Whan thou him saw in thilke arraie
That he, that whilome was so gaie,
And of the daunce Jolly Robin
Was tho become a Jacobiu:
But soothly what so men him call
Frere preachours been good men all,
Hir order wickedly they bearen
Such ministreles if they wearen.

square,

So been Augustins, and Cordileers,
And Carmes, and eke sacked freers,
And all freers shode and bare,
Though some of hem ben great and
Full holy men, as I hem deme,
Everich of hem would good man seme:
But shalt thou neuer of apparence
Seene conclude good consequence
In none argument iwis,
If existence all failed is:

For men may finde alway sopheme
The consequence to enueneme,
Who so that hath had the sobtiltee
The double sentence for to see.

Whan the pilgrimes commen were
To Wicked Tongue that dwelleth there,
Hir harneis nigh hem was algate,
By Wicked tongue adoune they sate,
That bad hem nere him for to come,
And of tidinges tell him some,

And sayd hem: "What case maketh you
To come into this place now?"

"SIR," sayed strained Abstinance,
"We for to drie our penance,
With hertes pitous and denout,

Are commen, as pilgrimes gone about,
Well nigh on foote alway we go
Full doughtie been our heeles two,
And thus both we be sent

Throughout the world that is miswent,
To yeve ensample, and preach also,
To fishen sinfull men we go,
For other fishing, ne fish we,
And, sir, for that charite,

As we be wont, herborow we craue,
Your life to amenne Christ it saue,
And so it should you not displease,
We woulden, if it were your ease,
A short sermon vnto you sain.
And Wicked Tongue answered again,

"The house" (quod he) "such (as ye see) Shall not be warned you for me, Saie what you list, and I woll heare."

"Graunt mercie sweet sir deare," (Quod alderfirst) "dame Abstinence," And thus began she her sentence.

"Sir, the first vertue certaine,
The greatest, and most soueraigne
That may be found in any man,
For having, or for wit he can,
That is his tongue to refraine,

Thereto ought euerie wight him paine:
For it is better still be,

Than for to speaken harme parde,
And he that hearkeneth it gladly,
He is no good man sikerly.

"And sir, abouen all other sinne, In that art thou most guiltie inne : Thou speake a yape, not long agoe. "And sir, that was right euill doe

Of a young man, that here repaired,
And never yet this place apaired:
Thou saidest he awaited nothing,
But to deceiue Faire Welcomming:
Ye sayd nothing sooth of that,
But sir, ye lye, I tell ye plat,

He ne commeth no more, ne goeth parde,
I trow ye shall him never see;

Faire Welcomming in prison is,
That oft hath played with you er this,
The fairest games that he coude,
Without filth, still or loude.
Now dare she not her selfe solace,
Ye han also the man doe chase,
That he dare neither come ne go,
What mooveth you to hate him so?
But properly your wicked thought,
That many a false lesing hath thought,
That mooveth your foule eloquence,
That iangleth ever in audience,
And on the folke ariseth blame,
And doth hem dishonour and shame,
For thing that may have no preuing,
But likelinesse, and contriuing.

"For I dare saine, that Reason deemeth,
It is not all sooth thing that seemeth,
And it is sinne to controue
Thing that is to reproue;

This wote ye wele, and sir, therefore
Ye arne to blame the more,
And nathelesse, he recketh lite
He yeueth not now thereof a mite,
For if he thought harme, parfaie,
He would come and gone all daie,
He coud himselfe not absteine,

Now commeth he not, and that is sene,
For be ne taketh of it no cure,
But if it be through aventure,
And lasse than other folke algate,
And thou here watchest at the gate,
With speare in thine arest alwaie,
There muse musard all the daie,
Thou wakest night and day for thought,
Iwis thy trauaile is for nought,
And Ielousie withouten faile,
Shall never quit thee thy trauaile,
And skath is, that Faire Welcoming,
Without any trespassing,
Shall wrongfully in prison be,
There weepeth and languisheth he,
And though thou never yet iwis,
Agiltest man no inore but this,
Take not a greefe it were worthy
To put thee out of this baily,
And afterward in prison lie,

And fettred thee till that thou die ;
For thou shalt for this sinne dwell
Right in the Diuels arse of Hell,
But if that thou repent thee:

Maifaie, thou lyest falsely." (Quod he)
"What, welcome with mischaunce now,
Have I therefore herboured you

To say me shame, and eke reproue,
With sorrie happe to your behoue,

Am I to day your herbegere

Go herber you elsewhere than here,
That han a lyer called me,
Two tregetours art thou and he,

That in mine house doe me this shame,
And for my soothsaw ye me blame

Is this the sermon that ye make?
To all the diuels I me take,
Or else God thou me confound,
But er men didden this castle found,
It passed not ten dayes of twelue,
But it was told right to my selue,
And as they sayd, right so told I,
He kist the rose priuily:

Thus sayd I now, and have sayd yore,
I not where he did any more.

