If I have licence of this worthy frere." [here." Yes, dame," quod he, " tell forth, and I wol

THE WIF OF BATHES TALE.

In olde dayes of the king Artour,
Of which that Bretons speke gret honour,
All was this lond ful filled of faerie;
The elf-quene, with her joly compagnie,
Danced ful oft in many a grene mede.
This was the old opinion as I rède;
I speke of many hundred yeres ago;
But now can no man see non elves mo,
For now the grete charitee and prayeres
Of limitoures and other holy freres,

That serchen every land and every streme,
As thikke as motes in the sonne-beme,
Blissing halles, chambres, kichenes, and boures,
Citees and burghes, castles highe and toures,
Thropes and bernes, shepenes and dairies,
This maketh that ther ben no faeries:
For ther as wont to walken as an elf,
Ther walketh now the limitour himself,
In undermeles and in morweninges,
And sayth his matines and his holy thinges,
As he goth in his limitatioun.
Women may now go safely up and doun,
In every bush, and under every tree,
Ther is non other incubus but he,
And he ne will don hem no dishonour.

And so befell it, that this king Artour
Had in his hous a lusty bacheler,
That on a day came riding fro river,
And bapped, that, alone as she was borne,
He saw a maiden walking him beforne,
Of which maid he anon, maugre hire hed,
By veray force beraft hire maidenhed:
For which oppression was swiche clamour,
And swiche pursuite unto the king Artour,
That damned was this knight for to be ded
By course of lawe, and shuld have lost his hed,
(Paraventure swiche was the statute tho,)
But that the quene and other ladies mo
So longe praieden the king of grace,
Til be his lif him granted in the place,
And yaf him to the quene, all at hire will
To chese whether she wold him save or spill.
The quene thanked the king with al hire might;
And after this thus spake she to the knight,
Whan that she saw hire time upon a day.
"Thou standest yet" (quod she) "in swiche array,
That of thy lif yet hast thou no seuretee;
I grant the lif, if thou canst tellen me,
What thing is it that women most desiren:
Beware, and kepe thy nekke-bone-from yren.
And if thou canst not tell it me anon,
Yet wol I yeve thee leve for to gon
A twelvemonth and a day, to seke and lere
An answer suffisant in this matere.
And seuretee wol I have, or that thou pace,
Thy body for to yelden in this place."

Wo was the kuight, and sorwefully he siketh;
But what? he may not don all as him liketh.
And at the last he chese him for to wende,
And come agen right at the yeres ende
With swiche answer, as God wold him purvay:
And taketh his leve, and wendeth forth his way.

He seketh every hous and every place,
Wher as he hopeth for to finden grace,
To lernen what thing women loven moste :
But he ne coude ariven in no coste,
Where as he mighte find in this matere
Two creatures according in fere.
Som saiden, women loven best richesse,
Som saiden honour, som saiden jolinesse,
Som riche array, som saiden lust a-bedde,
And oft time to be widewe and to be wedde.
Some saiden, that we ben in herte most esed
Whan that we ben yflatered and ypreised.
He goth ful nigh the sothe, I wol not lie;
A man shal winne us best with flaterie;
And with attendance, and with besinesse
Ben we ylimed bothe more and lesse.

And som men saiden, that we loven best
For to be free, and do right as us lest,
And that no man repreve us of our vice,
But say that we hen wise and nothing nice.
For trewely ther n'is non of us all,

If

any wight wol claw us on the gall,
That we n'ill kike, for that he saith us, soth;
Assay, and he shal find it, that so doth.
For be we never so vicious withinne,

We wol be holden wise and clene of sinue.
And som saiden, that gret delit han we
For to be holden stable and eke secre,
And in o purpos stedfastly to dwell,
And not bewreyen thing that men us tell.
But that tale is not worth a rake-stele.
Parde we women connen nothing hele,
Witnesse on Mida; wol ye here the tale?
Ovide, amonges other thinges smale,
Said, Mida had under his longe heres
Growing upon his hed two asses eres ;
The whiche vice he hid, as he best might,
Ful subtilly from every mannes sight,
That, save his wif, ther wist of it no mo;
He loved hire most, and trusted hire also;
He praied hire, that to no creature
She n'olde tellen of his disfigure.

