CANTERBURY TALES
by Geoffry Chaucer
The Monk's Tale
The murye wordes of the Hoost to the Monk. Whan ended was my tale of Melibee,
And of Prudence, and hir benignytee,
Oure Hooste seyde, "As I am feithful man,
And by that precious corpus Madrian,
5 I hadde levere than a barel ale
That Goodelief my wyf hadde herd this tale!
For she nys nothyng of swich pacience
As was this Melibeus wyf Prudence.
By Goddes bones, whan I bete my knaves
10 She bryngeth me forth the grete clobbed staves,
And crieth, `Slee the dogges, everichoon,
And brek hem, bothe bak and every boon.'
And if that any neighebore of myne
Wol nat in chirche to my wyf enclyne,
15 Or be so hardy to hir to trespace,
Whan she comth hoom she rampeth in my face,
And crieth, `False coward, wrek thy wyf!
By corpus bones, I wol have thy knyf,
And thou shalt have my distaf and go spynne
20 Fro day to nyght!' Right thus she wol bigynne.
`Allas,' she seith, `that evere I was shape
To wedden a milksop or a coward ape,
That wol been overlad with every wight;
Thou darst nat stonden by thy wyves right!'
25 This is my lif, but if that I wol fighte,
And out at dore anon I moot me dighte,
Or elles I am but lost, but if that I
Be lik a wilde leoun fool-hardy.
I woot wel she wol do me slee som day
30 Som neighebor, and thanne go my way.
For I am perilous with knyf in honde,
Al be it that I dar hir nat withstonde.
For she is byg in armes, by my feith,
That shal he fynde that hir mysdooth or seith-
35 But lat us passe awey fro this mateere.
"My lord the Monk," quod he, "be myrie of cheere,
For ye shul telle a tale, trewely.
Loo, Rouchestre stant heer faste by.
Ryde forth, myn owene lord, brek nat oure game.
40 But, by my trouthe, I knowe nat youre name;
Wher shal I calle yow my lord daun John,
Or daun Thomas, or elles daun Albon?
Of what hous be ye, by youre fader kyn?
I vowe to God, thou hast a ful fair skyn,
45 It is a gentil pasture ther thow goost.
Thou art nat lyk a penant or a goost.
Upon my feith, thou art som officer,
Som worthy sexteyn, or som celerer,
For by my fader soule, as to my doom,
50 Thou art a maister whan thou art at hoom,
No povre cloysterer, ne no novys,
But a governour, wily and wys;
And therwithal of brawnes and of bones
A wel-farynge persone, for the nones.
55 I pray to God, yeve hym confusioun
That first thee broghte unto religioun.
Thou woldest han been a tredefowel aright;
Haddestow as greet a leeve as thou hast myght
To parfourne al thy lust in engendrure,
60 Thou haddest bigeten ful many a creature.
Allas, why werestow so wyd a cope?
God yeve me sorwe, but, and I were a pope,
Nat oonly thou but every myghty man
Though he were shorn ful hye upon his pan,
65 Sholde have a wyf, for al the world is lorn.
Religioun hath take up al the corn
Of tredyng, and we borel men been shrympes.
Of fieble trees ther comen wrecched ympes.
This maketh that our heyres ben so sclendre
70 And feble, that they may nat wel engendre;
This maketh that oure wyves wole assaye
Religious folk, for ye mowe bettre paye
Of Venus paiementz than mowe we;
God woot no lussheburghes payen ye.
75 But be nat wrooth, my lord, for that I pleye,
Ful ofte in game a sooth I have herd seye."
This worthy Monk took al in pacience,
And seyde, "I wol doon al my diligence,
As fer as sowneth into honestee,
80 To telle yow a tale, or two, or three.
And if yow list to herkne hyderward
I wol yow seyn the lyf of Seint Edward;
Or ellis first tragedies wol I telle
Of whiche I have an hundred in my celle.
85 Tragedie is to seyn, a certeyn storie,
As olde bookes maken us memorie,
Of hym that stood in greet prosperitee
And is yfallen out of heigh degree
Into myserie, and endeth wrecchedly,
90 And they ben versified communely
Of six feet, which men clepen exametron.
In prose eek been endited many oon,
And eek in meetre, in many a sondry wyse.
Lo, this declaryng oghte ynogh suffise;
95 Now herkneth, if yow liketh for to heere.
But first, I yow biseeke in this mateere,
Though I by ordre telle nat this thynges,
Be it of popes, emperours, or kynges,
After hir ages, as men writen fynde,
100 But tellen hem, som bifore and som bihynde,
As it now comth unto my remembraunce;
Have me excused of myn ignoraunce."Explicit
The Merry Words of the Host to the Monk When ended was my tale of Melibee
And of Prudence and her benignity,
Our host remarked: "As I am faithful man,
And by the precious corpus Madrian,
I'd rather than a barrel of good ale
That my wife Goodlief could have heard this tale!
For she has no such patience, I'll avow,
As had this Melibeus' Prudence, now.
By God's own bones! When I do beat my knaves
She fetches forth the stoutest gnarly staves
And cries out: 'Slay the damned dogs, every one!
And break their bones, backbone and every bone!'
And if but any neighbour, aye, of mine
Will not, in church, bow to her and incline,
Or happens to usurp her cherished place,
Why, she comes home and ramps right in my face,
Crying, 'False coward, go avenge your wife!
By corpus bones! Come, let me have your knife,
And you shall take my distaff and go spin!'
From day to day like this will she begin:
'Alas!' she cries, 'that ever fate should shape
My marriage with a milksop coward ape
That may be overborne by every wight!
You dare not stand up for your own wife's right!'
This is my life, unless I choose to fight;
And through the door anon I must take flight,
Or else I'm lost, unless, indeed, that I
Be like a young wild lion, foolhardy.
I know well she will make me kill, one day,
Some neighbour man and have to run away.
For I am dangerous with a knife in hand,
Albeit that I dare not her withstand;
For she's big of arm, and wickedly inclined,
As anyone who crosses her will find.
But let us leave that doleful subject here.
"My lord the monk," said he, "be of good cheer
For you shall tell a tale, and verily.
Lo, Rochester is standing there hard by!
Ride up, my own liege lord, break not our game,
But, by my truth, I do not know your name,
Whether I ought to call you lord Don John,
Or Don Thomas, or else Don Albion?
Of what house are you, by your father's kin?
I vow to God you have a right fair skin;
It is a noble pasture where you're most;
You are not like a penitent or ghost.
Upon my faith, you are some officer,
Some worthy sexton, or a cellarer,
For by my father's soul, I guess, in sum,
You are a master when you are at home.
No cloisterer or novice can you be:
A wily governor you seem to me,
And therewithal a man of brawn and bone.
A person of some consequence you've grown.
I pray that God confound the silly fool
That put you first in a religious school;
You would have been a hen-hopper, all right!
Had you as good a chance as you have might
To work your lust in good engendering;
Why, you'd beget full many a mighty thing.
Alas! Why do you wear so wide a cope?
God give me sorrow but, if I were pope,
Not only you, but every mighty man,
Though he were shorn full high upon the pan,
Should have a wife. For all the world's forlorn!
Religion, why it's gathered all the corn
Of treading, and we laymen are but shrimps!
From feeble trees there come but wretched imps.
That's why our heirs are all so very slender
And feeble that they may not well engender.
That's why out goodwives always will essay
Religious folk, for you may better pay
With Venus' payments than we others do;
God knows, in no light weight of coin pay you!
But be not wroth, my lord, because I play;
Full oft in jest have I heard truth, I say."
This worthy monk took all with sober sense,
And said: "I will do all my diligence,
So far as it accords with decency,
To tell to you a tale, or two, or three.
And if you care to hear, come hitherward,
And I'll repeat the life of Saint Edward;
Or rather, first some tragedies I'll tell,
Whereof I have a hundred in my cell.
Tragedy is to say a certain story
From ancient books which have preserved the glory
Of one that stood in great prosperity
And is now fallen out of high degree
In misery, where he ends wretchedly.
Such tales are versified most commonly
In six feet, which men call hexameter.
In prose are many written; some prefer
A quantitative metre, sundry wise.
Lo, this short prologue will enough suffice.
"Now hearken, if you'd like my speech to hear;
But first I do beseech, let it be clear
That I, in order, tell not all these things,
Be it of popes, of emperors, or kings,
Each in his place, as men in writings find,
But I put some before and some behind,
As they to memory may come by chance;
Hold me excused, pray, of my ignorance."Explicit
Heere bigynneth the Monkes Tale De Casibus Virorum Illustrium.
I wol biwaille in manere of tragedie
The harm of hem that stoode in heigh degree,
105 And fillen so, that ther nas no remedie
To brynge hem out of hir adversitee.
