It is no good man, which fo doth. In gode feith, fone, thou faist soth.
For he that woll of
By fuch a wey his luft avance He shall it after fore abie, But if these olde enfamples lie.
Now, gode fader, tell me one, So as ye connen many one, Touchend of love in this matere.
Now lift, my fone, and thou fhalt here, Confeffor.
So as it hath befall er this
In loves cause how that it is A man to take by ravine The preie, which is feminine. There was a roial noble kinge, A riche of alle worldes thinge, Which of his propre enheritaunce Athenes had in governaunce, And who fo thenke the rupon, His name was king Pandion. Two doughters had he by his wife, The which he loved as his life. The first doughter Progne hight, And the seconde, as she well might, Was cleped faire Philomene,
To whom fell after mochel tene. The fader of his purveance
His doughter Progne wolde avance, And yafe her unto mariage A worthy king of high lignage,
Hic ponit exemplum contra iftos in amoris caufa raptores et narrat, qualiter Pandion rex Athenarum duas filias, videlicet Prognem et Philomenam habuit. Progne autem Tereo regi Tracie defponfata contigit, quod cum Tereus, ad inftanciam uxoris fue Philomenam de Athenis in Traciam fororie vifitacionis caufa fecum quadam vice perduceret, in concupifcenciam Philomene tanta feveritate in itinere dilapfus eft, quod ipfe non folum fue violencia rapine virginitatem eius oppreffit, fed et ipfius linguam, ne factum detegeret,forcipe mutulavit, unde in perpetue memorie croni
cam tanti raptoris A noble knight eke of his honde,
dine dii poftea vindi- So was he kid in every londe.
Of Trace he hight Tereus,
The clerke Ovide telleth thus. This Tereus his wife home lad, A lufty life with her he had, Till it befell upon a tide,
This Progne, as fhe lay him befide, Bethought her, how it mighte be, That she her fufter mighte se,
And to her lorde her will she saide With goodly wordes and him praide, That she to her mighte go.
And if it liked him nought fo,
That than he wolde him felve wende Or elles by fome other fende, Which might her dere fufter grete
And shape, how that they mighten mete. Her lorde anone to that he herde Yaf his accorde and thus answerde: I woll, he faide, for thy fake, The wey after thy fufter take My felf and bring her, if I may. And she with that, there as she lay, Began him in her armes clippe And kift him with her fofte lippe And faide: Sire, graunt mercy.
And he fone after was redy And toke his leve for to go.
In fory time did he fo.
This Tereus goth forth to shippe With him and his felashippe. By fea the righte cours he nam Unto the contre till he cam, Where Philomene was dwelling, And of her fufter the tiding He tolde, and tho they weren glad And mochel joie of him they made. The fader and the moder bothe To leve her doughter were lothe, But if they were in presence, And netheles at reverence
Of him that wolde him felf travaile, They wolde nought he fhulde faile, And that they praide yive her leve. And she that wolde nought beleve In alle haste made her yare Toward her fufter for to fare
With Tereus, and forth she went. And he with al his hole entent, Whan fhe was fro her frendes go, Affoteth of her love fo,
That his eye might he nought witholde, That he ne muft on her beholde,
And with the fight he gan defire And fet his owne hert a fire.
And fire, whan it to tow approcheth, To him anon the strength accrocheth, Till with his hete it be devoured, The tow ne may nought be foccoured.
And fo the tirann raviner,
Whan that she was in his power, And he therto figh time and place, As he, that loft hath all his grace, Foryate, he was a wedded man, And in a rage on her he ran Right as a wolf, that taketh his pray. And she began to crie and pray : O fader, o moder dere,
Now help, but they ne might it here, And she was of to litel might Defence ayein fo rude a knight To make, whan he was fo wode, That he no refon understode, But helde her under in fuch wife, That she ne mighte nought arise, But lay oppreffed and disesed, As if a gofhawk hadde feifed
A brid, which durfte nought for fere Remue. And thus this tirant there Beraft her fuch thing, as men fain, May never more be yolde ayein, And that was the virginite, Of fuch ravine it was pite.
But whan fhe to her felve come
And of her mifchefe hede nome
And knewe, how that she was no maide, With wofull herte thus she saide:
O thou of alle men the worst,
Where was there ever man that dorst
Do fuch a dede, as thou hast do? That day fhall falle, I hope fo, That I hall tell out all my fille And with my fpeche I fhall fulfille The wide worlde in brede and length, That thou haft do to me by strength, If I among the people dwelle, Unto the people I shall it telle. And if I be withinne wall Of stones closed, than I shall Unto the ftones clepe and crie, And tellen hem thy felonie. And if I to the wodes wende, There shall I telle tale and ende, And crie it to the briddes out, That they shall here it all about. For I fo loude it shall reherce, That my vois fhall the heven perce, That it shall foune in goddes ere. Ha false man, where is thy fere ? O more cruel than any befte, How haft thou holden thy beheft, Which thou unto my fufter madeft? O thou, which alle love ungladest And art enfample of all untrewe, Now wolde god my fufter knewe Of thin untrouthe, how that it stood. And he than as a leon wode With his unhappy hondes strong He caught her by the treffes long,
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