The Project Gutenberg eBook of Fourteenth Century Verse & Prose This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. Title: Fourteenth Century Verse & Prose Editor: Kenneth Sisam Release date: September 15, 2013 [eBook #43736] Language: English Credits: Produced by David Starner and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FOURTEENTH CENTURY VERSE & PROSE *** Produced by David Starner and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) [Transcriber's Note: This text has words or letters enclosed in caret brackets < > that were added by the author to complete the manuscript; corrupt readings retained in the text are indicated in the original by daggers [+][+]. #Bold# text has been marked by #; _underscores_ have been used to indicate _italic_ fonts; an emphasis by font change of single letters within an _it~a~lic_ context has been indicated by ~. For transcription of unusual letters and errata see the Transcriber's Note at the end. Original spelling variants and punctuation have not been standardized. The companion volume, _A Middle English Vocabulary, designed for use with SISAM's Fourteenth Century Verse & Prose_, by J. R. R. Tolkien is available at PG #43737.] Fourteenth Century VERSE & PROSE edited by KENNETH SISAM OXFORD AT THE CLARENDON PRESS M D CCCC XXI Oxford University Press _London Edinburgh Glasgow Copenhagen New York Toronto Melbourne Cape Town Bombay Calcutta Madras Shanghai_ Humphrey Milford Publisher to the UNIVERSITY PRINTED IN ENGLAND. CONTENTS PAGE MAP viii INTRODUCTION ix I. ROBERT MANNYNG OF BRUNNE'S HANDLYNG SYNNE 1 The Dancers of Colbek 4 II. SIR ORFEO 13 III. MICHAEL OF NORTHGATE'S AYENBYTE OF INWYT 32 How Mercy increases Temporal Goods 33 IV. RICHARD ROLLE OF HAMPOLE 36 A. Love is Life 37 B. The Nature of the Bee 41 C. The Seven Gifts of the Holy Ghost 42 V. SIR GAWAYNE AND THE GRENE KNIGHT 44 The Testing of Sir Gawayne 46 VI. THE PEARL, ll. 361-612 57 VII. THE GEST HYSTORIALE OF THE DESTRUCTION OF TROY 68 Prologue 69 The XXXI Book: Of the Passage of the Grekys fro Troy 72 VIII. PIERS PLOWMAN 76 A. From the B-Text, Passus VI 78 B. From the C-Text, Passus VI 89 IX. MANDEVILLE'S TRAVELS 94 Ethiopia.--Of Diamonds 96 Beyond Cathay 100 Epilogue 104 X. JOHN BARBOUR'S BRUCE 107 An Assault on Berwick (1319) 108 XI. JOHN WICLIF 115 A. The Translation of the Bible 117 B. Of Feigned Contemplative Life 119 XII. JOHN GOWER 129 A. Ceix and Alceone 131 B. Adrian and Bardus 137 XIII. JOHN OF TREVISA'S TRANSLATION OF HIGDEN'S POLYCHRONICON 145 A. The Marvels of Britain 146 B. The Languages of Britain 148 XIV. POLITICAL PIECES 151 A. On the Scots, by Minot 152 B. The Taking of Calais, by Minot 153 C. On the Death of Edward III 157 D. John Ball's Letter to the Peasants of Essex 160 E. On the Year 1390-1 161 XV. MISCELLANEOUS PIECES IN VERSE 162 A. Now Springs the Spray 163 B. Spring 164 C. Alysoun 165 D. The Irish Dancer 166 E. The Maid of the Moor 167 F. The Virgin's Song 167 G. Judas 168 H. The Blacksmiths 169 I. Rats Away 170 XVI. THE YORK PLAY 'HARROWING OF HELL' 171 XVII. THE TOWNELEY PLAY OF NOAH 185 NOTES 204 APPENDIX: THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE IN THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY 265 [Illustration: Names of Middle English texts placed on a map of England and Wales.] INTRODUCTION I Two periods of our early history promise most for the future of English literature--the end of the seventh with the eighth century; the end of the twelfth century with the thirteenth. In the first a flourishing vernacular poetry is secondary in importance to the intellectual accomplishment of men like Bede and Alcuin (to name only the greatest and the last of a line of scholars and teachers) who, drawing their inspiration from Ireland and still more from Italy direct, made all the knowledge of the time their own, and learned to move easily in the disciplined forms of Latin prose. During the second the impulse again came from without. In twelfth-century France the creative imagination was set free. In England, which from the beginning of the tenth century had depended more and more on France for guidance, the nobles, clergy, and entertainers, in whose hands lay the fortunes of literature, had a community of interest with their French compeers that has never since been approached. So England shared early in the break with tradition; and during the thirteenth century the native stock is almost hidden by the brilliant growth of a new graft. Every activity of the mind was quickened. A luxuriant invention of forms distinguished the Gothic style in architecture. All the decorative arts showed a parallel enrichment. Oxford (at least to insular eyes) was beginning to rival Paris in learning, and to contribute to the over-production of clerks which at first extended the province of the Church, and finally, by breaking the bounds set between ecclesiastics and laymen, played an important part in the secularization of letters. The friars, whose foundation was the last great reform of the mediaeval Church, were at the height of their good fame; and one of them, the Franciscan Roger Bacon, by his work in philosophy, criticism, and physical science, raised the name of English thinkers to an eminence unattained since Bede. If among the older monastic orders feverish and sometimes extravagant reforms are symptoms of decline, the richness of Latin chronicles like those of Matthew Paris of St. Albans is evidence that in some of the great abbeys the monks were still learned and eloquent. Nor was Latin the only medium in which educated Englishmen were at home. They wrote French familiarly, and to some extent repaid their debt to France by transcribing and preserving Continental compositions that would else have perished. Apart from all these activities, the manifestations of a new spirit in English vernacular works are so important, and the break with the past is so sharp, that the late twelfth century and the thirteenth would be chosen with more justice than Chaucer's time as the starting-point for a study of modern literature. Then romance was established in English, whether we use the word to mean the imaginative searching of dark places, or in the more general sense of story-telling unhampered by a too strict regard for facts. Nothing is more remarkable in pre-Conquest works than the Anglo-Saxon's dislike of exaggeration and his devotion to plain matter of fact. Here is the account of the whales in the far North that King Alfred received from Ohthere (a Norseman, of course, but it is indifferent):--'they are eight and forty ells long, and the biggest fifty ells long'. Compare with this parsimony the full-blooded description of the griffins in _Mandeville_:--'But o griffoun hath the body more gret, and is more strong, þanne eight lyouns, of suche lyouns as ben o this half; and more gret and strongere þan an hundred egles suche as we han amonges vs, &c.', and you have a rough measure of the progress of fiction. To take pleasure in stories is not a privilege reserved for favoured generations: but special conditions had transformed this pleasure into a passion. When Edward I became King in 1272, Western Europe had enjoyed a long period of internal peace, during which national hatreds burnt low. The breaking down of barriers between Bretons and French, Welsh and English, brought into the main stream of European literature the Celtic vein of idealism and delicate fancy. At the universities, in the Crusades, in the pilgrimages to Rome or Compostella, the nations mingled, each bringing from home some contribution to the common stock of stories; each gaining new experiences of the outside world, fusing them, and repeating them with embellishments. To those who stayed at home came the minstrels in the heyday of their craft--they were freemen of every Christian land who reported whatever was marvellous or amusing--and at second hand the colours of the rediscovered world seemed no less brave. It was an age greedy for entertainment that fed a rich sense of comedy on the jostling life around it; and to serve its ideals called up the great men of the past--Orpheus opening the way to fairyland, the heroes of the Trojan war, Alexander; Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table and Merlin the enchanter; Charlemagne with his peers--or won back from the shadows not Eurydice alone, but Helen and Criseyde, Guinevere and Ysolde, Rymenhild and Blauncheflour. While she still claimed to direct public taste, the Church could not be indifferent to the spread of romance. A policy of uniform repression was no longer possible. Her real power to suppress books was ineffective to bind busy tongues and minds; popular movements were assured of a measure of practical tolerance when order competed with order and church with church for the goodwill of the people; and even if the problem had been well defined, a disciplined attitude unvarying throughout all the divisions of the Church was not to be expected when her mantle covered clerks ranging in character from the strictest ascetic to that older Falstaff who passed under the name of Golias and found his own Muse in the tavern,-- _Tales versus facio quale vinum bibo; Nihil possum scribere nisi sumpto cibo; Nihil valet penitus quod ieiunus scribo,-- Nasonem post calices carmine praeibo!