For certein, whan that Fortune list to flee,
Ther may no man the cours of hire withholde;
Lat no man truste on blynd prosperitee;
110 Be war of thise ensamples, trewe and olde.Lucifer
At Lucifer, though he an aungel were,
And nat a man, at hym wol I biginne,
For though Fortune may noon aungel dere,
From heigh degree yet fel he for his synne
115 Doun into helle, where he yet is inne.
O Lucifer, brightest of angels alle,
Now artow Sathanas, that mayst nat twynne
Out of miserie, in which that thou art falle.Adam
Loo Adam, in the feeld of Damyssene,
120 With Goddes owene fynger wroght was he,
And nat bigeten of mannes sperme unclene,
And welte all Paradys, savynge o tree.
Hadde nevere worldly man so heigh degree
As Adam, til he, for mysgovernaunce,
125 Was dryven out of hys hye prosperitee
To labour, and to helle, and to meschaunce.Sampson
Loo Sampson, which that was annunciat
By th' angel, longe er his nativitee,
And was to God almyghty consecrat,
130 And stood in noblesse whil he myghte see,
Was nevere swich another as was hee,
To speke of strengthe and therwith hardynesse;
But to hise wyves toolde he his secree,
Thurgh which he slow hymself for wrecchednesse.135 Sampsoun, this noble almyghty champioun,
Withouten wepene, save his handes tweye,
He slow and al torente the leoun
Toward his weddyng walkynge by the weye.
His false wyf koude hym so plese and preye
140 Til she his conseil knew, and she untrewe
Unto hise foos his conseil gan biwreye,
And hym forsook, and took another newe.Thre hundred foxes took Sampson for ire,
And alle hir tayles he togydre bond,
145 And sette the foxes tayles alle on fire;
For he on every tayl had knyt a brond,
And they brende alle the cornes in that lond,
And alle hir olyveres, and vynes eke.
A thousand men he slow eek with his hond,
150 And hadde no wepene but an asses cheke.Whan they were slayn, so thursted hym, that he
Was wel ny lorn, for which he gan to preye
That God wolde on his peyne han som pitee,
And sende hym drynke, or elles moste he deye;
155 And of this asses cheke, that was dreye,
Out of a wang-tooth sprang anon a welle
Of which he drank anon, shortly to seye,
Thus heelp hym God, as Judicum can telle.By verray force at Gazan, on a nyght,
160 Maugree Philistiens of that citee,
The gates of the toun he hath up plyght,
And on his bak ycaryed hem hath he
Hye on an hille, that men myghte hem see.
O noble almyghty Sampson, lief and deere,
165 Had thou nat toold to wommen thy secree,
In all this world ne hadde been thy peere.This Sampson nevere ciser drank, ne wyn,
Ne on his heed cam rasour noon, ne sheere,
By precept of the messager divyn,
170 For alle hise strengthes in hise heeres weere.
And fully twenty wynter, yeer by yeere,
He hadde of Israel the governaunce.
But soone shal he wepen many a teere,
For wommen shal hym bryngen to meschaunce!175 Unto his lemman Dalida he tolde
That in hise heeres al his strengthe lay,
And falsly to hise fooman she hym solde;
And slepynge in hir barme upon a day
She made to clippe or shere hise heres away,
180 And made hise foomen al this craft espyn.
And whan that they hym foond in this array,
They bounde hym faste, and putten out hise eyen.But er his heer were clipped or yshave,
Ther was no boond with which men myght him bynde;
185 But now is he in prison in a cave,
Where as they made hym at the queerne grynde.
O noble Sampson, strongest of mankynde,
O whilom juge in glorie and in richesse,
Now maystow wepen with thyne eyen blynde,
190 Sith thou fro wele art falle in wrecchednesse!The ende of this caytyf was as I shal seye;
Hise foomen made a feeste upon a day,
And made hym as hir fool biforn hem pleye.
And this was in a temple of greet array;
195 But atte laste he made a foul affray,
For he two pilers shook, and made hem falle,
And doun fil temple and al, and ther it lay, -
And slow hymself, and eek his foomen alle.This is to seyn, the prynces everichoon,
200 And eek thre thousand bodyes, were ther slayn
With fallynge of the grete temple of stoon.
Of Sampson now wol I namoore sayn:
Beth war by this ensample oold and playn
That no men telle hir conseil til hir wyves
205 Of swich thyng as they solde han secree fayn,
If that it touche hir lymmes or hir lyves.Hercules
Of Hercules the sovereyn conquerour
Syngen hise werkes laude and heigh renoun;
For in his tyme of strengthe he was the flour.
210 He slow and rafte the skyn of the leoun,
He of Centauros leyde the boost adoun,
He Arpies slow, the crueel bryddes felle,
He golden apples refte of the dragoun,
He drow out Cerberus, the hound of helle.215 He slow the crueel tyrant Busirus,
And made his hors to frete hym, flessh and boon;
He slow the firy serpent venymus,
Of Acheloys two hornes, he brak oon.
And he slow Cacus in a Cave of stoon;
220 He slow the geaunt Antheus the stronge,
He slow the grisly boor, and that anon,
And bar the hevene on his nekke longe.Was nevere wight, sith that this world bigan,
That slow so manye monstres as dide he.
225 Thurghout this wyde world his name ran,
What for his strengthe, and for his heigh bountee,
And every reawme wente he for to see.
He was so stroong that no man myghte hym lette;
At bothe the worldes endes, seith Trophee,
230 In stide of boundes he a pileer sette.A lemman hadde this noble champioun,
That highte Dianira, fressh as May,
And as thise clerkes maken mencioun,
She hath hym sent a sherte fressh and gay.
235 Allas, this sherte, allas, and weylaway!
Envenymed was so subtilly withalle,
That er that he had wered it half a day
It made his flessh al from hise bones falle.But nathelees somme clerkes hire excusen
240 By oon that highte Nessus, that it maked.
Be as be may, I wol hir noght accusen;
But on his bak this sherte he wered al naked,
Til that his flessh was for the venym blaked;
And whan he saugh noon oother remedye,
245 In hoote coles he hath hym-selven raked,
For with no venym deigned hym to dye.Thus starf this worthy myghty Hercules.
Lo, who may truste on Fortune any throwe?
For hym that folweth al this world of prees,
250 Er he be war, is ofte yleyd ful lowe.
Ful wys is he that kan hymselven knowe.
Beth war, for whan that Fortune list to glose,
Thanne wayteth she her man to overthrowe,
By swich a wey, as he wolde leest suppose.Nabugodonosor
255 The myghty trone, the precious tresor
The glorious ceptre and roial magestee
That hadde the kyng Nabugodonosor,
With tonge unnethe may discryved bee.
He twyes wan Jerusalem the citee;
260 The vessel of the temple he with hym ladde.
At Babiloigne was his sovereyn see,
In which his glorie and his delit he hadde.The faireste children of the blood roial
Of Israel he leet do gelde anoon,
265 And maked ech of hem to been his thral.
Amonges othere, Daniel was oon,
That was the wiseste child of everychon;
For he the dremes of the kyng expowned
Wheras in Chaldeye clerk ne was ther noon
270 That wiste to what fyn hise dremes sowned.This proude kyng leet maken a statue of gold
Sixty cubites long, and sevene in brede,
To which ymage bothe yonge and oold
Comanded he to loute and have in drede,
275 Or in a fourneys ful of flambes rede
He shal be brent, that wolde noght obeye.
But nevere wolde assente to that dede
Daniel, ne hise yonge felawes tweye.This kyng of kynges proud was and elaat;
280 He wende, that God that sit in magestee
Ne myghte hym nat bireve of his estaat;
But sodeynly he loste his dignytee,
And lyk a beest hym semed for to bee,
And eet hey as an oxe and lay theroute;
285 In reyn; with wilde beestes walked hee
Til certein tyme was ycome aboute.And lik an egles fetheres wex his heres,
Hise nayles lyk a briddes clawes weere,
Til God relessed hym a certeyn yeres,
290 And yaf hym wit, and thanne, with many a teere,
He thanked God; and evere his lyf in feere
Was he to doon amys, or moore trespace,
And til that tyme he leyd was on his beere,
He knew that God was ful of myght and grace.Balthasar
295 His sone which that highte Balthasar,
That heeld the regne after his fader day,
He by his fader koude noght be war,
For proud he was of herte and of array;
And eek an ydolastre he was ay.
300 His hye estaat assured hym in pryde;
But Fortune caste hym doun and ther he lay,
And sodeynly his regne gan divide.A feeste he made unto hise lordes alle
Upon a tyme, and bad hem blithe bee,
305 And thanne hise officeres gan he calle,
"Gooth, bryngeth forth the vesseles," quod he,
"Whiche that my fader, in his prosperitee,
Out of the temple of Jerusalem birafte,
And to oure hye goddes thanke we
310 Of honour, that oure eldres with us lafte."Hys wyf, hise lordes, and hise concubynes
Ay dronken, whil hire appetites laste,
Out of thise noble vessels sondry wynes.
And on a wal this kyng hise eyen caste,
315 And saugh an hand armlees that wroot ful faste,
For feere of which he quook and siked soore.
