|
Iuge Infernal, Minos, of Crete king,
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|
Now cometh thy lot, now comestow on the ring;
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Nat for thy sake only wryte I this storie,
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But for to clepe agein unto memorie
|
1890 |
Of Theseus the grete untrouthe of love;
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For which the goddes of the heven above
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|
Ben wrothe, and wreche han take for thy sinne.
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Be reed for shame! now I thy lyf beginne.
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|
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Minos, that was the mighty king of Crete,
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That hadde an hundred citees stronge and grete,
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To scole hath sent his sone Androgeus,
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To Athenes; of the whiche hit happed thus,
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|
That he was slayn, lerning philosphye,
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|
Right in that citee, nat but for envye.
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|
1900 |
The grete Minos, of the whiche I speke,
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|
His sones deeth is comen for to wreke;
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Alcathoe he bisegeth harde and longe,
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But natheles the walles be so stronge,
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And Nisus, that was king of that citee,
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|
So chivalrous, that litel dredeth he;
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Of Minos or his ost took he no cure,
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Til on a day befel an aventure,
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That Nisus doghter stood upon the wal,
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And of the sege saw the maner al,
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1910 |
So happed hit, that, at a scarmishing,
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|
She caste her herte upon Minos the king,
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For his beautee and for his chivalrye,
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So sore, that she wende for to dye.
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And, shortly of this proces for to pace,
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She made Minos winnen thilke place,
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So that the citee was al at his wille,
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To saven whom him list, or elles spille;
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But wikkedly he quitte her kindenesse,
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And let her drenche in sorowe and distresse,
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1920 |
Nere that the goddes hadde of her pite;
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|
But that tale were to long as now for me.
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|
|
Athenes wan this king Minos also,
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|
And Alcathoe and other tounes mo;
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And this theffect, that Minos hath so driven
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Hem of Athenes, that they mote him yiven
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Fro yere to yere her owne children dere
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For to be slayn, as ye shul after here.
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|
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This Minos hath a monstre, a wikked beste,
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That was so cruel that, without areste,
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1930 |
Whan that a man was broght in his presence,
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He wolde him ete, ther helpeth no defence.
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And every thridde yeer, with-outen doute,
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They casten lot, and, as hit com aboute
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|
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On riche, on pore, he moste his sone take,
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And of his child he moste present make
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Unto Minos, to save him or to spille,
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Or lete his beste devoure him at his wille.
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And this hath Minos don, right in despyt;
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|
To wreke his sone was set al his delyt,
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1940 |
And maken hem of Athenes his thral
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|
Fro yere to yere, whyl that he liven shal;
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And hoom he saileth whan this toun is wonne.
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This wikked custom is so longe y-ronne
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|
Til that of Athenes king Egeus
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Mot sende his owne sone, Theseus,
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Sith that the lot is fallen him upon,
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To be devoured, for grace is ther non.
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And forth is lad this woful yonge knight
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Unto the court of king Minos ful right,
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1950 |
And in a prison, fetered, cast is he
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Til thilke tyme he sholde y-freten be.
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|
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Wel maystow wepe, O woful Theseus,
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That art a kinges sone, and dampned thus.
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Me thinketh this, that thou were depe y-holde
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To whom that saved thee fro cares colde!
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And now, if any woman helpe thee,
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Wel oughtestow her servant for to be,
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And been her trewe lover yeer by yere!
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But now to come ageyn to my matere.
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|
1960 |
The tour, ther as this Theseus is throwe
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|
Doun in the botom derke and wonder lowe,
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|
Was ioyning in the walle to a foreyne;
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|
And hit was longing to the doghtren tweyne
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|
Of king Minos, that in hir chambres grete
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|
Dwelten above, toward the maister-strete,
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|
In mochel mirthe, in Ioye and in solas.
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|
Not I nat how, hit happed ther, per cas,
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|
As Theseus compleyned him by nighte,
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The kinges doghter, Adrian that highte,
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1970 |
And eek her suster Phedra, herden al
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|
His compleyning, as they stode on the wal
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|
And lokeden upon the brighte mone;
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|
Hem leste nat to go to bedde sone.
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And of his wo they had compassioun;
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A kinges sone to ben in swich prisoun
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And be devoured, thoughte hem gret pitee.
