Section 5:
THE MAN OF LAW'S TALE.
THE MAN OF LAW'S TALE.
| THE PROLOGUE. |
| Our Hoste saw well that the brighte sun |
| Th' arc of his artificial day had run |
| The fourthe part, and half an houre more; |
| And, though he were not deep expert in lore, |
| He wist it was the eight-and-twenty day |
| Of April, that is messenger to May; |
| And saw well that the shadow of every tree |
| Was in its length of the same quantity |
| That was the body erect that caused it; |
| And therefore by the shadow he took his wit*, *knowledge |
| That Phoebus, which that shone so clear and bright, |
| Degrees was five-and-forty clomb on height; |
| And for that day, as in that latitude, |
| It was ten of the clock, he gan conclude; |
| And suddenly he plight* his horse about. *pulled <1> |
| "Lordings," quoth he, "I warn you all this rout*, *company |
| The fourthe partie of this day is gone. |
| Now for the love of God and of Saint John |
| Lose no time, as farforth as ye may. |
| Lordings, the time wasteth night and day, |
| And steals from us, what privily sleeping, |
| And what through negligence in our waking, |
| As doth the stream, that turneth never again, |
| Descending from the mountain to the plain. |
| Well might Senec, and many a philosopher, |
| Bewaile time more than gold in coffer. |
| For loss of chattels may recover'd be, |
| But loss of time shendeth* us, quoth he. *destroys |
| It will not come again, withoute dread,* |
| No more than will Malkin's maidenhead,<2> |
| When she hath lost it in her wantonness. |
| Let us not moulde thus in idleness. |
| "Sir Man of Law," quoth he, "so have ye bliss, |
| Tell us a tale anon, as forword* is. *the bargain |
| Ye be submitted through your free assent |
| To stand in this case at my judgement. |
| Acquit you now, and *holde your behest*; *keep your promise* |
| Then have ye done your devoir* at the least." *duty |
| "Hoste," quoth he, "de par dieux jeo asente; <3> |
| To breake forword is not mine intent. |
| Behest is debt, and I would hold it fain, |
| All my behest; I can no better sayn. |
| For such law as a man gives another wight, |
| He should himselfe usen it by right. |
| Thus will our text: but natheless certain |
| I can right now no thrifty* tale sayn, *worthy |
| But Chaucer (though he *can but lewedly* *knows but imperfectly* |
| On metres and on rhyming craftily) |
| Hath said them, in such English as he can, |
| Of olde time, as knoweth many a man. |
| And if he have not said them, leve* brother, *dear |
| In one book, he hath said them in another |
| For he hath told of lovers up and down, |
| More than Ovide made of mentioun |
| In his Epistolae, that be full old. |
| Why should I telle them, since they he told? |
| In youth he made of Ceyx and Alcyon,<4> |
| And since then he hath spoke of every one |
| These noble wives, and these lovers eke. |
| Whoso that will his large volume seek |
| Called the Saintes' Legend of Cupid:<5> |
| There may he see the large woundes wide |
| Of Lucrece, and of Babylon Thisbe; |
| The sword of Dido for the false Enee; |
| The tree of Phillis for her Demophon; |
| The plaint of Diane, and of Hermion, |
| Of Ariadne, and Hypsipile; |
| The barren isle standing in the sea; |
| The drown'd Leander for his fair Hero; |
| The teares of Helene, and eke the woe |
| Of Briseis, and Laodamia; |
| The cruelty of thee, Queen Medea, |
| Thy little children hanging by the halse*, *neck |
| For thy Jason, that was of love so false. |
| Hypermnestra, Penelop', Alcest', |
| Your wifehood he commendeth with the best. |
| But certainly no worde writeth he |
| Of *thilke wick'* example of Canace, *that wicked* |
| That loved her own brother sinfully; |
| (Of all such cursed stories I say, Fy), |
| Or else of Tyrius Apollonius, |
| How that the cursed king Antiochus |
| Bereft his daughter of her maidenhead; |
| That is so horrible a tale to read, |
| When he her threw upon the pavement. |
| And therefore he, *of full avisement*, *deliberately, advisedly* |
| Would never write in none of his sermons |
| Of such unkind* abominations; *unnatural |
| Nor I will none rehearse, if that I may. |
| But of my tale how shall I do this day? |
| Me were loth to be liken'd doubteless |
| To Muses, that men call Pierides<6> |
| (Metamorphoseos <7> wot what I mean), |
| But natheless I recke not a bean, |
| Though I come after him with hawebake*; *lout <8> |
| I speak in prose, and let him rhymes make." |
| And with that word, he with a sober cheer |
| Began his tale, and said as ye shall hear. |
| Notes to the Prologue to The Man of Law's Tale |
| 1. Plight: pulled; the word is an obsolete past tense from |
| "pluck." |
| 2. No more than will Malkin's maidenhead: a proverbial saying; |
| which, however, had obtained fresh point from the Reeve's |
| Tale, to which the host doubtless refers. |
| 3. De par dieux jeo asente: "by God, I agree". It is |
| characteristic that the somewhat pompous Sergeant of Law |
| should couch his assent in the semi-barbarous French, then |
| familiar in law procedure. |
| 4. Ceyx and Alcyon: Chaucer treats of these in the introduction |
| to the poem called "The Book of the Duchess." It relates to the |
| death of Blanche, wife of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, the |
| poet's patron, and afterwards his connexion by marriage. |
| 5. The Saintes Legend of Cupid: Now called "The Legend of |
| Good Women". The names of eight ladies mentioned here are |
| not in the "Legend" as it has come down to us; while those of |
| two ladies in the "legend"—Cleopatra and Philomela—are her |
| omitted. |
| 6. Not the Muses, who had their surname from the place near |
| Mount Olympus where the Thracians first worshipped them; but |
| the nine daughters of Pierus, king of Macedonia, whom he |
| called the nine Muses, and who, being conquered in a contest |
| with the genuine sisterhood, were changed into birds. |
| 7. Metamorphoseos: Ovid's. |
| 8. Hawebake: hawbuck, country lout; the common proverbial |
| phrase, "to put a rogue above a gentleman," may throw light on |
| the reading here, which is difficult. |
| THE TALE. <1> |
| O scatheful harm, condition of poverty, |
| With thirst, with cold, with hunger so confounded; |
| To aske help thee shameth in thine hearte; |
| If thou none ask, so sore art thou y-wounded, |
| That very need unwrappeth all thy wound hid. |
| Maugre thine head thou must for indigence |
| Or steal, or beg, or borrow thy dispence*. *expense |
| Thou blamest Christ, and sayst full bitterly, |
| He misdeparteth* riches temporal; *allots amiss |
| Thy neighebour thou witest* sinfully, *blamest |
| And sayst, thou hast too little, and he hath all: |
| "Parfay (sayst thou) sometime he reckon shall, |
| When that his tail shall *brennen in the glede*, *burn in the fire* |
| For he not help'd the needful in their need." |
| Hearken what is the sentence of the wise: |
| Better to die than to have indigence. |
| *Thy selve* neighebour will thee despise, *that same* |
| If thou be poor, farewell thy reverence. |
| Yet of the wise man take this sentence, |
| Alle the days of poore men be wick'*, *wicked, evil |
| Beware therefore ere thou come to that prick*. *point |
| If thou be poor, thy brother hateth thee, |
| And all thy friendes flee from thee, alas! |
| O riche merchants, full of wealth be ye, |
| O noble, prudent folk, as in this case, |
| Your bagges be not fill'd with *ambes ace,* *two aces* |
| But with *six-cinque*, that runneth for your chance;<2> *six-five* |
| At Christenmass well merry may ye dance. |
| Ye seeke land and sea for your winnings, |
