"No," quod he, "tell me what: "
And than he told him this and that,
And swore thereto that it was soth,
Thus hath he said, and thus he doth,
And this shal be, and thus herde I say,
That shal be found that dare I lay :
That all the folke that is on live,
Ne have the conning to discrive
Tho thinges that I herde there,
What a loude, and what in eere;
But all the wonder most was this,
Whan one had herd a thing ywis,
He came streight to another wight
And gan him tellen anon right,
The same that him was told
Or it a forlong way was old,
And gan somewhat for to eche
To this tiding in his speche,
More than ever it spoken was,
And nat so sone departed n'as
Tho fro him that he ne mette
With the third, and ere he lette
Any stound he told hym alse,
Where the tidings sothe or false,
Yet wold he tell it natheles,
And evermore with mo encrees,

Than it was erst: thus north and south,
Went every tiding fro mouth to mouth,
And that encreasing evermo,

As fire is wont to quicken and go
From a sparcle sprongen amis,
Till a citie brent up is.

And whan that was full up sprong,
And waxen more on every tonge
Than ever it was, and went anone,
Up to a window out to gone,
Or but it might out there passe,
It gan out crepe at some crevasse,
And flewe forth fast for the nones.

And sometime I saw there at ones,
A leasing and a sadde sothe sawe,
That gonnen of aventure drawe,
Out at a window for to pace,
And whan they metten in that place,
They were achecked both two,
And neyther of them might out go,
For ech other they gonne so croude

Til ech of hem gan crien loude,

"Let me gone first !"-" nay, but let mee! And here I woll ensuren thee,

With vowes that thou wolt do so,
That I shall never fro thee go,
But be thine owne sworne brother,
We woll meddle us eche in other,
That no man be he never so wrothe,
Shall have one two, but bothe
At ones, as beside his leve,
Come we a morrowe or on eve,
But we cride or still yrowned :"

Thus saw I false and soth compowned.

Togider flie for o tiding.

Thus out at holes goane wring,

Every tidyng streight to Fame,
And she gan yeve eche his name,
After her disposicion,

And yeve hem eke duracion ;
Some to wexe and wane soone,
As doth the faire white Moone,

And let hem gonne, there might I seen
Winged wonders fast fleen,
Twenty thousand in a route

As Eolus hem blewe about,
And lord! this house in all times
Was full of shipmen and pilgrimes,
With scrippes bret-full of leasings,
Entermelled with tidings,
And eke alone by hemselve.
O many thousand times twelve
Saw I eke of these pardoners,
Currours, and eke messaungers,
With boxes crommed full of lies
As ever vessell was with lies.
And as I alder-fastest went
About, and did all mine entent,
Me for to playen and for to lere,
And eke a tiding for to here,
That I had herde of some countree
That shall not now be told for mee,
For it no need is, redely
Folke can sing it bet than I,
For al mote out late or rathe,
All the sheves in the lathe.

I herde a great noise withall,
In a corner of the hall;
There men of love tidings told
And I gan thitherward behold,
For I saw renning every wight,

As fast as that they hadden might,

And everich cride, "What thing is that?"
And some said, "I n'ot never what,"
And whan they were all on a hepe,
Tho behind gone up lepe,

And clamben up on other faste,
And up the noyse on highen caste,
And treden fast on others heles,
And stampe as men done after eles.
At the last I saw a man,
Which that I nought ne can,
But he seemed for to be
A man of great auctorite.

And therewithall I abraide
Out of my slepe halfe afraide,
Remembring well what I had sene,
And how hie and ferre I had bene
In my gost, and had great wonder
Of that the god of thonder

Had let me knowen, and began to write
Like as ye have herd me endite,
Wherefore to study and rede alway,

I purpose to do day by day.

Thus in dreaming and in game, Endeth this litell booke of Fame.

HERE ENDETH THE BOOKE OF FAME.