She swore him, nay, for all the world to winne She n'olde do that vilanie, ne sinne,

To make hire husbond han so foule a name :
She n'olde not tell it for hire owen shame.
But natheles hire thoughte that she dide,
That she so longe shuld a conseil hide;
Hire thought it swal so sore aboute hire herte,
That nedely som word hire must asterte;
And sith she dorst nat telle it to man,
Doun to a mareis faste by she ran,
Til she came ther, hire herte was a-fire:
And as a bitore bumbleth in the mire,
She laid hire mouth unto the water doun.
"Bewrey me not, thou water, with thy soun,"
Quod she," to thee I tell it, and no mo,
Min husbond hath long asses eres two.
Now is min herte all hole, now is it out,
I might no lenger kepe it out of dout."
Here may ye see, though we a time abide,
Yet out it moste, we can no conseil hide.
The remenant of the tale, if ye wol here,
Redeth Ovide, and ther ye may it lere.

This knight, of which my tale is specially,
Whan that he saw he might not come therby,
(This to sayn, what women loven most)
Within his brest ful sorwcful was his gost.
But home he goth, he mighte not sojourne,

The day was come, that homward must he turne.

And in his way, it happed him to ride In all his care, under a forest side, Wheras he saw upon a dance go

Of ladies foure and twenty, and yet mo.
Toward this ilke dance he drow ful yerue,
In hope that he som wisdom shulde lerne ;
But certainly, er he came fully there,
Yvanished was this dance, he n'iste not wher;
No creature saw he that bare lif,
Save on the grene he saw sitting a wif,
A fouler wight ther may no man devise.
Againe this knight this olde wif gan arise,
And said; "Sire knight, here forth ne lith no way.
Tell me what that ye seken by your fay.
Paraventure it may the better be:

Thise olde folk con mochel thing," quod she. 'My leve mother," quod this knight, "certain, I n'am but ded, but if that I can sain, What thing it is that women most desire: Coude ye me wisse, I wold quite wel your hire." Plight me thy trouthe here in myn hond," quod "The nexte thing that I requere of thee [she, Thou shalt it do, if it be in thy might, And I wol tell it you or it be night." "Have here my trouthe," quod the knight, "I "Thanne," quod she, "I dare me wel avaunte, Thy lif is sauf, for I wol stoud therby, Upon my lif the quene wol say as I: Let see, which is proudest of hem alle, That wereth on a kerchef or a calle,

[graunte."

That dare sayn nay of that I shal you teche.
Let us go forth withouten lenger speche."
Tho rowned she a pistel in his ere,
And bad him to be glad, and have no fere.
Whan they ben comen to the court, this knight
Said, he had hold his day, as he had hight,
And redy was his answere, as he saide.
Ful many a noble wif, and many a maide,
And many a widewe, for that they ben wise,
(The quene hireself sitting as a justice)
Assembled ben his answer for to here,
And afterward this knight was bode appere.
To every wight commanded was silence,
And that the knight shuld tell in audience,
What thing that worldly women loven best.
This knight ne stood not still, as doth a best,
But to this question anon answerd
With manly vois, that all the court it herd.
66 My liege lady, generally," quod he,
"Women desiren to han soverainetee,
As well over hir husbond as hir love,
And for to ben in maistrie him above.
This your most desire, though ye me kille,
Doth as you list, I am here at your wille."

In all the court ne was ther wif ne maide,
Ne widewe, that contraried that he saide,
But said, he was worthy to han his lif.

And with that word up stert this olde wif,
Which that the knight saw sitting on the grene.
Mercy," quod she, my soveraine lady quene,
Er that your court depart, as doth me right.
I taughte this answere unto this knight,
For which he plighte me his trouthe there,
The firste thing I wold of him requere,
He wold it do, if it lay in his might.

Before this court than pray I thee, sire knight,"
Quod she, "that thou me take unto thy wif,
For wel thou wost, that I have kept thy lif:
If I say false, say nay npon thy fay."

This knight answered, "Alas and wala wa!

I wot right wel that swiche was my behest.
For Goddes love as chese a new request:
Take all my good, and let my body go."

"Nay then," quod she, "I shrewe us bothe two. For though that I be olde, foule, and pore,

I n'olde for all the metal ne the ore,
That under erthe is grave, or lith above,
But if thy wif I were and eke thy love."

My love?" quod he, "nay my dampnation. Alas! that any of my nation

Shuld ever so foule disparage be."
But all for nought; the end is this, that he
Constrained was, he nedes must hire wed,
And taketh this olde wif, and goth to bed.

