L'AMANT.

All be it so, one doth so great offence,
And is not dedde, nor put to no justice,
Right well I wote him gayneth no defence,
But he must end in full mischevous wise,
And all ever said, God will him dispise,
For falshed is full of cursednesse,

That his worship may never have enterprise
Where it reigneth, and hath the wilfulnesse.

LA DAME.

Of that have they no great fere now adaise,
Soch as will say and maintain it thereto,
That stedfast truth is nothing for to praise,
In hem that kepe it long in wele or wo,
Their busie hertes passen to and fro,
They be so well reclaimed to the lure,
So well learned hem to withhold also,

And al to chaunge, whan love should best endure.

L'AMANT.

Whan one hath set his herte in stable wise,
In such a place, as is both good and true,
He should not flit, but doe forth his service,
Alway withouten chaunge of any newe,
As soone as love beginneth to remewe,
All pleasaunce gothe anone in little space,
As for my party that shall I eschue,
While the soule abideth in his place.

LA DAME.

To love truely, there as it ought of right,
Ye may not be mistaken doubtlesse,
But ye be foule disceived in your sight,
By light vnderstanding, as I gesse,
Yet may ye well repele your businesse,
And to reason have some attendaunce,
Moch better than to abide by folie simplenesse,
The feble soccour of disperaunce.

L'AMANT.

Reason, counsaile, wisedome and good advise,
Been vnder love arested everichone,
To which I can accorde in every wise,
For they been not rebell, but still as a stone,
Their will and mine be medled all in one,
And therwith bounden with so strong a chain,
That as in hem, departing shall be none,
But pity breake the mighty bonde atwaine.

LA DAME.

Ye love not your selfe, what ever ye bee,
That in love stand subject in every place,
And of your wo, if ye have no pitee,
Others pitee bileve you not to purchace,
But be fully assured, as in this cace,
I am alway vnder one ordinaunce,
To have better trust not after grace,
And all that leveth, take to your pleasaunce.
L'AMANT.

I have my hope so sure and so stedfast,
That such a lady should not lacke pity,
But now alas, it is shyt vp so fast,
That daunger sheweth on me his cruelty,
And if she see the vertue fayle in me,
Of true service, though she doe faile also,
No wonder were, but this is my surete,
I must suffre, which way that ever it go.

LA DAME.

Leave this purpose, I rede you for that best,
For the lenger ye kepe, it is in vaine,
The lesse ye get, as of your hertes rest,
And to rejoyce it shall you never attaine,
When ye abide good hope to make you faine,
Ye shall be found asotted in dotage,
And in the end, ye shall know for certaine,
Hope shall pay the wretches for hir wage,

L'AMANT

Ye say as falleth most for your pleasaunce,
And your power is great, all this I see,
But hope shall never out of my remembraunce
By which I fele so great adversitee,
For whan nature hath set in you plentee
Of all goodnesse, by vertue and by grace,
He never assembled hem, as seemed mee,
To put pity out of his dwellyng place.

LA DAME.

Pity of right ought to be reasonable,
And to no wight do no great disavauntage,
There as is nede, it should be profitable,
And to the pitous shewing no domage,
If a lady will doe so great outrage,
To shew pity and cause her owne debate,-
Of soch pity commeth dispitous rage,
And of soch love, also right deadly hate.

L'AMANT.

To comfort hem that live all comfortlesse,
That is no harm, but comfort to your name,
But ye that have a herte of soch duresse,
And a faire lady, I must affirme the same,
If I durst say, ye winne all this defame,
By cruelty, which sitteth you full ill,
But if pity, which may all this attain,
In your high herte may rest and tary still.

LA DAME.

What ever he be that saith he loveth me,
And paraventure lleve well it be so,
Ought he be wrothe, or should I blamed be,
Though I did not as he would have me do,
If I medled with soch or other moe,
It might be called pity mercilesse,
And afterward if I should live in woe.
Than to repent, it were to late I gesse.

L'AMANT.

O marble herte, and yet more hard parde, Which mercy may not perce for no labour, More strong to bowe than is a mighty tree, What availeth you to shew so great rigour, Pleaseth it you more to see me die this houre, Before your iyen, for your disport and play, Than for to shewe some comfort and soccour, To respite death, which chaseth me alway.