| As wise folk ye knowen all th' estate |
| Of regnes*; ye be fathers of tidings, *kingdoms |
| And tales, both of peace and of debate*: *contention, war |
| I were right now of tales desolate*, *barren, empty. |
| But that a merchant, gone in many a year, |
| Me taught a tale, which ye shall after hear. |
| In Syria whilom dwelt a company |
| Of chapmen rich, and thereto sad* and true, *grave, steadfast |
| Clothes of gold, and satins rich of hue. |
| That widewhere* sent their spicery, *to distant parts |
| Their chaffare* was so thriftly** and so new, *wares **advantageous |
| That every wight had dainty* to chaffare** *pleasure **deal |
| With them, and eke to selle them their ware. |
| Now fell it, that the masters of that sort |
| Have *shapen them* to Rome for to wend, *determined, prepared* |
| Were it for chapmanhood* or for disport, *trading |
| None other message would they thither send, |
| But come themselves to Rome, this is the end: |
| And in such place as thought them a vantage |
| For their intent, they took their herbergage.* *lodging |
| Sojourned have these merchants in that town |
| A certain time as fell to their pleasance: |
| And so befell, that th' excellent renown |
| Of th' emperore's daughter, Dame Constance, |
| Reported was, with every circumstance, |
| Unto these Syrian merchants in such wise, |
| From day to day, as I shall you devise* *relate |
| This was the common voice of every man |
| "Our emperor of Rome, God him see*, *look on with favour |
| A daughter hath, that since the the world began, |
| To reckon as well her goodness and beauty, |
| Was never such another as is she: |
| I pray to God in honour her sustene*, *sustain |
| And would she were of all Europe the queen. |
| "In her is highe beauty without pride, |
| And youth withoute greenhood* or folly: *childishness, immaturity |
| To all her workes virtue is her guide; |
| Humbless hath slain in her all tyranny: |
| She is the mirror of all courtesy, |
| Her heart a very chamber of holiness, |
| Her hand minister of freedom for almess*." *almsgiving |
| And all this voice was sooth, as God is true; |
| But now to purpose* let us turn again. *our tale <3> |
| These merchants have done freight their shippes new, |
| And when they have this blissful maiden seen, |
| Home to Syria then they went full fain, |
| And did their needes*, as they have done yore,* *business **formerly |
| And liv'd in weal*; I can you say no more. *prosperity |
| Now fell it, that these merchants stood in grace* *favour |
| Of him that was the Soudan* of Syrie: *Sultan |
| For when they came from any strange place |
| He would of his benigne courtesy |
| Make them good cheer, and busily espy* *inquire |
| Tidings of sundry regnes*, for to lear** *realms **learn |
| The wonders that they mighte see or hear. |
| Amonges other thinges, specially |
| These merchants have him told of Dame Constance |
| So great nobless, in earnest so royally, |
| That this Soudan hath caught so great pleasance* *pleasure |
| To have her figure in his remembrance, |
| That all his lust*, and all his busy cure**, *pleasure **care |
| Was for to love her while his life may dure. |
| Paraventure in thilke* large book, *that |
| Which that men call the heaven, y-written was |
| With starres, when that he his birthe took, |
| That he for love should have his death, alas! |
| For in the starres, clearer than is glass, |
| Is written, God wot, whoso could it read, |
| The death of every man withoute dread.* *doubt |
| In starres many a winter therebeforn |
| Was writ the death of Hector, Achilles, |
| Of Pompey, Julius, ere they were born; |
| The strife of Thebes; and of Hercules, |
| Of Samson, Turnus, and of Socrates |
| The death; but mennes wittes be so dull, |
| That no wight can well read it at the full. |
| This Soudan for his privy council sent, |
| And, *shortly of this matter for to pace*, *to pass briefly by* |
| He hath to them declared his intent, |
| And told them certain, but* he might have grace *unless |
| To have Constance, within a little space, |
| He was but dead; and charged them in hie* *haste |
| To shape* for his life some remedy. *contrive |
| Diverse men diverse thinges said; |
| And arguments they casten up and down; |
| Many a subtle reason forth they laid; |
| They speak of magic, and abusion*; *deception |
| But finally, as in conclusion, |
| They cannot see in that none avantage, |
| Nor in no other way, save marriage. |
| Then saw they therein such difficulty |
| By way of reason, for to speak all plain, |
| Because that there was such diversity |
| Between their bothe lawes, that they sayn, |
| They trowe* that no Christian prince would fain** *believe **willingly |
| Wedden his child under our lawe sweet, |
| That us was given by Mahound* our prophete. *Mahomet |
| And he answered: "Rather than I lose |
| Constance, I will be christen'd doubteless |
| I must be hers, I may none other choose, |
| I pray you hold your arguments in peace,<4> |
| Save my life, and be not reckeless |
| To gette her that hath my life in cure,* *keeping |
| For in this woe I may not long endure." |
| What needeth greater dilatation? |
| I say, by treaty and ambassadry, |
| And by the Pope's mediation, |
| And all the Church, and all the chivalry, |
| That in destruction of Mah'metry,* *Mahometanism |
| And in increase of Christe's lawe dear, |
| They be accorded* so as ye may hear; *agreed |
| How that the Soudan, and his baronage, |
| And all his lieges, shall y-christen'd be, |
| And he shall have Constance in marriage, |
| And certain gold, I n'ot* what quantity, *know not |
| And hereto find they suffisant surety. |
| The same accord is sworn on either side; |
| Now, fair Constance, Almighty God thee guide! |
| Now woulde some men waiten, as I guess, |
| That I should tellen all the purveyance*, *provision |
| The which the emperor of his noblesse |
| Hath shapen* for his daughter, Dame Constance. *prepared |
| Well may men know that so great ordinance |
| May no man tellen in a little clause, |
| As was arrayed for so high a cause. |
| Bishops be shapen with her for to wend, |
| Lordes, ladies, and knightes of renown, |
| And other folk enough, this is the end. |
| And notified is throughout all the town, |
| That every wight with great devotioun |
| Should pray to Christ, that he this marriage |
| Receive *in gree*, and speede this voyage. *with good will, favour* |
| The day is comen of her departing,— |
| I say the woful fatal day is come, |
| That there may be no longer tarrying, |
| But forward they them dressen* all and some. *prepare to set out* |
| Constance, that was with sorrow all o'ercome, |
| Full pale arose, and dressed her to wend, |
| For well she saw there was no other end. |
| Alas! what wonder is it though she wept, |
| That shall be sent to a strange nation |
| From friendes, that so tenderly her kept, |
| And to be bound under subjection |
| of one, she knew not his condition? |
| Husbands be all good, and have been *of yore*, *of old* |
| That knowe wives; I dare say no more. |
| "Father," she said, "thy wretched child Constance, |
| Thy younge daughter, foster'd up so soft, |
| And you, my mother, my sov'reign pleasance |
| Over all thing, out-taken* Christ *on loft*, *except *on high* |
| Constance your child her recommendeth oft |
| Unto your grace; for I shall to Syrie, |
| Nor shall I ever see you more with eye. |
| "Alas! unto the barbarous nation |
| I must anon, since that it is your will: |
| But Christ, that starf* for our redemption, *died |
