Gret was the drede and eke the repentance
Of hem that hadden wronge suspection
Upon this sely innocent Custance;
And for this miracle, in conclusion,
And by Custances meditation,

The king, and many another in that place,
Converted was, thanked be Cristes grace.

This false knight was slain for his untrouthe
By jugement of Alla hastily;

And yet Custance had of his deth gret routhe;
And after this Jesus of his mercy
Made Alla wedden ful solempnely

This holy woman, that is so bright and shene,
And thus hath Crist ymade Custance a quene.

But who was woful (if I shal not lie)
Of this wedding but Donegild and no mo,
The kinges mother, ful of tyrannie?
Hire thoughte hire cursed herte brast atwo;
She wolde not that hire sone had do so;
Hire thoughte a despit, that he shulde take
So strange a creature unto his make.

Me list not of the chaf ne of the stre
Maken so long a tale, as of the corn.
What shulde I tellen of the realtee

Of this mariage, or which cours goth beforn,
Who bloweth in a trompe or in an born?
The fruit of every tale is for to say;

This messager drank sadly ale and wine,
And stolen were his lettres prively
Out of his box, while he slept as a swine;
And contrefeted was ful subtilly
Another lettre, wrought ful sinfully,
Unto the king directe of this matere
Fro his constable, as ye shal after here.

This lettre spake, the quene delivered was
Of so horrible a fendliche creature,
That in the castle non so hardy was
That any while dorste therein endure:
The mother was on elfe by aventure
Ycome, by charmes or by sorcerie,
And everich man hateth hire compagnie.

Wo was this king whan he this lettre had sein,
But to no wight he told his sorwes sore,
But of his owen hand he wrote again;
"Welcome the sonde of Crist for evermore
To me, that am now lerned in this lore:
Lord, welcome be thy lust and thy plesance,
My lust I put all in thyn ordinance.

"Kepeth this child, or be it foule or faire,
And eke my wif, unto min home coming:
Crist whan him list may senden me an heire,
More agreable than this to my liking."
This lettre he seled, prively weping,
Which to the messager was taken sone,

They gon to bed, as it was skill and right,
For though that wives ben ful holy thinges,
They mosten take in patience a night
Swiche maner necessaries, as ben plesinges
To folk that han ywedded hem with ringes,
And lay a lite hir holinssse aside
As for the time, it may no bet betide.

On hire he gat a knave childe anon,
And to a bishop, and his constable eke
He tooke his wif to kepe, whan he is gon
To Scotland ward, his fomen for to seke.

Now faire Custance, that is so humble and meke,
So long is gon with childe til that still

She halt hire chambre, abiding Cristes will.

The time is come, a knave child she bere;
Mauricius at the fontstone they him calle.
This constable doth forth come a messager,
And wrote unto his king that cleped was Alle,
How that this blisful tiding is befalle,
And other tidings spedeful for to say.

He hath the lettre, and forth he goth his way,

This messager, to don his avantage,
Unto the kinges mother rideth swithe,
And saluteth hire ful faire in his langage.
"Madame," quod he, "ye may be glad and blithe,
And thanken God an hundred thousand sithe;
My lady quene hath child, withouten doute,
To joye and blisse of all this regne aboute.

"Lo here the lettre seled of this thing,
That 1 most bere in all the hast I may:
If ye wol ought unto your sone the king,
I am your servant bothe night and day."
Donegilde answerd, "As now at this time nay;
But here I wol all night thou take thy rest,
To-morwe wol I say thee what me lest."

O messager, fulfilled of dronkenesse,
Strong is thy breth, thy limmes faltren ay,
And thou bewreiest alle secrenesse ;
Thy mind is lorne, thou janglest as a jay;
Thy face is tourned in a new array;
Ther dronkenesse regneth in any route,
Ther is no conseil hid withouten doute.

O Donegild, I ne have non English digne
Unto thy malice, and thy tirannie:
And therfore to the fende I thee resigne,
Let him enditen of thy traitorie.
Fy mannish, fy; o nay by God I lic;
Fy fendliche spirit, for I dare wel telle,
Though thou here walke, thy spirit is in Helle.