LA DAME.

Of your disease, ye may have allegeannce,
And as for mine, I let it over slake,
Also ye shall not dye for my pleasaunce,
Nor for your heale, I can no surety make,
I will not hurt my selfe for others sake,
Wepe they, laugh they, or sing they, I warrant,
For this matter, so will I vndertake,
That none of hem shall make therof avant.

L'AMANT.

I can not skill of love by God alone,

I have more cause to wepe in your presence,
And well ye wote, avauntour am I none,
For certainly, I love better silence,
One should not love by his hertes credence,
But he were sure to kepe it secretly
For a vauntour is of no reverence,
Whan that his tongue is his most enemy.

LA DAME.

Male bouch in court, hath great commaundment,
Fch man studieth to say the worst he may,
These false lovers, in this time now present,
They serue best to jangle as a jay,
The most secrete iwis, yet some men say,
How he mistrusted is in some partise,

Wherfore to ladies what so men speake or say,
It should be bileved in no wise.

L'AMANT.

Of good and ill shall be, and is alway,
The world is soch, the yearth is not all plain,
They that be good, that profe shewth every day
And otherwise great villony certain :
It is no reason, though one his tong distain
With cursed speech, to do himself a shame,
That soch refuce should wrongfully remain
Upon the good renomed in their fame.

LA DAME.

Soch as be nought, whan they here tidings new,
That ech trespas shall lightly have pardon,
They that pursuen to be good and true,
Will not set by none ill disposition,
To continue in every good condicion,
They are the first that fallen in domage,
And full freely the hertes habandon,

To little faith, with soft and faire language.

L'AMANT.

Now know I well of very certaintee,
If one do truely, yet shall he be shent,
Sith all maner of justice and pitee
Is banished out of a ladies entent,
I cannot see but all is at one stent,

The good, the ill, the vice, and eke the vertue,
Soch as be good, soch haue the punishment,
For the trespace of hem that liue untrue.

LA DAME.

I have no power you to do greuaunce,
Nor to punish none other creature,
But to eschew the more encombraunce,
To kepe us from you all, I hold it sure,
False semblaunce, hath a face full demure,
Lightly to catch these ladies in a wait,
Wherefore we must, if we will here endure,
Make right good watch, lo this is my conceit.

L'AMANT.

Sith that of grace, a goodly word not one
May now be had, but alway kept in store,
I appeale to God, for he may hear my mone
Of the duresse, which greueth me so sore.
And of pitee, I complaine furthermore,
Which he forgate, in all his ordinaunce,
Or els my life to haue ended before,
Which so sone am put out of remembraunce.

LA DAME.

My herte nor I, haue done you no forfeit,
By which ye should complain in any kind,
Nothyng hurteth you, but your own conceit,
Be judge your self, for so ye shall it find,
Thus alway let this sinke in your mind,
That your desire shall never recovered be,
Ye noye me sore, in wasting all this wind,
For I haue said ynough, as seemeth me.
L'AMANT.

This woful man rose vp in all his paine,
And so departed with weping countenaunce,
His woful herte almost to brast in twaine,
Full like to dye, walking forth in a traunce,
And sayed, "Death come forth, thy self auaunce,
Or that mine herte forget his property,
And make shorter all this woful penaunce,
Of my poore lyfe full of aduersity."

Fro thens he went, but whither wist I nought,
Nor to what part he drew in soothfastnesse,
But he no more was in his ladies thought,
For to the daunce anone she gan her dresse,
And afterward, one tolde me thus expresse,
He rent his heer, for anguish and for paine,
And in himself toke so great heauinesse,
That he was dedde within a day or twaine.

LENUOY.

THE true louers thus I beseech you all,
Soch aduentures flye hem in euery wise,
And as people defamed ye hem call,
For they truely do you great prejudice,
His castels strong stuffed with ordinaunce,
For they have had long time by their office,
The whole countrey of loue in obeysaunce.

And ye ladies, or what estate ye be,

Of whom worshyp hath choyse his dwellyng place,
For Goddes loue do no such cruelty,

Nor in no wise ne foule not the trace
Of her that here is named rightwisely,
Which by reason me seemeth in this cace,
May be called, La belle Dame sans Mercy.