Now wolden som men sayn paraventure,
That for my negligence I do no cure
To tellen you the joye and all the array,
That at the feste was that ilke day.

To which thing shortly answeren I shal:
I say ther was no joy no feste at al,
Ther n'as but hevinesse and mochel sorwe,
For prively he wedded hire on the morwe,
And all day after hid him as an oule,
So wo was him, his wif loked so foule.

Gret was the wo the knight had in his thought
Whan he was with his wif a-bed ybrought,
He walweth, and he turneth to and fro.
This olde wif lay smiling evermo,
And said: "O dere husbond, benedicite,
Fareth every knight thus with his wif as ye?
Is this the law of king Artoures hous?
Is every knight of his thus dangerous?
I am your owen love, and eke your wif,

I am she, which that saved hath your lif,
And certes yet did I you never unright.
Why fare ye thus with me this firste night?
Ye faren like a man had lost his wit.
What is my gilt? for Goddes love tell it,
And it shal ben amended, if I may."

"Amended?" quod this knight, "alas! nay, nay, It wol not ben amended never mo; Thou art so lothly, and so olde also,

And therto comen of so low a kind,

That litel wonder is though I walwe and wind;

So wolde God, min herte wolde brest."

"Is this" quod she, "the cause of your unrest?" "Ye certainly," quod he, " no wonder is." "Now sire," quod she, "I coude amend all this, If that me list, ere it were dayes three, So wel ye mighten bere you unto me.

"But for ye speken of swiche gentillesse,
As is descended out of old richesse,
That therfore shullen ye be gentilmen;
Swiche arrogance n'is not worth an hen.

"Loke who that is most vertuous alway,
Prive and apert, and most entendeth ay
To do the gentil dedes that he can,
And take him for the gretest gentilman.
Crist wol we claime of him our gentillesse,
Not of our elders for hir old richesse.
For though they yeve us all hir heritage,
For which we claim to ben of high parage,
Yet may they not bequethen, for no thing,
To non of us, hir vertuous living,
That made bem gentilmen called to be,
And bade us folwen hem in swiche degree.

"Wel can the wise poet of Florence,
That highte Dant, speken of this sentence:
Lo, in swiche maner rime is Dantes tale.
"Ful selde up riseth by his branches smale

Prowesse of man, for God of his goodnesse
Wol that we claime of him our gentillesse:
For of our elders may we nothing claime
But temporel thing, that man may hurt and maime.
"Eke every wight wot this as wel as I,
If gentillesse were planted naturelly
Unto a certain linage doun the line,
Prive and apert, than wol they never fine
To don of gentillesse the faire office,
They mighten do no vilanie or vice.

"Take fire and bere it into the derkest hous
Betwix this and the mount of Caucasus,
And let men shette the dores, and go thenne,
Yet wol the fire as faire lie and brenne
As twenty thousand men might it behold;
His office naturel ay wol it hold,
Up peril of my lif, til that it die.

"Here may ye see wel, how that genterie
Is not annexed to possession,
Sith folk ne don bir operation
Alway, as doth the fire, lo, in his kind.

For God it wot, men moun ful often find
A lordes sone do shame and vilanie.
And he that wol han pris of his genterie,
For he was boren of a gentil hous,
And bad his elders noble and vertuous,
And n'ill himselven do no gentil dedes,
Ne folwe his gentil auncestrie, that ded is,
He n'is not gentil, be he duk or erl;
For vilains sinful dedes make a cherl.
For gentillesse n'is but the renomee
Of thin auncestres, for hir high bountee,
Which is a strange thing to thy persone:
Thy gentillesse cometh fro God alone.
Than cometh our veray gentillesse of grace,
It was no thing bequethed us with our place.
"Thinketh how noble, as saith Valerius,
Was thilke Tullius Hostilius,

That out of poverte rose to high noblesse.
Redeth Senek, and redeth eke Boece,
Ther shull ye seen expresse, that it no dred is,
That he is gentil that doth gentil dedis.
And therfore, leve husbond, I thus conclude,
Al be it that my auncestres weren rude,
Yet may the highe God, and so hope I,
Granten me grace to liven vertuously:
Than am I gentil, whan that I beginne
To liven vertuously, and weiven sinne.

"And ther as ye of poverte me repreve,
The bighe God, on whom that we beleve,
In wilful poverte chese to lede his lif:
And certes, every man, maiden, or wif
May understond that Jesus Heven king
Ne wold not chese a vicious living.