This hand, that Balthasar so soore agaste,
Wroot Mane, techel, phares, and na moore.In al that land magicien was noon
320 That koude expounde what this lettre mente.
But Daniel expowned it anon,
And seyde, "Kyng, God to thy fader lente
Glorie and honour, regne, tresour, rente;
And he was proud, and nothyng God ne dradde,
325 And therfore God greet wreche upon hym sente,
And hym birafte the regne that he hadde.He was out-cast of mannes compaignye,
With asses was his habitacioun,
And eet hey as a beest in weet and drye,
330 Til that he knew by grace and by resoun
That God of hevene hath domynacioun
Over every regne and every creature,
And thanne hadde God of hym compassioun
And hym restored his regne and his figure.335 Eek thou that art his sone art proud also,
And knowest alle thise thynges verraily,
And art rebel to God and art his foo.
Thou drank eek of hise vessels boldely,
Thy wyf eek, and thy wenches, synfully
340 Dronke of the same vessels sondry wynys,
And heryest false goddes cursedly;
Therfore to thee yshapen ful greet pyne ys.This hand was sent from God, that on the wal
Wroot Mane, techel, phares, truste me!
345 Thy regne is doon, thou weyest noght at al,
Dyvyded is thy regne, and it shal be
To Medes and to Perses yeve," quod he.
And thilke same nyght this kyng was slawe
And Darius occupieth his degree,
350 Thogh he therto hadde neither right ne lawe.Lordynges, ensample heerby may ye take
How that in lordshipe is no sikernesse;
For whan Fortune wole a man forsake,
She bereth awey his regne and his richesse,
355 And eek hise freendes, bothe moore and lesse,
For what man that hath freendes thurgh Fortune
Mishap wol maken hem enemys, as I gesse;
This proverbe is ful sooth and ful commune.Cenobia
Cenobia, of Palymerie queene,
360 As writen Persiens of hir noblesse,
So worthy was in armes, and so keene,
That no wight passed hir in hardynesse,
Ne in lynage, ne in oother gentillesse.
Of kynges blood of Perce is she descended.
365 I seye nat that she hadde moost fairnesse,
But of hire shap she myghte nat been amended.From hir childhede I fynde that she fledde
Office of wommen, and to wode she wente,
And many a wilde hertes blood she shedde
370 With arwes brode, that she to hem sente.
She was so swift that she anon hem hente,
And whan that she was elder, she wolde kille
Leouns, leopardes, and beres al torente,
And in hir armes weelde hem at hir wille.375 She dorste wilde beestes dennes seke,
And rennen in the montaignes al the nyght
And slepen under the bussh, and she koude eke
Wrastlen by verray force and verray myght
With any yong man, were he never so wight;
380 Ther myghte nothyng in hir armes stonde.
She kepte hir maydenhod from every wight,
To no man deigned hir for to be bonde.But atte laste hir freendes han hir maried
To Odenake, a prynce of that contree,
385 Al were it so that she hem longe taried.
And ye shul understonde how that he
Hadde swiche fantasies as hadde she.
But nathelees, whan they were knyt infeere,
They lyved in joye and in felicitee,
390 For ech of hem hadde oother lief and deere;Save o thyng, that she wolde nevere assente
By no wey that he sholde by hir lye
But ones, for it was hir pleyn entente
To have a child the world to multiplye;
395 And also soone as that she myghte espye
That she was nat with childe with that dede,
Thanne wolde she suffre hym doon his fantasye
Eft-soone and nat but oones, out of drede.And if she were with childe at thilke cast,
400 Namoore sholde he pleyen thilke game
Til fully fourty dayes weren past;
Thanne wolde she ones suffre hym do the same.
Al were this Odenake wilde or tame,
He gat namoore of hir, for thus she seyde,
405 It was to wyves lecheie and shame
In oother caas, it that men with hem pleyde.Two sones by this Odenake hadde she,
The whiche she kepte in vertu and lettrure,
But now unto oure tale turne we;
410 I seye, so worshipful a creature,
And wys therwith, and large with mesure,
So penyble in the werre, and curteis eke,
Ne moore labour myghte in werre endure,
Was noon, though al this world men wolde seke.415 Hir riche array ne myghte nat be told
As wel in vessel as in hir clothyng;
She was al clad in perree and in gold,
And eek she lafte noght for noon huntyng
To have of sondry tonges ful knowyng,
420 Whan that she leyser hadde; and for to entende
To lerne bookes was al hire likyng,
How she in vertu myghte hir lyf dispende.And shortly of this proces for to trete,
So doghty was hir housbonde and eek she,
425 That they conquered manye regnes grete
In the orient, with many a faire citee,
Apertenaunt unto the magestee
Of Rome, and with strong hond held hem ful faste,
Ne nevere myghte hir foomen doon hem flee,
430 Ay whil that Odenakes dayes laste.Hir batailles, whoso list hem for to rede,
Agayn Sapor the kyng and othere mo,
And how that al this proces fil in dede,
Why she conquered, and what title had therto,
435 And after of hir meschief and hire wo,
How that she was biseged and ytake,
Lat hym unto my maister Petrak go,
That writ ynough of this, I undertake.Whan Odenake was deed, she myghtily
440 The regnes heeld; and with hir propre hond
Agayn hir foos she faught so cruelly
That ther nas kyng ne prynce in al that lond
That he nas glad, if he that grace fond
That she ne wolde upon his lond werreye.
445 With hir they makded alliance by bond
To been in pees, and let hire ride and pleye.The Emperour of Rome, Claudius
Ne hym bifore, the Romayn Galien,
Ne dorste nevere been so corageus,
450 Ne noon Ermyn, ne noon Egipcien,
Ne Surrien, ne noon arabyen,
With-inne the feeldes that dorste with hir fighte,
Lest that she wolde hem with hir handes slen,
Or with hir meignee putten hem to flighte.455 In kynges habit wente hir sones two
As heires of hir fadres regnes alle,
And Hermanno, and Thymalao
Hir names were, as Persiens hem calle.
But ay Fortune hath in hir hony galle;
460 This myghty queene may no while endure.
Fortune out of hir regne made hir falle
To wrecchednesse and to mysaventure.Aurelian, whan that the governaunce
Of Rome cam into hise handes tweye,
465 He shoope upon this queene to doon vengeaunce,
And with hise legions he took his weye
Toward Cenobie, and shortly for to seye,
He made hir flee and atte last hir hente,
And fettred hir, and eek hir children tweye,
470 And wan the land, and hoom to Rome he wente.Amonges othere thynges that he wan,
Hir chaar, that was with gold wroght and perree,
This grete Romayn, this Aurelian,
Hath with hym lad for that men sholde it see.
475 Biforen his triumphe walketh shee,
With gilte cheynes on hir nekke hangynge;
Coroned was she, after hir degree,
And ful of perree charged hir clothynge.Allas, Fortune! she that whilom was
480 Dredful to kynges and to emperoures,
Now gaureth al the peple on hir, allas!
And she that helmed was in starke shoures
And wan by force townes stronge and toures
Shal on hir heed now were a vitremyte,
485 And she that bar the ceptre ful of floures
Shal bere a distaf, hir costes for to quyte.De Petro Rege Ispannie
O noble, O worthy Petro, glorie of Spayne!
Whom Fortune heeld so hye in magestee,
Wel oghten men thy pitous deeth complayne;
490 Out of thy land thy brother made thee flee,
And after at a seege by subtiltee
Thou were bitraysed, and lad unto his tente
Where as he with his owene hand slow thee,
Succedynge in thy regne and in thy rente.495 The feeld of snow, with th'egle of blak therinne
Caught with the lymerod, coloured as the gleede,
He brew this cursednesse and al this synne
The wikked nest was werker of this nede,
Noght Charles Olyvver, that took ay heede
500 Of trouthe and honour, but of Armorike
Genyloun Olyver, corrupt for meede,
Broghte this worthy kyng in swich a brike.De Petro Rege de Cipro
O worthy Petro, kyng of Cipre, also,
That Alisandre wan by heigh maistrie,
505 Ful many an hethen wroghtestow ful wo,
Of which thyne owene liges hadde envye,
And for no thyng but for thy chivalrie
They in thy bed han slayn thee by the morwe.
Thus kan Fortune hir wheel governe and gye,
510 And out of joye brynge men to sorwe.De Barnabo de Lumbardia
Off Melan grete Barnabo Viscounte,
God of delit and scourge of Lumbardye,
Why sholde I nat thyn infortune acounte,
Sith in estaat thow cloumbe were so hye?
515 Thy brother sone, that was thy double allye
For he thy nevew was, and sone-in-lawe,
Withinne his prisoun made thee to dye,
But why, ne how, noot I that thou were slawe.De Hugelino Comite de Pize
Off the Erl Hugelyn of Pyze the langour
520 Ther may no tonge telle for pitee.
But litel out of Pize stant a tour,
In whiche tour in prisoun put was he,
And with hym been his litel children thre,
The eldeste scarsly fyf yeer was of age.