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Than Adrian spak to her suster free,
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And seyde, "Phedra, leve suster dere,
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This woful lordes sone may ye nat here,
|
1980 |
How pitously compleyneth he his kin,
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And eek his pore estat that he is in,
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And gilteless? now certes, hit is routhe!
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And if ye wol assenten, by my trouthe,
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|
He shal be holpen, how so that we do!"
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|
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Phedra answerde, "y-wis, me is as wo
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|
For him as ever I was for any man;
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|
And, to his help, the beste reed I can
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|
Is that we doon the gayler prively
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|
To come, and speke with us hastily,
|
1990 |
And doon this woful man with him to come.
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|
For if he may this monstre overcome,
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|
Than were he quit; ther is noon other bote.
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|
Lat us wel taste him at his herte-rote,
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|
That, if so be that he a wepen have,
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|
Wher that he dar, his lyf to kepe and save,
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|
Fighten with this fend, and him defende.
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|
For, in the prison, ther he shal descende,
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|
Ye wite wel, that the beste is in a place
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|
That nis nat derk, and hath roum eek and space
|
2000 |
To welde an ax or swerd or staf or knyf,
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|
So that, me thinketh, he sholde save his lyf;
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|
If that he be a man, he shal do so.
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|
And we shul make him balles eek also
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|
Of wexe and towe, that, whan he gapeth faste,
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|
Into the bestes throte he shal hem caste
|
|
To slake his hunger and encombre his teeth;
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|
And right anon, whan that Theseus seeth
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|
The beste achoked, he shal on him lepe
|
|
To sleen him, or they comen more to-hepe.
|
2010 |
This wepen shal the gayler, or that tyde,
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|
Ful privily within the prison hyde;
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|
And, for the hous is crinkled to and fro,
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|
And hath so queinte weyes for to go --
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|
For hit is shapen as the mase is wroght --
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|
Therto have I a remedie in my thoght,
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|
That, by a clewe of twyne, as he hath goon,
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|
The same wey he may returne anoon,
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|
Folwing alwey the threed, as he hath come.
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|
And, what that he this beste hath overcome,
|
2020 |
Then may he fleen awey out of this drede,
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|
And eek the gayler may he with him lede,
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|
And him avaunce at hoom in his contree,
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|
Sin that so greet a lordes sone is he.
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|
This is my reed, if that he dar hit take."
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|
What sholde I lenger sermoun of hit make?
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|
The gayler cometh, and with him Theseus.
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|
And whan thise thinges been acorded thus,
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|
Adoun sit Theseus upon his knee: --
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|
"The righte lady of my lyf," quod he,
|
2030 |
"I, sorweful man, y-dampned to the deeth,
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|
Fro yow, whyl that me lasteth lyf or breeth,
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|
I wol nat twinne, after this aventure,
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|
But in your servise thus I wol endure,
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|
That, as a wrecche unknowe, I wol yow serve
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|
For ever-mo, til that myn herte sterve.
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|
Forsake I wol at hoom myn heritage,
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|
And, as I seide, ben of your court a page,
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|
If that ye vouche-sauf that, in this place,
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|
Ye graunte me to han so gret a grace
|
2040 |
That I may han nat but my mete and drinke;
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|
And for my sustenance yit wol I swinke,
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|
Right as yow list, that Minos ne no wight --
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|
Sin that he saw me never with eyen sight --
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|
Ne no man elles, shal me conne espye;
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|
So slyly and so wel I shal me gye,
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|
And me so wel disfigure and so lowe,
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|
That in this world ther shal no man me knowe,
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|
To han my lyf, and for to han presence
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|
Of yow, that doon to me this excellence.
|
2050 |
And to my fader shal I senden here
|
|
This worthy man, that is now your gaylere,
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|
And, him to guerdon, that he shal wel be
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|
Oon of the grettest men of my contree.
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|
And yif I dorste seyn, my lady bright,
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|
I am a kinges sone, and eek a knight;
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|
As wolde god, yif that hit mighte be
|
|
Ye weren in my contree, alle three,
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|
And I with yow, to bere yow companyee,
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|
Than shulde ye seen yif that I ther-of lye!
|
2060 |
And, if I profre yow in low manere
|
|
To ben your page and serven yow right here,
|
|
But I yow serve as lowly in that place,
|
|
I prey to Mara to yive me swiche a grace
|
|
That shames deeth on me ther mote falle,
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|
And deeth and povert to my frendes alle;
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|
And that my spirit by nighte mote go
|
|
After my deeth, and walke to and fro;
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|
That I mote of a traitour have a name,
|
|
For which my spirit go, to do me shame!
|
2070 |
And yif I ever claime other degree,
|
|
But-if ye vouche-sauf to yive hit me,
|
|
As I have seid, of shames deeth I deye!