WHAN Flora the queene of pleasaunce,
Had whole achieved thobeisaunce

Of the fresh and new season,
Thorow out every region,

And with her mantle whole covert
That winter made had discovert
Of aventure, withoute light,
In May, I lay upon a night
Alone, and on my lady thought,

And how the lord that her wrought,
Couth well entaile in imagery
And shewed had great maistry,
Whan he in so little space
Made such a body and a face,

So great beaute with swiche features
More than in other creatures;
And in my thoughtes as I lay
In a lodge out of the way,
Beside a well in a forest,
Where after hunting I tooke rest,
Nature and kind so in me wrought,
That halfe on sleepe they me brought,
And gan to dreame to my thinking,
With mind of knowliche like making,
For what I dreamed, as me thought,
I saw it, and I slept nought;
Wherefore is yet my full beleeve,
That some good spirit that eve,
By meane of some curious port,
Bare me, where I saw paine and sport;
But whether it were I woke or slept,
Well wot I of, I lough and wept,
Wherefore I woll in remembraunce,
Put whole the paine, and the pleasaunce,
Which was to me axen and hele,
Would God ye wist it every dele,
Or at the least, ye might o night
Of such another have a sight,
Although it were to you a paine,
Yet on the morow ye would be faine,
And wish it might longe dure;
Than might ye say ye had good cure,
For he that dreames and wenes he see,
Much the better yet may hee
Wite what, and of whom, and where,
And eke the lasse it woll hindere

To thinke I see this with mine eene,
Ywis this may not dreame kene,
But signe or signifiaunce
Of hasty thing souning pleasaunce,
For on this wise upon a night,
As ye have heard, without light,

v. 1-104

Not all waking, ne full on sleepe,
About such houre as lovers weepe
And cry after their ladies grace,
Befell me this wonder cace,
Which ye shall heare and all the wise,
So wholly as I can devise,

In plaine English evill written,
For sleepe writer, well ye witten,
Excused is, though he do mis,
More than one that waking is,
Wherefore here of your gentilnesse,
I you require my boistousnesse
Ye let passe, as thinge rude,
And heareth what I woll conclude;
And of the enditing taketh no heed,
Ne of the tearmes, so God you speed,
But let all passe as nothing were,
For thus befell, as you shall here.

Within an yle me thought I was,
Where wall and yate was all of glasse,
And so was closed round about
That leavelesse none come in ne out,
Uncouth and straunge to behold,
For every yate of fine gold
A thousand fanes, aie turning,
Entuned had, and briddes singing,
Divers, and on each fane a paire,
With open mouth again thaire ;
And of a sute were all the toures,
Subtily corven after floures,
Of uncouth colours during aye,
That never been none seene in May,
With many a small turret hie,
But man on live could I non sie,
Ne creatures, save ladies play,
Which were such of their array
That, as me thought, of goodlihead
They passeden all and womanhead;
For to behold them daunce and sing,
It seemed like none earthly thing,
Such was their uncouth countinaunce
In every play of right usaunce;
And of one age everichone
They seemed all, save onely one,
Which had of yeeres suffisaunce,
For she might neither sing ne daunce,
But yet her countenaunce was so glad,
As she so fewe yeeres had had
As any lady that was there,
And as little it did her dere
Of lustines to laugh and tale
As she had full stuffed a male

Of disports and new playes:
Faire had she been in her daies,
And maistresse seemed well to be
Of all that lusty companie;
And so she might, I you ensure,
For one the conningest creature
She was, and so said everichone,
That ever her knew, there failed none,
For she was sober and well avised,
And from every fault disguised,
And nothing used but faith and truth;
That she n'as young it was great ruth,
For every where and in ech place,
She governed her, that in grace
She stode alway with poore and riche,
That, at a word, was none her liche,
Ne halfe so able maistres to be
To such a lusty companie.