_ So it came about that while some of the clergy denounced all minstrels as 'ministers of Satan', others made a truce with the more honest among them, and helped them to add to their repertories the lives of saints. Officially 'trifles and trotevales' were still censured: but it seemed good to mould the _chansons de geste_ to pious uses,[1] and to purify the court of King Arthur, which popularity had led into dissolute ways, by introducing the quest of the Graal. And if Rolle preached sound doctrine when he ranked among the Sins of the Mouth 'to syng seculere sanges and lufe þam', their style and music were not despised as baits to catch the ears of the frivolous: when a singer began Ase y me rod þis ender dai By grene wode to seche play, Mid herte y þohte al on a may, Suetest of alle þinge,-- the lover of secular songs would be tempted to listen; but he would stay to hear a song of the Joys of the Virgin, to whose cult the period owes its best devotional poetry. [Foot-note 1: For illustrations from Old French, see _Les Légendes Épiques_ by Professor Joseph Bédier, 4 vols., Paris 1907-, a book that maintains the easy pre-eminence of the French school in the appreciation of mediaeval literature.] The power of the Church to mould the early growth of vernacular literature is so often manifested that there is a risk of underestimating the compromises and surrenders which are the signs of its wane. The figures of romance invaded the churches themselves, creeping into the carvings of the portals, along the choir-stalls, and into the historiated margins of the service books. Ecclesiastics collected and multiplied stories to adorn their sermons or illustrate their manuals of vices and virtues. In the lives of saints marvels accumulated until the word 'legend' became a synonym for an untrue tale. Though there are moments in the fourteenth century when the preponderance of the clerical over the secular element in literature seems as great as ever, by the end of the Middle Ages the trend of the conflict is plain. It is the Church that draws back to attend to her own defences, which the domestic growth of pious fictions has made everywhere vulnerable. But imaginative literature, growing always stronger and more confident, wins full secular liberty. Emancipation from the bondage of fact, and to some extent from ecclesiastical censorship, coincided with the acquisition of a new freedom in the form of English poetry. Old English had a single metre--the long alliterative line without rime. It was best suited to narrative; it was unmusical in the sense that it could not be sung; it had marked proclivities towards rant and noise; and like blank verse it degenerated easily into mongrel prose. Degeneration was far advanced in the eleventh century; and about the end of the twelfth some large-scale experiments show that writers were no longer content with the old medium. In _Layamon_, the last great poem in this metre before the fourteenth century, internal rime and assonance are common. Orm adopted the unrimed _septenarius_ from Latin, but counted his syllables so faithfully as to produce an intolerable monotony. Then French influence turned the scale swiftly and decisively in favour of rime, so that in the extant poetry of the thirteenth century alliteration is a secondary principle or a casual ornament, but never takes the place of rime. The sudden and complete eclipse of a measure so firmly rooted in tradition is surprising enough; but the wealth and elaborateness of the new forms that replaced it are still more matter for wonder. It is natural to think of the poets before Chaucer as children learning their art slowly and painfully, and often stumbling on the way. Yet in this one point of metrical technique they seem to reach mastery at a bound. That the development of verse forms took place outside of English is part of the explanation. Rimed verse had its origin in Church Latin. In the monastic schools the theory of classical and post-classical metres was a principal study; and the practical art of chant was indispensable for the proper conduct of the services. Under these favourable conditions technical development was rapid, so that in such an early example of the rimed stanza as the following, taken from a poem that Godescalc wrote in exile about the year 845,-- _Magis mihi, miserule, Flere libet, puerule, Plus plorare quam cantare Carmen tale iubes quale, Amor care. O, cur iubes canere?[2]--_ the arrangement of longer and shorter lines, the management of rime or assonance, and the studied grouping of consonant sounds, give rather the impression of too much than too little artifice. [Foot-note 2: _Poetae Latini Aevi Carolini_, vol. iii (ed. L. Traube), p. 731.] From Church Latin rime passed into French, and with the twelfth century entered on a new course of development at the hands of the _trouvères_ and the minstrels. The _trouvères_, or 'makers', studied versification and music as a profession, and competed in the weaving of ingenious patterns. Since their living depended on pleasing their audience, those minstrels who were not themselves composers spared no pains to sing or recite well the compositions of others; and good execution encouraged poets to try more difficult forms. The varied results obtained in two such excellent schools of experience were offered to the English poets of the thirteenth century in exchange for the monotony of the long line; and their choice was unhesitating. In an age of lyrical poetry they learned to sing where before they could only declaim: and because the great age of craftsmanship had begun, the most intricate patterns pleased them best. Chaucer was perhaps not yet born when the over-elaboration of riming metres in English drew a protest from Robert Mannyng:[3] and when, after a period of hesitancy, rimed verse regained its prestige in Chaucer's prime, nameless writers again chose or invented complex stanza forms and sustained them throughout long poems. If _The Pearl_ stood alone it might be accounted a literary _tour de force_: the York and Towneley plays compel the conclusion that a high standard of metrical workmanship was appreciated by the common people. [Foot-note 3: If it were made in _ryme couwee_, Or in strangere, or _enterlacé_, Þat rede Inglis it ere inowe Þat couthe not haf coppled a kowe, Þat outhere in _couwee_ or in _baston_ Som suld haf ben fordon. (_Chronicle_, Prologue, ll. 85 ff.)] Thus far, by way of generalization and without the _caveats_ proper to a literary history, I have indicated some aspects of the preceding period that are important for an understanding of the fourteenth century. But it would be misleading to pass on without a word of reservation. There is reason to suppose that the extant texts from the thirteenth century give a truer reflection of the tastes of the upper classes, who were in closest contact with the French, than of the tastes of the people. But however this may be, they do not authorize us to speak for every part of the country. All the significant texts come from the East or the South--especially the western districts of the South, where an exceptional activity is perhaps to be connected with the old preference of the court for Winchester. In the North and the North-West a silence of five centuries is hardly broken. II Judged by what survives, the literary output of the first half of the fourteenth century was small in quantity; though it must be remembered that, unlike the thirteenth and sixteenth centuries which made a fresh start and depended almost entirely on their own production, the fourteenth inherited and enjoyed a good stock of verse, to which the new compositions are a supplement. Our first impression of this new material is negative and disappointing. The production of rimed romances falls off: their plots become increasingly absurd and mechanical; the action, so swift in the early forms, moves sluggishly through a maze of decorative descriptions; and their style at its best has the pretty inanity of _Sir Thopas_. The succession of merry tales--such as _Dame Siriz_, or _The Fox and the Wolf_[4] where Reynard, Isengrim, and Chauntecleer make their first bow in English--is broken until the appearance of the _Canterbury Tales_ themselves. To find secular lyrics we must turn to the very beginning or the very end of the century, and