This messager cometh fro the king again,
And at the kinges modres court he light,
And she was of this messager ful fayn,
And plesed him in all that ever she might.
He dranke, and wel his girdel underpight;
He slepeth, and he snoreth in his gise
All night, until the Sonne gan arise.

Eft were his lettres stolen everich on,
And conterfeted lettres in this wise.
The king commanded his constable anon
Up peine of hanging and of high jewise,
That he ne shulde soffren in no wise
Custance within his regne for to abide
Three daies, and a quarter of a tide;

But in the same ship as he hire fond,
Hire and hire yonge sone, and all hire gere
He shulde put, and croude hire fro the lond,
And charge hire, that she never eft come there.
O my Custance, wel may thy ghost have fere,
And sleping in thy dreme ben in penance,
Whan Donegild cast all this ordinance.

This messager on morwe whan he awoke,
Unto the castel halt the nexte way;
And to the constable he the lettre toke;
And whan that he this pitous lettre sey,
Ful oft he sayd "Alas, and wala wa; [dure?
Lord Crist," quod he, "how may this world en-
So ful of sinne is many a creature.

"O mighty God, if that it be thy will,
Sin thou art rightful juge, how may it be
That thou wolt soffren innocence to spill,
And wicked folk regne in Prosperitee?
A good Custance, alas! so wo is me,
That I note be thy turmentour, or dey
On shames deth, ther is non other wey."

Wepen both 'yong and old in al that place,
Whan that the king this cursed lettre sent:
And Custance with a dedly pale face
The fourthe day toward the ship she went:
But natheles she taketh in good entent
The will of Crist, and kneling on the strond
She sayde," Lord, ay welcome be thy sond.

"He that me kepte fro the false blame,
While I was in the lond amonges you,
He can me kepe fro harme and eke fro shame
In the salt see, although I se not how:
As strong as ever he was, he is yet now,
In him trust I, and in his mother dere,
That is to me my sail and eke my stere."

'Hire litel child lay weping in hire arm,
And kneling pitously to him she said,
"Pees, litel sone, I wol do thee no harm :"
With that hire couverchief of hire hed she braid,
And over his litel eyen she it laid,
And in hire arme she lulleth it ful fast,
And into the Heven hire eyen up she cast.

"Mother," quod she, " and mayden bright Marie,
Soth is, that thurgh womannes eggement
Mankind was lorne, and damned ay to die,
For which thy child was on a crois yrent:
Thy blisful eyen saw all his turment,
Than is ther no comparison betwene
Thy wo, and any wo man may sustene.

"Thou saw thy child yslain before thin eyen,
And yet now liveth my litel child parfay:
Now, lady bright, to whom all woful crien,
Thou glory of womanhed, thou faire May,
Thou haven of refute, bright sterre of day,
Rew on my child, that of thy gentillesse
Rewest on every rewful in distresse.

"O litel child, alas! what is thy gilt,
That never wroughtest sinne as yet parde?
Why wol thin harde father have thee spilt?
O mercy, dere constable," quod she,
"As let my litel child dwell here with thee:
And if thou darst not saven him fro blame,
So kisse him ones in his faders name."

Therwith she loketh backward to the lond,
And saide; "Farewel, housbond routheless!"
And up she rist, and walketh doun the strond
Toward the ship, hire foloweth all the prees:
And ever she praieth hire child to hold his pees,
And taketh hire leve, and with an holy entent
She blesseth-hire, and into the ship she went.

The hand was knowen that the lettre wrote,
And all the venime of this cursed dede;
But in what wise, certainly I n'ot.
The effect is this, that Alla out of drede
His mother slew, that moun men plainly rede,
For that she traitour was to hire ligeance:
Thus endeth this old Donegild with meschance.