"Glad poverte is an honest thing certain.
This wol Senek and other clerkes sain.
Who so that halt him paid of his poverte,
I hold him rich, al had he not a sherte.
He that coveiteth is a poure wight,
For he wold han that is not in his might.
But he that nought hath, ne coveiteth to have,
Is riche, although ye hold him but a knave.
Veray poverte is sinne proprely.

"Juvenal saith of poverte merily:
The poure man whan he goth by the way,
Beforn the theves he may sing and play.
Poverte is hateful good; and, as I gesse,
A ful gret bringer out of besinesse;
A gret amender eke of sapience
To him, that taketh it in patience,

Poverte is this, although it seme elenge, Possession that no wight wol challenge. Poverte ful often, whan a man is low, Maketh his God and eke himself to know: Poverte a spectakel is, as thinketh me, Thurgh which he may his very frendes see. And therfore, sire, sin that I you not greve, Of my poverte no more me repreve.

"Now, sire, of elde, that ye reproven me: And certes, sire, though non auctoritee Were in no book, ye gentiles of honour Sain, that men shuld an olde wight honour, And clepe him fader, for your gentillesse ; And auctours shal I finden, as I gesse.

"Now ther ye sain that I am foule and old, Than drede ye not to ben a cokewold. For filthe, and elde also, so mote I the, Ben grete wardeins upon chastitee. But natheles, sin I know you delit,

I shal fulfill your worldly appetit.

"Chese now" (quod she) "on of these thingos twey,

To han me foule and old til that I dey,
And be to you a trewe humble wif,
And never you displese in all my lif:
Or elles wol ye han me yonge and faire,
And take your aventure of the repaire,
That shal be to your hous because of me,
Or in som other place it may wel be?
Now chese yourselven whether that you liketh."
This knight aviseth him, and sore siketh,
But at the last he said in this manere;

"My lady and my love, and wif so dere,

I put me in your wise governance,
Cheseth yourself which may be most plesance
And most honour to you and me also,

I do no force the whether of the two:
For as you liketh, it sufficeth me."

"Than have I got the maisterie," quod she, "Sin I may chese and governe as me lest." "Ye certes, wif," quod he, "I hold it best." "Kisse me," quod she,

wrothe,

66 we be no lenger

For by my trouth I wol be to you bothe,
This is to sayn, ye bothe faire and good,
pray to God that I'mote sterven wood,
But I to you be al so good and trewe,
As ever was wif, sin that the world was newe
And but I be to-morwe as faire to seen,
As any lady, emperice, or quene,
That is betwix the est and eke the west,
Doth with my lif and deth right as you lest.
Cast up the curtein, loke how that it is."

And whan the knight saw veraily all this,
That she so faire was, and so yonge therto,
For joye he hent hire in his armes two:
His herte bathed in a bath of blisse,
A thousand time a-row he gan hire kisse;
And she obeyed him in every thing,
That mighte don him plesance or liking.
And thus they live unto hir lives ende
In parfit joye, and Jesu Crist us sende
Husbondes meke and yonge, and fressh a-bed,
And grace to overlive hem that we wed.

And eke I pray Jesus to short hir lives, That wol not be governed by hir wives. And old and angry nigards of dispence, God send hem sone a veray pestilence.

THE FRERES PROLOGUE.

THIS Worthy limitour, this noble Frere, He made alway a manere louring chere Upon the Sompnour, but for honestee No vilains word as yet to him spake he: But at the last he said unto the wif;

Ye have here touched, all so mote I the,
In scole matere a ful gret difficultee.
Ye han said mochel thing right wel, I say:
But, dame, here as we riden by the way,
Us nedeth not to speken but of game,
And let auctoritees in Goddes name
To preching, and to scole eke of clergie.
"But if it like unto this compagnie,
I wol you of a sompnour tell a game;
Parde ye may wel knowen by the name,
That of sompnour may no good be said;
I pray that non of you be evil apaid;
A sompnour is a renner up and doun
With mandements for fornicatioun,
And is ybete at every tounes ende."

Now telleth forth, and let the Sompnour gale,
Ne spareth not, min owen maister dere."

This false theef, this sompnour, quod the Frere, Had alway baudes redy to his hond,

As any hauke to lure in Englelond,
That told him all the secree that they knewe,
For hir acquaintance was not come of newe;
They weren his approvers prively.