Chaucer himself does not recover the fresh gaiety of the earlier time. [Foot-note 4: Both are in Bodleian MS. Digby 86 (about 1280), and are accessible in G. H. McKnight's _Middle English Humorous Tales_, Boston 1913.] The decline of these characteristic thirteenth-century types becomes less surprising when we notice that literature has changed camps. The South, more especially the South-West, is now almost silent: the North and the North-West reach their literary period. Minot and Rolle are Northerners, Wiclif is a Yorkshireman by birth, the York and Towneley Miracle cycles are both from the North, and with Barbour the literature of the Scots dialect begins; Robert Mannyng belongs to the North-East Midlands; while _Sir Gawayne_, _The Pearl_, and _The Destruction of Troy_ represent the North-West. This predominance in the present volume rests on no mere chance of selection, since the Northern (Egerton) version of _Mandeville_ might have been preferred to the Cotton; and if the number of extracts were to be increased, the texts that first come to mind--_Cursor Mundi_ (about 1300),[5] _Prick of Conscience_ (about 1340), _Morte Arthure_ (about 1360), the Chester Plays--are Northern and North-Western. [Foot-note 5: Early English Text Society, ed. R. Morris. Unless other editions are mentioned, the longer works which are not represented by specimens may be read among the Early English Texts.] It is impossible to give more than a partial explanation of the change in the area of production. But as the kinds of poetry that declined early in the fourteenth century are those that owed most to French influence, it is reasonable to assume that in the South the impulse that produced them had spent its force. The same pause is observable at the same time in France, where it coincides with the transition from oral poetry to more reflective compositions written for the eye of a reader. It is the pause between the passing of the minstrels and the coming of men of letters. Such changes were felt first in the centres of government, learning, and commerce, whence ideas and fashions spread very slowly to the country districts. At this time the North, and above all the North-West, was the backward quarter of England, thinly populated and in great part uncultivated. An industrial age had not yet dotted it with inland cities; and while America was still unknown the western havens were neglected.[6] In these old-fashioned parts the age of minstrel poetry was prolonged, and the wave of inspiration from France, though it came late, stirred the North and North-West after the South had relapsed into mediocrity or silence. [Foot-note 6: See p. 150.] So, about the middle of the century, imaginative poetry found a new home in the West-Midlands. As before, poets turned to French for their subjects, and often contented themselves with free adaptation of French romances. They accepted such literary conventions as the Vision, which was borrowed from the _Roman de la Rose_ to be the frame of _Wynnere and Wastoure_ (1352)[7] and _The Parlement of the Thre Ages_,[8] before it was used in _Piers Plowman_ and _The Pearl_ and by Chaucer. But time and distance had weakened the French influence, and the new school of poets did not catch, as the Southern poets did, the form and spirit of their models. [Foot-note 7: Ed. Sir Israel Gollancz, Oxford 1920.] [Foot-note 8: Ed. Gollancz, Oxford 1915.] They preferred the unrimed alliterative verse, which from pre-Conquest days must have lived on in the remote Western counties without a written record; and for a generation rime is overshadowed. The suddenness and importance of this revival in a time otherwise barren of poetry will appear from a list of the principal alliterative poems that are commonly assigned to the third quarter of the century:--_Wynnere and Wastoure_, _The Parlement of the Thre Ages_, _Joseph of Arimathie_ (the first English Graal romance), _William of Palerne_, _Piers Plowman_ (A-text), _Patience_, _Sir Gawayne and the Green Knight_, _The Destruction of Troy_, _Morte Arthure_. At the time alliterative verse was fitted to become the medium of popular literature. Prose would not serve, because its literary life depends on books and readers. Up to the end of the century (if we exclude sermons and religious or technical treatises, where practical considerations reinforced a Latin tradition) the function of prose in English literature is to translate Latin or French prose;[9] and even this narrow province is sometimes invaded by verse. Yet it was not easy to write verse that depended on number of syllables, quantity, or rime. The fall of inflexions brought confusion on syllabic metres; there were great changes in the quantity and quality of vowels; and these disturbances affected the dialects unevenly.[10] It must have been hard enough for a poet to make rules for himself: but popularity involved the recital of his work by all kinds of men in all kinds of English, when the rimes would be broken and the rhythm lost. It is perhaps unfair to call Michael of Northgate's doggerel (p. 33) to witness the misfortunes of rimed metres. But the text of _Sir Orfeo_ from the Auchinleck manuscript shows how often Englishmen who were nearly contemporary with the composer had lost the tune of his verses. The more fortunate makers of alliterative poems, whose work depended on the stable yet elastic frame of stress and initial consonants, possessed a master-key to the dialects. [Foot-note 9: Chaucer's prose rendering of the _Metra_ of Boethius is an apparent exception, but Jean de Meung's French prose version lay before him.] [Foot-note 10: See the Appendix.] Adaptability made easier the diffusion of alliterative verse: but its revival was not due to a deliberate choice on practical grounds. It was a phase of a larger movement, which may be described as a weakening of foreign and learned influences, and a recovery of the native stock. And the metrical form is only the most obvious of the old-fashioned elements that reappeared. In spirit, too, the authors of the alliterative school have many points of kinship with the Old English poets. They are more moderate than enthusiastic. Left to themselves, their imaginations move most easily among sombre shapes and in sombre tones. They have not the intellectual brilliance and the wit of the French poets; and when they laugh--which is not often--the lightness of the thirteenth century is rarer than the rough note of the comic scenes in the Towneley plays. It is hard to say how much the associations and aptitudes of the verse react on its content: but _Sumer is icumen in_, which is the essence of thirteenth-century poetry, is barely conceivable in Old English, where even the cuckoo's note sounded melancholy; and it would come oddly from the poets of the middle fourteenth century, who have learned from the French _trouvères_ the convention of spring, with sunshine, flowers, and singing birds, but seem unable to put away completely the memory of winter and rough weather. In the last quarter of the century the tide of foreign influence runs strong again; and the work of Gower and Chaucer discloses radical changes in the conditions of literature which are the more important because they are permanent. The literary centre swings back to the capital--London now instead of Winchester--which henceforth provides the models for authors of any pretensions throughout England and across the Scottish border. In Chaucer we have for the first time a layman, writing in English for secular purposes, who from the range and quality of his work may fairly claim to be ranked among men of letters. The strictly clerical writers had been content to follow the Scriptures, the Fathers and commentators, the service books and legendaries; and Chaucer does not neglect their tradition.[11] The minstrels had exploited a popular taste for merry tales 'that sownen into synne'; and he borrowed so gladly from them that many have doubted his repentance.[12] But his models are men of letters:--the Latin poets headed by Ovid, who was Gower's favourite too; French writers, from the satirical Jean de Meung to makers of studied 'balades, roundels, virelayes' like Machaut and Deschamps; and the greater Italian group--Boccaccio, Petrarch, and Dante. Keeping such company, he was bound to reject the rusticity of the alliterative school, and the middle way followed by those who added a tag of rime at the end of a rimeless series (as in _Sir Gawayne_), or invented stanzas in which alliteration remains, but is subservient to rime (as in _The Pearl_ and the York plays). After his day, even for Northerners who wish to write well, there will be no more '_rum-ram-ruf_ by lettre'.