Why should men say me such a thing,
If it had been gabbing?

Right so saide I, and woll say yet,

I trow I lyed not of it,

And with my bemes I woll blow
To all neighbours arrow,

How he hath both commen and gone."
Tho spake False Semblant right anone,
"All is not gospell out of dout,
That men saine in the towne about,
Lay no defe eare to my speaking,
I swere you, sir, it is gabbing,
I trow you wote well certainly,
That no man loveth him tenderly,
That sayth him harme, if he wote it,
All be he never so poore of wit;
And sooth is also sikerly,
This know ye, sir, as well as I,
That lovers gladly woll visiten
The places there hir loves habiten:

This man you loveth and eke honoureth,
This man to serve you laboureth,
And clepeth you his freind so deere,
And this man maketh you good cheere,
And euerie man that you meeteth,
He you saleweth, and he you greeteth;
He preseth not so oft, that ye
Ought of his comming encombred be:
There presen other folke on you,
Full ofter than he doeth now,
And if his herte him strained so
Unto the rose for to go,

Ye should him seene so oft need,

That ye should take him with the deed;

He coud his comming not forbeare,
Though ye him thrilled with a speare;
It nere not than as it is now,
But trusteth well, I sweare it you,
That it is clene out of his thought.
Sir, certes he ne thinketh it nought,
No more ne doth Faire Welcomming,
That sore abieth all this thing:
And if they were of one assent,
Full soone were the rose hent,

The maugre yours would be.

"And sir, of o thing hearkeneth me,
Sith ye this man, that loveth you,
Han sayd such harme and shame, now
Witteth well, if he gessed it,

Ye may well demen in your wit,
He nolde nothing love you so,
Ne callen you his friend also,
But night and daie he woll wake,
The castle to destroy and take,
If it were sooth, as ye devise;

Or some man in some manner wise
Might it warne him everidele,
Or by himselfe perceive wele,
For sith he might not come and gone
As he was whilom wont to done,
He might it soone wite and see,
But now all otherwise wote hee.

"Than have ye, sir, all vtterly
Deserved Hell, and iollyly
The death of Hell doubtlesse,
That thrallen folke so guiltlesse."

False Semblant so prooveth this thing,
That he can none answering,
And seeth alwaje such apparaunce,
That nigh he fell in repentaunce,
And sayd him, "Sir, it may well be.
Semblant, a good man seemen ye,
And Abstinence, full wise ye seeme,
Of o talent you both I deeme,
What counsaile woll ye to me yeven ?"
"Right here anon thou shalt be shriven
And say thy sinne without more,

Of this shalt thou repent sore,
For I am priest, and have poste,
To shrive folke of most dignite
That ben as wide as world my dure,
Of all this world I have the cure,
And that had yet never persoun,
Ne vicarie of no manner toun.

"And God wote I have of thee,
A thousand times more pitee,
Than hath thy priest parochiall
Though he thy friend be speciall,

"I have avauntage, in o wise,
That your priests be not so wise
Ne halfe so lettred (as am I)
I am licensed boldly,
In divinitie for to read,

And to confessen out of dread.

"If ye woll you now confesse,
And leave your sinnes more and lesse,
Without abode, kneele doune anon,
And you shall have absolution."

In this excellent book is shewed the fervent love of Troylus to Creiseid, whom he enjoyed for a time: and her great untruth to him again in giving herself to Diomedes, who in the end did so cast her off, that she came to great misery. In which discourse Chaucer liberally treateth of the divine purveyance.

THE double sorrow of Troilus to tellen,
That was kinge Priamus sonne of Troy,
In loving, how his aventures fellen
From woe to wele, and after out of ioy,
My purpose is, er that I part froy.
Thou Thesiphone, thou helpe me for tendite
These wofull verses, that wepen as I write.
To thee I clepe, thou goddesse of tourment
Thou cruell furie, sorrowing ever in paine,
Helpe me that am the sorrowfull instrument,
That helpeth lovers, as I can complaine:
For well sit it, the sooth for to saine,
A wofull wight to have a drery feare,
And to a sorrowfull tale a sorie cheare.