525 Allas, Fortune, it was greet crueltee
Swiche briddes for to putte in swiche a cage!Dampned was he to dyen in that prisoun,
For Roger, which that Bisshop was of Pize,
Hadde on hym maad a fals suggestioun,
530 Thurgh which the peple gan upon hym rise,
And putten hym to prisoun in swich wise
As ye han herd, and mete and drynke he hadde
So smal that wel unnethe it may suffise,
And therwithal it was ful povre and badde.535 And on a day bifil, that in that hour
Whan that his mete wont was to be broght,
The gayler shette the dores of the tour;
He herde it wel, but he spak right noght-
And in his herte anon ther fil a thoght,
540 That they for hunger wolde doon hym dyen.
"Allas," quod he, "allas, that I was wroght!"
Therwith the teeris fillen from hise eyen.His yonge sone, that thre yeer was of age,
Unto hym seyde, "Fader, why do ye wepe?
545 Whanne wol the gayler bryngen our potage?
Is ther no morsel breed that ye do kepe?
I am so hungry that I may nat slepe.
Now wolde God that I myghte slepen evere!
Thanne sholde nat hunger in my wombe crepe,
550 Ther is nothyng but breed that me were levere."Thus day by day this child bigan to crye,
Til in his fadres barm adoun it lay,
And seyde, "Farewel, fader, I moot dye!"
And kiste his fader, and dyde the same day.
555 And whan the woful fader deed it say,
For wo hise armes two he gan to byte,
And seyde, "Allas, Fortune and weylaway!
Thy false wheel my wo al may I wyte!"His children wende that it for hunger was
560 That he his armes gnow, and nat for wo,
And seyde, "Fader, do nat so, allas!
But rather ete the flessh upon us two.
Oure flessh thou yaf us, take our flessh us fro,
And ete ynogh," right thus they to hym seyde;
565 And after that withinne a day or two
They leyde hem in his lappe adoun, and deyde.Hymself, despeired, eek for hunger starf,
Thus ended is this myghty Erl of Pize.
From heigh estaat Fortune awey hym carf,
570 Of this tragedie it oghte ynough suffise.
Whoso wol here it in a lenger wise,
Redeth the grete poete of Ytaille
That highte Dant, for he kan al devyse
Fro point to point, nat o word wol he faille.Nero
575 Al though that Nero were vicius
As any feend that lith in helle adoun,
Yet he, as telleth us Swetonius,
This wyde world hadde in subjeccioun,
Bothe Est and West, South and Septemtrioun;
580 Of rubies, saphires, and of peerles white
Were alle hise clothes brouded up and doun,
For he in gemmes greetly gan delite.Moore delicaat, moore pompous of array,
Moore proud was nevere emperour than he.
585 That ilke clooth that he hadde wered o day,
After that tyme he nolde it nevere see.
Nettes of gold-threed hadde he greet plentee,
To fisshe in Tybre, whan hym liste pleye.
His lustes were al lawe in his decree,
590 For Fortune as his freend hym wolde obeye.He Rome brende for his delicasie;
The senatours he slow upon a day,
To heere how men wolde wepe and crie;
And slow his brother, and by his suster lay.
595 His mooder made he in pitous array,
For he hir wombe slitte, to biholde
Wher he conceyved was, so weilaway
That he so litel of his mooder tolde!No teere out of hise eyen for that sighte
600 Ne cam; but seyde, "A fair womman was she."
Greet wonder is how that he koude or myghte
Be domesman of hir dede beautee.
The wyn to bryngen hym comanded he,
And drank anon; noon oother wo he made,
605 Whan myght is joyned unto crueltee,
Allas, to depe wol the venym wade!In yowthe a maister hadde this emperour
To techen hym lettrure and curteisye,
For of moralitee he was the flour,
610 As in his tyme, but if bookes lye.
And whil this maister hadde of hym maistrye,
He maked hym so konnyng and so sowple,
That longe tyme it was, er tirannye
Or any vice dorste on hym uncowple.615 This Seneca, of which that I devyse
By cause Nero hadde of hym swich drede,
For he fro vices wolde hym chastise
Discreetly as by word, and nat by dede -
"Sire," wolde he seyn, "an emperour moot nede
620 Be vertuous and hate tirannye."-
For which he in a bath made hym to blede
On bothe hise armes, til he moste dye.This Nero hadde eek of acustumaunce
In youthe agayns his maister for to ryse,
625 Which afterward hym thoughte greet grevaunce;
Therefore he made hym dyen in this wise,
But nathelees, this Seneca the wise
Chees in a bath to dye in this manere,
Rather than han anoother tormentise,
630 And thus hath Nero slayn his maister deere.Now fil it so, that Fortune liste no lenger
The hye pryde of Nero to cherice;
For though that he was strong, yet was she strenger;
She thoughte thus, "By God, I am to nyce
635 To sette a man that is fulfild of vice
In heigh degree, and emperour hym calle.
By God, out of his sete I wol hym trice,
Whan he leest weneth, sonnest shal he falle."The peple roos upon hym on a nyght
640 For his defaute, and whan he it espied
Out of hise dores anoon he hath hym dight
Allone, and ther he wende han been allied
He knokked faste, and ay the moore he cried,
The fastere shette they the dores alle.
645 For drede of this hym thoughte that he dyed,
And wente his wey; no lenger dorste he calle.The peple cride, and rombled up and doun,
That with his erys herde he how they seyde,
"Where is this false tiraunt, this Neroun?"
650 For fere almoost out of his wit he breyde,
And to his goddes pitously he preyde
For socour, but it myghte nat bityde.
For drede of this hym thoughte that he deyde,
And ran into a gardyn hym to hyde.655 And in this gardyn foond he cherles tweye,
That seten by a fyr greet and reed,
And to thise cherles two he gan to preye
To sleen hym and to girden of his heed,
That to his body whan that he were deed
660 Were no despit ydoon, for his defame.
Hymself he slow, he koude no bettre reed,
Of which Fortune lough and hadde a game.De Oloferno
Was nevere capitayn under a kyng
That regnes mo putte in subjeccioun,
665 Ne strenger was in feeld of alle thyng
As in his tyme, ne gretter of renoun,
Ne moore pompous in heigh presumpcioun,
Than Oloferne, which Fortune ay kiste
So likerously, and ladde hym up and doun
670 Til that his heed was of er that he wiste.Nat oonly that this world hadde hym in awe
For lesynge of richesse or libertee,
But he made every man reneyen his lawe.
"Nabugodonosor was god," seyde hee,
675 "Noon oother god sholde adoure bee."
Agayns his heeste no wight dorste trespace,
Save in Bethulia, a strong citee,
Where Eliachim a preest was of that place.But taak kepe of the deeth of Oloferne;
680 Amydde his hoost he dronke lay a-nyght,
Withinne his tente, large as is a berne;
And yet, for al his pompe and al his myght
Judith, a womman, as he lay upright
Slepynge, his heed of smoot, and from his tente
685 Ful prively she stal from every wight,
And with his heed unto hir toun she wente.De Rege Anthiocho illustri
What nedeth it of kyng Anthiochus
To telle his hye roial magestee,
His hye pride, hise werkes venymous?
690 For swich another was ther noon as he,
Rede which that he was in Machabee,
And rede the proude wordes that he seyde,
And why he fil fro heigh prosperitee,
And in an hill how wrecchedly he deyde.695 Fortune hym hadde enhaunced so in pride
That verraily he wende he myghte attayne
Unto the sterres upon every syde,
And in balance weyen ech montayne,
And alle the floodes of the see restrayne.
700 And Goddes peple hadde he moost in hate;
Hem wolde he sleen in torment and in payne,
Wenynge that God ne myghte his pride abate.And for that Nichanore and Thymothee
Of Jewes weren venquysshed myghtily,
705 Unto the Jewes swich an hate hadde he
That he bad greithen his chaar ful hastily,
And swoor, and seyde, ful despitously,
Unto Jerusalem he wolde eft-soone,
To wreken his ire on it ful cruelly;
710 But of his purpos he was let ful soone.God for his manace hym so soore smoot
With invisible wounde, ay incurable,
That in hise guttes carf it so and boot
That hise peynes weren importable.
715 And certeinly, the wreche was resonable,
For many a mannes guttes dide he peyne,
But from his purpos cursed and dampnable
For al his smert he wolde hym nat restreyne;But bad anon apparaillen his hoost,
720 And sodeynly, er he was of it war,
God daunted al his pride and al his boost,
For he so soore fil out of his char,
That it hise lemes and his skyn totar,
So that he neyther myghte go ne ryde,
725 But in a chayer men aboute hym bar
Al forbrused, bothe bak and syde.The wreche of God hym smoot so cruelly
That thurgh his body wikked wormes crepte;
And therwithal he stank so horribly
730 That noon of al his meynee that hym kepte
Wheither so he wook or ellis slepte,
Ne myghte noght for stynk of hym endure.