Befell me so, when I avised
Had the yle that me suffised,
And whole the state every where,
That in that lusty yle was there,
Which was more wonder to devise
Than the joieux paradise,

I dare well say, for floure ne tree,
Ne thing wherein pleasaunce might bee
There failed none, for every wight
Had they desired, day and night,
Riches, heale, beauty, and ease,

With every thing that them might please,
Thinke and have, it cost no more;
In such a country there before,
Had I not bene, ne heard tell
That lives creature might dwell.
And when I had thus all about
The yle avised throughout

The state, and how they were arayed,
In my heart I were well payed,
And in my selfe I me assured
That in my body I was well ured,
Sith I might have such a grace
To see the ladies and the place,
Which were so faire, I you ensure,
That to my dome, though that nature
Would ever strive and do her paine,
She should not con ne mow attaine
The least feature to amend,
Though she would all her conning spend,
That to beauty might availe,

It were but paine and lost travaile,

Such part in their nativity

Was them alarged of beauty,
And eke they had a thing notable
Unto their death, ay durable,

And was, that their beauty should dure,
Which was never seene in creature,
Save onely there (as I trow)
It hath not be wist ne know,
Wherefore I praise with their conning,
That during beauty, rich thing,
Had they been of their lives certaine,
They had been quite of every paine.

And when I wende thus all have seene,
The state, the riches, that might beene,
That me thought impossible were
To see one thing more than was there,
That to beauty or glad conning
Serve or availe might any thing;
All sodainly, as I there stood,
This lady that couth so much good,

Unto me came with smiling chere,
And said, "Benedicite, this yere
Saw I never man here but you,
Tell me how ye come hider now?
And your name, and where ye dwell?
And whom ye seeke eke mote ye tell,
And how ye come be to this place,
The soth well told may cause you grace,
And else ye mote prisoner be
Unto the ladies here, and me,
That have the governaunce of this yle:"
And with that word she gan to smile,
And so did all the lusty rout

Of ladies that stood her about.
"Madame," (quod I)" this night past,
Lodged I was and slept fast
In a forest beside a well,

And now am here, how should I tell?
Wot I not by whose ordinance,
But onely Fortunes purveiance,
Which puts many, as I gesse,
To travaile, paine, and businesse,
And lettes nothing for their truth,
But some sleeth eke, and that is ruth,
Wherefore, I doubt her brittilnes,
Her variance and unsteadfastnes,
So that I am as yet afraid,
And of my being here amaid,
For wonder thing seemeth me,
Thus many fresh ladies to see,
So faire, so cunning, and so yong,
And no man dwelling them among:
N'ot I not how I hider come,
Madame," (quod I) "this all and some,
What should I faine a long processe
To you that seeme such a princesse ?
What please you commaund or say,
Here I am you to obay,

To my power, and all fulfill,
And prisoner bide at your will,
Till you duly enformed be
Of every thing ye aske me."

This lady there, right well apaid,
Me by the hand tooke, and said,
"Welcome prisoner adventurous,
Right glad am I ye have said thus,
And for ye doubt me to displease,
I will assay to do you ease :"
And with that word, ye anon,
She, and the ladies everichon
Assembled, and to counsaile went,
And after that soone for me sent,
And to me said on this manere,
Word for word, as ye shall here.

"To see you here us thinke marvaile,
And how without bote or saile,
By any subtilty or wyle,
Ye get have entre in this yle;
But not for that, yet shall ye see
That we gentill women bee,
Loth to displease any wight,
Notwithstanding our great right,
And for ye shall well understond
The old custome of this lond,

Which hath continued many yere,
Ye shall well wete that with us here
Ye may not bide, for causes twaine,
Which we be purposed you to saine.
"Th'one is this, our ordinance,
Which is of long continuance,

Woll not, sothly we you tell,

That no man here among us dwell, Wherefore ye mote needs retourne, In no wise may you here sojourne.

"Th'other is eke, that our queene
Out of the realme, as ye may seene,
Is, and may be to us a charge,
If we let you goe here at large,
For which cause the more we doubt,
To doe a fault while she is out,
Or suffer that may be noysaunce,
Againe our old accustomaunce."