Go litle book, God send thee good passage,
Chese well thy way, be simple of manere,
Looke thy clothing be like thy pilgremage,
And specially let this be thy prayere,
Unto hem all that thee will rede or here,
Where thou art wrong, after hir help to call,
Thee to correct in any part or all.

Pray hem also with thine humble seruice,
Thy boldnesse to pardon in this cace,
For els thou art not able in no wise
To make thy self appear in any place,
And furthermore beseech hem of hir grace,
By hir favour and supportacion,
To take in gree this rude translation.
The which God wote standeth ful destitute
Of eloquence, of metre, and colours,
Like as a beast naked without refute,
Upon a plain to abide all manner showers,
I can no more but ask of hem socours,
At whose request thou were made in this wise
Commanding me with body and seruice.

Right thus I make an end of this prosses,
Besechyng him, that all hath in balaunce,
That no true man be vexed causelesse,
As this man was, which is of remembraunce,
And all that done hir faithful observaunce,
And in hir trouth purpose hem to endure,
I pray God send hem better auenture.

EXPLICIT.

THE ASSEMBLY OF LADIES.

A gentlewoman dreameth that she seeth a great number of ladies put up their bills of complaint before a judge, who promiseth to relieve their grievances.

In Septembre at the falling of the lefe,
The fresh season was altogider done,
And of the corne was gathered the shefe,
In a gardine about twaine after noone,
There were ladies walking, as was hir wone
Foure in nombre, as to my mind doth fall,
And I the fifth, the simplest of hem all.

Of gentilwomen fayre there were also,
Disporting hem, euerich after her gise,
In crosse alies walking by two and two,
And some alone, after hir fantasie,
Thus occupied we were in diuerse wise,
And yet in trouth we were not all alone,
There were knights and squires many one.

Whereof I serued, one of hem asked me,
I said ayen, as it fell in my thought,
To walke about the mase in certainte,
As a woman that nothing rought,
He asked me ayen whom that I sought,
And of my colour, why I was so pale,
"Forsoth" (quod I)" and thereby lithe a tale."

"That must me wete" (quod he) " and that anone,
Tell on,
let see, and make no tarying."
"Abide" (quod I) "ye ben a hastie one,
I let you wete it is no litel thing,
But for bicause ye haue a great longing,
In your desire, this processe for to here,
I shall you tell the plaine of this matere,

"It happed thus, that in an after noone,
My felawship and I by one assent,
Whan all other besinesses were doone,
To passe our time, in to this mase we went,
And tooke our waies, eche after our entent,
Some went inward, and went they had gon out,
Some stood in the mid, and looked all about.

"And soth to say, some were full ferre behind,
And right anon as ferforth as the best,
Other there were so mased in bir mind,
Alwaies were good for hem bost eest and west,
Thus went they forth, and had but little rest,
And some hir courage did hem sore assaile,
For very wrath, they did step ouer the raile.

"And as they sought hem selfe to and fro,
I gate my selfe a little auantage,
All forweried, I might no further go,
Though I had won right gret for my viage,
So came I forth into a strait passage,
Which brought me to an herber fair and grene,
Made with benches full craftie and cleane.

"That as me thought, there might no creature
Deuise a better, by dewe proporcioun,
Safe it was closed well I you ensure,
With masonry, of compace enuiroun,
Full secretly with staires going down,

In middes the place, with turning whele certaine,
And vpon that a pot of Margelaine.
"With Margarets growing in ordinance,
To shew hem selfe, as folke went to and fro,
That to behold it was a great pleasance,
And how they were accompanied with mo,
Ne momblisnesse and sonenesse also,
The poure penses were not disloged there,
Ne God wote hir place was euery where.
"The flore and bench was paued fair and smoth,
With stones square, of many diuers hew,
So well joyned, that for to say the soth,
All semed one, that none other knew,

And vnderneth the stremes new and new,
As siluer bright, springing in such a wise,
That whence it came, ye coud it not deuise.

