Of that the wind so loudé blewe,
As she which of the see ne knewe,
And praidé for to reste a while.
And so fell that upon an ile
Which Chio highté they ben drive,
Where he to her hath levé yive,
That she shall lond and take her
rest,

But that was nothing for her best.
For whan she was to londé brought,
She, which that time thoughté
nought

But allé trouth and toke no kepe,
Hath laid her softé for to slepe,
As she which longe hath ben for-
wacched.

But certés she was evil macched
And fer from allé lovés kinde.
For more than the beste 1 unkinde
Thesëús, which no trouthé kept,
While that this yongé lady slept,
Fulfilled of all unkindéship
Hath all foryete the godéship,
Whiche Ariadné him hadde do,
And bad unto the shipmen tho
Hale up the saile and nought abide,
And forth he goth the samé tide
Towarde Athenes, and her on londe
He lefté, which lay nigh the stronde
Slepéndé til that she awoke.
But whan that she cast up her loke
Toward the stronde and sigh no
wight,

Her herté was so sore aflight 2
That she ne wisté what to thinke
But drough her to the water brinke,
Where she beheld the see at large.
She sigh no ship, she sigh no barge
Als ferforth as she mighté kenne.
'Ha lord,' she saidé, 'which a senne,
As all the world shall after here,
Upon this wofull woman here
This worthy knight hath done and
wrought,

1 Beste, beast. 2 Aflight, afflicted.

I wend I had his lové bought,
And so deservéd atté nede,
Whan that he stood upon his drede,
And eke the love he me behight.
It is great wonder, how he might
Towardés me now ben unkinde,
And so to let out of his minde
Thing which he said his owné mouth.
But after this, whan it is couth
And drawe into the worldés fame,
It shall ben hindring of his name.
For well he wote, and so wote I,
He yafe his trouthé bodily

That he min honour shuldé kepe.'
And with that word she gan to wepe
And sorweth moré than inough.
Her fairé tresses she to-drough
And with her self toke such a strife,
That she betwene the deth and life
Swounéndé lay full oft amonge.
And all was this on him alonge,
Which was to love unkindé so,
Wherof the wrong shall evermo
Stond in croníque of remembraúnce.
And eke it axeth a vengeaúnce
To ben unkinde in lovés cas
So as Thesëús thanné was,
All though he were a noble knight.
For he the lawe of lovés right
Forfeited hath in allé way,
That Ariadne he put away,
Which was a great unkindé dede.
And after this, so as I rede,
Fedra, the which her suster is,
He toke in stede of her, and this
Fell afterward to mochel tene.
For thilké Vice of whiche I mene,
Unkindéship, where that it falleth
The trouthe of mannés hert it palleth
That he can no good dede acquite,
So may he stonde of no merite
Towardés God and eke also
Men clepen him the worldés fo,
For he no moré than the Fende
Unto none other man is frende,

"My godé sone, as for thy lore, After the reule of Covetise, I shall the propreté devise Of every Vicé by and by. Now herke and be wel ware therby. "In the lignage of Avarice, My soné, yet there is a Vice, His righté name it is Ravine, Which hath a route of his covine. Ravine among the maisters dwelleth,

And with his servants as men telleth
Extorción is now witholde.
Ravine of other mennés folde
Maketh his lardér and paieth
nought.

For where as ever it may be sought In his hous there shall no thing lacke,

And that ful ofte abieth the packe Of pouer men that dwelle aboute; Thus stant the comune people in doubte,

Which can do none amendément.
For whan him faileth paiément,
Raviné maketh non other skille,
But taketh by strength al that he
wille.

So ben there in the samé wise
Lovers, as I the shall devise,
That whan nought ellés may availe,
Anone with strengthé they assaile
And get of love the sesine
Whan they se timé, by ravine.
"Forthy my soné, shrive the
here,

If thou hast ben a ravinere
Of love."-" Certes, fader, no,

For I my lady lové so

For though I were as was Pompéy That all the world me wolde obey, Or ellés such as Alisaundre,

I woldé nought do suche a sclaunder.

It is no good man, which so doth."-
"In godé feith, sone, thou saist
soth.