In this meschief he wayled and eek wepte,
And knew God lord of every creature.735 To all his hoost and to hymself also
Ful wlatsom was the stynk of his careyne,
No man ne myghte hym bere to ne fro,
And in this stynk and this horrible peyne
He starf ful wrecchedly in a monteyne.
740 Thus hath this robbour and this homycide,
That many a man made to wepe and pleyne,
Swich gerdoun as bilongeth unto pryde.De Alexandro
The storie of Alisaundre is so commune
That every wight that hath discrecioun
745 Hath herd somwhat or al of his fortune.
This wyde world, as in conclusioun,
He wan by strengthe, or for his hye renoun
They weren glad for pees unto hym sende.
The pride of man and beest he leyde adoun
750 Wherso he cam, unto the worldes ende.Comparison myghte nevere yet been maked
Bitwixe hym and another conquerour,
For al this world for drede of hym hath quaked.
He was of knyghthod and of fredom flour,
755 Fortune hym made the heir of hir honour.
Save wyn and wommen nothyng myghte aswage
His hye entente in armes and labour,
So was he ful of leonyn corage.What pris were it to hym, though I yow tolde
760 Of Darius, and an hundred thousand mo,
Of kynges, princes, erles, dukes bolde,
Whiche he conquered and broghte hem into wo?
I seye, as fer as man may ryde or go,
The world was his, what sholde I moore devyse?
765 For though I write or tolde yow everemo,
Of his knyghthod it myghte nat suffise.Twelf yeer he regned, as seith Machabee,
Philippes sone of Macidoyne he was,
That first was kyng in Grece the contree.
770 O worthy gentil Alisandre, allas,
That evere sholde fallen swich a cas!
Empoysoned of thyn owene folk thou weere;
Thy sys Fortune hath turned into aas
And yet for thee ne weep she never a teere.775 Who shal me yeven teeris to compleyne
The deeth of gentillesse and of franchise,
That al the world weelded in his demeyne?
And yet hym thoughte it myghte nat suffise,
So ful was his corage of heigh emprise.
780 Allas, who shal me helpe to endite
False Fortune, and poyson to despise,
The whiche two of al this wo I wyte?De Julio Cesare
By wisedom, manhede, and by gret labour
From humble bed to roial magestee
785 Up roos he, Julius the conquerour,
That wan al th'occident by land and see
By strengthe of hand, or elles by tretee,
And unto Rome made hem tributarie;
And sitthe of Rome the emperour was he,
790 Til that Fortune weex his adversarie.O myghty Cesar, that in Thessalie
Agayn Pompeus, fader thyn in lawe,
That of the Orient hadde al the chivalrie
As fer as that the day bigynneth dawe,
795 Thou thurgh thy knyghthod hast hem take and slawe,
Save fewe folk that with Pompeus fledde,
Thurgh which thou puttest al th'orient in awe,
Thanke Fortune, that so wel thee spedde!But now a litel while I wol biwaille
800 This Pompeus, this noble governour
Of Rome, which that fleigh at this bataille,
I seye, oon on hise men, a fals traitour,
His heed of-smoot to wynnen hym favour
Of Julius, and hym the heed he broghte;
805 Allas, Pompeye, of th'orient conquerour,
That Fortune unto swich a fyn thee broghte!To Rome agayn repaireth Julius,
With his triumphe lauriat ful hye;
But on a tyme Brutus Cassius
810 That evere hadde of his hye estaat envye,
Ful prively hath maad conspiracye
Agayns this Julius in subtil wise,
And caste the place in which he sholde dye
With boydekyns, as I shal yow devyse.815 This Julius to the Capitolie wente
Upon a day, as he was wont to goon;
And in the Capitolie anon hym hente
This false Brutus and his othere foor,
And stiked hym with boydekyns anoon
820 With many a wounde; and thus they lete hym lye.
But nevere gronte he at no strook but oon,
Or elles at two, but if his storie lye.So manly was this Julius of herte
And so wel lovede estaatly honestee,
825 That though hise deedly woundes soore smerte,
His mantel over hise hypes caste he,
For no man sholde seen his privetee.
And as he lay of diyng in a traunce,
And wiste verraily that deed was hee,
830 Of honestee yet hadde he remembraunce.Lucan, to thee this storie I recomende,
And to Sweton, and to Valerius also,
That of this storie writen word and ende,
How that to thise grete conqueroures two
835 Fortune was first freend, and sitthe foo.
No man ne truste upon hire favour longe
But have hir in awayt for evere moo!
Witnesse on alle thise conqueroures stronge.Cresus
This riche Cresus whilom kyng of Lyde,
840 Of whiche Cresus Cirus soore hym dradde,
Yet was he caught amyddes al his pryde,
And to be brent men to the fyr hym ladde.
But swich a reyn doun fro the welkne shadde
That slow the fyr, and made hym to escape;
845 But to be war no grace yet he hadde,
Til Fortune on the galwes made hym gape.Whanne he escaped was, he kan nat stente
For to bigynne a newe werre agayn;
He wende wel, for that Fortune hym sente
850 Swich hap that he escaped thurgh the rayn,
That of hise foos he myghte nat be slayn;
And eek a sweven upon a nyght he mette,
Of which he was so proud and eek so fayn
That in vengeance he al his herte sette.855 Upon a tree he was, as that hym thoughte,
Ther Jupiter hym wessh bothe bak and syde,
And Phebus eek a fair towaille hym broughte,
To dryen hym with; and therfore wax his pryde,
And to his doghter that stood hym bisyde,
860 Which that he knew in heigh science habounde,
He bad hir telle hym what it signyfyde,
And she his dreem bigan right thus expounde."The tree," quod she, "the galwes is to meene,
And Juppiter bitokneth snow and reyn,
865 And Phebus with his towaille so clene,
Tho been the sonne stremes for to seyn.
Thou shalt anhanged be, fader, certeyn;
Reyn shal thee wasshe, and sonne shal thee drye."
Thus warned hym ful plat and ful pleyn,
870 His doghter, which that called was Phanye.Anhanged was Cresus, the proude kyng,
His roial trone myghte hym nat availle.
Tragedies is noon oother maner thyng,
Ne kan in syngyng crye ne biwaille,
875 But for that Fortune alwey wole assaille
With unwar strook the regnes that been proude;
For whan me trusteth hire, thanne wol she faille,
And covere hir brighte face with a clowde.Explicit Tragedia.
Here begins the Monk's Tale De Casibus Virorum Illustrium
I will bewail in manner of tragedy
The ills of those that stood in high degree
And fell so far there was no remedy
To bring them out of their adversity;
For certain 'tis, when Fortune wills to flee,
There may no man the course of her withhold;
Let no man trust in blind prosperity;
Be warned by these examples true and old.LUCIFER
With Lucifer, though he was angel fair
And not a man, with him will I begin;
For though Fortune may not an angel dare,
From high degree yet fell he for his sin
Down into Hell, and he lies yet therein.
O Lucifer, brightest of angels all,
Now art thou Satan, and thou may'st not win
From misery wherein thou far did'st fall!ADAM
Lo, Adam, in the garden Damascene,
By God Almighty's finger wrought was he,
And not begotten of man's sperm unclean;
He ruled all Paradise, except one tree.
Had never earthly man so high degree
As Adam, till he, for misgovernance,
Was driven from his high prosperity
To labour, and to Hell, and to mischance.SAMSON
Lo, Samson, whose birth was annunciated
By angel, long ere his nativity,
And was to God Almighty consecrated,
And had nobility while he could see.
Was never such another as was he
For body's strength, and therewith hardiness;
But to his wives he told his privity,
Whereby he slew himself for wretchedness.Samson, this noble mighty champion,
Without a weapon in his hands, I say,
He slew and rent in two a young lion,
While to his wedding walking in the way.
His false wife could so please him, she did pray
Till she his secret held, when she, untrue,
Unto his foes that secret did betray
And him forsook for other loves and new.Three hundred foxes Samson took, for ire,
And bound their brushes well together, and
Then set those foxes' tails alight with fire,
For he to every one had fixed a brand;
And they burned all the corn of all that land
And all the olive trees and vines, each one.
A thousand men he slew with his own hand,
With no weapon save an ass's jaw-bone.When they were slain, he thirsted so that he
Was well nigh lost, for which he prayed, say I,
That God would on his pain have some pity
And send him drink, or must he surely die;
And from that ass's jaw-bone, then but dry,
Out of a tooth there sprang anon a well,
Whereof he drank his fill and laid it by.
Thus helped him God, as Judges, fifteen, tell.By very force at Gaza, on a night,
Maugre Philistines of that said city,
The great gates of the town he took with might,
And on his shoulders carried them, did he,
High on a hill where every man might see.
O noble mighty Samson, lief and dear,
Had'st thou not woman told thy privity,
In all this world had never been thy pear.This Samson never liquor drank, nor wine.
Nor on his head came razor, nor a shear,
Obeying thus the angel's word divine,
For all his forces in his long locks were;
And fully twenty winters, year by year,
He held of Israel the governance.