"A little while was. I all alone,
Beholding well this delectable place,
My felawship were comming euerychone,
So must we needs abide for a space,
Remembring of many diuers cace,
Of time passed, with sighes depe,

I set me downe, and there I fell aslepe.

"And as I slept, me thought ther came to me,
A gentill woman, metely of stature,
Of great worship she seemed for to be,
Atyred well, not high but by measure,
Her countenaunce full sad and demure,
Her colours blewe, all that she had vpon,
There came no mo but her selfe alone.

"Her gown wel was embraudred certainly,
With stones after her owne deuise,
In her purfill, her word by and by,
Bien et loyalement as I coud deuise.
Than praid I her in any maner wise,
That of her name I might haue remembrance,
She said she was called Perseuerance.
"So furthermore to speake was I bold,
Where she dwelled, I prayed her for to say,
And she againe full curtesly me told,

My dwelling is, and hath be many a day, With a lady: what lady I you pray?' 'Of great estate, thus warne I you' (quod she) 'What call ye her? her name is Loyalte.'

"In what office stand ye, or in what degree,' (Quod I to her) 'that wold I wete right faine,' 'I am' (quod she) vnworthy though I bee, Of her chambre her husher in certaine, This rodde I beare, as for a token plaine, Like as ye know the rule in soch seruice, Apertaining is to the same office.

"She charged me by her commandement,
To warn you, and your felawes euerichone,
That ye should come there as she is present,
For a counsaile, which shall be now anone,
Or seuen daies be commen and gone,
And furthermore, she bad that I should say,
Excuse there might be none, nor delay.

"Another thing was not forget behind,
Which in no wise I wold but ye knew,
Remembre well, and beare it in your mind,
All your felawes and ye must come in blew,
Eueriliche able, your maters for to sew:
With more, which I pray you thinke vpon,
Your words on your selues euerychon.
"And be not abashed in no maner wise,
As many ben, in soch an high presence,
Make your request, as ye can best deuise,
And she gladly woll yene you audience,
There is no grefe, nor no maner offence,
Wherein ye fele that your berte is displeased,
But with her help, right sone ye shal be eased.'

"I am right glad' (quod I)' ye tell me this,
But there is none of vs that knoweth the way,'
As of your way' (quod she) you shall not mis,
Ye shall haue to gide you day by day,
Of my felawes, I cannot better say,
Soch one as shall tell you the way full right,
And Diligence this gentilwoman hight.

"A woman of right famous gouernaunce,
And well cherished, I tell you in certaine,
Her felawship shall do you great pleasaunce,
Her porte is soch, her maners trew and plaine,
She with glad chere wold do her besie paine,
To bring you there, now farwel I haue done,'
'Abide' said I, 'ye may not go so sone.'

"Why so' (quod she) and I haue ferre to go,
To yeue warning in many diuers place,
To your felawes, and so to other mo,
And well ye wote I haue but litell space,'
'Nowe yet' (quod I) ‘ye must tell me this cace,
If we shall any men vnto vs call?'

'Not one' (quod she) may come amongs you all.'
"Not one" than said I, 'eigh benedicite,
What baue I done, I pray you tell me that,'
Now by my life, I trowe but well' (quod she)
But euer I can bilieue there is somewhat,
And for to say you trouth more can I not,
In questions I may nothing be to large,
I meddle no further than my charge.'
"Than thus' (quod I)' do me to vnderstand,
What place is there this lady is dwelling,' [land,
Forsoth' (quod she) and one sought all this
Fairer is none, though it were for a king,
Deuised well, and that in euery thing,
The toures hie full pleasaunt shall ye find,
With phanes fresh, turning with euery wind.

« ‹ The chambers and parlers of a sort,
With baie windowes, goodly as may bee thought,
As for daunsing, and other wise disport,
The galeries right well ywrought,
That well I wote, if ye were thider brought,
And take good hede thereof in cuery wise,
Ye woll it thinke a very paradise.'

'Pleasaunt Regard' (quod she) "to tell you plain.'
'Of very trouth' (quod I)' and wote ye what,
It may right well be called so certaine :
But furthermore this wold I wit right fain,
What I should do as soone as I come there,
And after whom I may best enquere?'