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|
And mercy, lady! I can nat elles seye!"
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|
|
A seemly knight was Theseus to see,
|
|
And yong, but of a twenty yeer and three;
|
|
But who-so hadde y-seyn his countenaunce,
|
|
He wolde have wept, for routhe of his penaunce;
|
|
For which this Adriane in this manere
|
|
Answerde to his profre and to his chere.
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|
2080 |
"A kinges sone, and eek a knight," quod she,
|
|
"To been my servant in so low degree,
|
|
God shilde hit, for the shame of women alle!
|
|
And leve me never swich a cas befalle!
|
|
But sende yow grace and sleighte of herte also,
|
|
Yow to defende and knightly sleen your fo,
|
|
And leve herafter that I may yow finde
|
|
To me and to my suster here so kinde,
|
|
That I repente nat to give yow lyf!
|
|
Yit were hit better that I were your wyf,
|
2090 |
Sin that ye been as gentil born as I,
|
|
And have a reaume, nat but faste by,
|
|
Then that I suffred giltles yow to sterve,
|
|
Or that I let yow as a page serve;
|
|
Hit is not profit, as unto your kinrede;
|
|
But what is that that man nil do for drede?
|
|
And to my suster, sin that hit is so
|
|
That she mot goon with me, if that I go,
|
|
Or elles suffre deeth as wel as I,
|
|
That ye unto your sone as trewely
|
2100 |
Doon her be wedded at your hoom-coming.
|
|
This is the fynal ende of al this thing;
|
|
Ye swere hit heer, on al that may be sworn."
|
|
|
"Ye, lady myn," quod he, "or elles torn
|
|
Mote I be with the Minotaur to-morwe!
|
|
And haveth her-of my herte-blood to borwe,
|
|
Yif that ye wile; if I had knyf or spere,
|
|
I wolde hit leten out, and ther-on swere,
|
|
For than at erst I wot ye wil me leve.
|
|
By Mars, that is the cheef of my bileve,
|
2110 |
So that I mighte liven and nat faile
|
|
To-morwe for tacheve my bataile,
|
|
I nolde never fro this place flee,
|
|
Til that ye shuld the verray preve see.
|
|
For now, if that the sooth I shal yow say,
|
|
I have y-loved yow ful many a day,
|
|
Thogh ye ne wiste hit nat, in my contree.
|
|
And aldermost desyred yow to see
|
|
Of any erthly living creature;
|
|
Upon my trouthe I swere, and yow assure,
|
2120 |
Thise seven yeer I have your servant be;
|
|
Now have I yow, and also have ye me,
|
|
My dere herte, of Athenes duchesse!"
|
|
|
This lady smyleth at his stedfastnesse,
|
|
And at his hertly wordes, and his chere,
|
|
And to her suster seide in this manere,
|
|
Al softely, "now, suster myn," quod she,
|
|
"Now be we duchesses, bothe I and ye,
|
|
And sikered to the regals of Athenes,
|
|
And bothe her-after lykly to be quenes,
|
2130 |
And saved fro his deeth a kinges sone,
|
|
As ever of gentil women is the wone
|
|
To save a gentil man, emforth hir might,
|
|
In honest cause, and namely in his right.
|
|
Me thinketh no wight oghte her-of us blame,
|
|
Ne beren us ther-for an evel name."
|
|
|
And shortly of this matere for to make,
|
|
This Theseus of her hath leve y-take,
|
|
And every point performed was in dede
|
|
As ye have in this covenant herd me rede.
|
2140 |
His wepen, his clew, his thing that I have said,
|
|
Was by the gayler in the hous y-laid
|
|
Ther as this Minotaur hath his dwelling,
|
|
Right faste by the dore, at his entring.
