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 shapé 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 wolde 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,' 1
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.
"O ye, to whom no thing asterte 1
Of Lové may, for every herte
Ye knowe, as ye that ben above
The God and the Goddésse of Love,
Ye witen well, that ever yit
With al min herte and all my wit
I have ben trewe in my degre
And ever thoughté for to be,
And never love in other place
But all only the king of Trace
Whiche is my lord and I his wife.
But now alas this wofull strife,
That I him thus ayeinward finde
The most untrewe and most un-
kinde
That ever in ladies armés lay,
And wel I wot that he ne may
Amend his wronge, it is so great,
For he to litel of me lete
Whan he min owné suster toke
And me that am his wife forsoke.'
Lo, thus to Venus and Cupide She praid, and furthermore she cride Unto Apollo the highest
And said: 'O mighty god of rest,
Thou do vengeaúnce of this debate,
My suster and all her estate
Thou wost, and I shall bere a blame
Of that my suster hath a shame,
That Terëús to her I sent.
And well thou wost, that min entent
Was all for worship and for good.
O lord, that yivest the livés food
To every wight, I pray the here
These wofull susters that ben here,
And let us nought to the ben loth,
We ben thin owné women both.'
Thus pleigneth Progne and axeth
wreche,
And though her suster lacké speche,
To him that allé thinges wote
Her sorwe is nought the lassé hote.
But he that thanné herd hem two
Him ought have sorwed evermo
1 Asterte, escape,
For sorwe which was hem betwene. With signés pleigneth Philomene, And Progné saith: It shal be wreke,
That all the world therof shall speke.' "And Progne tho sikenessé
Wherof unto her lord she pleigned And preith she mote her chambre kepe
And as her liketh wake and slepe.
And he her graunteth to be so.
And thus to-gider ben they two,
That wold him but a litel good.
Now herke hereafter, how it stood
Of wofull auntrés that befelle.
These susters, that ben bothé felle,
And that was nought on hem alonge
But only on the greaté wronge
Which Terëús hem hadde do,
They shopen for to venge hem tho.
This Terëús by Progne his wife
A soné hath, which as his life
He loveth, and Ithís he hight.
His moder wisté well she might
Do Terëús no moré greve
Than slee his child which was so
leve.
Thus she that was as who saith mad
Of wo which hath her overlad,
Without insight of moderhede
Foryat pité and losté drede
And in her chambre privély
This childé without noise or cry
She slough and hewe him all to
pieces.
And after with diversé spieces
The flessh whan it was so to-hewe,
She taketh and maketh therof a
sewe,1
With which the fader at his mete
Was servéd till he had him ete
That he ne wist how that it stood.
But thus his owné flessh and blood
1 Sewe, broth, stew.
Him self devoureth ayeine kinde,
As he that was to-fore unkinde.
And than er that he were arise,
For that he shuldé bene agrise
To shewen him the child was dede,
This Philomené toke the hede
Betwene two disshes, and all wrothe
Tho camen forth the susters bothe
And setten it upon the bord.
And Progné than began the word
And saide: ‘O werst of alle wicke,
Of consciencé whom no pricke
May steré, lo, what thou hast do,
Lo, here ben now we susters two.
O raviner, lo here thy prey,
With whom so falslich on the wey
Thou hast thy tiranníë wrought,
Lo, now it is somedele abought
And beter it shall, for of thy dede
The world shall ever sing and rede
In remembraúnce of thy defame,
For thou to love hast done such
shame,
That it shall never be foryete.'
With that he sterte up fro the mete,
And shove the bord into the flore,
And caught a swerd anone and swore
That they shulde of his hondés deie.
And they unto the goddés crie
Begunné with so loude a steven,
That they were herde unto the
heven,
And in the twinkeling of an eye
The goddés that the mischefe sigh|
Her formés chaungéd allé thre.
Echone of hem in his degré
Was torned into a briddés kinde
Diversélich as men may finde.
After thestate that they were inne
Her formés weré set a twinne,
And as it telleth in the tale
The first into a nightingale
Was shape, and that was Philomene,
Which in the winter is nought sene,
For thanné ben the levés falle
And naked ben the busshes alle.
For after that she was a brid
Her will was ever to ben hid
And for to dwelle in privé place,
That no man shuldé sen her face
For shame which may nought ben
lassed
Of thing that was to-foré passed,
And halt her clos the winter day.
But whan the winter goth away
And that natúré the goddesse
Woll of her owné fre largesse
With herbés and with flourés bothe
The feldés and the medewes clothe,
And eke the wodés and the greves
Ben heléd 1 all with grené leves,
So that a brid her hidé may
Betwené March, Aprílle and May,
She that the winter 2 held her clos
For puré shame and nought aros,
Whan that she sigh the bowés thicke
And that there is no baré sticke
But all is hid with levés grene,
To wodé cometh this Philomene
And maketh her firsté yerés flight,
Where as she singeth day and night,
And in her song all openly
She maketh her pleint and saith :
'O why,
O why ne were I yet a maide ?'
For so these oldé wisé saide
Which understoden what she ment,
Her notés ben of suche entent.
And eke they said, how in her songe
She maketh great joy and merth
And saith: Ha, now I am a brid,
Ha, now my facé may ben hid!'