"A gentilwoman, a porter of the yate,
There shall ye find, her name is Countenance,
If ye so hap ye come early or late,
Of her wer good to haue some acquaintance,
She can you tell how ye shall you auance.
And how to come to her ladies presence,
To her wordes I rede ye geue credence.
"Now it is time I parte you fro,
For in good faith I haue great businesse.'

'I wote right well' (quod I) that it is so,
And I thanke you of your great gentilnesse,
Your comfort, hath yeuen me hardinesse,
That now I shall be bold withouten faile,
To do after your aduice and good counsaile.'

"Thus parted she, and I left all alone.
With that I saw (as I beheld aside)
A woman come, a very goodly one,
And forth withal as I had her aspide,
Me thought anone it should be the gide:
And of her name anone I did enquere,
Full womanly she yaue me this answere:

"I am' (quod she) a simple creature, Sent from the court, my name is Diligence, As sone as I might come I you ensure,

I taried not after I had licence,

And now that I am come to your presence,
Looke what seruice I can do or may.
Commaund me, I can no further say.'

"I thanked her and praied her to come nere,
Because I would see how she was araid,
Her gown was blew dressed in good manere,
With her deuise, her word also that said,
Tant que je puis, and I was well apaid,
And than wist I withouten any more,
It was full true that I had herde before.

"Though we toke now before a little space,
It were full good' (quod she) as I coud gesse,
'How farre' (quod I) haue we vnto the place?'
'A daies journey' (quod she) 'but littel lesse,
Wherefore I rede that we outward dresse,
For I suppose our felawship is past,
And for nothing I wold not we were the last.'
"Than departed we at the springing of the day,
And forth we went soft and easie pace,
Till at the last we were on our journey,
So far outward, that we might see the place,
'Now let us rest,' quod I, 'a littel space,
And say we as devoutly as we can,

A pater noster for saint Julian.'

"With al my herte I assent with good will,
Moch better shal we spede, whan we have doen,'
Than taried we, and said it euery dyl,
And whan the day was past farre after none
We saw a place, and thider came we sone,
Which round about was closed with a wall,
Seeming to me full like an hospital.

"Than Countenaunce asked me anone, "Your felawship, where be they,' quod she, 'Forsoth,' quod I, 'they be comming euerichone, But where they are I know no certainte, Without I may hem at this window se, Here will I stand awaiting euer among, For well I wote they will not be long.'

"Thus as I stode musing full busily,
I thought to take good hede of her aray,
Her gowne was blewe, this wote I verely,
Of good facion, and furred wel with gray,
Upon her sleue her worde this is no nay,
Which said thus, as my penne can endite,
A moy, que je voy, written with letters white.

"Than forth withal she came streight to me,
'Your wordes,' quod she, fain would I that I
knew,'

'Forsoth,' quod I, ye shall well know and see,
And for my worde I haue none, this is trewe,
It is inough that my clothing be blew,
As here before I had commaundement,
And so to do, I am right well content.

LARGESSE, STEWARD.

"But tell me this I pray you hertely,
The steward here, say me what is her name?'
She hight Largesse I say you surely,
A faire lady and of right noble fame,
Whan ye her see ye will reporte the same,
And under her to bid you welcome all,
There is Belchier, marshal of the hall.

"Now all this while that ye here tary still, Your own maters ye may wel haue in mind, But tel me this, have ye brought any bill?' 'Ye ye,' quod I, and els I were behind, Where is there one tell me that I may find, To whom that I may shew my maters plain:' 'Surely' (quod she) unto the chamberlain.'

REMEMBRAUNCE CHAMBERLAINE.

"The chamberlain' (quod I) say ye trewe,' 'Ye verely' (said she) by mine advise, Be nat aferde, unto her lowly sewe," 'It shall be done' (quod I) as ye devise, But ye must know her name in any wise,' 'Trewly' (quod she) to shew you in substaunce,

Withouten faining her name is Remembraunce.

"The secretary she may not yet be forget, For she doth right moche in every thing, Wherfore I rede, whan ye haue with her ymet, Your matere hole tell her without faining, Ye shall her find full good and full loving,' Tell me her name' (quod I) of gentlenesse,' "By my good sothe' (quod she) Avisenesse.'