He tooke himself a gret profit therby :
His maister knew not alway what he wan.
Withouten mandement, a lewed man
He coude sompne, up peine of Cristes curse,
And they were inly glad to fille his purse,
And maken him gret festes at the nale.
And right as Judas hadde purses smale

And curteis, as a man of your estat,

In compagnie we wiln have no debat:
Telleth your tale, and let the sompnour be."
"Nay," quod the Sompnour, "let him say by me
What so him list; whan it cometh to my lot,

By God I sha! him quiten every grot.

I shal him tellen which a gret honour

It is to be a flatering limitour,

And eke of many another maner crime,
Which nedeth not rehersen at this time,
And his office I shal him tell ywis."
Our Hoste answered; "Pees, no more of this."
And afterward he said unto the Frere,
Tell forth your tale, min owen maister dere.

THE FRERES TALE.

WHILOM ther was dwelling in my contrec
An archedeken, a man of high degree,
That boldely did execution

In punishing of fornication,

Of witchecraft, and eke of bauderie,

Of defamation, and avouterie,

Of chirche-reves, and of testaments,

Of contracts, and of lack of sacraments,

Of usure, and of simonie also;

But certes lechoures did he gretest wo;
They shulden singen, if that they were hent;
And smale titheres weren foule yshent,
If any pers-ne wold upon hem plaine,
Ther might astert hem no pecunial peine.
For smale tithes, and smale offering,
He made the peple pitously to sing;
For er the bishop hent hem with his crook
They weren in the archedekens book;
Than had he thurgh his jurisdiction
Power to don on hem correction.

He had a sompnour redy to his hond,
A slier boy was non in Englelond;
For subtilly he had his espiaille,

That taught him wel wher it might ought availle.
He coude spare of lechours on or two,
To techen him to foure and twenty mo.

His master hadde but half his duetee.
He was (if I shal yeven him his laud)
A theef, and eke a sompnour, and a baud.
He had eke wenches at his retenue,
That whether that sire Robert or sire Hue,
Or Jakke, or Rauf, or who so that it were
That lay by hem, they told it in his ere.
Thus was the wenche and he of on assent.
And he wold fecche a feined mandement,
And sompne hem to the chapitre bothe two,
And pill the man, and let the wenche go.
Than wold he
say; "Frend, I shal for thy sake
Do strike thee out of oure lettres blake;
Thee thar no more as in this cas travaille;
I am thy frend ther I may thee availle."
Certain he knew of briboures many mo,
Than possible is to tell in yeres two:
For in this world n'is dogge for the bowe,
That can an hurt dere from an hole yknowe,
Bet than this sompnour knew a slie lechour,
Or an avoutrer, or a paramour:
And for that was the fruit of all his rent,
Therfore on it he set all his entent.

And so befell, that ones on a day
This sompnour, waiting ever on his pray,
Rode forth to sompne a widewe an olde ribibe,
Feining a cause, for he wold han a bribe.
And happed that he saw beforn him ride
A gay yeman under a forest side:

A bow he bare, and arwes bright and kene,
He had upon a courtepy of grene,
An hat upon his hed with frenges blake. [atake."
"Sire," quod this sompnour,
"haile and wel
"Welcome," quod he, "and every good felaw;
Whider ridest thou under this grene shaw?"
(Saide this yeman) "wolt thou fer to-day?"
This sompnour him answerd, and saide, " Nay.
Here fast by" (quod he) "is min entent
To riden, for to reisen up a rent,,
That longeth to my lordes duetee."

"A, art thou than a baillif?" "Ye," quod be. (He dorste not for veray filth and shame Say that he was a sompnour, for the name.) "De par dieux," quod this yeman, "leve brother, Thou art a baillif, and I am another.

1 am unknowen, as in this contree.
Of thin acquaintance I wol prayen thee,
And eke of brotherhed, if that thee list.
I have gold and silver lying in my chist;
If that thee hap to come into our shire,

by my

Al shal be thin, right as thou wolt desire." [faith."
"Grand mercy," quod this sompnour,
Everich in others hond his trouthe laith,
For to be sworne brethren til they dey.
In daliaunce they riden forth and pley.

[gon

As ful of venime ben thise wariangles,
And ever enquering upon every thing,

"Brother," quod he, "wher is now your dwelling, Another day if that I shuld you seche?"