[13] [Foot-note 11: And for to speke of other holynesse, He hath in prose translated Boece, And of the Wrechede Engendrynge of Mankynde As man may in pope Innocent ifynde, And made the Lyfe also of Seynt Cecile; He made also, gon ys a grete while, Origenes upon the Maudeleyne. (_Legend of Good Women_, Prologue A, ll. 424 ff.)] [Foot-note 12: _Parson's Tale_, at the end.] [Foot-note 13: _Prologue to Parson's Tale_, l. 43.] III In outlining the main movements of the century, I have mentioned incidentally the fortunes of certain kinds of composition,--the restriction of the lyrical form to devotional uses; the long dearth in the records of humorous tales; the decadence of romances in rime, and the flourishing of alliterative romances. The popular taste for stories was still unsatisfied, and guided authors, from Robert Mannyng to Chaucer, in their choice of subjects or method of treatment. Translators were busier than ever in making Latin and French works available to a growing public who understood no language but English; and of necessity the greater number of our specimens are translations, ranging from the crude literalness of Michael of Northgate to the artistic adaptation seen in Gower's tales. But the chief new contribution of the century is the vernacular Miracle Play, with which the history of the English drama begins. Miracle plays grew out of the services for the church festivals of Easter and Christmas. Towards the end of the tenth century a representation of the Three Maries at the Sepulchre is provided for in the English Easter service. Later, the Shepherds seeking the Manger and the Adoration of the Magi are represented in the services for the Christmas season. In their early form these dramatic ceremonies consist of a few sentences of Latin which were sung by the clergy with a minimum of dignified action. From the eleventh to the thirteenth century the primitive form underwent a parallel development in all parts of Europe. Records of Miracles in England are at this time scanty and casual:--Matthew Paris notes one at Dunstable because precious copes were borrowed for it from St. Albans, and were accidentally burnt; another, given in the churchyard at Beverley, is mentioned because a boy who had climbed to a post of vantage in the church, and thence higher to escape the sextons, fell and yet took no harm. But the scantiness of references before 1200 is in itself evidence of growth without active enemies, and the few indications agree with the general trend observable on the Continent. The range of subjects was extended to include the acts of saints, and the principal scenes of sacred history from the Fall of Lucifer to the Last Judgement. Single scenes were elaborated to something like the scale familiar in Middle English. By the end of the twelfth century French begins to appear beside or in place of Latin; the French verses were spoken, not sung; the plays were often acted outside the church; and it may be assumed that laymen were admitted as performers alongside the minor clergy, who seem to have been the staunchest supporters of the plays. The Miracle had become popular, and there is soon evidence of its perversion by the grotesque imaginings of the people. In 1207 masking and buffoonery in the churches at Christmas came under the ban of Pope Innocent III, and his prohibition was made permanent in the Decretals. Henceforth we must look for new developments to the Miracles played outside the church. To these freedom from the restraints of the sacred building did not bring a better reputation. Before 1250 the most influential churchman of the time, Bishop Grosseteste of Lincoln, who was far from being a kill-joy, urged his clergy to stamp out Miracles; and later William of Wadington, and Robert Mannyng his translator, while allowing plays on the Resurrection and the Nativity if decently presented in the church, condemn the Miracles played in open places, and blame those of the clergy who encouraged them by lending vestments to the performers.[14] [Foot-note 14: _Handlyng Synne_, ll. 4640 ff.] From the first three-quarters of the fourteenth century, which include the critical period for the English Miracles, hardly a record survives. The memoranda on which the history of the English plays is based begin toward the end of the century, and the texts are drawn from fifteenth- and sixteenth-century manuscripts. Hence it will be simplest to set out the changes that were complete by 1400 without attempting to establish their true sequence; and to disregard the existence, side by side with the fully developed types, of all the gradations between them and the primitive form that might result from stunted growth or degeneration. The early references point to the representation of single plays or small groups of connected scenes; and such isolated pieces survive as long as there are Miracles: Hull, for instance, specialized on a play of Noah's Ship. But now we have to record the appearance of series or cycles of plays, covering in chronological order the whole span of sacred history. Complete cycles were framed on the Continent as early as the end of the thirteenth century. In England they are represented by the York, Towneley (Wakefield), and Chester plays, and the so-called _Ludus Coventriae_.[15] There are also records or fragments of cycles from Beverley, Coventry, Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and Norwich. The presentation of the cycle sometimes occupied a day (York), sometimes two or three successive days (Chester), and sometimes a part was carried over to the next year's festival (_Ludus Coventriae_). [Foot-note 15: These are not the Coventry plays, of which only two survive, but a cycle of plays torn from their local connexions (ed. J. O. Halliwell, Shakespeare Society, 1841). The title is due to a seventeenth-century librarian, who possibly had heard of no Miracle cycle but the famous one at Coventry.] The production of a long series of scenes in the open requires fine weather, and once the close connexion with the church services had been broken, there was a tendency to throw forward the presentation into May or June. The Chester plays were given in Whitsun-week--at least in later times. But normally the day chosen in fourteenth-century England was the Feast of Corpus Christi (the first Thursday after Trinity Sunday), which was made universal throughout the Church in 1311. So the Miracles get the generic name of 'Corpus Christi Plays'. The feature of the Corpus Christi festival was its procession. As a result either of inclusion in this procession or of imitation, the cycles came to be played processionally: each play had its stage on wheels which halted at fixed stations in the streets, and at each station the play was reenacted. This was the usage at York, Wakefield, Chester, Coventry, and Beverley. The older practice of presentation on fixed stages was followed in the _Ludus Coventriae_. Our last records from the end of the thirteenth century indicated that the open-air Miracle had been disowned by the Church from which it sprang. Yet a century later processional performances appear on a scale that postulates strong and competent management. In the interim the control of the great cycles had passed from the clergy to the municipalities, who laid upon each guild of craftsmen within their jurisdiction the duty of presenting a play. Ecclesiastics still wrote Miracles, and occasionally performed them; but when Canterbury, London, Salisbury, Winchester, Oxford, which have no extant texts and few records of popular performances, are named against York, Wakefield, Chester, Coventry, Beverley, it is obvious that official Church influences were no longer the chief factor in the development of Miracles. For their growth and survival in England the cycles depended on the interest of powerful corporations, willing to undertake the financial responsibility of their production, and able to maintain them against the attacks of the Lollards, or change of policy in the orthodox Church, or the fickleness of fashion in entertainment. The steps by which the English guilds assumed the guardianship of the plays cannot now be retraced. We must be content to note that the undertaking called for just that combination of religious duty, civic patriotism, and pride of craft that inspired the work of the guilds in their best days. And the clergy had every reason to welcome the disciplining by secular authority of a wayward offspring that had grown beyond their own control. The York texts, which bring us nearest to the time when the corporations and guilds first took charge of the Miracles, are very creditable to the taste of the city, and must represent a reform on the irresponsible productions that scandalized the thirteenth century. The vein of coarseness in some of the comic scenes of the Towneley group seems to be due to a later recrudescence of incongruous elements. The last great change to be noted was inevitable when the plays became popular: they were spoken in English and in rimed verse, with only an occasional tag or stage direction or hymn in Latin to show their origin. The variety of the texts, and of the modes and purposes of their representation, make it impossible to assign a date to the transition that would be generally applicable; and its course was not always the same. There is an example of direct translation from Latin in the Shrewsbury fragments,[16] which contain one actor's cues and parts in three plays: first the Latin foundation is given in verse or prose, and then its expansion in English alternate rime. That translations were sometimes made from the French is proved by the oldest known manuscript of a Miracle in English--an early fourteenth-century fragment of a Nativity play, consisting of a speech in French followed by its rendering in the same stanza form.