But all too soon should he weep many a tear,
For women should betray him to mischance!Delilah being his darling, her he told
That in his unshorn locks all his strength lay,
And him to foemen then she falsely sold.
For, sleeping in her bosom, on a day,
She clipped and sheared all his long hair away,
Then showed his state unto his enemies,
And when they found him lying in this array
They bound him fast and put out both his eyes.Before his hair was sheared and shaven close,
There were no bonds wherewith men might him bind;
But now he lies in prison cell, morose,
And labours, when at mill they make him grind.
O noble Samson, strongest of mankind,
O judge, but late, in glory measureless,
Now may'st thou shed hot tears from thine eyes blind,
For thou from wealth art fallen to wretchedness.This captive's end was as I now shall say;
His foes they made a feast upon a day,
And made him as their fool before them play,
All in a temple great, of rich array.
But at the last he made a stern affray;
For he two pillars took and caused them fall,
And down came roof and all, and there it lay,
Killing himself and enemies, each and all.That is to say, those princes, every one,
And full three thousand others who were slain
By falling of that temple built of stone.
To Samson now I'll not revert again.
Be warned by this example old and plain.
Men should not tell their business to their wives
In such things as of secrecy they're fain,
And if it touch their limbs or touch their lives.HERCULES
Of Hercules, the sovereign conquering power,
Sing his deeds' praise and sing his high renown;
For in his time of strength he was the flower.
He slew, and made a lion's skin his own;
Of centaurs laid he all the boastings down;
He killed the cruel Harpies, those birds fell;
Brought golden apples from the dragon thrown;
And he stole Cerberus, the hound of Hell.He slew the cruel tyrant Busiris
And made his horses eat him, flesh and bone;
To a fiery, venomous worm he wrote finis;
Achelous had two horns, but he broke one;
Cacus he slew within his cave of stone;
He slew the giant Anthaeus the strong;
He killed the Erymanthian boar anon;
And bore the heavens upon his shoulders long.Was never man, since this old world began,
That slew so many monsters as did he.
Throughout all earth's wide realms his honour ran,
What of his strength and his high chivalry,
And every kingdom went he out to see.
He was so strong no man could hinder him;
At both ends of the world, as says Trophy,
In lieu of limits he set pillars grim.A darling had this noble champion,
Deianira, sweet as is the May;
And as these ancient writers say, each one,
She sent to him a new shirt, fresh and gay.
Alas that shirt, alas and welaway!
Envenomed was so cunningly withal
That, ere he'd worn the thing but half a day,
It made the flesh from off his bones to fall.Yet are there writers who do her excuse
Because of Nessus, who the shirt had made;
Howe'er it be, I will not her accuse;
But all his naked back this poison flayed
Until the flesh turned black, and torn, and frayed.
And when he saw no other remedy,
Upon a pyre of hot brands he was laid,
For of no poison would he deign to die.Thus died this mighty worthy, Hercules.
Lo, who may trust to Fortune any throw?
And he who seeks on earth for fame and case
Ere he's aware, he's often brought down low.
Right wise is he that can his own heart know.
Beware, when Fortune may her smile disclose,
She lies in wait her man to overthrow,
And in such wise as he would least suppose.NEBUCHADNEZZAR
The precious treasure and the mighty throne,
The glorious sceptre and royal majesty
That Nebuchadnezzar counted as his own
With tongue or pen not easily told may be.
Twice of Jerusalem the victor he;
The Temple's vessels took he and was glad.
And Babylon was the ancient sovereign see
Wherein his glory and delight he had.The fairest children of the blood royal
Of Israel, he gelded them anon,
And made each one of them to be his thrall.
Among the number Daniel thus was one,
Of all the youth the nation's wisest son;
For he the dreams of the great king expounded
When in Chaldea wise clerk was there none
Who knew to what end those dreams were propounded.This proud king made a statue of pure gold
Full sixty cubits long by seven wide,
Unto which image both the young and old
Commanded he to bow down, nor deride,
Else in a furnace full of flames go bide
And burn to ashes, who would not obey.
But no assent to that, whate'er betide,
Would Daniel and his pair of comrades say.This king of kings right proud was and elate,
And thought that God, Who sits in majesty,
Could not bereave him of his high estate:
Yet suddenly he lost all dignity,
And like a brute beast then he seemed to be,
And ate hay like an ox, and lay without;
In rain and storm with all wild beasts walked he,
Until a certain time was come about.And like an eagle's fathers were his hairs,
His nails like any bird's claws hooked were;
Till God released him after certain years
And gave him sense; and then, with many a tear,
He gave God thanks; thereafter all in fear
He lived of doing ever again trespass,
And till the time they laid him on his bier,
He knew that God was full of might and grace.BELSHAZZAR
His son, called Belshazzar, or Balthasar,
Who held the realm after his father's day,
He for his father's fate would not beware,
For proud, he was of heart and of array;
He was a worshipper of idols aye.
His high estate assured him in his pride.
But Fortune cast him down and there he lay,
And suddenly his kingdom did divide.A feast he made unto a thousand lords,
Upon a time, and bade them merry be.
Then to his officers he said these words:
"Go fetch me forth the vessels all," said he,
"Of which my father, in prosperity,
The temple in Jerusalem bereft,
And unto our high gods give thanks that we
Retain the honour that our elders left."His wife, his lords, and all his concubines,
They drank then, while that mighty feast did last,
Out of those noble vessels sundry wines.
But on a wall this king his eyes did cast
And saw an armless hand that wrote full fast,
For fear whereof he shook with trouble sore.
This hand that held Belshazzar so aghast
Wrote Mene, mene, tekel, and no more.In all that land magician was there none
Who could explain what thing this writing meant;
But when they sent for Daniel it was done,
Who said: "O king, God to your father lent
Glory and honour, treasure, government,
And he was proud, nor feared God, being mad,
Wherefore Lord God great misery on him sent,
And him bereft of all the realm he had."He was cast out of human company;
With asses was his habitation known;
He ate hay like a beast, through wet and dry,
Until he learned, by grace and reason shown,
That Heaven's God has dominion, up and down,
Over all realms and everything therein;
And then did God to him compassion own
And gave him back his kingdom and his kin."Now you, who are his son, are proud also,
Though you knew all these things, aye verily;
You are a rebel and you are God's foe.
You drank from out His vessels boastfully;
Your wife and all your wenches sinfully
Drank from those sacred vessels sundry wines,
And praised false gods, and hailed them, wickedly;
Whereof toward you the wrath of God inclines."That hand was sent from God which on the wall
Wrote Mene, mene, tekel. Oh, trust me,
Your reign is done, you have no worth at all,
Divided is your realm, and it shall be
To Medes and Persians given now," said he.
And that night went the king to fill death's maw,
And so Darius took his high degree,
Though he thereto had naught of right in law.Masters, therefrom a moral may you take,
That in dominion is no certainness;
For when Fortune will any man forsake,
She takes his realm and all he may possess,
And all his friends, too, both the great and less;
For when a man has friends that Fortune gave,
Mishap but turns them enemies, as I guess:
This word is true for king as well as slave.ZENOBIA
Zenobia, of all Palmyra queen
(As write old Persians of her nobleness),
So mighty was in warfare, and so keen,
That no man her surpassed in hardiness,
Nor yet in lineage, nor in gentleness.
Of blood of Persia's kings she was descended;
I say not she had greatest beauteousness,
But of her figure naught could be amended.From childhood on I find that she had fled
Duties of women, and to wildwood went;
And many a wild hart's blood therein she shed
With arrows broad that she within them sent.
So swift she was, she ran them down all spent;
And when she was grown older she would kill
Lions and leopards, and bears too she rent,
And in her arms she broke them at her will.She even dared the wild beasts' dens to seek,
And ran upon the mountains all the night,
Sleeping beneath a bush; and, nothing weak,
Wrestled by very force and very might
With any man, however brave in fight;
For there was nothing in her arms could stand.
She kept her maidenhead from every wight,
And unto no man would she yield her hand.But at the last her friends did make her marry
Odenathus, a prince of that country,
Albeit she long waited and did tarry;
And you must understand that also he
Held to the same queer fancies as had she.
Nevertheless, when wedded, 'twould appear
They lived in joy and all felicity,
For each of them held other lief and dear.But to one thing she never would consent,
For any prayers, that he should near her lie
Save one night only, when 'twas her intent
To have a child, since men should multiply;
Yet when she learned she'd got no pregnancy
From that night's work together on her bed,
Then would she suffer him again to try,
But only once indeed, and then with dread.And when she was with child, all at the last,
Then no more might he play at that same game
Till fully forty days were gone and past;
Then would she once more suffer him the same
And were Odenathus grown wild or tame,
He got no more of her; for thus she'd say:
"In wives it is but lechery and shame
When, oftener, men with their bodies play.Two sons by this Odenathus had she,
The which she bred in virtue and learning;
But now again unto our tale turn we.