| So give me grace his hestes* to fulfil. *commands |
| I, wretched woman, *no force though I spill!* *no matter though |
| Women are born to thraldom and penance, I perish* |
| And to be under mannes governance." |
| I trow at Troy when Pyrrhus brake the wall, |
| Or Ilion burnt, or Thebes the city, |
| Nor at Rome for the harm through Hannibal, |
| That Romans hath y-vanquish'd times three, |
| Was heard such tender weeping for pity, |
| As in the chamber was for her parting; |
| But forth she must, whether she weep or sing. |
| O firste moving cruel Firmament,<5> |
| With thy diurnal sway that crowdest* aye, *pushest together, drivest |
| And hurtlest all from East till Occident |
| That naturally would hold another way; |
| Thy crowding set the heav'n in such array |
| At the beginning of this fierce voyage, |
| That cruel Mars hath slain this marriage. |
| Unfortunate ascendant tortuous, |
| Of which the lord is helpless fall'n, alas! |
| Out of his angle into the darkest house; |
| O Mars, O Atyzar,<6> as in this case; |
| O feeble Moon, unhappy is thy pace.* *progress |
| Thou knittest thee where thou art not receiv'd, |
| Where thou wert well, from thennes art thou weiv'd. <7> |
| Imprudent emperor of Rome, alas! |
| Was there no philosopher in all thy town? |
| Is no time bet* than other in such case? *better |
| Of voyage is there none election, |
| Namely* to folk of high condition, *especially |
| Not *when a root is of a birth y-know?* *when the nativity is known* |
| Alas! we be too lewed*, or too slow. *ignorant |
| To ship was brought this woeful faire maid |
| Solemnely, with every circumstance: |
| "Now Jesus Christ be with you all," she said. |
| There is no more,but "Farewell, fair Constance." |
| She *pained her* to make good countenance. *made an effort* |
| And forth I let her sail in this manner, |
| And turn I will again to my matter. |
| The mother of the Soudan, well of vices, |
| Espied hath her sone's plain intent, |
| How he will leave his olde sacrifices: |
| And right anon she for her council sent, |
| And they be come, to knowe what she meant, |
| And when assembled was this folk *in fere*, *together* |
| She sat her down, and said as ye shall hear. |
| "Lordes," she said, "ye knowen every one, |
| How that my son in point is for to lete* *forsake |
| The holy lawes of our Alkaron*, *Koran |
| Given by God's messenger Mahomete: |
| But one avow to greate God I hete*, *promise |
| Life shall rather out of my body start, |
| Than Mahomet's law go out of mine heart. |
| "What should us tiden* of this newe law, *betide, befall |
| But thraldom to our bodies, and penance, |
| And afterward in hell to be y-draw, |
| For we *renied Mahound our creance?* *denied Mahomet our belief* |
| But, lordes, will ye maken assurance, |
| As I shall say, assenting to my lore*? *advice |
| And I shall make us safe for evermore." |
| They sworen and assented every man |
| To live with her and die, and by her stand: |
| And every one, in the best wise he can, |
| To strengthen her shall all his friendes fand.* *endeavour<8> |
| And she hath this emprise taken in hand, |
| Which ye shall heare that I shall devise*; *relate |
| And to them all she spake right in this wise. |
| "We shall first feign us *Christendom to take*; *embrace Christianity* |
| Cold water shall not grieve us but a lite*: *little |
| And I shall such a feast and revel make, |
| That, as I trow, I shall the Soudan quite.* *requite, match |
| For though his wife be christen'd ne'er so white, |
| She shall have need to wash away the red, |
| Though she a fount of water with her led." |
| O Soudaness*, root of iniquity, *Sultaness |
| Virago thou, Semiramis the second! |
| O serpent under femininity, |
| Like to the serpent deep in hell y-bound! |
| O feigned woman, all that may confound |
| Virtue and innocence, through thy malice, |
| Is bred in thee, as nest of every vice! |
| O Satan envious! since thilke day |
| That thou wert chased from our heritage, |
| Well knowest thou to woman th' olde way. |
| Thou madest Eve to bring us in servage*: *bondage |
| Thou wilt fordo* this Christian marriage: *ruin |
| Thine instrument so (well-away the while!) |
| Mak'st thou of women when thou wilt beguile. |
| This Soudaness, whom I thus blame and warray*, *oppose, censure |
| Let privily her council go their way: |
| Why should I in this tale longer tarry? |
| She rode unto the Soudan on a day, |
| And said him, that she would *reny her lay,* *renounce her creed* |
| And Christendom of priestes' handes fong*, *take<9> |
| Repenting her she heathen was so long; |
| Beseeching him to do her that honour, |
| That she might have the Christian folk to feast: |
| "To please them I will do my labour." |
| The Soudan said, "I will do at your hest,*" *desire |
| And kneeling, thanked her for that request; |
| So glad he was, he wist* not what to say. *knew |
| She kiss'd her son, and home she went her way. |
| Arrived be these Christian folk to land |
| In Syria, with a great solemne rout, |
| And hastily this Soudan sent his sond,* *message |
| First to his mother, and all the realm about, |
| And said, his wife was comen out of doubt, |
| And pray'd them for to ride again* the queen, *to meet |
| The honour of his regne* to sustene. *realm |
| Great was the press, and rich was the array |
| Of Syrians and Romans met *in fere*. *in company* |
| The mother of the Soudan rich and gay |
| Received her with all so glad a cheer* *face |
| As any mother might her daughter dear |
| And to the nexte city there beside |
| A softe pace solemnely they ride. |
| Nought, trow I, the triumph of Julius |
| Of which that Lucan maketh such a boast, |
| Was royaller, or more curious, |
| Than was th' assembly of this blissful host |
| But O this scorpion, this wicked ghost,* *spirit |
| The Soudaness, for all her flattering |
| Cast* under this full mortally to sting. *contrived |
| The Soudan came himself soon after this, |
| So royally, that wonder is to tell, |
| And welcomed her with all joy and bliss. |
| And thus in mirth and joy I let them dwell. |
| The fruit of his matter is that I tell; |
| When the time came, men thought it for the best |
| That revel stint,* and men go to their rest. *cease |
| The time is come that this old Soudaness |
| Ordained hath the feast of which I told, |
| And to the feast the Christian folk them dress |
| In general, yea, bothe young and old. |
| There may men feast and royalty behold, |
| And dainties more than I can you devise; |
| But all too dear they bought it ere they rise. |
| O sudden woe, that ev'r art successour |
| To worldly bliss! sprent* is with bitterness *sprinkled |
| Th' end of our joy, of our worldly labour; |
| Woe *occupies the fine* of our gladness. *seizes the end* |
| Hearken this counsel, for thy sickerness*: *security |
| Upon thy glade days have in thy mind |
| The unware* woe of harm, that comes behind. *unforeseen |
| For, shortly for to tell it at a word, |
| The Soudan and the Christians every one |
| Were all *to-hewn and sticked* at the board, *cut to pieces* |
| But it were only Dame Constance alone. |
| This olde Soudaness, this cursed crone, |
| Had with her friendes done this cursed deed, |
| For she herself would all the country lead. |
| Nor there was Syrian that was converted, |
| That of the counsel of the Soudan wot*, *knew |
| That was not all to-hewn, ere he asterted*: *escaped |
| And Constance have they ta'en anon foot-hot*, *immediately |
| And in a ship all steereless,* God wot, *without rudder |
| They have her set, and bid her learn to sail |