For I that god of loves servaunts serve,
Ne dare to love, for mine vnlikelynesse,
Prayen for speed, all should I therefore sterve,
So farre am I fro his helpe in derkenesse.
But nathelesse, if this may done gladnesse
To any lover, and his cause availe,

Have he my thanke, and mine be the travaile.

But ye lovers that bathen in gladnesse,
If any droppe of pite in you be,
Remembreth you of passed heavinesse
That ye have felt, and on the adversite
Of other folke, and thinketh how that ye
Han felt, that Love durst you to displease,
Else ye han won him with too great an ease.

And prayeth for hem that been in the case
Of Troilus, as ye may after heare,
That he hem bring in Heaven to solace.
And eke for me prayeth to God so deare,
That I have might to shew in some manere,
Such paine and woe, as Loves folke endure,
In Troilus vnsely aventure.

And biddeth eke for hem that ben dispeired
In love, that never will recovered be:
And eke for hem that falsely ben apeired,
Through wicked tongues, be it he or she:
Thus biddeth God for his benignite,
So grant hem sone out of this world to pace
That ben dispaired out of Loves grace.

And biddeth eke for hem that ben at ease,
That God hem graunt aie good perseverance,
And send hem grace hir loves for to please,
That it to love be worship and pleasance:
For so hope I my selfe best to avance
To pray for hem, that Loves servaunts be,
And write hir woe, and live in charite.

And for to have of hem compassioun,
As though I were hir owne brother dere,
Now hearkeneth with a good ententioun,
For now woll I go straight to my matere:
In which ye may the double sorrowes here
Of Troilus, in loving of Creseide,

And how she forsoke him er that she deide.

Ir is well wist, how that the Greekes strong
In armes with a thousand shipes went
To Troie wardes, and the citie long
Besiegeden, nigh ten yeres ere they stent,
And how in divers wise, and one entent,
The ravishing to wreake of queen Heleine,
By Paris don, they wroughten all hir peine
Now fell it so, that in the toune there was
Dwelling a lord of great authorite
A great divine that cleped was Calcas,
That in that science so expert was, that he
Knew well, that Troie should destroyed be,
By answeare of his god, that hight thus,
Dan Phebus, or Apollo Delphicus.

So whan this Calcus knew by calculing,
And eke by the answeare of this god Apollo,
That the Greekes should such a people bring,
Thorow the which that Troy must be fordo,
He cast anone out of the toune to goe:
For well he wist by sort, that Troie sholde
Destroyed be, ye would who so or nolde.

Wherefore he to departen softely,
Tooke purpose full, this forknowing wise,
And to the Greekes host full prively
He stale anone, and they in courteous wise
Did to him both worship and servise,
In trust that he hath cunning hem to rede
In every perill, which that was to dread.

Great rumour rose, whan it was first espied,
In all the toune, and openly was spoken,
That Calcas traitour fled was and alied
To hem of Grece: and cast was to be wroken
On him, that falsely hath his faith broken,
And sayd, he and all his kinne atones,
Were worthy to be brent, both fell and bones.

Now had Calcas lefte in this mischaunce,
Unwist of this false and wicked dede,

A daughter, whiche was in great penaunce,
And of her life she was full sore in drede,
And wist ne never what best was to rede:
And as a widdow was she, and all alone,
And nist to whome she might make her mone.

Creseide was this ladies name aright,
As to my dome, in all Troies citie
Most fairest ladie, far passing every wight
So angellike shone her native beaute,
That no mortall thing seemed she:

And therewith was she so perfect a creature,
As she had be made in scorning of nature.

This ladie, that all day hearde at eare
Her fathers shame, falshede, and treasoun,
(Full nigh out of her wit for sorrow and feare,
In widdowes habite large of samite broun)
Before Hector on knees she fell adoun,
And his mercy bad, hér selfe excusing,
With pitous voice, and tenderly weeping.

Now was this Hector pitous of nature,
And saw that she was sorrowfull begone,
And that she was so faire a creature,
Of his goodnesse he gladed her anone,
And said: "Let your fathers traison gone
Forth with mischance, and ye your selfe in joy
Dwelleth with us while you list in Troy.