I say, so worshipful a young being,
Wise, and right generous in everything,
Careful in war and courteous as well,
And hardy in the field, and full daring,
Was not in all the world where men do dwell.Her rich array may not be rightly told,
Either of vessels or of fine clothing;
She was clad all in jewels and in gold;
And she did never cease, despite hunting,
To gain of divers tongues a full knowing,
Whenever she had time; she did intend
To learn from books, which were to her liking,
How she in virtue might her whole life spend.And briefly of this story now to treat,
So doughty was her husband, as was she,
That they two conquered many kingdoms great
Throughout the East, with many a fair city
That did pertain unto the majesty
Of Rome; and with strong hands they held them fast;
Nor might a foe escape by trying to flee
The while Odenathus' good days did last.Her battles all (as whoso wills may read)
Against Sapor the king and others too,
And all her story as it fell, indeed,
Why she was victor and had right thereto,
And, after, all her misfortune and woe,
How they besieged her and at last did take,
Let him unto my master Petrarch go,
Who wrote the whole of this, I undertake.Now when Odenathus was dead, then she
The kingdom held within her own strong hand;
Against her foes she fought so bitterly
There was no king or prince in all that land
But was right glad, if mercy make her bland,
That she turned not against him her array;
With her they made alliance, bond and band,
To keep the peace and let her ride and play.The emperor of Rome, on Claudius
(His predecessor, Galien too, that man),
Had never courage to oppose her thus;
Nor was Egyptian nor Armenian,
Nor Syrian, nor yet Arabian
That dared against her in the field to fight,
For fear that at her hands they might be slain,
Or by her army put to sudden flight.In kingly habit went her sons also,
As being heirs to their sire's kingdoms all,
Athenodorus and Thymalao
Their names were (or the Greeks did so them call).
But Fortune's honey is aye mixed with gall;
This mighty queen could no great while endure.
And Fortune from her high throne made her fall
To wretchedness and into ways obscure.Aurelian, when Roman governance
Came to his two strong hands, made no delay,
But swore that on this queen he'd wreak vengeance,
And so with mighty legions took his way
Against Zenobia; let me briefly say
He made her flee; and at the last he sent
And fettered her and her two sons one day,
And won the land, and home to Rome he went.Among the other booty Asian
Her chariot was, of gold and jewellery,
And this great Roman, this Aurelian,
He carried it away for men to see.
Before his car in triumph then walked she
With golden chains upon her neck hanging;
Crowned was she, too, to show her high degree,
And full of priceless gems was her clothing.Alas, Fortune! She that but lately was
The scourge of kings and emperors and powers,
Now may the rabble gape at her, alas!
And she that, armed, rode where grim battle lowers
And took by force great cities and strong towers,
Must wear a cap now while her two eyes weep;
And she that bore the sceptre of carved flowers
May bear a distaff and thus earn her keep.PEDRO, KING OF SPAIN
O noble Pedro, glory once of Spain,
Whom Fortune held so high in majesty,
Well ought men read thy piteous death with pain!
Out of thy land thy brother made thee flee;
And later, at a siege, by scheme crafty,
Thou wert betrayed, and led into his tent,
Where he then, and with his own hand, slew thee,
Succeeding to thy realm and government.The field of snow, with eagle black therein,
Caught by the lime-rod, coloured as the gleed,
He brewed this wickedness and all this sin.
The "Wicked Nest" was worker of this deed;
Not that Charles Oliver who aye took heed
Of truth and honour, but the Armorican
Ganelon Oliver, corrupt for mead,
Brought low this worthy king by such a plan.PETER, KING OF CYPRUS
O noble Peter, Cyprus' lord and king,
Which Alexander won by mastery,
To many a heathen ruin did'st thou bring;
For this thy lords had so much jealousy,
That, for no crime save thy high chivalry,
All in thy bed they slew thee on a morrow.
And thus does Fortune's wheel turn treacherously
And out of happiness bring men to sorrow.BERNABO OF LOMBARDY
Of Milan, great Bernabo Visconti,
God of delight and scourge of Lombardy,
Why should I tell not of thy misery,
Since in all power thou did'st climb so high?
Thy brother's son, and doubly thine ally,
For he thy nephew was and son-in-law,
Within his prison shut thee up to die,
But I know not how death to thee did draw.UGOLINO, COUNT OF PISA
Of Ugolino, Count of Pisa's woe
No tongue can tell the half for hot pity.
Near Pisa stands a tower, and it was so
That to be there imprisoned doomed was he,
While with him were his little children three,
The eldest child was scarce five years of age.
Alas, Fortune! It was great cruelty
To lock such birds into such a cage!Condemned was he to die in that prison,
Since Ruggieri, Pisa's bishop, twice
Had lied, intrigued, and egged old passions on,
Whereby the people did against him rise,
And thrust him into prison in such wise
As you have heard; and meat and drink he had
So little that it could not long suffice,
And was, moreover, very poor and bad.And on a day befell it, at the hour
When commonly to him his food was brought,
The gaoler shut the great doors of the tower.
He heard it well enough, but he said naught,
And to his heart anon there came the thought
That they by hunger would leave him to die.
"Alas," said he, "that ever I was wrought!"
And thereupon the tears fell from his eye.His youngest son, who three years was of age,
Unto him said: "Father, why do you weep?
When will the gaoler bring us out pottage?
Is there no crumb of bread that you did keep?
I am so hungry that I cannot sleep.
Now would God that I might sleep on for aye!
Then should not hunger through my belly creep;
For nothing more than bread I'd rather pray."Thus, day by day, this little child did cry,
Till on his father's breast at length he lay
And said: "Farewell, my father, I must die."
And kissed the man and died that very day.
And when the father saw it dead, I say,
For grief his arms gnawed he until blood came,
And said: "Alas, Fortune and welaway,
It is thy treacherous wheel that I must blame!"His children thought that it for hunger was
He gnawed his arms, and not that 'twas for woe,
And cried: "O father, do not thus, alas!
But rather eat our young flesh, even so;
This flesh you gave us; take it back and go
And eat enough!" 'Twas thus those children cried,
And after that, within a day or two,
They laid themselves upon his knees and died.Himself, despairing, all by hunger starved,
Thus ended this great count of Pisa's cries;
All his vast riches Fortune from him carved.
Of his fate tragic let thus much suffice.
Whoso would hear it told in longer wise,
Let him read the great bard of Italy
Whom men call Dante; seen through Dante's eyes
No point is slurred, nor in one word fails he.NERO
Though viciousness had Nero in overplus,
As ever fiend that's low in torment thrown.
Yet he, as tells us old Suetonius,
This whole wide world held subject; aye, did own,
East, west, south, north, wherever Rome was known.
Of rubies, sapphires, and of great pearls white
Were all his garments broidered up and down,
For he in jewels greatly did delight.More delicate, more pompous of array,
More proud was never emperor than he;
That toga which he wore on any day,
After that time he nevermore would see.
Nets of gold thread he had in great plenty
To fish in Tiber when he pleased to play.
His lusts were all the laws in his decree,
For Fortune was his friend and would obey.He burned Rome for his delicate profligacy;
Some senators he slew upon a day
Only to learn how men might weep and cry;
He killed his brother and with his sister lay.
His mother put he into piteous way,
For he her belly ripped up just to see
Where he had been conceived; alack-a-day,
That but so little for her life cared he!No tear out of his two eyes for that sight
Came, but he said: "A woman fair was she."
Great wonder is it how he could or might
Pass judgment thus upon her dead beauty.
Wine to be brought him then commanded he
And drank anon; no other sign he made.
When might is wedded unto cruelty,
Alas, too deep its venom will pervade!A master had, in youth, this emperor,
To teach him letters and all courtesy,
For of morality he was the flower
In his own time, unless the old books lie;
And while this master held his mastery,
So well he taught him wiles and subtle ways
That ere could tempt him vice or tyranny
Was, it is said, the length of many days.This Seneca, of whom I do apprise,
By reason Nero held him in such dread,
Since he for vices spared not to chastise,
Discreetly, though, by word and not by deed-
"Sir," would he say, "an emperor must need
Be virtuous and hate all tyranny"-
For which, in bath, did Nero make him bleed
From both his arms until he had to die.This Nero had, though, out of arrogance,
Been wont, in youth, against the rod to rise,
Which afterward he thought a great grievance;
Wherefore he made him perish in this wise.
Nevertheless, this Seneca the wise
Chose in a bath to die, as you did hear,
Rather than suffer in some other guise;
And thus did Nero slay his master dear.Now it befell that Fortune cared no longer
To Nero's high pride to be accomplice;
For though he might be strong, yet she was stronger;
She thought thus: "By God, I am none too nice,
Setting a man who is but filled with vice
In high degree, emperor over all.