The sorwe that this Alla night and day
Maketh for his wif and for his child also,
Ther is no tonge that it tellen may.
But now wol I agen to Custance go,
That fleteth in the see in peine and wo
Five yere and more, as liked Cristes sonde,
Or that hire ship approched to the londe.
Under an hethen castel at the last,
(Of which the name in my text I not find)
Custance and eke hire child the see up cast.
Almighty God, that saved all mankind,
Have on Custance and on hire child som mind,
That fallen is in hethen hond eftsone
In point to spill, as I shal tell you sone.

Doun fro the castel cometh ther many a wight
To gauren on this ship, and on Custance:
But shortly fro the castel on a night,
The lordes steward (God yeve him meschance)
A theef, that had reneyed our creance,
Came into the ship alone, and said, he wolde
Hire lemman be, whether she wolde or n'olde.

Wo was this wretched woman tho begon,
Hire childe cried, and she cried pitously:
But blisful Mary halpe hire right anon,
For with hire strogling wel and mightily
The theef fell over bord al sodenly,
And in the see he drenched for vengeance,
And thus hath Crist unwemmed kept Custance.

O foule lust of luxurie, lo thin ende,
Nat only that thou faintest mannes mind,
But veraily thou wolt his body shende.
Th' ende of thy werk, or of thy lustes blind,
Is complaining: how many may men find,
That not for werk somtime, but for th' entent
To don this sinne, ben other slain or shènt.

How may this weke woman han the strength
Hire to defend again this renegate ?
O Golias, unmesurable of length,
How mighte David maken thee so mate?
So yonge, and of armure so desolate,
How dorst he loke upon thy dredful face?
Wel may men seen it was but Goddes grace.

Who yaf Judith corage or hardinesse
To sleen him Holofernes in his tent,
And to deliver out of wretchednesse

The peple of God? I say for this entent,
That right as God spirit of vigour sent
To hem, and saved hem out of meschance,
So sent he might and vigour to Custance,

Forth goth hire ship thurghout the narwe mouth
Of Jubaltare and Septe, driving alway,
Somtime west, and somtime north and south,
And somtime est, ful many a wery day:
Til Cristes moder (blessed be she ay)
Hath shapen thurgh hire endeles goodnesse
To make an end of all hire hevinesse.

Now let us stint of Custance but a throw,
And speke we of the Romane emperour,
That out of Surrie hath by lettres knowe
The slaughter of Cristen folk, and dishonour
Don to his doughter by a false traitour,
I mene the cursed wicked soudannesse,

That at the fest let sleen both more and lesse.

For which this emperour hath sent anon
His senatour, with real ordinance,
And other lordes, God wote, many on,
On Surriens to taken high vengeance:

They brennen, sleen, and bring hem to meschance
Ful many a day: but shortly this is th' ende,
Homward to Rome they shapen hem to wende.

This senatour repaireth with victorie
To Rome ward, sayling ful really,
And met the ship driving, as saith the storie,
In which Custance sitteth ful pitously:
Nothing ne knew he what she was, ne why
She was in swiche array, ne she wil sey
Of hire estat, though that she shulde dey.
He bringeth hire to Rome, and to his wif
He yaf hire, and hire yonge sone also:
And with the senatour she lad hire lif.
Thus can our lady bringen out of wo
Woful Custance, and many another mo:
And longe time dwelled she in that place,
In holy werkes ever, as was hire grace.

The senatoures wif hire aunte was,

But for all that she knew hire never the more:
I wol no longer tarien in this cas,
But to king Alla, which I spake of yore,
That for his wif wepeth and siketh sore,
I wol returne, and let I wol Custance
Under the senatoures governance.

King Alla, which that had his moder slain,
Upon a day fell in swiche repentance,
That if I shortly tellen shal and plain,
To Rome he cometh to receive his penance,
And putte him in the popes ordinance
In high and low, and Jesu Crist besought,
Foryeve his wicked werkes that he had wrought.

The fame anon thurghout the toun is born,
How Alla king shal come on pilgrimage,
By herbergeours that wenten him beforn,
For which the senatour, as was usage,
Rode him againe, and many of his linage,
As wel to shewen his high magnificence,
As to don any king a reverence.