This yeman him answerd in softe speche; Brother," quod he, "fer in the north contree, Wheras I hope somtime I shal thee see. Or we depart I shal thee so wel wisse, That of min hous ne shalt thou never misse." "Now brother," quod this sompnour, “ I you pray, Teche me, while that we riden by the way, (Sith that ye ben a baillif as am I) Som subtiltee, and tell me faithfully In min office how I may moste winne. And spareth not for conscience or for sinne, But, as my brother, tell me how do ye."

"Now by my trouthe, brother min," said he, "As I shal tellen thee a faithful tale, My wages ben ful streit and eke ful smale; My lord is hard to me and dangerous, And min office is ful laborious; And therfore by extortion I leve,

Forsoth I take all that men wol me yeve.
Algates by sleighte or by violence
Fro yere to yere I win all my dispence;
I can no better tellen faithfully."

so fare I;

"Now certes," (quod this sompnour)
I spare not to taken, God it wote,
But if it be to hevy or to hote.
What I may gete in conseil prively,
No maner conscience of that have I.
N'ere min extortion, I might not liven,
Ne of swiche japes wol I not be shriven..
Stomak ne conscience know I non;
I shrew thise shrifte-faders everich on.
Wel be we met by God and by Seint Jame.
But leve brother, tell me than thy name,'
Quod this sompnour, Right in this mene while
This yeman gan a litel for to smile.

"Brother," quod he, "wolt thou that I thee telle?
I am a fend, my dwelling is in Helle,
And here I ride about my pourchasing,
To wote wher men wol give me any thing.
My pourchas is th' effect of all my rente.
Loke how thou ridest for the same entente
To winnen good, thou rekkest never how,
Right so fare 1, for riden wol I now
Unto the worldes ende for a praye."
[ye?
"A," quod this sompnour," benedicite, what say
I wend ye were a yeman trewely.
Ye have a mannes shape as wel as [.
Have ye than a figure determinat
In Helle, ther ye ben in your estat?"

"Nay certainly," quod he, "ther have we non, But whan us liketh we can take us on, Or elles make you wene that we ben shape Somtime like a man, or like an ape; Or like an angel can I ride or go; It is no wonder thing though it be so,

I wol entend to winning, if I may,
And not entend our thinges to declare :
For, brother min, thy wit is al to bare
To understand, although I told hem thee.
But for thou axest, why labouren we:
For somtime we be Goddes instruments,
And menes to don his commandements,
Whan that him list, upon his creatures,
In divers actes and in divers figures,
Withouten him we have no might certain,
If that him list to stonden theragain.
And somtime at our praiere han we leve,
Only the body, and not the soule to greve;
Witnesse on Job, whom that we diden wo.
And somtime han we might on bothe two,
This is to sain, on soule and body eke.
And somtime be we suffered for to seke
Upon a man, and don his soule unreste
And not his body, and all is for the beste.
Whan he withstandeth our temptation,
It is a cause of his salvation,

Al be it that it was not our entente

He shuld be sauf, but that we wold him hente.
And somtime be we servant unto man,
As to the archebishop Seint Dunstan,
And to the apostle servant eke was L."

"Yet tell me," quod this sompnour, "faithfully,
Make ye you newe bodies thus alway
Of elements?" The fend answered, "Nay:
Somtime we feine, and somtime we arise
With dede bodies, in ful sondry wise,
And speke as renably, and faire. and wel,
As to the phitonesse did Samuel:
And yet wol som men say it was not he.
I do no force of your divinitee.
But o thing warne I thee, I wol not jape,
Thou wolt algates wete how we be shape:
Thou shalt hereafterward, my brother dere,
Come, wher thee nedeth not of me to lere,
For thou shalt by thin owen experience
Conne in a chaiere rede of this sentence,
Bet than Virgile, while he was on live,
Or Dant also. Now let us riden blive,
Fer I wol holden compagnie with thee,
Til it be so that thou forsake me."
"Nay," quod this sompnour,
I am a yeman knowen is ful wide;
My trouthe wol I hold, as in this case,
For though thou were the devil Sathanas,
My trouthe wol I hold to thee, my brother,
As I have sworne, and eche of us to other,
For to be trewe brethren in this cas,
And bothe we gon abouten our pourchas.
Take thou thy part, what that men wol thee yeve,
And I shal min, thus may we bothe leve.
And if that any of us have more than other,
Let him be trewe, and part it with his brother."
"I graunte," quod the devil," by my fay."
And with that word they riden forth hir way,

[betide.

"that shal never