For he that woll of purveánce
By such a wey his lust avance
He shall it after sore abie,
But if1 these olde ensamples lie."-

"Now, godé fader, tell me one, So as ye connen many one, Touchénd of love in this matere.""Now list, my sone, and thou shalt here

So as it hath befall er this
In lovés cause how that it is,
A man to také by ravine
The preié which is feminine.

There was a roial noble kinge,
A riche of allé worldés thinge,
Which of his propre enheritaunce
Athenés had in governaunce,
And whoso thenké therupon,
His name was king Pandión.
Two doughters had he by his
wife,

The which he lovéd as his life.
The firsté doughter Progné hight,
And the secónde, as she well might,
Was clepéd fairé Philomene,
To whom fell after mochel tene.2
The fader of his purveánce
His doughter Progné wolde avance,
And yafe her unto mariáge
A worthy king of high lignage,
A noble knight eke of his honde,
So was he kid 3 in every londe.
Of Tracé he hight Terëús,
The clerke Ovídé telleth thus.
1 But if, unless.
2 Tene, sorrow.
3 Kid, made known, renowned.

This Terëús his wife home lad,
A lusty life with her he had
Till it befell upon a tide,
This Progne, as she lay him beside,
Bethought her how it mighté be
That she her suster mighté se;
And to her lorde her will she saide
With goodly wordés and him praide
That she unto her mighté go,
And if it liked him nought so,
That than he wolde him selvé wende,
Or ellés by some other sende
Which might her deré suster grete
And shape how that they mighten

mete.

Her lorde anone to that he herde
Yaf his accorde and thus answérde:
'I woll,' he saidé, 'for thy sake,
The wey after thy suster take
My self and bring her, if I may.'
And she with that, there as she lay,
Began him in her armés clippe
And kist him with her softé lippe
And saidé: Siré, graunt mercy.'
And he sone after was redý
And toke his levé for to go.
In sory timé did he so.
This Terëús goth forth to shippe
With him and all his felashippe.
By sea the righté cours he nam
Unto the contré till he cam
Where Philoméné was dwellíng,
And of her suster 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 weré lothe
But if they weren in presence,
And nethéles at reverence
Of him that wolde him self travaile,
They woldé nought he shuldé faile,
And that they praiden yive her leve.
And she that woldé nought beleve 1
In allé hasté made her yare 2

1 Beleve, stay behind. 2 Yare, ready.

Toward her suster for to fare
With Terëús and forth she went.
And he with al his hole entent
Whan she was fro her frendés go
Assoteth of her lové so

His eyé might he nought witholde
That he ne must on her beholde,
And with the sight he gan desire
And set his owné hert a fire.
And fire whan it to tow approcheth
To him anon the strength accro-
cheth,1

Till with his hete it be devoured, The tow ne may nought be soccoúred.

And so the tirann ravinere,
Whan that she was in his powere,
And he therto sigh time and place,
As he that lost 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 dere, o moder dere,
Now help!' But they ne might it
here,

And she was of to litel might
Defence ayein so rude a knight
To make whan he was so wode
That he no reson understode.
But whan she to her selvé come
And of her mischefe hedé nome
And knewe how that she was no
maide,

With wofull herté thus she saide :
'O thou of allé men the worst,
Where was there ever man that dorst
Do such a dede as thou hast do?
That day shall falle, I hopé so,
That I shall tell out all my fille
And with my speche I shall fulfille
The wide worlde in brede and

length That thou hast do to me by strength.

1 Accrocheth, increaseth.

If I among the people dwelle
Unto the people I shall it telle;
And if I be withinné wall
Of stonés closed, than I shall
Unto the stonés clepe and crie,
And tellen hem thy felonie ;
And if I to the wodés wende,
There shall I tellé tale and ende
And crie it to the briddés out,
That they shall here it all about :
For I so loude it shall reherce,
That my vois shall the heven perce,
That it shall soune in Goddés ere.
Ha falsé man, where is thy fere?
O more cruel than any beste,
How hast thou holden thy behest
Which thou unto my suster madest?
O thou, which allé love ungladest
And art ensample of all untrewe,
Now woldé god my suster knewe
Of thin untrouthe, how that it stood!'
And he than as a leon wode 1
With his unhappy hondés strong
He caught her by the tresses long
With whiche he bondé both her
armes,

That was a feble dede of armes,
And to the grounde anone her cast,
And out he clippeth also fast
Her tungé with a paire of sheres.
So what with blode and what with

teres,

Out of her eyne and of her mouth, He made her fairé face uncouth. She lay swounénd unto the dethe, There was unnethés any brethe. But yet whan he her tungé refte, A litel part therof he lefte.