[17] But there is no reason to doubt that as English gained ground and secularization became more complete, original composition appeared side by side with translation.[18] [Foot-note 16: Shrewsbury School MS. Mus. iii. 42 (early fifteenth century), ed. Skeat, _Academy_, January 4 and January 11, 1890. The fragments are (i) the part of the Third Shepherd in a Nativity play; (ii) the part of the third Mary in a Resurrection play; (iii) the part of Cleophas in _Pilgrims to Emmaus_. Manly, who reprints the fragments in _Specimens of the Pre-Shaksperean Drama_, vol. i (1900), pp. xxvi ff., notes that these plays seem to have been church productions rather than secular.] [Foot-note 17: See _The Times Literary Supplement_ of May 26 and June 2, 1921. The fragment comes from Bury St. Edmunds. The dialect is E. Midland.] [Foot-note 18: On the production of Miracle plays see L. Toulmin Smith, Introduction to _York Plays_, Oxford 1885; and A. F. Leach in _An English Miscellany presented to Dr. Furnivall_, pp. 205 ff.] For one other kind of writing the fourteenth century is notable--its longer commentaries on contemporary life and the art of living. In the twelfth century England had an important group of satirical poets who wrote in Latin; and in the thirteenth there are many French and a few English satires. Their usual topic was the corruption of the religious orders, varied by an occasional attack on some detail of private folly, such as extravagance in dress or the pride of serving-men. These pieces are mostly in the early French manner, where so much wit tempers the indignation that one doubts whether the satirist would be really happy if he succeeded in destroying the butts of his ridicule. This is not the spirit of the fourteenth century, when a darker side of life is turned up and reported by men whose eyes are not quick to catch brightness. The number of short occasional satires in English increases, but they are seldom gay. The greater writers--Rolle, Wiclif, Langland, Gower--were obsessed by the troubles of their time, and are less satirists than moralists. Certainly the events of the century gave little cause for optimism. The wane of enthusiasm throughout Europe and the revival of national jealousies are evident very early in the failure of all attempts to organize an effective Crusade after 1291, when the Turks conquered the last Christian outposts in Palestine. There was no peace, for the harassing wars with Scotland were followed by the long series of campaigns against France that sapped the strength of both countries for generations. The social and economic organization was shaken by the severest famines (1315-21) and the greatest pestilence (1349) in English history, and both famine and plague came back more than once before the century was done. The conflict of popes and anti-popes divided the Western Church, while England faced the domestic problem of Lollardry. There was civil revolt in 1381; and the century closed with the deposition of Richard II. A modern historian balances the account with the growth of parliamentary institutions, the improving status of the labouring classes, and the progress of trade: but in so far as these developments were observable at all by contemporary writers, they were probably interpreted as signs of general decay. In such an atmosphere the serene temper with which Robert Mannyng handles the sins and follies of his generation did not last long. Rolle tried to associate with men in order to improve their way of life: but his intensely personal attitude towards every problem, and the low value he set on the quality of reasonableness, made success impossible; and after a few querulous outbursts against his surroundings, he found his genius by withdrawing into pure idealism. Wiclif was the one writer who was also a practical reformer. Having made up his mind that social evils could be remedied only through the Church, and that the first step was a thorough reform of the government, doctrine, and ministers of the Church, he acted with characteristic logic. The vices and follies of the people he regarded as secondary, and refused to dissipate his controversial energies upon them. His strength was reserved for a grim, ordered battle against ecclesiastical abuses; and while he pulled down, he did not neglect to lay foundations that outlasted his own defeat. _Piers Plowman_ gives a full picture of the times and their bewildering effect on the mind of a sincere and moderate man. Its author belonged to the loosely organized secular clergy who, by reason of their middle position, served as a kind of cement in a ramshackle society. He has no new system and no practical schemes of reform to expound--only perplexing dreams of a simple Christian who, with Conscience and Reason as his guides, faces in turn the changing shapes of evil. He attacks them bravely enough, and still they seem to evade him; because he shrinks from destroying their roots when he finds them too closely entwined with things to which his habits or affections cling. In the end he cannot find a sure temporal foothold: yet he has no vision of a Utopia to come in which society will be reorganized by men's efforts. That idea brought no comfort to his generation who, standing on the threshold of a new order, looked longingly backward. Passing over Gower, whose direct studies of contemporary conditions were written in Latin and French, we come round again to Chaucer. He has not Rolle's idealism, or Wiclif's fighting spirit, or Langland's earnestness--in fact, he has no great share of moral enthusiasm. A man of the world with keen eyes and the breadth of outlook and sympathy that Gower lacked, he is at home in a topsy-turvy medley of things half-dead with things half-grown, and the thousand disguises of convention and propriety through which the new life peeped to mock at its puzzled and despairing repressors were to him a never-ending entertainment. _Ubique iam abundat turpitudo terrena_, says Rolle in an alliterative flight, _vilissima voluptas in viris vacillat;... bellant ut bestiae; breviantur beati; nullus est nimirum qui nemini non nocet_. That was one side, but it was not the side that interested Chaucer. He had the spirit of the thirteenth-century poets grown up, with more experience, more reflection, and a mellower humour, but not less good temper and capacity for enjoyment. He no longer laughs on the slightest occasion for sheer joy of living: but he would look elvishly at Richard Rolle--a hermit who made it a personal grievance that people left him solitary, a fugitive from his fellows who unconsciously satisfied a very human and pleasing love for companionship and admiration by becoming the centre of a coterie of women recluses. A world that afforded such infinite amusement to a quiet observer was after all not a bad place to live in. IV Chaucer, who suffers when read in extracts, is not represented in this book, although without him fourteenth-century literature is a body without a head. But in the choice of literary forms and subjects, I have aimed at illustrating the variety of interest that is to be found in the writings of lesser men. It may be asked whether the choice of specimens gives a true idea of the taste and accomplishment of the age. This issue is raised by Professor Carleton Brown's Afterword in the second volume of his _Register of Middle English Religious and Didactic Verse_, a book that will be to generations of investigators a model of unselfish research. There he emphasizes the popularity of long poems, and especially of long didactic poems, as evidenced by the relatively great number of manuscript copies that survive. _The Prick of Conscience_ leads with ninety-nine manuscripts, against sixty-nine of _The Canterbury Tales_, and forty-seven of _Piers Plowman_. What is to be said of a book that, impoverished by the exclusion of Chaucer, passes by also the most popular poem of his century? I