Gret chere doth this noble senatour,
To king Alla, and he to him also;
Everich of hem doth other gret honour;
And so befell, that in a day or two
This senatour is to king Alla go
To fest, and shortly, if I shal not lie,
Custances sone went in his compagnie.

Som men wold sain at requeste of Custance
This senatour hath lad this child to feste:
I may not tellen every circumstance,
Be as be may, ther was he at the leste:
But soth is this, that at his mothers heste
Beforn Alla, during the metes space,
The child stood, loking in the kinges face.

This Alla king hath of this child gret wonder, And to the senatour he said anon,

"Whos is that faire child that stondeth yonder ?"
"I n'ot," quod he, "by God and by Seint John;
A moder he hath, but fader hath he non,
That I of wote:" but shortly in a stound
He told Alla how that this child was found.
"But God wot," quod this senatour also,
"So vertuous a liver in all my lif
Ne saw I never, as she, ne herd of mo
Of worldly woman, maiden, widewe or wif:
I dare wel sayn hire hadde lever a knif
Thurghout hire brest, than ben a woman wikke,
Ther is no man coude bring hire to that prikke."

Now was this child as like unto Custance
As possible is a creature to be:
This Alla hath the face in remembrance
Of dame Custance, and theron mused be,
If that the childes moder were aught she
That is his wif, and prively he sighte,
And sped him fro the table that he mighte.
"Parfay," thought he, "fantome is in min hed.
1 ought to deme of skilful jugement,
That in the salte see my wif is ded."
And afterward he made his argument;
"What wot I, if that Crist have hider sent
My wif by see, as wel as he hire lent
To my contree, fro thennes that she went?"

And after noon home with the senatour
Goth Alla, for to see this wonder chance.
This senatour doth Alla gret honour,
And hastily he sent after Custance:
But trusteth wel, hire luste not to dance.
Whan that she wiste wherfore was that sonde,
Unnethe upon hire feet she mighte stonde.

Whan Alla saw his wif, faire he hire grette,
And wept, that it was routhe for to see,
For at the firste look he on hire sette
He knew wel veraily that it was she:
And she for sorwe, as domb stant as a tree:
So was hire herte shette in hire distresse,
Whan she remembered his unkindenesse.

Twies she swouneth in his owen sight, He wepeth and him excuseth pitously:

So wisly on my soule as have mercy,
That of youre harme as gilteles am I,
As is Maurice my sone, so like your face,
Elles the fend me fetche out of this place."

Long was the sobbing and the bitter peine,
Or that hir woful hertes mighten cese,
Gret was the pitee for to here hem pleine,
Thurgh whiche pleintes gan hir wo encrese.
I pray you all my labour to relese,
I may not tell hir wo until to-morwe,
I am so wery for to speke of sorwe.

But finally, whan that the soth is wist,
That Alla gilteles was of hire wo,

I trow an hundred times han they kist,
And swiche a blisse is ther betwix hem two,
That save the joye that lasteth evermo,
Ther is non like, that any creature

But I let all his storie passen by,
Of Custance is my tale specially,

In the olde Romane gestes men may find
Maurices lif, I bere it not in mind.

This king Alla, whan he his time sey,
With his Custance, his holy wif so swete,
To Englond ben they come the righte wey,
Ther as they live in joye and in quiete.
But litel while it lasteth I you hete,
Joye of this world for time wol not abide,
Fro day to night it changeth as the tide.

Who lived ever in swiche delite o day, That him ne meved other conscience, Or ire, or talent, or som kin affray, Envie, or pride, or passion, or offence? I ne say but for this end this sentence,

Tho praied she hire husbond mekely
In releef of hire longe pitous pine,
That he wold pray hire fader specially,
That of his magestee he wold encline

To vouchesauf som day with him to dine:
She praied him eke, he shulde by no way
Unto hire fader no word of hire say.

Some men wold sayn, how that the child Maurice
Doth this message until this emperour:
But as I gesse, Alla was not so nice,
To him that is so soveraine of honour,
As he that is of Cristen folk the flour,
Send any child, but it is bet to deme

He went himself, and so it may wel seme.

