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Oure Hooste saugh wel that the brighte sonne | |
The ark of his artificial day hath ronne | |
The ferthe part, and half an houre and moore; | |
And though he were nat depe expert in loore, | |
5 | He wiste it was the eightetethe day |
Of Aprill, that is messager to May; | |
And saugh wel, that the shadwe of every tree | |
Was as in lengthe the same quantitee | |
That was the body erect that caused it, | |
10 | And therfore by the shadwe he took his wit |
That Phebus, which that shoon so clere and brighte, | |
Degrees was fyve and fourty clombe on highte; | |
And for that day, as in that latitude, | |
It was ten at the clokke, he gan conclude, | |
15 | And sodeynly he plighte his hors aboute.- |
"Lordynges," quod he, "I warne yow, al this route, | |
The fourthe party of this day is gon. | |
Now for the love of God and of Seint John, | |
Leseth no tyme, as ferforth as ye may. | |
20 | Lordynges, the tyme wasteth nyght and day, |
And steleth from us, what pryvely slepynge, | |
And what thurgh necligence in oure wakynge, | |
As dooth the streem, that turneth nevere agayn, | |
Descendynge fro the montaigne into playn. | |
25 | Wel kan Senec and many a philosophre |
Biwaillen tyme, moore than gold in cofre. | |
For 'Los of catel may recovered be, | |
But los of tyme shendeth us,' quod he. | |
It wol nat come agayn, withouten drede, | |
30 | Namoore than wole Malkynes maydenhede, |
Whan she hath lost it in hir wantownesse. | |
Lat us nat mowlen thus in ydelnesse. | |
Sir Man of Lawe," quod he, "so have ye blis, | |
Telle us a tale anon, as forward is. | |
35 | Ye been submytted thurgh youre free assent |
To stonden in this cas at my juggement. | |
Acquiteth yow as now of youre biheeste, | |
Thanne have ye do youre devoir atte leeste." | |
"Hooste," quod he, "Depardieux ich assente, | |
40 | To breke forward is nat myn entente. |
Biheste is dette, and I wole holde fayn | |
Al my biheste, I kan no bettre sayn. | |
For swich lawe as a man yeveth another wight, | |
He sholde hymselven usen it by right; | |
45 | Thus wole oure text, but nathelees certeyn |
I kan right now no thrifty tale seyn; | |
That Chaucer, thogh he kan but lewedly | |
On metres and on rymyng craftily, | |
Hath seyd hem in swich Englissh as he kan, | |
50 | Of olde tyme, as knoweth many a man. |
And if he have noght seyd hem, leve brother, | |
In o book, he hath seyd hem in another. | |
For he hath toold of loveris up and doun | |
Mo than Ovide made of mencioun, | |
55 | In hise Episteles that been ful olde; |
What sholde I tellen hem, syn they ben tolde? | |
In youthe he made of Ceys and Alcione, | |
And sitthen hath he spoken of everichone | |
Thise noble wyves and thise loveris eke. | |
60 | Whoso that wole his large volume seke |
Cleped the Seintes Legende of Cupide, | |
Ther may he seen the large woundes wyde | |
Of Lucresse, and of Babilan Tesbee, | |
The swerd of Dido for the false Enee, | |
65 | The tree of Phillis for hir Demophon, |
The pleinte of Dianire and Hermyon, | |
Of Adriane and of Isiphilee, | |
The bareyne yle stondynge in the see, | |
The dreynte Leandre for his Erro, | |
70 | The teeris of Eleyne, and eek the wo |
Of Brixseyde, and of the, Ladomea, | |
The crueltee of the, queene Medea, | |
Thy litel children hangyng by the hals | |
For thy Jason, that was in love so fals. | |
75 | O Ypermystra, Penolopee, Alceste, |
Youre wyfhede he comendeth with the beste! | |
But certeinly no word ne writeth he | |
Of thilke wikke ensample of Canacee, | |
That loved hir owene brother synfully; - | |
80 | Of swiche cursed stories I sey fy!- |
Or ellis of Tyro Appollonius, | |
How that the cursed kyng Antiochus | |
Birafte his doghter of hir maydenhede, | |
That is so horrible a tale for to rede, | |
85 | Whan he hir threw upon the pavement. |
And therfore he, of ful avysement, | |
Nolde nevere write, in none of his sermouns, | |
Of swiche unkynde abhomynaciouns; | |
Ne I wol noon reherce, if that I may. | |
90 | But of my tale how shall I doon this day? |
Me were looth be likned, doutelees, | |
To Muses that men clepe Pierides - | |
Methamorphosios woot what I mene - | |
But nathelees, I recche noght a bene | |
95 | Though I come after hym with hawebake, |
I speke in prose, and lat him rymes make." | |
And with that word he, with a sobre cheere, | |
Bigan his tale, as ye shal after heere. |
Next: The Man of Law's Prologue (ll. 99-133) | © Librarius All rights reserved. |