would rest an apology on the conditions under which manuscript copies came into being and survived; and begin with Michael of Northgate as he brings his _Ayenbyte_ to an end in the October of 1340, before the short days and the numbing cold should come to make writing a pain. The book has no elegance that would commend it to special care, for Dan Michael is a dry practical man, as indifferent to the graces of style as to the luxury of silky vellum and miniatures stiff with gold and colour. But from his cell it goes into the library of his monastery--a library well ordered and well catalogued, and (as if to guarantee security) boasting the continuous possession of books that Gregory the Great gave to the first missionaries. We know its place exactly--the fourth shelf of press XVI. And there it remained safe until the days of intelligent private collectors, passing finally with the Arundel library to the British Museum. The course was not often so smooth, for of two dozen manuscripts left by Michael to St. Augustine's, Dr. James, in the year 1903, could identify only four survivors in as many different libraries. But the example is enough to illustrate a proposition that will not easily be refuted:--the chances of an English mediaeval manuscript surviving greatly depend on its eligibility for a place in the library of a religious house, since these are the chief sources of the manuscripts that have come down to us. The attitude of the Church towards the vernacular literature of the later Middle Ages did not differ materially from her attitude towards the classics in earlier times, though the classics had always the greater dignity. Literary composition as a pure art was not encouraged. Entertainment for its own sake was discountenanced. The religious houses were to be centres of piety and learning; and if English were admitted at all in the strongholds of Latin and French, a work of unadorned edification like _The Prick of Conscience_ would make very suitable reading for those who craved relaxation from severer studies. There were, of course, individuals among the professed religious who indulged a taste for more worldly literature; but the surviving catalogues of libraries that were formed under the eye of authority show a marked discrimination in favour of didactic works. In England the private libraries of fourteenth-century laymen were relatively insignificant. But Guy, Earl of Warwick, in 1315 left an exceptionally rich collection to the Abbey of Bordesley, which failed to conserve the legacy. The list was first printed in Todd's _Illustrations of Gower and Chaucer_ (1810),[19] and (among devotional works and lives of saints that merge into religious romances like _Joseph of Arimathea and the Graal_, _Titus and Vespasian_, and _Constantine_) it includes most of the famous names of popular history:--Lancelot, Arthur and Modred; Charlemagne, Doon of Mayence, Aimery of Narbonne, Girard de Vienne, William of Orange, Thibaut of Arraby, Doon of Nanteuil, Guy of Nanteuil, William Longespée, Fierebras; with two Alexander romances, a _Troy Book_, a _Brut_; the love story of _Amadas e Idoine_; the romance _de Guy e de la Reygne 'tut enterement'_; a book of physic and surgery; and a miscellany--_un petit rouge livere en lequel sount contenuz mous diverses choses_. Yet even a patron so well disposed to secular poems did little to perpetuate the manuscripts of English verse. His education enabled him to draw from the fountain head, and most of his books were French. [Foot-note 19: p. 161.] Neither in the libraries of the monasteries, nor in the libraries of the great nobles, should we expect to find a true mirror of popular taste. The majority of the people knew no language but English; and the relative scarcity of books of every kind, which even among the educated classes made the hearers far outnumber the readers, was at once a cause and a symptom of illiteracy: the majority of the people could not read. This leads to a generalization that is cardinal for every branch of criticism:--up to Chaucer's day, the greater the popularity of an English poem, the less important becomes the manuscript as a means of early transmission. The text, which would have been comparatively safe in the keeping of scribe, book, and reader, passes to the uncertain guardianship of memorizer, reciter, and listener; so that sometimes it is wholly lost, and sometimes it suffers as much change in a generation as would a classical text in a thousand years. Already Robert Mannyng laments the mutilation of _Sir Tristrem_ by the 'sayers' (who could hardly be expected to avoid faults of improvisation and omission in the recitation of so long a poem from memory);[20] and his regret would have been keener if he could have looked ahead another hundred years to see how the texts of the verse romances paid the price of popularity by the loss of crisp phrases and fresh images, and the intrusion of every mode of triteness. [Foot-note 20: I see in song, in sedgeyng tale Of Erceldoun and of Kendale, Non þam says as þai þam wroght, And in þer sayng it semes noght. Þat may þou here in _Sir Tristrem_-- Ouer gestes it has þe steem, Ouer alle þat is or was, If men it sayd as made Thomas: But I here it no man so say, Þat of som copple som is away. (_Chronicle_, Prologue, ll. 93 ff.) Robert blames the vanity of the reciters more than their memories, on the excellence of which Petrarch remarks in his account of the minstrels: _Sunt homines non magni ingenii, magnae vero memoriae, magnaeque diligentiae_ (to Boccaccio, _Rerum Senilium_, Bk. v, ep. ii).] Of course manuscripts of the longer secular poems were made and used,--mean, stunted copies from which the travelling entertainer could refresh his memory or add to his stock of tales; fair closet copies that would enable well-to-do admirers to renew their pleasure when no skilled minstrel was by; and, occasionally, compact libraries of romance, like the Auchinleck manuscript, which must have been the treasure of some great household that enjoyed 'romanz-reding _on þe bok_'--the pastime that encouraged the rise of prose romances in the late Middle Ages. But as a means of circulation for popular verse, as distinct from learned verse and from prose, the book was of secondary importance in its own time, and was always subject to exceptional risks. The fates of three stories in different kinds, all demonstrably favourites in the fourteenth century, will be sufficient illustration: of _Floris and Blauncheflour_, one of the best of the early romances in the courtly style, several manuscripts survive, but when all are assembled the beginning of the story is still wanting; of _Havelok_, typical of the homely style, one imperfect copy and a few charred fragments of another are extant; of the _Tale of Wade_, that was dear to 'olde wydwes',[21] and yet considered worthy to entertain the noble Criseyde,[22] no text has come down. Evidently, to determine the relative popularity of the longer tales in verse we need not so much a catalogue of extant manuscripts, as a census, that cannot now be taken, of the repertories of the entertainers. [Foot-note 21: Chaucer, _Merchant's Tale_, ll. 211 ff.] [Foot-note 22: Chaucer, _Troilus and Criseyde_, Bk. iii, l. 614.] If the manuscript life of the longer secular poems was precarious, the chances of the short pieces--songs, ballads, jests, comic dialogues, lampoons--were still worse. Since they were composed for the day without thought of the future, and were no great charge on the ordinary memory, the chief motives for writing them down were absent; and no doubt the professional minstrel found that to secure his proprietary rights against competitors, he must be chary of giving copies of his best things. Many would never be put into writing; some were jotted down on perishable wax; but parchment, always too expensive for ephemeral verse, was reserved for special occasions. In France, in the thirteenth century, Henri d'Andeli adds a touch of dignity to his poem celebrating the memory of a distinguished patron by inscribing it on parchment instead of the wax tablets he used for lighter verses.[23] In England in 1305, a West-Country swashbuckler, whom fear of the statute against _Trailebastouns_ kept in the greenwood, relieves his offended dignity by composing a poem half apologetic, half minatory, and chooses as the safest way of publication to write it on parchment and throw it in the high road:-- _Cest rym fust fet al bois desouz vn lorer, La chaunte merle, russinole, e crye l'esperuer. Escrit estoit en parchemyn pur mout remenbrer, Et gitté en haut chemyn, qe vm le dust trouer.