This emperour bath granted gentilly
To come to dinner, as he him besoughte:
And wel rede I, he loked besily
Upon this child, and on his doughter thought.
Alla goth to his inne, and as him ought
Arraied for this feste in every wise,
As ferforth as his conning may suffice.

The morwe came, and Alla gan him dresse,
And eke his wif, this emperour to mete:
And forth they ride in joye and in gladnesse,
And whan she saw hire fader in the strete,
She light adoun and falleth him to fete.
"Fader," quod she, "your yonge child Custance
Is now ful clene out of your remembrance.

"I am your doughter, your Custance," quod she,
"That whilom ye han sent into Surrie;
It am I, fader, that in the salte see
Was put alone, and dampned for to die.
Now, goode fader, I you mercy crie,
Send me no more into non hethenesse,

But thanketh my lord here of his kindenesse."

Who can the pitous joye tellen all
Betwix hem thre, sin they ben thus ymette?
But of my tale make an ende I shal,
The day goth fast, I wol no longer lette.
Thise glade folk to dinner ben ysette,
In joy and blisse at mete 1 let hem dwell,
A thousand fold wel more than I can tell.

Lasteth the blisse of Alla with Custance.

For Deth, that taketh of hie and low his rente,
Whan passed was a yere, even as I gesse,
Out of this world this king Alla he hente,
For whom Custance hath ful gret hevinesse,
Now let us praien God his soule blesse :
And dame Custance, finally to say,
Toward the toun of Rome goth hire way.

To Rome is come this holy creature,

And findeth ther hire freudes hole and sound:
Now is she scaped all hire aventure:
And whan that she hire fader hath yfound,
Doun on hire knees falleth she to ground,
Weping for tendernesse in herte blithe
She herieth God an hundred thousand sithe.

In vertue and in holy almesse dede
They liven alle, and never asonder wende;
Till deth departeth hem, this lif they lede:
And fareth now wel, my tale is at an ende.
Now Jesu Crist, that of his might may sende
Joye after wo, governe us in his grace,
And kepe us alle that ben in this place,

THE

WIF OF BATHES PROLOGUE.

"EXPERIENCE, though non auctoritee
Were in this world, is right ynough for me
To speke of wo that is in mariage:
For, lordings, sin I twelf yere was of age,
(Thanked be God that is eterne on live)
Husbondes at chirche dore have I had five,
(If I so often might han wedded be)
And all were worthy men in hir degree.
"But me was told, not longe time agon is,
That sithen Crist ne went never but onis
To wedding, in the Cane of Galilee,
That by that ilke ensample taught he me,
That I ne shulde wedded be but ones.

Lo, berke eke, which a sharpe word for the nones,

Beside a welle Jesu, God and man,
Spake in reprefe of the Samaritan:
"Thou hast yhadde five husbonds, sayde he;
And thilke man, that now hath wedded thee,
Is not thyn husbond: "thus said he certain;
What that he ment therby, I can not sain,
But that I aske, why that the fifthe man
Was non husbond to the Samaritan?
How many might she have in mariage?
Yet herd I never tellen in min age
Upon this noumbre diffinitioun ;
Men may devine, and glosen up and doun.
"But wel I wot, expresse withouten lie
God bad us for to wex and multiplie ;
That gentil text can I wel understond.
Eke wel I wot, he sayd, that min husbond
Shuld leve fader and moder, and take to me;
But of no noumbre mention made he,
Of bigamie or of octogamie;

Why shuld men than speke of it vilanie?
"Lo here the wise king dan Salomon,

I trow he hadde wives mo than on,
(As wolde God it leful were to me
To be refreshed half so oft as he)

Which a gift of God had he for alle his wives?
No man bath swiche, that in this world on live is.
God wot, this noble king, as to my witte,
The firste night had many a mery fitte
With eche of hem, so wel was him on live.
Blessed be God that I have wedded five,
Welcome the sixthe whan that ever he shalt.
For sith I wol not kepe me chaste in all,
Whan min husbond is fro the world ygon,
Som Cristen man shal wedden me anon.
For than the apostle saith, that I am fre
To wedde, a' Goddes half, wher it liketh me.
He saith that to be wedded is no sinne;
Better is to be wedded than to brinne.
"What rekketh me though folk say vilanie
Of shrewed Lamech, and his bigamie?
I wot wel Abraham was an holy man,
And Jacob eke, as fer as ever I can,
And eche of hem had wives mo than two,
And many another holy man also.
Wher can ye seen in any maner age
That highe God defended mariage
By expresse word? I pray you telleth me,
Or wher commanded he virginitee?