| Out of Syria *again-ward to Itale.* *back to Italy* |
| A certain treasure that she thither lad,* *took |
| And, sooth to say, of victual great plenty, |
| They have her giv'n, and clothes eke she had |
| And forth she sailed in the salte sea: |
| O my Constance, full of benignity, |
| O emperores younge daughter dear, |
| He that is lord of fortune be thy steer*! *rudder, guide |
| She bless'd herself, and with full piteous voice |
| Unto the cross of Christ thus saide she; |
| "O dear, O wealful* altar, holy cross, *blessed, beneficent |
| Red of the Lambes blood, full of pity, |
| That wash'd the world from old iniquity, |
| Me from the fiend and from his clawes keep, |
| That day that I shall drenchen* in the deepe. *drown |
| "Victorious tree, protection of the true, |
| That only worthy were for to bear |
| The King of Heaven, with his woundes new, |
| The white Lamb, that hurt was with a spear; |
| Flemer* of fiendes out of him and her *banisher, driver out |
| On which thy limbes faithfully extend,<10> |
| Me keep, and give me might my life to mend." |
| Yeares and days floated this creature |
| Throughout the sea of Greece, unto the strait |
| Of Maroc*, as it was her a venture: *Morocco; Gibraltar |
| On many a sorry meal now may she bait, |
| After her death full often may she wait*, *expect |
| Ere that the wilde waves will her drive |
| Unto the place *there as* she shall arrive. *where |
| Men mighten aske, why she was not slain? |
| Eke at the feast who might her body save? |
| And I answer to that demand again, |
| Who saved Daniel in the horrible cave, |
| Where every wight, save he, master or knave*, *servant |
| Was with the lion frett*, ere he astart?** *devoured ** escaped |
| No wight but God, that he bare in his heart. |
| God list* to shew his wonderful miracle *it pleased |
| In her, that we should see his mighty workes: |
| Christ, which that is to every harm triacle*, *remedy, salve |
| By certain meanes oft, as knowe clerkes*, *scholars |
| Doth thing for certain ende, that full derk is |
| To manne's wit, that for our, ignorance |
| Ne cannot know his prudent purveyance*. *foresight |
| Now since she was not at the feast y-slaw,* *slain |
| Who kepte her from drowning in the sea? |
| Who kepte Jonas in the fish's maw, |
| Till he was spouted up at Nineveh? |
| Well may men know, it was no wight but he |
| That kept the Hebrew people from drowning, |
| With drye feet throughout the sea passing. |
| Who bade the foure spirits of tempest,<11> |
| That power have t' annoye land and sea, |
| Both north and south, and also west and east, |
| Annoye neither sea, nor land, nor tree? |
| Soothly the commander of that was he |
| That from the tempest aye this woman kept, |
| As well when she awoke as when she slept. |
| Where might this woman meat and drinke have? |
| Three year and more how lasted her vitaille*? *victuals |
| Who fed the Egyptian Mary in the cave |
| Or in desert? no wight but Christ *sans faille.* *without fail* |
| Five thousand folk it was as great marvaille |
| With loaves five and fishes two to feed |
| God sent his foison* at her greate need. *abundance |
| She drived forth into our ocean |
| Throughout our wilde sea, till at the last |
| Under an hold*, that nempnen** I not can, *castle **name |
| Far in Northumberland, the wave her cast |
| And in the sand her ship sticked so fast |
| That thennes would it not in all a tide: <12> |
| The will of Christ was that she should abide. |
| The Constable of the castle down did fare* *go |
| To see this wreck, and all the ship he sought*, *searched |
| And found this weary woman full of care; |
| He found also the treasure that she brought: |
| In her language mercy she besought, |
| The life out of her body for to twin*, *divide |
| Her to deliver of woe that she was in. |
| A manner Latin corrupt <13> was her speech, |
| But algate* thereby was she understond. *nevertheless |
| The Constable, when him list no longer seech*, *search |
| This woeful woman brought he to the lond. |
| She kneeled down, and thanked *Godde's sond*; *what God had sent* |
| But what she was she would to no man say |
| For foul nor fair, although that she should dey.* *die |
| She said, she was so mazed in the sea, |
| That she forgot her minde, by her truth. |
| The Constable had of her so great pity |
| And eke his wife, that they wept for ruth:* *pity |
| She was so diligent withoute slouth |
| To serve and please every one in that place, |
| That all her lov'd, that looked in her face. |
| The Constable and Dame Hermegild his wife |
| Were Pagans, and that country every where; |
| But Hermegild lov'd Constance as her life; |
| And Constance had so long sojourned there |
| In orisons, with many a bitter tear, |
| Till Jesus had converted through His grace |
| Dame Hermegild, Constabless of that place. |
| In all that land no Christians durste rout;* *assemble |
| All Christian folk had fled from that country |
| Through Pagans, that conquered all about |
| The plages* of the North by land and sea. *regions, coasts |
| To Wales had fled the *Christianity *the Old Britons who |
| Of olde Britons,* dwelling in this isle; were Christians* |
| There was their refuge for the meanewhile. |
| But yet n'ere* Christian Britons so exiled, *there were |
| That there n'ere* some which in their privity not |
| Honoured Christ, and heathen folk beguiled; |
| And nigh the castle such there dwelled three: |
| And one of them was blind, and might not see, |
| But* it were with thilk* eyen of his mind, *except **those |
| With which men maye see when they be blind. |
| Bright was the sun, as in a summer's day, |
| For which the Constable, and his wife also, |
| And Constance, have y-take the righte way |
| Toward the sea a furlong way or two, |
| To playen, and to roame to and fro; |
| And in their walk this blinde man they met, |
| Crooked and old, with eyen fast y-shet.* *shut |
| "In the name of Christ," cried this blind Briton, |
| "Dame Hermegild, give me my sight again!" |
| This lady *wax'd afrayed of that soun',* *was alarmed by that cry* |
| Lest that her husband, shortly for to sayn, |
| Would her for Jesus Christe's love have slain, |
| Till Constance made her hold, and bade her wirch* *work |
| The will of Christ, as daughter of holy Church |
| The Constable wax'd abashed* of that sight, *astonished |
| And saide; *"What amounteth all this fare?"* *what means all |
| Constance answered; "Sir, it is Christ's might, this ado?* |
| That helpeth folk out of the fiendes snare:" |
| And *so farforth* she gan our law declare, *with such effect* |
| That she the Constable, ere that it were eve, |
| Converted, and on Christ made him believe. |
| This Constable was not lord of the place |
| Of which I speak, there as he Constance fand,* *found |
| But kept it strongly many a winter space, |
| Under Alla, king of Northumberland, |
| That was full wise, and worthy of his hand |
| Against the Scotes, as men may well hear; |
| But turn I will again to my mattere. |
| Satan, that ever us waiteth to beguile, |
| Saw of Constance all her perfectioun, |
| And *cast anon how he might quite her while;* *considered how to have |
| And made a young knight, that dwelt in that town, revenge on her* |
| Love her so hot of foul affectioun, |
| That verily him thought that he should spill* *perish |
| But* he of her might ones have his will. *unless |
| He wooed her, but it availed nought; |
| She woulde do no sinne by no way: |
| And for despite, he compassed his thought |
| To make her a shameful death to dey;* *die |
| He waiteth when the Constable is away, |