[24]_ These loose sheets or tiny rolls[25] rarely survive, and the preservation of their contents, as of pieces launched still more carelessly on the world, depends on the happy chance of inclusion in a miscellany; quotation in a larger work; or entry on a fly-leaf, margin, or similar space left blank in a book already written. [Foot-note 23: _Et icil clers qui ce trova ... Por ce qu'il est de verité, Ne l'apele mie flablel, Ne l'a pas escrit en tablel, Ainz l'a escrit en parchamin: Par bois, per plains et par chamins, Par bors, par chateals, par citez Vorra qu'il soit bien recitez._ (_OEuvres_, ed. A. Héron, Paris 1881, p. 40.)] [Foot-note 24: 'This rime was made in the wood beneath a bay-tree, where blackbird and nightingale sing and the sparrow-hawk cries. It was written on parchment for a record, and flung in the high road so that folk should find it.' _The Political Songs of England_, ed. T. Wright (London 1839), p. 236.] [Foot-note 25: A rare example of a roll made small for convenience of carrying is the British Museum Additional MS. 23986. It is about three inches wide and, in its imperfect state, twenty-two inches long, so that when rolled up it is not much bigger than one's finger. On the inside it contains a thirteenth-century _Song of the Barons_ in French (T. Wright, _Political Songs_, 1839, pp. 59 ff.); on the outside, two scenes from a Middle English farce called _Interludium de Clerico et Puella_ (Chambers, _Mediaeval Stage_, vol. ii, pp. 324 ff.) which, like so many happy experiments of the earlier time, appears to have no successor in the fourteenth century.] Most productive, though not very common in the fourteenth century, are the miscellanies of short pieces--volumes like Earl Guy's 'little red book containing many divers things'--in which early collectors noted down the scraps that interested them. A codex of West-Country origin, MS. Harley 2253 in the British Museum, preserves among French poems such as the complaint of the _Trailebastoun_, a group of English songs that includes _Lenten is Come_ and _Alysoun_. Most of its numbers are unique, and the loss of this one volume would have swept away the best part of our knowledge of the early Middle English secular lyrics. Of survival by quotation there is an example in the history of the Letter of Theodric, which lies behind Mannyng's tale of the Dancers of Colbek; and the circumstances are worth lingering over both for the number of by-paths they open to speculation, and for the glimpse they give of Wilton in a century from which there are few records of the nunnery outside the grim, tax-gatherer's entries of Domesday. In the year before the Conquest, Theodric the foreigner, still racked by the curse that was laid on Bovo's company, made his way from the court of Edward the Confessor to the shrine of St. Edith. As he walked through the quiet valley to Wilton in the spring of the year, we may be sure the thought came to him that here at last was the spot where a man wearied with wandering from land to land, from shrine to shrine, might hope to be cured and to set up his rest. From the moment he reaches the abbey it is impossible not to admire his feeling for dramatic effect. By a paroxysm of quaking he terrifies the peasants; but to the weeping nuns he tells his story discreetly; and, lest a doubt should remain, produces from his scrip a letter in which St. Bruno, the great Pope Leo IX, vouches for all. It is notable that at this stage the convent appear to have taken no steps to record a story so marvellous and so well authenticated; and had Theodric continued his restless wandering we should know of him as little as is known of three others from the band of carollers, who had preceded him at Wilton with a similar story. But when he obtains leave to sleep beside the shrine of St. Edith, and in the morning of the great feast of Lady Day wakes up healed, exalting the fame of their patron saint who had lifted the curse where all the saints of Europe had failed, then, and then only, the convent order that an official record should be made, and the letter copied: _Hec in presencia Brichtive ipsius loci abbatisse declarata et patriis litteris[26] sunt mandata_. Henceforth it exists only as a chapter in the Acts of St. Edith, and as such it lay before Robert of Brunne. Of the other communities or private persons visited by Theodric (who, whether saint or _faitour_, certainly did not produce his letter for the first and last time at Wilton) none have preserved his memory. It would be hard to find a better example of the power of the clergy in early times to control the keys to posterity, or of the practical considerations which, quite apart from merit or curiosity, governed the preservation of legends. [Foot-note 26: _Patriis litteris_ according to Schröder and Gaston Paris means 'English language', but if it is not a mere flourish, it means rather the 'English script' in which the Latin letter was copied, as distinct from the foreign hand of Theodric's original letter. What 'English script' meant at Wilton in 1065 is a question of some delicacy. The spelling _Folcpoldus_ for _Folcwoldus_ in some later copies of the Wilton text must be due to confusion of _p_ and Anglo-Saxon [wynn] = _w_. This would be decisive for 'Anglo-Saxon script' if it occurred anywhere but in a proper name.] But it is the verses casually jotted down in unrelated books that bring home most vividly the slenderness of the thread of transmission. A student has committed _Now Springs the Spray_ to solitary imprisonment between the joyless leaves of an old law book. The song of the Irish Dancer and _The Maid of the Moor_ were scribbled, with some others from a minstrel's stock, on the fly-leaf of a manuscript now in the Bodleian. On a blank page of another a prudent man (who used vile ink, long since faded) has written the verses that banish rats, much as a modern householder might treasure up some annihilating prescription. To these waifs the chance of survival did not come twice, and to a number incalculable it never came. It has been the purpose of this digression to bring the extant literature into perspective: not to raise useless regrets for what is lost, since we can learn only from what remains; nor to contest the value of statistics of surviving copies as a proof of circulation, provided the works compared are similar in length and kind, and are represented in enough manuscripts to make figures significant; nor yet to deny that didactic verse bulks large in the output of the fourteenth century: it could not be otherwise in an anxious age, when the scarcity of remains gives everything written in English a place in literary history, and when for almost everything verse was preferred to prose. It seemed better to redress the balance of chance by stealing from the end of the thirteenth century a few fragments that following generations would not forget, than to lend colour to the suggestion that ninety-nine of the men of Chaucer's century enjoyed _The Prick of Conscience_ for every one that caught up the refrain of _Now Springs the Spray_, or danced through _The Maid of the Moor_, or sang the praises of Alison. V However much a maker of excerpts may stretch his commission to give variety, it is in vain if the reader will not do his part; for it lies with him to find interest. Really no effective attack can be made on a crust of such diversified hardness until the reader looks at his text as a means of winning back something of the life of the past, and feels a pleasure in the battle against vagueness. The first step is to find out the verbal meaning. Strange words, that force themselves on the attention and are easily found in dictionaries and glossaries, try a careful reader less than groups of common words--such lines as _Þe fairest leuedi, for þe nones, Þat mi[gh]t gon on bodi and bones_ II 53-4 which, if literally transposed into modern English, are nonsense. Those who think it is beneath the dignity of an intelligent reader to weigh such gossamer should turn to Zupitza's commentary on the Fifteenth Century Version of _Guy of Warwick_,[27] and see how a master among editors of Middle English relishes every phrase, missing nothing, and yet avoiding the opposite fault of pressing anything too hard. For these tags, more or less emptied of meaning through common use, and ridiculous by modern standards, have their importance in the economy of spoken verse, where a good voice carried them off. They helped out the composer in need of a rime; the reciter on his feet, compelled to improvise; and the audience who, lacking the reader's privilege to linger over close-packed lines, welcomed familiar turns that by diluting the sense made it easier to receive. [Foot-note 27: Early English Text Society, extra series, 1875-6.] Repeated reading will bring out clearly the formal elements of style--the management of rime and alliteration in verse, the grouping and linking of clauses in prose, the cadences in both verse and prose: and before the value of a word or