And whan I had these causes twaine
Heard, O God! what a paine
All sodainly about mine herte
There came at ones and how smart,
In creeping soft as who should steale,
Or doe me robbe of all mine heale,
And made me in my thought so fraid,
That in courage I stode dismaid.
And standing thus, as was my grace,
A lady came more than apace,
With huge prease her about,
And told how the queene without
Was arived and would come in,
Well were they that thider might twin,
They hied so they would not abide
The bridling their horse to ride,
By five, by sixe, by two, by three,
There was not one abode with me,
The queene to meet everichone,
They went, and bode with me not one:
And I, after a soft pase,
Imagining how to purchase
Grace of the queene, there to bide,
Till good fortune some happy guide
Me send might, that would me bring
Where I was borne to my wonning,
For way ne foot knew I none,
Ne witherward I n'ist to gone,
For all was sea about the yle,
No wonder though me list not smile,
Seeing the case uncouth and straunge,
And so in like a perilous chaunge;
Imagining thus walking alone,
I saw the ladies everichone,
So that I might somwhat offer,
Sone after that I drew me nere,
And tho I was ware of the queene,
And how the ladies on their kneene,
With joyous words, gladly advised,
Her welcomed so that it suffised,
Though she princes hole had be
Of all environed is with see:
And thus avising, with chere sad,
All sodainly I was glad,

That greater joy, as mote I thrive,
I trow had never man on live,
Than I tho, ne heart more light,
Whan of my lady I had sight,

Which with the queene come was there,
And in one clothing both they were,
A knight also there well beseene,
I saw that come was with the queene,
Of whome the ladies of that yle
Had huge wonder longe while,
Till at the last right soberly,
The queene her selfe full cunningly,
With soft words in good wise,
Said to the ladies young and nise,

My sisters, how it hath befall,
I trow ye know it one and all,
That of long time here have I beene,
Within this yle biding as queene,
Living at ease, that never wight
More parfit joy have ne might,
And to you been of governance,
Such as you found in whole pleasance,
In every thing as ye know,
After our custome and our low,
Which how they first found were,
I trow ye wote all the manere,
And who queene is of this yle,
As I have been long while,
Ech seven yeeres not of usage,
Visit the heavenly armitage,
Which on a rocke so high stonds,
In strange sea out from all londs,
That to make the pilgrimage
Is called a long perillous viage,
For if the wind be not good frend,
The journey dures to the end
Of him that it undertakes,

Of twenty thousand one not scapes;
Upon which rock growth a tree,

That certaine yeeres beares apples thrce,
Which three apples who may have,
Been from all displeasaunce save,
That in the seven yeere may fall,
This wote you well one and all,
For the first apple and the hext,
Which growth unto you next,
Hath three vertues notable,
And keepeth youth aie durable,
Beauty and looke, ever in one,
And is the best in everichone.

"The second apple red and grene,
Onely with lookes of your yene,
You nourishes in pleasaunce
Better than partridge or fesaunce,
And feeds every lives wight
Pleasantly with the sight.

"The third apple of the three,
Which groweth lowest on the tree,
Who it beares may not faile
That to his pleasaunce may availe.
So your pleasure and beauty rich,
Your during youth ever liche,
Your truth, your cunning, and your weale,
Hath aye floured, and your good heale,
Without sicknes or displeasaunce,

Or thing that to you was noysaunce,
So that you have as goddesses,
Lived above all princesses :
Now is befall, as ye may see;
To gather these said apples three,
I have not failed againe the day,
Thitherward to take the way,
Wening to speed as I had oft,
But whan I come, I find aloft
My sister which that here stands,
Having those apples in her hands,
Avising them and nothing said,
But looked as she were well paid:
And as I stood her to behold,
Thinking how my joyes were cold,
Sith I those apples have ne might,
Even with that so came this knight,
And in his armes of me aware,
Me tooke, and to his ship me bare,

And said, though him I never had seen,
Yet had I long his lady been,
Wherefore I should with him wend,
And he would to his lives end
My servant be, and gan to sing

As one that had wonne a rich thing;
Tho were my spirits fro me gone,
So sodainly everichone,