But she withall no word may soune But chitre 2 and as a brid jargoune. And nethéles that wodé hounde Her body hent up fro the grounde And sent her there as by his will She shulde abide, in prison still

1 Wode, madly raging. 2 Chitre, chirp.

For ever mo.

But now take hede

What after fell of this misdede. Whan all this mischefe was befalle, This Terëús, that foule him falle, Unto his contré home he tigh,1 And whan he cam his paleis nigh, His wife alredy there him kept. Whan he her sigh, anon he wept, And that he didé for deceipt,

For she began to axe him streit :
'Where is my suster?' And he saide
That she was dede, and Progne
abraide,

As she that was a wofull wife,
And stood betwene her deth and life
Because she herdé such tidíng.
But for she sigh her lord wepíng,
She wendé nought but alle trouth
And haddé wel the moré routh.
The perlés weré tho forsake
To her and blacké clothés take,
As she that was gentil and kinde.
In worship of her susters minde 2
She made a riche enterément,3
For she found none amendément
To sighen or to sobbé more,
So was there guile under the gore.
"Now levé we this king and

Thou suffrest many a wrong doing,
And yet it is nought thy willíng.
To the there may nothing ben hid,
Thou wost how it is me betid.
I wolde I haddé nought be bore.
For than I haddé nought forlore
My speche and my virginité.
But godé lord, all is in the,
Whan thou therof wolt do ven-
geaúnce

And shape my deliveraúnce!'
And ever among this lady wepte
And thoughté that she never kepte
To be a worldés woman more,
And that she wissheth evermore.
But ofte unto her suster dere
Her herté speketh in this manere
And saide: 'Ha suster, if ye knewe
Of min estate ye woldé rewe
I trowe, and my deliveraúnce
Ye woldé shape, and do vengeaúnce
On him that is so fals a man.
And nethéles, so as I can,
I woll you send some tokening,
Wherof ye shall have knouleching
Of thing I wot that shall you loth
The which you toucheth and me
both.'

And tho within a while als tite 2
She wafe a cloth of silke all white
With letters and ymagery,
In which was all the felony,
Which Terëús to her hath do,
And lappéd it to-gider tho
And set her signet therupon
And sent it unto Progne anon.
The messager which forth it bare,
What it amounteth is nought ware,
And nethéles to Progne he goth
And privély taketh her the cloth
And went ayein right as he cam,
The Court of him none hedé name.
"Whan Progne of Philomené
herde

1 Wost, knowest. 2 Als tite, promptly.

She woldé knowe how that it ferde, And openeth that the man hath brought

And wot therby what hath be wrought

And what mischefe there is befalle. In swouné tho she gan down falle, And efte arose and gan to stonde, And eft she taketh the clothe on honde,

Beheld the letters and thymáges,
But atté last of suche oultráges
She said, 'Wepíng is nought the
bote,'
And swereth, if that she livé mote
It shall be vengéd other wise.
And with that she gan her avise,
How first she might unto her winne
Her suster, that no man withinne,
But only they that weré swore,
It shuldé knowe, and shope ther-
fore,

That Terëús nothing it wist,
And yet right as her selven list
Her suster was delivered sone
Out of prison, and by the mone
To Progné she was brought by
night.

Whan eche of other had a sight
In chambre there they were alone,
They maden many a pitous mone.
But Progné most of sorwé made,
Which sigh her suster pale and fade
And spechéles and deshonoúred
Of that she haddé be defloured,
And eke upon her lord she thought
Of that he so untruely wrought
And had his espousailé broke,
She maketh a vow it shall be wroke.
And with that word she kneleth
down

Weping in great devocioún,
Unto Cupide and to Venus
She praid and saidé thanné thus:
1 Bote, remedy.