The king, and many another in that place,
Converted was, thanked be Criftes grace.
This falfe knight was flain for his untrouthe
By jugement of Alla hastily;
And yet Cuftance had of his deth gret routhe;
And after this Jefus of his mercy
Made Alla wedden ful folempnely
This holy woman, that is fo bright and fhene;
And thus hath Crift ymade Cuftance a quene,
But who was woful (if I fhal not lie)
Of this wedding but Donegild, and no mo,
The kinges mother, ful of tyrannie?
Hire thoughte hire cursed herte braft atwo;
She wolde not that hire fone had do fo:
Hire thoughte a despit that he shulde take
So ftrange a creature unto his make.
Me lift not of the chaf ne of the stre
Maken fo long a tale as of the corn.
What fhulde I tellen of the realtee
Of this mariage, or which cours goth beforn,
Who bloweth in a trompe or in an horn?
The fruit of every tale is for to say;
They ete and drinke, and dance, and fing, and play.I'
They gon to bed, as it was skill and right,
For though that wives ben ful holy thinges,
They moften take in patience a night
Swiche maner neceffaries, as ben plefinges
To folk that han ywedded hem with ringes,
And lay a lite hir holineffe afide
As for the time, it may no bet betide.
On hire he gat a knave childe anon,
And to a bishop, and his Conflable eke,
He toke his wif to kepe, whan he is gon
To Scotland ward, his fomen for to feke.
Now faire Cuftance, that is fo humble and meke,
So long is gon with childe til that ftill
She halt hire chambre, abiding Crifles will.
The time is come, a knave child the bere;
Mauricius at the fontftone they him calle.
This Conitable doth forth come a meffager,
And wrote unto his king that cleped was Alle, 5145
How that this blisful tiding is befalle,
And other tidings fpedeful for to say.
He hath the lettre, and forth he goth his way.
This meflager, to don his avantage,
Unto the kinges mother rideth fwithe,
And falucth hire ful faire in his langage.
Madame, quod he, ye may be glad and blithe,
And thanken God an hundred thousand fithe;
My lady quene hath child, withouten doute,
To joye and bliffe of all this regne aboute.
Lo here the lettre feled of this thing,
That I mott bere in all the haft I may:
If ye wol ought unto your fone the king,
I am your fervant bothe night and day.
Donegilde anfwerd, As now at this time nay; 5160
But here I wol all night thou take thy reft,
To-morwe wol I fay thee what me left.
This meffager drank sadly ale and wine,
And stolen were his lettres prively
Out of his box, while he slept as a swine;
And contrefeted was ful fubtilly
Another lettre, wrought fal finfully,
Unto the king directe of this matere
Fro his Conftable, as ye shal after here.
This lettre spake, the quene
delivered was
Of fo horrible a fendliche creature,
That in the caftle non fo hardy was
That any while dorite therein endure:
The mother was an elfe by aventure
Ycome, by charmes or by forcerie,
And everich man hateth hire compagnie.
Wo was this king whan he this lettre had fein,
But to no wight he told his forwes fore,
But of his owen hand he wrote again;
Welcome the fonde of Crift for evermore
To me, that am now lerned in his lore;
Lord, welcome be thy luft and thy plesance;
My luft I put all in thyn ordinance.
Kepeth this child, al be it foule or faire,
And eke my wif, unto min home coming:
Crift whan him lift may fenden me an heire
More agreable than this to my liking.
This lettre he feled, prively weping,
Which to the messager was taken sone,
And forth he goth, ther is no more to done.
O meffager fulfilled of dronkeneffe!
Strong is thy breth, thy limmes faltren ay,
And thou bewreieft alle fecreneffe;
'Thy mind is lorne, thou janglest as a jay;
Thy face is tourned in a new array:
Ther dronkeneffe regneth in
Fy, mannish, fy! o nay by God I lie;
Fy, fendliche fpirit! for I dare wel telle
Though thou here walke thy fpirit is in helle.
This meffager cometh fro the king again, 5205
And at the kinges modres court he light,
And she was of this meffager ful fayn,
And plefed him in all that ever she might.
He dranke and wel his girdel underpight;
He flepeth and he fnoreth in his gife
All night until the fonne gan arise.
Eft were his lettres stolen everich on,
And contrefeted lettres in this wife.
v. 5191. O messager] " Quid turpius ebriofo, cui fætor in 66 ore, tremor in corpore; qui promit ftulta, prodit occulta; "cui mens alienatur, facies transformatur? nullum enim latet "fecretum ubi regnat ebrietas." Marg. C. 1.
The king commanded his Constable anon,
Up peine of hanging and of high jewife,
That he ne fhulde foffren in no wife
Cuftance within his regne for to abide
Three daies and a quarter of a tide;
But in the fame ship as he hire fond
Hire and hire yonge fone, and all hire gere,
He fhulde put, and croude hire fro the lond,
And charge hire that she never eft come there.
O my Cuftance! wel may thy ghoft have fere,
And fleping in thy dreme ben in penance,
Whan Donegild caft all this ordinance.
This meffager on morwe whan he awoke
Unto the caftel halt the nexte way,
And to the Conftable he the lettre toke;
And whan that he this pitous lettre fey
Ful oft he fayd Alas, and wala wa!
Lord Crift, quod he, how may this world endure,
So ful of finne is many a creature?
O mighty God! if that it be thy will,
Sin thou art rightful juge, how may it be
That thou wolt foffren innocence to spill,
And wicked folk regne in profperitee?
A good Cuftance, alas! fo wo is me,
That I mote be thy turmentour, or dey
On fhames deth, ther is non other wey.
Wepen both yong and old in al that place
Whan that the king this curfed lettre fent :
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