|
|
And Theseus is lad unto his deeth,
|
|
And forth un-to this Minotaur he geeth,
|
|
And by the teching of this Adriane
|
|
He overcom this beste, and was his bane;
|
|
And out he cometh by the clewe again
|
|
Ful prevely, whan he this beste hath slain;
|
2150 |
And by the gayler geten hath a barge,
|
|
And of his wyves tresor gan hit charge,
|
|
And took his wyf, and eek her suster free,
|
|
And eek the gayler, and with hem alle three
|
|
Is stole awey out of the lond by nighte,
|
|
And to the contre of Ennopye him dighte
|
|
Ther as he had a frend of his knowinge.
|
|
Ther fasten they, ther dauneen they and singe;
|
|
And in his armes hath this Adriane,
|
|
That of the beste hath kept him from his bane;
|
2160 |
And gat him ther a newe barge anoon,
|
|
And of his contree-folk a ful gret woon,
|
|
And taketh his leve, and hoomward saileth he.
|
|
And in an yle, amid the wilde see,
|
|
Ther as ther dwelte creature noon
|
|
Save wilde bestes, and that ful many oon,
|
|
He made his ship a-londe for to sette;
|
|
And in that yle half a day he lette,
|
|
And seide, that on the lond he moste him reste.
|
|
His mariners han doon right as him leste;
|
2170 |
And, for to tellen shortly in this cas,
|
|
Whan Adriane his wyf a-slepe was,
|
|
For that her suster fairer was than she,
|
|
He taketh her in his hond, and forth goth he
|
|
To shippe, and as a traitour stal his way
|
|
Whyl that this Adriane a-slepe lay,
|
|
And to his contree-ward he saileth blyve --
|
|
A twenty devil way the wind him dryve! --
|
|
And fond his fader drenched in the see.
|
|
|
Me list no more to speke of him, parde;
|
2180 |
Thise false lovers, poison be hir bane!
|
|
But I wol turne again to Adriane
|
|
That is with slepe for werinesse atake.
|
|
Ful sorwefully her herte may awake.
|
|
Allas! for thee my herte hath now pite!
|
|
Right in the dawning awaketh she,
|
|
And gropeth in the bedde, and fond right noght.
|
|
"Allas!" quode she, "that ever I was wroght!
|
|
I am betrayed!" and her heer to-rente,
|
|
And to the stronde bar-fot faste she wente,
|
2190 |
And cryed, "Theseus! myn herte swete!
|
|
Wher be ye, that I may nat with yow mete,
|
|
And mighte thus with bestes been y-slain?"
|
|
|
The holwe rokkes answerde her again;
|
|
No man she saw, and yit shyned the mone,
|
|
And hye upon a rokke she wente sone,
|
|
And saw his barge sailing in the see.
|
|
Cold wex her herte, and right thus seide she.
|
|
"Meker than ye finde I the bestes wilde!"
|
|
Hadde he nat sinne, that her thus begylde?
|
2200 |
She cryed, "O turne again, for routhe and sinne!
|
|
Thy barge hath nat al his meiny inne!"
|
|
Her kerchef on a pole up stikked she,
|
|
Ascaunce that he sholde hit wel y-see,
|
|
And him remembre that she was behinde,
|
|
And turne again, and on the stronde her finde;
|
|
But al for noght; his wey he is y-goon.
|
|
And doun she fil a-swown upon a stoon;
|
|
And up she rist, and kiste, in al her care,
|
|
The steppes of his feet, ther he hath fare,
|
2210 |
And to her bedde right thus she speketh tho: --
|
|
"Thou bed," quod she, "that hast receyved two,
|
|
Thou shalt answere of two, and nat of oon!
|
|
Wher is thy gretter part away y-goon?
|
|
Allas! wher shal I, wrecched wight, become!
|
|
For, thogh so be that ship or boot heer come,
|
|
Hoom to my contree dar I nat for drede;
|
|
I can my-selven in this cas nat rede!"
|
|
|
What shal I telle more her compleining?
|
|
Hit is so long, hit were an hevy thing.
|
2220 |
In her epistle Naso telleth al;
|
|
But shortly to the ende I telle shal.
|
|
The goddes have her holpen, for pitee;
|
|
And, in the signe of Taurus, men may see
|
|
The stones of her coroun shyne clere. --
|
|
|
I wol no more speke of this matere;
|
|
But thus this false lover can begyle
|
|
His trewe love. The devil quyte him his wyle!
|
|
|
Explicit Legenda Adriane de Athenes.
|