That in me appeared but death,
For I felt neither life ne breath,
Ne good ne harme none I knew,
The sodaine paine me was so new,
That had not the hasty grace be
Of this lady, that fro the tree
Of her gentilnesse so hied
Me to comfort, I had died,
And of her three apples, one

In mine hand there put anone,

Which brought againe mind and breath,
And me recovered from the death,
Wherefore, to her so am I hold,
That for her all things do I wold,
For she was lech of all my smart,

And from great paine so quite mine hart,
And, as God wote, right as ye heare,
Me to comfort with friendly cheare
She did her prowesse and her might,
And truly eke so did this knight,
In that he couth, and oft said,
That of my wo he was ill paid,

And cursed the ship that them there brought
The mast, the master that it wrought;
And as ech thing mote have an end,
My sister here your brother frend,
Con with her words so womanly
This knight entreat, and conningly,
For mine honour and his also,
And said that with her we should go
Both in her ship, where she was brought,
Which was so wonderfully wrought,
So cleane, so rich, and so araid,
That we were both content and paid,
And me to comfort and to please,
And mine herte to put at ease,
She toke great paine in little while,
And thus hath brought us to this yle,
As ye may see, wherefore echone,
I pray you thanke her, one and one,
As heartily as ye can devise,
Or imagine in any wise."

At once there tho men might seen
A world of ladies fall on kneen
Before my lady, that there about
Was left none standing in the rout,
But altogither they went at ones

To kneele, they spared not for the stones,
Ne for estate, ne for their blood,

Well shewed there they couth much good,
For to my lady they made such feast,
With such words, that the least,
So friendly and so faithfully
Said was, and so cunningly,
That wonder was, seing their youth,
To here the language they couth,
And wholly how they governed were,
In thanking of my lady there,
And said by will and maundement,
They were at her commaundement,
Which was to me as great a joy,
As winning of the towne of Troy

Was to the hardy Greekes strong,
Whan they it wan with siege long,
To see my lady in such a place
So received as she was:

And whan they talked had a while
Of this and that, and of the yle,
My lady, and the ladies there,
Altogether as they were,

The queene her selfe began to play,
And to the aged lady say:
"Now seemeth you not good it were,
Sith we be altogither here,

To ordaine and devise the best,
To set this knight and me at rest?
For woman is a feble wight
To rere a warre against a knight,
And sith he here is in this place,
At my list, danger or grace,
It were to me great villany
To do him any tiranny,

But faine I would, now will ye here,
In his owne country that he were,
And I in peace, and he at ease,
This were a way us both to please,
If it might be; you beseech,
With him hereof you fall in speech."
This lady tho began to smile,
Avising her a little while,

And with glad chere she said anone,
"Madam, I will unto him gone,

And with him speake, and of him fele
What he desires every dele :"
And soberly this lady tho,

Her selfe and other ladies two

She tooke with her, and with sad chere,
Said to the knight on this manere,
"Sir, the princes of this yle,
Whom for your pleasance many mile
Ye sought have, as I understond,
Till at the last ye have her fond,
Me sent hath here, and ladies twaine,

To heare all thing that ye saine,

And for what cause ye have her sought,

Faine would she wote, and whol your thought,

And why you do her all this wo,

And for what cause you be her fo?
And why, of every wight unware,
By force ye to your ship her bare,
That she so nigh was agone,
That mind ne speech had she none,
But as a painfull creature,
Dying, abode her adventure,
That her to see indure that paine,
Here well say unto you plaine,
Right on your selfe ye did amisse,
Seeing how she a princes is."

This knight, the which couth his good,
Right of his truth meved his blood,
That pale he woxe as any lead,
And lookt as he would be dead,

Blood was there none in nother cheke,
Wordlesse he was and semed sicke,
And so it proved well he was,
For without moving any paas,
All sodainely as thing dying,
He fell at once downe sowning,
That for his wo this lady fraid,
Unto the queene her hied and said,
"Cometh on anon as have you blisse,
But ye be wise, thing is amisse,