"And all the honour that men may do ye have,
As ferforth as though your father dwelt here,
Ye shull haue, and your body shull men save,
As ferre as I may ought enquire and here:'
And she him thanked with full humble chere,
And ofter would, and it had been his will.
She took her leve, went home, and held her still.

And in her house she abode with such meine
As till her honour nede was to hold,
And while she was dwelling in that cite,
She kept her estate, and of yong and old
Full well beloved, and men well of her told:
But whether that she children had or none,
I rede it nat, therefore I let it gone.

The thinges fellen as they don of werre,
Betwixen hem of Troy and Greekes oft,
For sometime broughten they of Troy it derre,
And este the Greekes founden nothing soft
The folke of Troy: and thus fortune aloft,
And under efte gan hem to whelmen both,
After her course, aie while that they were wroth.

But how this toune came to destruction,
Ne falleth not to purpose me to tell,
For it were a long digression

Fro my matter, and you too long to dwell;
But the Troyan iestes all as they fell,
In Omer, or in Dares, or in Dite,

Who so that can, may reden hem as they write,

But though the Greekes hem of Troy in shetten,
And hir citie besieged all about,
Hir old usages nolde they not letten,
As to honouren hir gods full devout,
But aldermost in honour out of dout,
They had a relike hight Palladion,
That was hir trust aboven everychon.

And so befell, whan comen was the time
Of Aprill, whan clothed is the mede,
With new grene, of lustie veer the prime,
And with sweet smelling floures white and rede
In sundrie wise shewed, as I rede,

The folke of Troie, their observances old,
Palladiones feast went for to hold.

Unto the temple in all their best wise,
Generally there went many a wight,
To hearken of Palladions servise,
And namely many a lustie knight,
And many a ladie fresh, and maiden bright,
Full well arraied bothe mcst and least,
Both for the season and the high feast.

Among these other folke was Creseida,
In widdowes habite blacke: but natheles
Right as our first letter is now an a,
In beautie first so stood she makeles,
Her goodly looking gladed all the prees,
Nas neuer seene thing to be praised so derre,
Nor under cloude blacke so bright a sterre,

As was Creseide, they sayden everichone,
That her behelden in her blacke wede,
And yet she stood full lowe and still alone
Behinde other folke in little bread,
And nie the dore under shames dread,
Simple of attire, and debonaire of chere,
With full assured looking and manere.

This Troilus, as he was wont to guide
His yonge knightes, lad hem up and doune,
In thilke large temple on every side,
Beholding aie the ladies of the toune,
Now here now there, for no devotioune
Had he to none, to reven him his rest,
But gan to praise and lacke whome he lest,

And in his walk full fast he gan to waiten,
If knight or squier of his campanie,
Gan for to sike, or let his eyen baiten
On any woman, that he coud espie,
He would smile, and hold it a follie,

And say hem thus: "O Lord she sleepeth soft
For love of thee, whan thou turnest full oft.

"I have heard tell pardieux of your living,
Ye lovers, and eke your lewed observances,
And which a labour folke have in winning
Of love, and in keeping such doutaunces,
And whan your pray is lost, wo and penaunces›
O, very fooles, blinde and nice be ye,
There is not one can ware by another be."

And with that word he gan cast up the brow,
Ascaunces, lo, is this not well ispoken,
At which the god of love gan looken low,
Right for dispite, and shope him to be wroken.
He kidde anone his bowe was not broken:
For sodainly he hitte him at the full,
And yet as proude a peacocke gan he pull.

O blinde world, o blind entention,
How often falleth all the effect contraire
Of sequedrie and foule presumption,

For caught is proud, and caught is debonaire:

This Troilus is clomben on the staire,

And little weneth that he mote descenden,

But all day it faileth that fooles wenden.

As proud Bayard beginneth for to skippe
Out of the way, so pricketh him his corne,
Till he a lash have of the longe whippe,
Than thinketh he, "Tho I praunce all beforn
First in the traise, full fat and new ishorne,
Yet am I but an horse, and horses law
I must endure, and with my feeres draw."

So fared it by this fiers and proud knight,
Though he a worthy kinges sonne were,
And wende nothing had had suche might,
Ayenst his will, that should his herte stere,
Yet with a looke his herte woxe on fire,
That he that now was most in pride above,
Woxe sodainly most subject unto love.