By God, up from his seat I will him trice;
When he least thinks of it, then shall he fall."The people rose against him, on a night,
For all his faults; and when he it espied,
Out of the doors he went and took to flight
Alone; and where he thought he was allied
He knocked; but always, and the more he cried
The faster did they bar the doors, aye all;
Then learned he well he'd been his own worst guide,
And went his way, nor longer dared to call.The people cried and rumbled up and down,
And, having ears, he heard the thing they said:
"Where's this false tyrant Nero, where's he flown?"
For fear almost out of his wits he strayed,
And to his gods, then, piously he prayed
For succour, but no help might him betide.
For fear of this he wished himself unmade,
And ran into a garden, there to hide.And in this garden were two fellows, yea,
Who sat before a great fire and a red,
And to those fellows he began to pray
That they would slay him and strike off his head,
But of his body, after he was dead,
They should do nothing to its further shame.
Himself he slew, no better counsel sped,
Whereat Dame Fortune laughed and made a game.HOLOFERNES
Was never captain, no, of any king's
That had more kingdoms in subjection thrown,
Nor stronger was, in field; above all things,
Nor in his time a greater of renown,
Nor had more pomp with high presumption shown,
Than Holofernes, whom Dame Fortune kissed
Right lecherously, and led him up and down
Until his head was off before 'twas missed.Not only did this world hold him in awe
For taking all its wealth and liberty,
But he made every man renounce old law.
"Nebuchadnezzar is your god," said he,
"And now no other god shall worshipped be."
Against his order no man dared to stand,
Save in Bethulia, a strong city,
Where Eliachim priest was of the land.But from the death of Holofernes learn.
Amidst his host he lay drunk, on a night,
Within his tent, as large as ever barn,
And yet, for all his pomp and all his might,
Judith, a woman, as he lay upright,
Sleeping, smote off his head and from his tent
Stole secretly away from every wight,
And with the head to her own town she went.ANTIOCHUS EPIPHANES
What needs it, as for King Antiochus,
To tell his high and royal majesty,
His great pride and his deeds so venomous?
There never was another such as he.
Go read what's said of him in Maccabee,
And all the haughty sayings that he said,
And how he fell from high prosperity,
And on a hill how wretchedly lay dead.Fortune had so enhanced the man's great pride
That verily he thought he might attain
Unto the utter stars on every side,
And in a balance weigh the high mountain,
And all the flood-tides of the sea restrain.
And God's own people held he most in hate.
Them would he slay with torment and with pain,
Thinking that God his pride would not abate.And because Nicanor and Timothy
Were vanquished by the Jews so mightily,
Unto all Jews so great a hate had he
That he bade bring his chariot hastily,
And swore an oath and said, impiteously,
That to Jerusalem he'd go ere noon
To wreak his ire on it full cruelly;
But from his purpose he was turned, and soon.God, for this menace, smote him then full sore
With wound invisible, incurable,
For in his guts he was so carved, aye more,
The pain of it was insupportable.
And certainly the thing was reasonable,
For many a man's guts he had caused to pain;
But from his purpose, cursed, damnable,
In spite of all he would not him restrain.He gave command to marshal his great host,
And suddenly, or ere he was aware,
God daunted all his pride and all his boast.
For he so heavily fell from his car
That from his very bones the flesh did tear,
So that he might not either walk or ride,
But in a litter men were forced to bear
Him with them, bruised upon the back and side.The wrath of God smote him so cruelly
That through his body loathsome maggots crept;
And therewithal he stank so horribly
That none of those that round his person kept,
Whether he lay awake or whether slept,
Could, for the very stench of him, endure.
In this foul state he wailed and howled and wept;
That God was Lord of all he then was sure.To all his host and to himself also
Full loathsome was his carrion, one great blain;
There were no men could bear him to and fro.
And in this stink and in this horrid pain
He died full wretchedly on a mountain.
Thus had this robber and this homicide,
Who made so many men weep and complain,
Such guerdon as belongs to too great pride.ALEXANDER
Alexander's tale is so well known a tune
That everyone who is not simple grown
Has heard somewhat, or all, of his fortune
This whole wide world, to state conclusion known,
He won by strength, or else for his renown
Right gladly men to sue for peace did send.
The pride of man and beast he tumbled down
Where'er he went, and that was the world's end.Comparison might never yet be staked
Upon a single similar conquering power;
For all this world in dread of him has quaked.
He was of knighthood and of freedom flower;
Fortune made him her heir to honour's bower;
Save wine and women, nothing might assuage
His high intent in arms; all men must cower,
So filled he was of leonine courage.What praise were it to him, though 'gain were told
Darius' tale or of others brought low-
Of kings and dukes and earls and princes bold,
The which he conquered and brought down to woe?
I say, as far as man may ride or go
The world was his, to tell it in a trice.
For though I wrote or told you always, so,
Of his knighthood, the time would not suffice.Twelve years he reigned, as tells us Maccabee;
And Philip's son of Macedon he was,
Who first was king of Greece, the whole country.
O noble Alexander, O alas!
That ever you should come to such a pass!
For poisoned by your very own you were;
Your six did Fortune turn into an ace,
And yet for you she never wept a tear!Who shall give me the tears now to complain
For death of gentle blood and high franchise?
He all the world did wield as one domain,
And yet he thought it could not long suffice,
So full his heart was of high enterprise.
Alas! And who shall help me to indict
False Fortune, and all poison to despise?
For these I blame for all the woe I write.JULIUS CAESAR
By wisdom, manhood, and by great labour,
From humble bed to royal majesty
Up rose he, Julius the conqueror,
Who won the Occident by land and sea,
By force of arms, or else by clear treaty,
And unto Rome made all this tributary;
And then of Rome the emperor was he,
Till Fortune came to be his adversary.O mighty Caesar, who in Thessaly
Against great Pompey, father of yours in law,
That of the East had all the chivalry
From farthest places that the sun e'er saw,
You, by your knighthood broke them for death's maw,
Save those few men who thence with Pompey fled,
Whereby you put the Orient in awe.
Thank Fortune now that you so well have sped.But now a little while I will bewail
This Pompey, this so noble governor
Of Rome, who fled when battle's chance did fail;
I say, one of his men, a false traitor,
Smote off his head to win himself favour
With Julius, and there the head he brought.
Alas, Pompey! Of Orient conqueror,
That Fortune such an end for thee hath wrought!To Rome again repaired great Julius,
To have his triumph, laureate full high;
But on a time Brutus and Cassius,
Who ever had of great estate envy,
Full secretly did lay conspiracy
Against this Julius, in subtle wise,
And fixed the place at which he soon should die
By dagger thrusts, as I shall you apprise.This Julius, to the Capitol he went
Upon a day, as he'd been wont to go,
And there they seized on him, as well they meant,
This treacherous Brutus and each other foe,
And struck him with their daggers, high and low,
And gave him many a wound and let him die;
But never groaned he, save at one stroke, no
(Or two perchance), unless his legend lie.So manly was this Julius in his heart,
And so well loved he stately decency,
That, though his deadly wounds did burn and smart,
His mantle yet about his hips cast he,
That no man there should see his privity.
And as he lay there, dying, in a trance,
And knew that he was dying, verily,
Of decency yet had he remembrance.Lucan to tell this story I commend,
Suetonius too, Valerius also,
Who of the tale have written to the end
And told how, of these mighty conquerors two,
Fortune was first the friend and then the foe.
No man may trust in Fortune's favour long,
But as one fearing ambush must he go.
Witness the end of all these conquerors strong.CROESUS
The wealthy Croesus, Lydia's sometime king,
Of which Croesus King Cyrus had such dread,
Yet was he taken, in his pride swelling,
And to be burned upon a pyre was led.
But such a rain down from the clouds was shed
As quenched the fire and let him there escape;
But to be warned, no grace was in him spread
Till Fortune on the gallows made him gape.When he'd escaped, not changed was his intent
To march at once into new wars again.
He thought right well 'twas Fortune that had sent
Such chance that he'd escape because of rain,
And that by foes he never should be slain;
And then a vision in the night he met,
At which he waxed so proud and grew so fain
That upon vengeance all his heart was set.Upon a tree he was, or so he thought,
Where Jupiter did wash him, back and side,
And Phoebus, then, a fair white towel brought
To dry him with and thereby swell his pride;
And to his daughter, who stood there beside,
And well, he knew, in knowledge did abound,
He bade interpret what it signified,
And she his dream in this wise did expound."The tree," she said, "the gallows is to mean,
And Jupiter betokens snow and rain,
While Phoebus with his towel white and clean,
That is the sunbeams beating down amain;
You shall be hanged, O father, 'tis certain;
The rain shall wash you and the sun shall dry."
And thus she gave him warning flat and plain,
His daughter, who was Phania, say I.So hanged was Croesus, that proud Lydian king,
His royal throne could nothing then avail.
Tragedy is no other kind of thing;
Nor can the singer cry aught, or bewail,
But that Dame Fortune always will assail
With unwarned stroke those great ones who are proud;
For when men trust her most, then will she fail
And cover her bright face as with a cloud.Explicit tragedia
Here the Knight halted the Monk in his Tale
Continue on to the Nun Priest's Tale
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