honest cause, and namely in his right,
Me thinketh no wight ought vs herof blame,
Ne bearen vs therefore an yvel name,"
And shortly of this mater for to make,
This Theseus of her hath leave ytake,

And every point was performed in dede,
As ye have in this covenaunt herde me rede,
His wepen, his clewe, his thing that I have said,
Was by the gailer in the house ylaid,
There as the Minotaure hath his dwelling,
Right fast by the dore, at his entring,
And Theseus is lad vnto his dethe,
And forth vnto this Minotaure he gethe,
And by the teaching of this Adriane,

He overcame this beest, and was his bane,
And out he cometh by the clewe againe
Ful prively, whan he this beest hath slaine,
And the gailer gotten hath a barge,
And of his wives treasure gan it charge,
And toke his wife, and eke her suster free,
And by the gailer, and with hem al three
Is stole away out of the lond by night,
And to the countre of Enupie him dight,
There as he had a frende of his knowing,

There feesten they, there daunsen they and sing,
And in his armes hath this Adriane,

That of the beest hath kept him fro his bane,
And get him there a noble barge anone,
And of his countrey folke a ful great wone,

And taketh his leave, and homeward saileth hee,
And in an yle, amidde the wilde see,
There as there dwelt creature noue,
Save wild beestes, and that full many one,
He made his shippe a londe for to sette,
And in that yle halfe a day he lette,

And said, that on the londe he must him rest.
His mariners have done right as him lest,
And for to tell shortly in this caas,
Whan Ariadne his wife a slepe was,
For that her suster fayrer was than she,

He taketh her in his honde, and forth goeth he
To ship, and as a traitour stale away,
While that this Ariadne a slepe lay,
And to his countrey warde he sailed blive,
A twenty divel way, the winde him drive,
And found his father drenched in the see.
Me liste no more to speke of him parde,
These false lovers, poison be hir bane.

But I wol turne againe to Adriane,
That is with slepe for werinesse ytake,
Ful sorowfully her herte may awake.

Alas, for thee mine herte hath pite, Right in the dawning awaketh she, And gropeth in the bed, and fond right nought: "Alas," (quod she)" that ever I was wrought, I am betrayed," and her heere to rent, And to the stronde barefote fast she went, And cried: "Theseus mine herte swete, Where be ye, that I may nat with you mete? And might thus with beestes ben yslaine."

The halow rockes answerde her againe, No man she saw, and yet shone the Moone, And hie vpon a rocke she went soone, And sawe his barge sayling in the see, Cold woxe her herte, and right thus said she: "Meker then ye find I the beestes wilde." Hath he nat sinne, that he her thus begilde? She cried, "O turne againe for routhe and sinne, Thy barge hath nat all his meine in," Her kerchefe on a pole sticked she, Ascaunce he should it well yse,

And him remembre that she was behind.

And turne againe, and on the stronde her find.
But all for naught, his way he is gone,
And downe she fel a swowne on a stone,

And up she riste, and kissed in all her care
The steppes of his feete, there he hath fare,
And to her bed right thus she speketh tho:
"Thou bed," (quod she) "that hast received two,
Thou shalt answere of two, and not of one,
Where is the greater parte, away gone?

"6 Alas, wher shal I wretched wight b come?
For though so be that bote none here come,
Home to my countrey dare I nat for drede,
I can my selfe in this case nat rede.”

What should I tell more her complaining,
It is so long, it were an heavy thing?
In her epistle, Naso telleth all,
But shortly to the end tell I shall,
The goddes have her holpen for pite,
And in the signe of Taurus men may see,
The stones of her crowne shine clere,
I will no more speake of this matere,
But thus this false lover can begile
His trew love, the divel quite him his wile.

THE

LEGEND OF PHILOMENE.

THOU yever of the formes, that hast wrought
The fayre world, and bare it in thy thought
Eternally, er thou thy werke began,
Why madest thou vnto the slaunder of man,
Or all be that it was not thy doing,
As for that end to make soch a thing,
Why suffredest thou that Tereus was bore,
That is in love so false and so forswore,
That fro this world vp to the first Heven,
Corrumpeth, whan that folke his name neven?
And as to me, so grisly was his dede,
That whan that I this foule storie rede,
Mine iyen wexen foule, and sore also,
Yet lasteth the venime of so longe ago,
That enfecteth him that wolde behold
The storie of Tereus, of which I told,
Of Trace was he lord, and kin to Marte
The cruel god that stante with blody darte,
And wedded had he with blisfull chere
King Pandionis faire doughter dere,
That hight Progne, floure of her countre,
Though Juno list not at the feast be,
Ne Himeneus, that god of wedding is,
But at the feast ready ben iwis,

The furies three, with all hir mortall bronde,
The oule all night above the balkes wonde,
That prophete is of wo, and of mischaunce.
This revell, full of song, and full of daunce,
Last a fourtenight, or little lasse,
But shortly of this storie for to passe,
(For I am weary of him for to tell)
Five yere his wife and he togither dwell,
Till on a day she gan so sore long
To seene her suster, that she saw not long,
That for desire she nist what to say,
But to her husbond gan she for to pray
For Gods love, that she mote ones gone
Her suster for to seene, and come ayen anone,
Or else but she mote to her wend,
She praied him that he would after her send:
And this was day by day all her prayere,
With al humblesse of wifehood, word and chere.