Thus medleth she with joié wo
And with her sorwé merth also,
So that of loves maladie
She maketh diversé melodie
And saith: 'Love is a wofull blisse,
1 Greves.. heled, groves.. covered.
2 The winter, during winter.
A wisdom, which can no man wisse, A lusty fever, a woundé softe.' This noté she reherseth ofte
To hem which understonde her tale.
"Now have I of this nightingale, Which erst was clepéd Philomene, Told all that ever woldé mene Both of her forme and of her note, Wherof men may the story note. And of her suster Progne I finde, How she was tornéd out of kinde Into a swalwé swift of wing, Which eke in winter lith swouning There as she may no thíng be sene, But whan the world is woxé grene And comen is the somer tide, Than fleeth she forth and ginneth
And chitereth out in her langáge
What falshede is in mariáge;
And telleth in a maner speche
Of Terëús the spousé breche.
She wol nought in the wodés dwelle,
For she wold openliché telle,
And eke for that she was a spouse,
Among the folk she cometh to house
To do these wivés understonde
The falshode of her husébonde,
That they of hem beware also,
For there be many untrewe of tho.
"Thus ben the susters briddés
both
And ben toward the men so loth,
That they ne woll for puré shame
Unto no mannés hond be tame,
For ever it dwelleth in her minde
Of that they found a man unkinde,
And that was falsé Terëús.
If suché one be amonge us
I not, but his conditiön
Men say in every regiön
Withinné town and eke without
Now regneth comunlich about.
And nethéles in remembraúnce
I woll declare what vengeaúnce
The goddés hadden him ordeigned,
Of that the susters hadden pleigned.
For anone after he was chaunged
And from his owné kindé straunged,
A lappéwinké made he was
And thus he hoppeth on the gras,
And on his heed there stont upright
A crest in token of a knight,
And yet unto this day, men saith,
A lappéwinke hath lost his feith
And is the brid falsést of alle.
"Beware, my sone, er the so falle,
For if thou be of such covine
To get of love by ravine
Thy lust, it may the fallé thus,
As it befell of Terëús."-
"My fader, nay, Goddés forbode, Me weré lever be fortrode, With wildé hors and be to-drawe, Er I ayein love and his lawe Did any thing, or loude or still, Which weré nought my ladies will. Men saien that every love hath drede,
So folweth it that I her drede, For I her love, and who SO dredeth,
To plese his love and serve, him nedeth.
Thus may ye knowen by this skill,
That no Raviné done I will
Ayein her will by such a wey.
But while I live I will obey,
Abiding on her courtesie
If any mercy wolde her plie.1
"Forthy my fader, as of this I wot nought I have do amis. But furthermore I you beseche, Some other point that ye me teche, And axeth forth if there be ought, That I may be the better taught.""Whan Covefise in pouer
Stont with him self upon debate 1 Plie, bend, turn.
Through lacke of his misgovernaunce,
That he unto his sustenaunce
Ne can non other waié finde
To get him good, than as the blinde
Which seeth nought what shal after
fall,
That ilké Vicé which men call
Of Robbery he taketh on honde,
Wherof by water and by londe
Of thing which other men beswinke1
He get him cloth and mete and
drinke,
Him reccheth nought what he beginne
Through theftéso that he may winne.
Forthý to maken his purchas
He lith awaitend on the pas,
And what thing that he seeth ther
passe
He taketh his parte or more or lasse
If it be worthy to be take,
He can the packés well ransake.
So privély bereth none about
His gold that he ne fint it out,
Or other juell what it be
He taketh it as his propreté
In wodés and in feldés eke.
Thus Robberíë goth to seke
Where as he may his purchas finde.
And right so in the same kinde
My godé sone, as thou might here,
To speke of love in the matere
And make a verray résemblánce
Right as a thefe maketh chevesance
And robbeth mennés goodes about
Inwode and felde where he goth out,
So be there of these lovers some
In wilde stedés 2 where they come
And finden there a woman able
And therto placé covenáble,
Withouté leve er that they fare
They take a parte of that chaffare.
1 Beswinke, obtain by labour.
2 Stedes, places.
But therof wot nothing the wife
At home, which loveth as her life
Her lord and sit all day wisshíng
After her lordés home comíng.
But whan he cométh home at eve
Anone he maketh his wife beleve,
For she nought ellés shuldé knowe
He telleth her, how his hunt hath
blowe
And howe his houndés have well
And how there shone a mery sonne,
And how his hawkés flowen wele.
But he wol telle her never a dele,
How he to love untrewé was
Of that he robbéd in the pas
And toke his lust under the shawe
Ayein Love and ayein his lawe.
"Which thing, my sone, I the
forbede,
For it is an ungoodly dede.
For who that taketh by robberie
His love, he may nought justifie
His cause, and so ful ofté sithe1
For ones that he hath ben blithe
He shall ben after sory thries.
Ensamples for such robberies
I findé write as thou shalt here
Accordend unto this matere.
"I rede, how whilom was a
maide
The fairest, as Ovídé saide,
Which was in hiré timé tho.
And she was of the chambre also
Of Pallas, which is the goddesse
And wife to Marte, of whom prow-
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