1470

'Is ther oght elles, Dorigen, but this?' (741)
'Nay, nay,' quod she, 'god help me so,
as wis;
This is to muche, and it were goddes wille.'
'Ye, wyf,' quod he, 'lat slepen that is
stille;

It may be wel, paraventure, yet to-day.
Ye shul your trouthe holden, by my fay!
For god so wisly have mercy on me, 1475
I hadde wel lever y-stiked for to be,
For verray love which that I to yow have,
But-if ye sholde your trouthe kepe and
(750)

save.

Trouthe is the hyeste thing that man may kepe:'

But with that word he brast anon to wepe, 1480 And seyde, 'I yow forbede, up peyne of deeth,

That never, whyl thee lasteth lyf ne breeth,

To no wight tel thou of this aventure.
As I may best, I wol my wo endure,

Ne make no contenance of hevinesse, 1485 That folk of yow may demen harm or gesse,'

And forth he cleped a squyer and a mayde:

Goth forth anon with Dorigen,' he sayde, (760) 'And bringeth hir to swich a place

anon.'

They take hir leve, and on hir wey they gon; 1490 But they ne wiste why she thider wente. He nolde no wight tellen his entente. (764) Paraventure an heep of yow, y-wis, [T. om. Wol holden him a lewed man in this, [T. om. That he wol putte his wyf in jupartye; [T. om. hir crye. [T. om. She may have bettre fortune than yow semeth; [T. om. And whan that ye han herd the tale, demeth. [T. om. This squyer, which that highte Aurelius, On Dorigen that was so amorous, (772) 1500 Of aventure happed hir to mete

Herkneth the tale, er ye up-on

Amidde the toun, right in the quikkest strete,

As she was boun to goon the wey forthright

Toward the gardin ther-as she had hight.
And he was to the gardinward also; 1505
For wel he spyed, whan she wolde go
Out of hir hous to any maner place.
But thus they mette, of aventure or
grace;
(780)

And he saleweth hir with glad entente,
And asked of hir whiderward she wente?
And she answerde, half as she were mad,
Un-to the gardin, as myn housbond bad,
My trouthe for to holde, allas! allas!'
Aurelius gan wondren on this cas,
And in his herte had greet compassioun
Of hir and of hir lamentacioun,
And of Arveragus, the worthy knight,
That bad hir holden al that she had
hight,
(790)

1516

So looth him was his wyf sholde breke hir trouthe;

And in his herte he caughte of this greet routhe, 1520 Consideringe the beste on every syde, That fro his lust yet were him lever abyde Than doon so heigh a cherlish wrecched

nesse

Agayns franchyse and alle gentillesse ; For which in fewe wordes seyde he thus:

'Madame, seyth to your lord Arveragus, That sith I see his grete gentillesse (800) To yow, and eek I see wel your distresse, That him were lever han shame (and that were routhe)

Than ye to me sholde breke thus your trouthe, 1530

I have wel lever ever to suffre wo
Than I departe the love bitwix yow two.
I yow relesse, madame, in-to your hond
Quit every surement and every bond, 1534
That
ye han maad to me as heer-biforn,
Sith thilke tyme which that ye were born.
My trouthe I plighte, I shal yow never

Thus can a squyer doon a gentil dede,
As well as can a knight, with-outen drede.'
She thonketh him up-on hir knees al
bare,

1545 And hoom un-to hir housbond is she fare, And tolde him al as ye han herd me sayd; And be ye siker, he was so weel apayd, (820) That it were inpossible me to wryte; What sholde I lenger of this cas endyte? Arveragus and Dorigene his wyf 1551 In sovereyn blisse leden forth hir lyf. Never eft ne was ther angre hem bitwene; He cherisseth hir as though she were 1554

a quene;

And she was to him trewe for evermore.
Of thise two folk ye gete of me na-more.
Aurelius, that his cost hath al forlorn,
Curseth the tyme that ever he was born :
'Allas,' quod he'allas! that I bihighte
Of pured gold a thousand pound of
wighte
(832) 1560
Un-to this philosophre! how shal I do?
I see na-more but that I am fordo.
Myn heritage moot I nedes selle,
And been a begger; heer may I nat
dwelle,

And shamen al my kinrede in this place,
But I of him may gete bettre grace. 1566
But nathelees, I wol of him assaye, (839)
At certeyn dayes, yeer by yeer, to paye,
And thanke him of his grete curteisye;
My trouthe wol I kepe, I wol nat lye.' 1570
With herte soor he gooth un-to his cofre,
And broghte gold un-to this philosophre,
The value of fyve hundred pound, I gesse,
And him bisecheth, of his gentillesse,
To graunte him dayes of the remenaunt,
And seyde, 'maister, I dar wel make
avaunt,

1576

Everich of yow dide gentilly til other. (880) Thou art a squyer, and he is a knight; But god forbede, for his blisful might, 1610 But-if a clerk coude doon a gentil dede As wel as any of yow, it is no drede!

Sire, I relesse thee thy thousand pound, As thou right now were cropen out of the ground, 1614

Ne never er now ne haddest knowen me. For sire, I wol nat take a peny of thee For al my craft, ne noght for my travaille. Thou hast y-payed wel for my vitaille; (890) It is y-nogh, and farewel, have good day:' And took his hors, and forth he gooth his way. 1620 Lordinges, this question wolde I aske

now,

Which was the moste free, as thinketh yow? Now telleth me, er that ye ferther wende. I can na-more, my tale is at an ende. (896)

Inuocacio ad Mariam.

AND thou that flour of virgines art alle, Of whom that Bernard list so wel to wryte, 30

To thee at my biginning first I calle; Thou comfort of us wrecches, do me

endyte

Thy maydens deeth, than wan thurgh hir meryte

The eternal lyf, and of the feend victorie, As man may after reden in hir storie. 35 Thou mayde and mooder, doghter of thy sone,

Thou welle of mercy, sinful soules cure, In whom that god, for bountee, chees to wone,

Thou humble, and heigh over every creature,

Thou nobledest so ferforth our nature, 40 That no desdeyn the maker hadde of kinde,

His sone in blode and flesh to clothe and winde.

Withinne the cloistre blisful of thy sydes Took mannes shap the eternal love and

60

That whelpes eten somme of the crommes
alle
That from hir lordes table been y-falle;
And though that I, unworthy sone of Eve,
Be sinful, yet accepte my bileve.

And, for that feith is deed with-outen werkes,

So for to werken yif me wit and space, 65 That I be quit fro thennes that most derk is!

O thou, that art so fayr and ful of grace,
Be myn advocat in that heighe place
Ther-as withouten ende is songe 'Osanne,'
Thou Cristes mooder, doghter dere of
Anne!
70

And of thy light my soule in prison lighte,
That troubled is by the contagioun
Of my body, and also by the wighte
Of erthly luste and fals affeccioun ;
O haven of refut, o salvacioun

75

ΠΟ

Right so men gostly, in this mayden free,
Seyen of feith the magnanimitee,
And eek the cleernesse hool of sapience,
And sondry werkes, brighte of excellence.

And right so as thise philosophres wryte That heven is swift and round and eek brenninge,

Right so was fayre Cecilie the whyte 115 Ful swift and bisy ever in good werkinge, And round and hool in good perseveringe, And brenning ever in charitee ful brighte; Now have I yow declared what she highte. Explicit.

Here biginneth the Seconde Nonnes Tale, of the lyf of Seinte Cecile. THIS mayden bright Cecilie, as hir lyf seith,

120

85

Expoune, as men may in hir storie see,

Was comen of Romayns, and of noble kinde,