Forthy ensample taketh of this man,
Ye wise, proud, and worthy folkes all,
To scornen Love, which that so soone can
The freedome of your hertes to him thrall,
For ever it was, and ever it be shall,
That Love is he that all thinges may bind,
For no man may fordo the law of kind.

That this be sooth hath preved and doth yet,
For this (I trowe) ye know all and some,
Men reden not that folke han greater wit
Than they that han ben most with love inome,
And strengest folk been therewith overcome,
The worthyest and greatest of degree,
This was and is, and yet man shall it see.

And trueliche that sitte well to be so,
For alderwisest han therewith ben pleased,
And they that han ben aldermost in wo,
With love han ben comforted and most eased,
And oft it hath the cruell herte appeased,
And worthy folke made worthier of name,
And causeth most to dreden vice and shame.

Now sith it may nat goodly be withstond,
And is a thing so vertuous and kind,
Refuseth nought to Love for to ben bond,
Sith as him selven list he may you bind;
The yerde is bette that bowen woll and wind
Than that that brest, and therefore I you rede,
Now followeth him, that so well can you lede.

But for to tellen forth in speciall,
As of this kinges sonne, of which I told,
And leven other thing collaterall,

Of him thinke I my tale forth to hold,
Both of his joy, and of his cares cold,
And his werke, as touching this matere,
For I it gan, I woll thereto refere.

Within the temple he went him forth playing
This Troilus, of every wight about,
Now on this lady, and now on that looking,
Where so she were of toune, or of without:
And upon case befell, that through a rout
His eye peirced, and so deepe it went
Till on Creseide it smote, and there it stent.

And sodainely for wonder wext astoned,
And gan her bet behold in thrifty wise:
"Overy God," thought he, "wher hast thou woned,
That art so faire and goodly to devise?"
Therewith his herte gan to spread and rise,
And softe sighed, least men might him here,
And caught ayen his firste playing chere.

She nas nat with the most of her stature,
But all her limmes so well answearing
Weren to womanhood, that creature
Was never lasse mannish in seeming.
And eke the pure wise of her meaning
Shewed well, that men might in her gesse
Honour, estate, and womanly noblesse.

Tho Troilus, right wonder well withall,
Gan for to like her meaning and her chere,
Which somdele deignous was, for she let fall
Her looke a little aside, in such manere
Ascaunces, what may I not stonden here,
And after that her looking gan she light,
That never thought him seen so good a sight.
And of her looke in him there gan to quicken
So great desire, and such affection,
That in his hertes bottome gan to sticken
Of her his fixe, and deepe impression :
And though he earst had pored vp and doun,
Than was be glad his hornes in to shrinke,
Unnethes wist he how to looke or winke.

Lo, be that lete him selven so cunning,
And scorned hem that loves paines drien,
Was full vnware that Love had his dwelling
Within the subtill streames of her eyen,
That sodainely him thought he felte dyen,
Right with her looke, the spirite in his herte,
Blessed be Love, that thus can folke convert.

She thus in blacke, liking to Troilus,
Over all thing he stood for to behold:
But his desire, ne wherefore he stood thus,
He neither chere made, ne word thereof told,
But from a ferre, his manner for to hold,
On other thing sometime his looke he cast,
And eft on her, while that the service last:

And after this, nat fullish all awhaped,
Out of the temple eselich he went,
Repenting him that ever he had iaped
Of Loves folke, least fully the discent
Of scorne fill on himselfe, but what he ment,
Least it were wist on any manner side,
His woe he gan dissimulen and hide.

Whan he was fro the temple thus departed,
He straight anone unto his pallaice turneth,
Right with her loke through shotten and darted,
All faineth he in lust that he soiourneth,
And all his chere and speech also he burneth,
And aie of Loves servaunts every while
Him selfe to wrie, at hem he gan to smile,

And saied, "Lord, so they live all in lust
Ye lovers, for the cunningest of you,
That servest most ententifelich and best
Him tite as often harme thereof as prow,
Your hire is quit ayen, ye, God wote how,
Not well for well, but scorne for good servise,"
In faith your order is ruled in good wise.

"In no certaine been your observaunces,
But it onely a sely few points be,
Ne nothing asketh so great attendaunces,
As doth your laie, and that know all ye :
But that is not the worst, as mote I the,
But told I you the worst point, I leve,
All sayd I sooth, ye woulden at me greve.