| And privily upon a night he crept |
| In Hermegilda's chamber while she slept. |
| Weary, forwaked* in her orisons, *having been long awake |
| Sleepeth Constance, and Hermegild also. |
| This knight, through Satanas' temptation; |
| All softetly is to the bed y-go,* *gone |
| And cut the throat of Hermegild in two, |
| And laid the bloody knife by Dame Constance, |
| And went his way, there God give him mischance. |
| Soon after came the Constable home again, |
| And eke Alla that king was of that land, |
| And saw his wife dispiteously* slain, *cruelly |
| For which full oft he wept and wrung his hand; |
| And ill the bed the bloody knife he fand |
| By Dame Constance: Alas! what might she say? |
| For very woe her wit was all away. |
| To King Alla was told all this mischance |
| And eke the time, and where, and in what wise |
| That in a ship was founden this Constance, |
| As here before ye have me heard devise:* *describe |
| The kinges heart for pity *gan agrise,* *to be grieved, to tremble* |
| When he saw so benign a creature |
| Fall in disease* and in misaventure. *distress |
| For as the lamb toward his death is brought, |
| So stood this innocent before the king: |
| This false knight, that had this treason wrought, |
| *Bore her in hand* that she had done this thing: *accused her falsely* |
| But natheless there was great murmuring |
| Among the people, that say they cannot guess |
| That she had done so great a wickedness. |
| For they had seen her ever virtuous, |
| And loving Hermegild right as her life: |
| Of this bare witness each one in that house, |
| Save he that Hermegild slew with his knife: |
| This gentle king had *caught a great motife* *been greatly moved |
| Of this witness, and thought he would inquere by the evidence* |
| Deeper into this case, the truth to lear.* *learn |
| Alas! Constance, thou has no champion, |
| Nor fighte canst thou not, so well-away! |
| But he that starf for our redemption, *died |
| And bound Satan, and yet li'th where he lay, |
| So be thy stronge champion this day: |
| For, but Christ upon thee miracle kithe,* *show |
| Withoute guilt thou shalt be slain *as swithe.* *immediately* |
| She set her down on knees, and thus she said; |
| "Immortal God, that savedest Susanne |
| From false blame; and thou merciful maid, |
| Mary I mean, the daughter to Saint Anne, |
| Before whose child the angels sing Osanne,* *Hosanna |
| If I be guiltless of this felony, |
| My succour be, or elles shall I die." |
| Have ye not seen sometime a pale face |
| (Among a press) of him that hath been lad* *led |
| Toward his death, where he getteth no grace, |
| And such a colour in his face hath had, |
| Men mighte know him that was so bestad* *bested, situated |
| Amonges all the faces in that rout? |
| So stood Constance, and looked her about. |
| O queenes living in prosperity, |
| Duchesses, and ye ladies every one, |
| Have some ruth* on her adversity! *pity |
| An emperor's daughter, she stood alone; |
| She had no wight to whom to make her moan. |
| O blood royal, that standest in this drede,* *danger |
| Far be thy friendes in thy greate need! |
| This king Alla had such compassioun, |
| As gentle heart is full filled of pity, |
| That from his eyen ran the water down |
| "Now hastily do fetch a book," quoth he; |
| "And if this knight will sweare, how that she |
| This woman slew, yet will we us advise* *consider |
| Whom that we will that shall be our justice." |
| A Briton book, written with Evangiles,* *the Gospels |
| Was fetched, and on this book he swore anon |
| She guilty was; and, in the meanewhiles, |
| An hand him smote upon the necke bone, |
| That down he fell at once right as a stone: |
| And both his eyen burst out of his face |
| In sight of ev'rybody in that place. |
| A voice was heard, in general audience, |
| That said; "Thou hast deslander'd guilteless |
| The daughter of holy Church in high presence; |
| Thus hast thou done, and yet *hold I my peace?"* *shall I be silent?* |
| Of this marvel aghast was all the press, |
| As mazed folk they stood every one |
| For dread of wreake,* save Constance alone. *vengeance |
| Great was the dread and eke the repentance |
| Of them that hadde wrong suspicion |
| Upon this sely* innocent Constance; *simple, harmless |
| And for this miracle, in conclusion, |
| And by Constance's mediation, |
| The king, and many another in that place, |
| Converted was, thanked be Christe's grace! |
| This false knight was slain for his untruth |
| By judgement of Alla hastily; |
| And yet Constance had of his death great ruth;* *compassion |
| And after this Jesus of his mercy |
| Made Alla wedde full solemnely |
| This holy woman, that is so bright and sheen, |
| And thus hath Christ y-made Constance a queen. |
| But who was woeful, if I shall not lie, |
| Of this wedding but Donegild, and no mo', |
| The kinge's mother, full of tyranny? |
| Her thought her cursed heart would burst in two; |
| She would not that her son had done so; |
| Her thought it a despite that he should take |
| So strange a creature unto his make.* *mate, consort |
| Me list not of the chaff nor of the stre* *straw |
| Make so long a tale, as of the corn. |
| What should I tellen of the royalty |
| Of this marriage, or which course goes beforn, |
| Who bloweth in a trump or in an horn? |
| The fruit of every tale is for to say; |
| They eat and drink, and dance, and sing, and play. |
| They go to bed, as it was skill* and right; *reasonable |
| For though that wives be full holy things, |
| They muste take in patience at night |
| Such manner* necessaries as be pleasings *kind of |
| To folk that have y-wedded them with rings, |
| And lay *a lite* their holiness aside *a little of* |
| As for the time, it may no better betide. |
| On her he got a knave* child anon, *male <14> |
| And to a Bishop and to his Constable eke |
| He took his wife to keep, when he is gone |
| To Scotland-ward, his foemen for to seek. |
| Now fair Constance, that is so humble and meek, |
| So long is gone with childe till that still |
| She held her chamb'r, abiding Christe's will |
| The time is come, a knave child she bare; |
| Mauricius at the font-stone they him call. |
| This Constable *doth forth come* a messenger, *caused to come forth* |
| And wrote unto his king that clep'd was All', |
| How that this blissful tiding is befall, |
| And other tidings speedful for to say |
| He* hath the letter, and forth he go'th his way. *i.e. the messenger |
| This messenger, to *do his avantage,* *promote his own interest* |
| Unto the kinge's mother rideth swithe,* *swiftly |
| And saluteth her full fair in his language. |
| "Madame," quoth he, "ye may be glad and blithe, |
| And thanke God an hundred thousand sithe;* *times |
| My lady queen hath child, withoute doubt, |
| To joy and bliss of all this realm about. |
| "Lo, here the letter sealed of this thing, |
| That I must bear with all the haste I may: |
| If ye will aught unto your son the king, |
| I am your servant both by night and day." |
| Donegild answer'd, "As now at this time, nay; |
| But here I will all night thou take thy rest, |
| To-morrow will I say thee what me lest.*" *pleases |
| This messenger drank sadly* ale and wine, *steadily |
| And stolen were his letters privily |
| Out of his box, while he slept as a swine; |
| And counterfeited was full subtilly |
| Another letter, wrote full sinfully, |
| Unto the king, direct of this mattere |
| From his Constable, as ye shall after hear. |
| This letter said, the queen deliver'd was |