"I wot as wel as ye, it is no drede,
The apostle, whan he spake of maidenhede,
He said, that precept therof had be non:
Men may conseille a woman to ben on,
But conseilling is no commandement;
He put it in our owen jugement.

"For hadde God commanded maidenhede,
Than had he dampned wedding out of drede;
And certes, if ther were no sede ysowe,
Virginitee than wherof shuld it growe ?

"Poule dorste not commanden at the lest
A thing, of which his maister yaf non hest.
The dart is sette up for virginitee,
Catch who so may, who renneth best let see.
But this word is not take of every wight,
But ther as God wol yeve it of his might.
I wot wel that the apostle was a maid,
But uatheles, though that he wrote and said,
He wol that every wight were swiche as he,
All n'is but conseil to virginitee.
And for to ben a wif he yaf me leve,
Of indulgence, so n'is it non repreve

To wedden me, if that my make die,
Withoute exception of bigamie;

All were it good no woman for to touche,
(He ment as in his bed or in his couche)
For peril is both fire and tow to assemble;
Ye know what this ensample may resemble.
"This is all and som, he held virginitee
More prafit than wedding in freeltee:
(Freeltee clepe 1, but if that he and she
Wold lede hir lives all in chastitee)

I graunt it wel, I have of non envie,
Who maidenhed preferre to bigamie;
It liketh hem to be clene in body and gost:
Of min estat I wol not maken bost.

"For wel ye know, a lord in his houshold
Ne hath nat every vessell all of gold:
Som ben of tree; and don hir lord service.
God clepeth folk to him in sondry wise,
And everich hath of God a propre gift,
Som this, som that, as that him liketh shift.
Virginitee is gret perfection,

And continence eke with devotion:
But Crist, that of perfection is welle,
Ne bade not every wight he shulde go selle
All that he had, and yeve it to the poure,
And in swiche wise folow him and his lore:
He spake to hem that wold live parfitly,
And, lordings, (by your leve) that am nat I;
I wol bestow the flour of all myn age
In th' actes and the fruit of mariage.

"Tell me also, to what conclusion Were membres made of generation, And of so parfit wise a wight ywrought? Trusteth me wel, they were nat made for nought. Glose who so wol, and say bothe up and doun, That they were made for purgatioun Of urine, and of other thinges smale, And eke to know a female from a male: And for non other cause? sayye no? The experience wot wel it is not so. So that the clerkes be not with me wroth, I say this that they maken ben for both, This is to sayn, for office, and for ese Of engendrure, ther we not God displese. Why shuld men elles in hir bookes sette, That man shal yelden to his wif hire dette? Now wherwith shuld he make his payement, If he ne used his sely instrument? Than were they made upon a creature To purge urine, and eke for engendrure.

"But I say not that every wight is hold, That hath swiche harneis as I to you told, To gon and usen hem in engendrure; Than shuld men take of chastitee no cure. Crist was a maide, and shapen as a man, And many a seint, sith that this world began, Yet lived they ever in parfit chastitee. I n'ill envie with no virginitee. Let hem with bred of pured whete be fed, And let us wives eten barly bred. And yet with barly bred, Mark tellen can, Our Lord Jesu refreshed many man. In swiche estat as God hath cleped us, I wol persever, I n'am not precious, In wifhode wol I use min instrument As frely as my maker hath it sent. If I be dangerous God yeve me sorwe, Min husbond shal it have both even and morwe, Whan that him list come forth and pay his dette. An husbond wol I have, I wol not lette,