| Of so horrible a fiendlike creature, |
| That in the castle none so hardy* was *brave |
| That any while he durst therein endure: |
| The mother was an elf by aventure |
| Become, by charmes or by sorcery, |
| And every man hated her company. |
| Woe was this king when he this letter had seen, |
| But to no wight he told his sorrows sore, |
| But with his owen hand he wrote again, |
| "Welcome the sond* of Christ for evermore *will, sending |
| To me, that am now learned in this lore: |
| Lord, welcome be thy lust* and thy pleasance, *will, pleasure |
| My lust I put all in thine ordinance. |
| "Keepe* this child, albeit foul or fair, *preserve |
| And eke my wife, unto mine homecoming: |
| Christ when him list may send to me an heir |
| More agreeable than this to my liking." |
| This letter he sealed, privily weeping. |
| Which to the messenger was taken soon, |
| And forth he went, there is no more to do'n.* *do |
| O messenger full fill'd of drunkenness, |
| Strong is thy breath, thy limbes falter aye, |
| And thou betrayest alle secretness; |
| Thy mind is lorn,* thou janglest as a jay; *lost |
| Thy face is turned in a new array;* *aspect |
| Where drunkenness reigneth in any rout,* *company |
| There is no counsel hid, withoute doubt. |
| O Donegild, I have no English dign* *worthy |
| Unto thy malice, and thy tyranny: |
| And therefore to the fiend I thee resign, |
| Let him indite of all thy treachery |
| 'Fy, mannish,* fy! O nay, by God I lie; *unwomanly woman |
| Fy, fiendlike spirit! for I dare well tell, |
| Though thou here walk, thy spirit is in hell. |
| This messenger came from the king again, |
| And at the kinge's mother's court he light,* *alighted |
| And she was of this messenger full fain,* *glad |
| And pleased him in all that e'er she might. |
| He drank, and *well his girdle underpight*; *stowed away (liquor) |
| He slept, and eke he snored in his guise under his girdle* |
| All night, until the sun began to rise. |
| Eft* were his letters stolen every one, *again |
| And counterfeited letters in this wise: |
| The king commanded his Constable anon, |
| On pain of hanging and of high jewise,* *judgement |
| That he should suffer in no manner wise |
| Constance within his regne* for to abide *kingdom |
| Three dayes, and a quarter of a tide; |
| But in the same ship as he her fand, |
| Her and her younge son, and all her gear, |
| He shoulde put, and crowd* her from the land, *push |
| And charge her, that she never eft come there. |
| O my Constance, well may thy ghost* have fear, *spirit |
| And sleeping in thy dream be in penance,* *pain, trouble |
| When Donegild cast* all this ordinance.** *contrived **plan, plot |
| This messenger, on morrow when he woke, |
| Unto the castle held the nexte* way, *nearest |
| And to the constable the letter took; |
| And when he this dispiteous* letter sey,** *cruel **saw |
| Full oft he said, "Alas, and well-away! |
| Lord Christ," quoth he, "how may this world endure? |
| So full of sin is many a creature. |
| "O mighty God, if that it be thy will, |
| Since thou art rightful judge, how may it be |
| That thou wilt suffer innocence to spill,* *be destroyed |
| And wicked folk reign in prosperity? |
| Ah! good Constance, alas! so woe is me, |
| That I must be thy tormentor, or dey* *die |
| A shameful death, there is no other way. |
| Wept bothe young and old in all that place, |
| When that the king this cursed letter sent; |
| And Constance, with a deadly pale face, |
| The fourthe day toward her ship she went. |
| But natheless she took in good intent |
| The will of Christ, and kneeling on the strond* *strand, shore |
| She saide, "Lord, aye welcome be thy sond* *whatever thou sendest |
| "He that me kepte from the false blame, |
| While I was in the land amonges you, |
| He can me keep from harm and eke from shame |
| In the salt sea, although I see 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."* *rudder, guide |
| Her little child lay weeping in her arm |
| And, kneeling, piteously to him she said |
| "Peace, little son, I will do thee no harm:" |
| With that her kerchief off her head she braid,* *took, drew |
| And over his little eyen she it laid, |
| And in her arm she lulled it full fast, |
| And unto heav'n her eyen up she cast. |
| "Mother," quoth she, "and maiden bright, Mary, |
| Sooth is, that through a woman's eggement* *incitement, egging on |
| Mankind was lorn,* and damned aye to die; *lost |
| For which thy child was on a cross y-rent:* *torn, pierced |
| Thy blissful eyen saw all his torment, |
| Then is there no comparison between |
| Thy woe, and any woe man may sustene. |
| "Thou saw'st thy child y-slain before thine eyen, |
| And yet now lives my little child, parfay:* *by my faith |
| Now, lady bright, to whom the woeful cryen, |
| Thou glory of womanhood, thou faire may,* *maid |
| Thou haven of refuge, bright star of day, |
| Rue* on my child, that of thy gentleness *take pity |
| Ruest on every rueful* in distress. *sorrowful person |
| "O little child, alas! what is thy guilt, |
| That never wroughtest sin as yet, pardie?* *par Dieu; by God |
| Why will thine harde* father have thee spilt?** *cruel **destroyed |
| O mercy, deare Constable," quoth she, |
| "And let my little child here dwell with thee: |
| And if thou dar'st not save him from blame, |
| So kiss him ones in his father's name." |
| Therewith she looked backward to the land, |
| And saide, "Farewell, husband rutheless!" |
| And up she rose, and walked down the strand |
| Toward the ship, her following all the press:* *multitude |
| And ever she pray'd her child to hold his peace, |
| And took her leave, and with an holy intent |
| She blessed her, and to the ship she went. |
| Victualed was the ship, it is no drede,* *doubt |
| Abundantly for her a full long space: |
| And other necessaries that should need* *be needed |
| She had enough, heried* be Godde's grace: *praised <15> |
| For wind and weather, Almighty God purchase,* *provide |
| And bring her home; I can no better say; |
| But in the sea she drived forth her way. |
| Alla the king came home soon after this |
| Unto the castle, of the which I told, |
| And asked where his wife and his child is; |
| The Constable gan about his heart feel cold, |
| And plainly all the matter he him told |
| As ye have heard; I can tell it no better; |
| And shew'd the king his seal, and eke his letter |
| And saide; "Lord, as ye commanded me |
| On pain of death, so have I done certain." |
| The messenger tormented* was, till he *tortured |
| Muste beknow,* and tell it flat and plain, *confess <16> |
| From night to night in what place he had lain; |
| And thus, by wit and subtle inquiring, |
| Imagin'd was by whom this harm gan spring. |
| The hand was known that had the letter wrote, |
| And all the venom of the cursed deed; |
| But in what wise, certainly I know not. |
| Th' effect is this, that Alla, *out of drede,* *without doubt* |
| His mother slew, that may men plainly read, |
| For that she traitor was to her liegeance:* *allegiance |
| Thus ended olde Donegild with mischance. |
| The sorrow that this Alla night and day |
| Made for his wife, and for his child also, |
| There is no tongue that it telle may. |
| But now will I again to Constance go, |
| That floated in the sea in pain and woe |
| Five year and more, as liked Christe's sond,* *decree, command |
| Ere that her ship approached to the lond.* *land |
| Under an heathen castle, at the last, |
| Of which the name in my text I not find, |
| Constance and eke her child the sea upcast. |
| Almighty God, that saved all mankind, |
| Have on Constance and on her child some mind, |
| That fallen is in heathen hand eftsoon* *again |
| *In point to spill,* as I shall tell you soon! *in danger of |
| Down from the castle came there many a wight |
| To gauren* on this ship, and on Constance: *gaze, stare |
| But shortly from the castle, on a night, |
| The lorde's steward,—God give him mischance,— |
| A thief that had *renied our creance,* *denied our faith* |
| Came to the ship alone, and said he would |
| Her leman* be, whether she would or n'ould. *illicit lover |
| Woe was this wretched woman then begone; |
| Her child cri'd, and she cried piteously: |
| But blissful Mary help'd her right anon, |
| For, with her struggling well and mightily, |
| The thief fell overboard all suddenly, |
| And in the sea he drenched* for vengeance, *drowned |
| And thus hath Christ unwemmed* kept Constance. *unblemished |
| O foul lust of luxury! lo thine end! |
| Not only that thou faintest* manne's mind, *weakenest |
| But verily thou wilt his body shend.* *destroy |
| Th' end of thy work, or of thy lustes blind, |
| Is complaining: how many may men find, |
| That not for work, sometimes, but for th' intent |
| To do this sin, be either slain or shent? |
| How may this weake woman have the strength |
| Her to defend against this renegate? |
| O Goliath, unmeasurable of length, |
| How mighte David make thee so mate?* *overthrown |
| So young, and of armour so desolate,* *devoid |
| How durst he look upon thy dreadful face? |
| Well may men see it was but Godde's grace. |
| Who gave Judith courage or hardiness |
| To slay him, Holofernes, in his tent, |
| And to deliver out of wretchedness |
| The people of God? I say for this intent |
| That right as God spirit of vigour sent |
| To them, and saved them out of mischance, |
| So sent he might and vigour to Constance. |
| Forth went her ship throughout the narrow mouth |
| Of *Jubaltare and Septe,* driving alway, *Gibraltar and Ceuta* |
| Sometime west, and sometime north and south, |
| And sometime east, full many a weary day: |
| Till Christe's mother (blessed be she aye) |
| Had shaped* through her endeless goodness *resolved, arranged |
| To make an end of all her heaviness. |
| Now let us stint* of Constance but a throw,** *cease speaking |
| And speak we of the Roman emperor, **short time |
| That out of Syria had by letters know |
| The slaughter of Christian folk, and dishonor |
| Done to his daughter by a false traitor, |
| I mean the cursed wicked Soudaness, |
| That at the feast *let slay both more and less.* *caused both high |
| For which this emperor had sent anon |
| His senator, with royal ordinance, |
| And other lordes, God wot, many a one, |
| On Syrians to take high vengeance: |
| They burn and slay, and bring them to mischance |
| Full many a day: but shortly this is th' end, |
| Homeward to Rome they shaped them to wend. |
| This senator repaired with victory |
| To Rome-ward, sailing full royally, |
| And met the ship driving, as saith the story, |
| In which Constance sat full piteously: |
| And nothing knew he what she was, nor why |
| She was in such array; nor she will say |
| Of her estate, although that she should dey.* *die |
| He brought her unto Rome, and to his wife |
| He gave her, and her younge son also: |
| And with the senator she led her life. |
| Thus can our Lady bringen out of woe |
| Woeful Constance, and many another mo': |
| And longe time she dwelled in that place, |
| In holy works ever, as was her grace. |
| The senatores wife her aunte was, |
| But for all that she knew her ne'er the more: |
| I will no longer tarry in this case, |
| But to King Alla, whom I spake of yore, |
| That for his wife wept and sighed sore, |
| I will return, and leave I will Constance |
| Under the senatores governance. |
| King Alla, which that had his mother slain, |
| Upon a day fell in such repentance; |
| That, if I shortly tell it shall and plain, |
| To Rome he came to receive his penitance, |
| And put him in the Pope's ordinance |
| In high and low, and Jesus Christ besought |
| Forgive his wicked works that he had wrought. |
| The fame anon throughout the town is borne, |
| How Alla king shall come on pilgrimage, |
| By harbingers that wente him beforn, |
| For which the senator, as was usage, |
| Rode *him again,* and many of his lineage, *to meet him* |
| As well to show his high magnificence, |
| As to do any king a reverence. |
| Great cheere* did this noble senator *courtesy |
| To King Alla and he to him also; |
| Each of them did the other great honor; |
| And so befell, that in a day or two |
| This senator did to King Alla go |
| To feast, and shortly, if I shall not lie, |
| Constance's son went in his company. |
| Some men would say,<17> at request of Constance |
| This senator had led this child to feast: |
| I may not tellen every circumstance, |
| Be as be may, there was he at the least: |
| But sooth is this, that at his mother's hest* *behest |
| Before Alla during *the meates space,* *meal time* |
| The child stood, looking in the kinges face. |
| This Alla king had of this child great wonder, |
| And to the senator he said anon, |
| "Whose is that faire child that standeth yonder?" |
| "I n'ot,"* quoth he, "by God and by Saint John; *know not |
| A mother he hath, but father hath he none, |
| That I of wot:" and shortly in a stound* *short time <18> |
| He told to Alla how this child was found. |
| "But God wot," quoth this senator also, |
| "So virtuous a liver in all my life |
| I never saw, as she, nor heard of mo' |
| Of worldly woman, maiden, widow or wife: |
| I dare well say she hadde lever* a knife *rather |
| Throughout her breast, than be a woman wick',* *wicked |
| There is no man could bring her to that prick.* *point |
| Now was this child as like unto Constance |
| As possible is a creature to be: |
| This Alla had the face in remembrance |
| Of Dame Constance, and thereon mused he, |
| If that the childe's mother *were aught she* *could be she* |
| That was his wife; and privily he sight,* *sighed |
| And sped him from the table *that he might.* *as fast as he could* |
| "Parfay,"* thought he, "phantom** is in mine head. *by my faith |
| I ought to deem, of skilful judgement, **a fantasy |
| That in the salte sea my wife is dead." |
| And afterward he made his argument, |
| "What wot I, if that Christ have hither sent |
| My wife by sea, as well as he her sent |
| To my country, from thennes that she went?" |
| And, after noon, home with the senator. |
| Went Alla, for to see this wondrous chance. |
| This senator did Alla great honor, |
| And hastily he sent after Constance: |
| But truste well, her liste not to dance. |
| When that she wiste wherefore was that sond,* *summons |
| Unneth* upon her feet she mighte stand. *with difficulty |
| When Alla saw his wife, fair he her gret,* *greeted |
| And wept, that it was ruthe for to see, |
| For at the firste look he on her set |
| He knew well verily that it was she: |
| And she, for sorrow, as dumb stood as a tree: |
| So was her hearte shut in her distress, |
| When she remember'd his unkindeness. |
| Twice she swooned in his owen sight, |
| He wept and him excused piteously: |
| "Now God," quoth he, "and all his hallows bright* *saints |
| So wisly* on my soule have mercy, *surely |
| That of your harm as guilteless am I, |
| As is Maurice my son, so like your face, |
| Else may the fiend me fetch out of this place." |
| Long was the sobbing and the bitter pain, |
| Ere that their woeful heartes mighte cease; |
| Great was the pity for to hear them plain,* *lament |
| Through whiche plaintes gan their woe increase. |
| I pray you all my labour to release, |
| I may not tell all their woe till to-morrow, |
| I am so weary for to speak of sorrow. |
| But finally, when that the *sooth is wist,* *truth is known* |
| That Alla guiltless was of all her woe, |
| I trow an hundred times have they kiss'd, |
| And such a bliss is there betwixt them two, |
| That, save the joy that lasteth evermo', |
| There is none like, that any creature |
| Hath seen, or shall see, while the world may dure. |
| Then prayed she her husband meekely |
| In the relief of her long piteous pine,* *sorrow |
| That he would pray her father specially, |
| That of his majesty he would incline |
| To vouchesafe some day with him to dine: |
| She pray'd him eke, that he should by no way |
| Unto her father no word of her say. |
| Some men would say,<17> how that the child Maurice |
| Did this message unto the emperor: |
| But, as I guess, Alla was not so nice,* *foolish |
| To him that is so sovereign of honor |
| As he that is of Christian folk the flow'r, |
| Send any child, but better 'tis to deem |
| He went himself; and so it may well seem. |
| This emperor hath granted gentilly |
| To come to dinner, as he him besought: |
| And well rede* I, he looked busily *guess, know |
| Upon this child, and on his daughter thought. |
| Alla went to his inn, and as him ought |
| Arrayed* for this feast in every wise, *prepared |
| *As farforth as his cunning* may suffice. *as far as his skill* |
| The morrow came, and Alla gan him dress,* *make ready |
| And eke his wife, the emperor to meet: |
| And forth they rode in joy and in gladness, |
| And when she saw her father in the street, |
| She lighted down and fell before his feet. |
| "Father," quoth she, "your younge child Constance |
| Is now full clean out of your remembrance. |
| "I am your daughter, your Constance," quoth she, |
| "That whilom ye have sent into Syrie; |
| It am I, father, that in the salt sea |
| Was put alone, and damned* for to die. *condemned |
| Now, goode father, I you mercy cry, |
| Send me no more into none heatheness, |
| But thank my lord here of his kindeness." |
| Who can the piteous joye tellen all, |
| Betwixt them three, since they be thus y-met? |
| But of my tale make an end I shall, |
| The day goes fast, I will no longer let.* *hinder |
| These gladde folk to dinner be y-set; |
| In joy and bliss at meat I let them dwell, |
| A thousand fold well more than I can tell. |
| This child Maurice was since then emperor |
| Made by the Pope, and lived Christianly, |
| To Christe's Churche did he great honor: |
| But I let all his story passe by, |
| Of Constance is my tale especially, |
| In the olde Roman gestes* men may find *histories<19> |
| Maurice's life, I bear it not in mind. |
| This King Alla, when he his time sey,* *saw |
| With his Constance, his holy wife so sweet, |
| To England are they come the righte way, |
| Where they did live in joy and in quiet. |
| But little while it lasted, I you hete,* *promise |
| Joy of this world for time will not abide, |
| From day to night it changeth as the tide. |
| Who liv'd ever in such delight one day, |
| That him not moved either conscience, |
| Or ire, or talent, or *some kind affray,* *some kind of disturbance* |
| Envy, or pride, or passion, or offence? |
| I say but for this ende this sentence,* *judgment, opinion* |
| That little while in joy or in pleasance |
| Lasted the bliss of Alla with Constance. |
| For death, that takes of high and low his rent, |
| When passed was a year, even as I guess, |
| Out of this world this King Alla he hent,* *snatched |
| For whom Constance had full great heaviness. |
| Now let us pray that God his soule bless: |
| And Dame Constance, finally to say, |
| Toward the town of Rome went her way. |
| To Rome is come this holy creature, |
| And findeth there her friendes whole and sound: |
| Now is she scaped all her aventure: |
| And when that she her father hath y-found, |
| Down on her knees falleth she to ground, |
| Weeping for tenderness in hearte blithe |
| She herieth* God an hundred thousand sithe.** *praises **times |
| In virtue and in holy almes-deed |
| They liven all, and ne'er asunder wend; |
| Till death departeth them, this life they lead: |
| And fare now well, my tale is at an end |
| Now Jesus Christ, that of his might may send |
| Joy after woe, govern us in his grace |
| And keep us alle that be in this place. |
| Notes to the Man of Law's Tale |
| 1. This tale is believed by Tyrwhitt to have been taken, with no |
| material change, from the "Confessio Amantis" of John Gower, |
| who was contemporary with Chaucer, though somewhat his |
| senior. In the prologue, the references to the stories of Canace, |
| and of Apollonius Tyrius, seem to be an attack on Gower, who |
| had given these tales in his book; whence Tyrwhitt concludes |
| that the friendship between the two poets suffered some |
| interruption in the latter part of their lives. Gower was not the |
| inventor of the story, which he found in old French romances, |
| and it is not improbable that Chaucer may have gone to the |
| same source as Gower, though the latter undoubtedly led the |
| way. |
| (Transcriber's note: later commentators have identified the |
| introduction describing the sorrows of poverty, along with the |
| other moralising interludes in the tale, as translated from "De |
| Contemptu Mundi" ("On the contempt of the world") by Pope |
| Innocent.) |
| 2. Transcriber' note: This refers to the game of hazard, a dice |
| game like craps, in which two ("ambes ace") won, and eleven |
| ("six-cinque") lost. |
| 3. Purpose: discourse, tale: French "propos". |
| 4. "Peace" rhymed with "lese" and "chese", the old forms of |
| "lose" and "choose". |
| 5. According to Middle Age writers there were two motions of |
| the first heaven; one everything always from east to west above |
| the stars; the other moving the stars against the first motion, |
| from west to east, on two other poles. |
| 6. Atyzar: the meaning of this word is not known; but "occifer", |
| murderer, has been suggested instead by Urry, on the authority |
| of a marginal reading on a manuscript. |
| (Transcriber's note: later commentators explain it as derived |
| from Arabic "al-ta'thir", influence - used here in an astrological |
| sense) |
| 7. "Thou knittest thee where thou art not receiv'd, |
| i.e. |
| "Thou joinest thyself where thou art rejected, and art declined |
| or departed from the place where thou wert well." The moon |
| portends the fortunes of Constance. |
| 8. Fand: endeavour; from Anglo-Saxon, "fandian," to try |
| 9. Feng: take; Anglo-Saxon "fengian", German, "fangen". |
| 10. Him and her on which thy limbes faithfully extend: those |
| who in faith wear the crucifix. |
| 11. The four spirits of tempest: the four angels who held the |
| four winds of the earth and to whom it was given to hurt the |
| earth and the sea (Rev. vii. 1, 2). |
| 12. Thennes would it not in all a tide: thence would it not move |
| for long, at all. |
| 13. A manner Latin corrupt: a kind of bastard Latin. |
| 14. Knave child: male child; German "Knabe". |
| 15. Heried: honoured, praised; from Anglo-Saxon, "herian." |
| Compare German, "herrlich," glorious, honourable. |
| 16. Beknow: confess; German, "bekennen." |
| 17. The poet here refers to Gower's version of the story. |
| 18. Stound: short time; German, "stunde", hour. |
| 19. Gestes: histories, exploits; Latin, "res gestae". |