phrase can be settled it is often necessary to inquire how far its use was dictated by technical conditions, compliance with which is sometimes ingenuous to the point of crudity. Where a prose writer would be content with _Mathew sayth_, an alliterative poet elaborates (VIII _a_ 234) into: _Mathew with mannes face mouthed þise wordis_ and in such a context _mouthed_ cannot be pressed. The frequent oaths in the speeches in _Piers Plowman_ are no more than counters in the alliteration: being meaningless they are selected to prop up the verse, just as the barrenest phrases in the poem _On the Death of Edward III_ owe their inclusion to the requirements of rime. Again, it will be easier to acquiesce in a forced sense of _bende_ in _On bent much baret bende_ V 47 when it is observed that rime and alliteration so limit the poet's choice that no apter word could be used. Conversely, in the absence of disturbing technical conditions, a reader who finds nonsense should suspect his understanding of the text, or the soundness of the text, before blaming the author. When the sense expressed and the methods of expression have been studied, it remains to examine the implications of the words--an endless task and perhaps the most entertaining of all. Take as a routine example the place where the Green Knight, preparing a third time to deliver his blow, says to Gawayne-- _Halde þe now þe hy[gh]e hode þat Arþur þe ra[gh]t, And kepe þy kanel at þis kest, [gh]if hit keuer may_ V 229 f. A recent translator renders very freely: 'but yet thy hood up-pick, Haply 'twill cover thy neck when I the buffet strike'-- though the etiquette of decapitation, and the delicacy of the stroke that the Green Knight has in mind, require just the opposite interpretation:--Gawayne's hood has become disarranged since he bared his neck (V 188), and the Green Knight wants a clear view to make sure of his aim. An observation of Gaston Paris on the Latin story of the Dancers of Colbek will show how much an alert mind enriches the reading of a text with precise detail. From the incident of Ave's arm he concludes that the dancers did not form a closed ring, but a line with Bovo leading (I 55) and Ave, as the last comer (I 43-54), at its end, so that she had one arm free which her brother seized in his attempt to drag her away (I 111 ff.). Intensive reading should be combined with discursive. Intensive reading cultivates the habit of noticing detail; and it is a sound rule of textual criticism to interpret a composition first in the light of the evidence contained within itself. For instance, the slight flicker in the verse _Sche most wiþ him no lenger abide_ II 330 should recall as surely as a cross-reference the earlier line _No durst wiþ hir no leng abide_ II 84 and raise the question whether in both places in the original work the comparative had not the older form _leng_. Discursive reading is a safeguard against the dangers of a narrow experience, and especially against the assumption that details of phrase, style, or thought are peculiar to an author or composition, when in fact they are common to a period or a kind. A course of both will enable the reader to cope with a school of critics who rely on superficial resemblances to strip the mask from anonymous authors and attach their works to some favoured name. Whether _Sir Gawayne_ and _The Destruction of Troy_ are from the same hand is still seriously debated. Both are alliterative poems; but it is impossible to read ten lines from each aloud without realizing the wide gap that divides their rhythms. The differences of spirit are more radical still. The facility of the author of _The Destruction_ is attained at the cost of surrender to the metre. Given pens, ink, vellum, and a good original, he could go on turning out respectable verses while human strength endured. And because his meaning is all on the surface, the work does not improve on better acquaintance. The author of _Sir Gawayne_ is an artist who never ceases to struggle with a harsh medium. He has the rare gift of visualizing every scene in his story: image succeeds image, each so sharply drawn as to suggest that he had his training in one of the schools of miniature-painting for which early England was famous. It is this gift of the painter that, more than likeness of dialect or juxtaposition in the manuscript, links _Sir Gawayne_ with _The Pearl_. It cannot be too strongly urged that the purpose of a worker in Middle English should be nothing less than to read sensitively, with the fullest possible understanding. Of such a purpose many _curricula_ give no hint. Nor could it be deduced readily from the latest activities of research, where the tendency is more and more to leave the main road (which should be crowded if the study is to thrive) for side-tracks and by-paths of side-tracks in which the sense of direction and proportion is easily lost. That much may be accomplished by specialists following a single line of approach has been demonstrated by the philologists, who have burrowed tirelessly to present new materials to a world which seldom rewards their happiest elucidations with so much as a 'Well said, old mole!' The student of literature (in the narrower modern sense of the word) brings a new range of interests. He will be disappointed if he expects to find a finished art, poised and sustained, in an age singularly afflicted with growing pains; but there are compensations for any one who is content to catch glimpses of promise, and--looking back and forward, and aside to France--to take pleasure in tracing the rise and development of literary forms and subjects. It is still not enough. The specialist in language as a science, or in literature as an art, may find the Sixth Passus of _Piers Plowman_ (VIII _a_) or the Wiclifite sermon (XI _b_) of secondary interest. Yet both are primary documents, the one for the history of society, the other for the history of religion. There is no escape from a counsel of perfection:--whoever enters on a course of mediaeval studies must reckon as a defect his lack of interest in any side of the life of the Middle Ages; and must be deaf to those who, like the fox in Aesop that had lost its tail, proclaim the benefits of truncation. The range of knowledge and experience was then more than in later times within the compass of a single mind and life. And so much that is necessary to a full understanding has been lost that no possible source of information should be shut out willingly. It is an exercise in humility to call up in all its details some scene of early English life (better a domestic scene than one of pageantry) and note how much is blurred. Every blur is a challenge. There are few familiar subjects in which a beginner can sooner reach the limits of recorded knowledge. The great scholars have found time to chart only a fraction of their discoveries; and the greatest could not hope or wish for a day when the number of quests worth the making would be appreciably less. * * * * * This book had its origin in a very different project. Professor Napier had asked me to join him in producing for the use of language students a volume of specimens from the Middle English dialects, with an apparatus strictly linguistic. The work had not advanced beyond the choice of texts when his death and my transfer to duties in which learning had no part brought it to an end. When later the call came for a book that would introduce newcomers to the fourteenth century, I was able to bring into the changed plan his favourite passage from _Sir Gawayne_, and to draw upon the notes of his lectures for its interpretation. It is a small part of my debt to the generous and modest scholar whose mastery of exact methods was an inspiration to his pupils. * * * * * I am obliged to the Early English Text Society and to the Clarendon Press for permission to use extracts from certain of their publications; to the librarians who have made their manuscripts available, or have helped me to obtain facsimiles; to Mr. J. R. R. Tolkien who has undertaken the preparation of the Glossary, the most exacting part of the apparatus; and to Mr. Nichol Smith who has watched over the book from its beginnings. THE TEXTS A single manuscript is chosen as the basis of each text, and neither its readings nor its spellings are altered if they can reasonably be defended. Where correction involves substitution, the substituted letters are printed in italics, and the actual reading of the manuscript will be found in the Foot-notes (or occasionally in the Notes). Words or letters added to complete the manuscript are enclosed in caret brackets < >. Corrupt readings retained in the text are indicated by daggers [+][+]. Paragraphing, punctuation, capitals, and the details of word division are modern, and contractions are expanded without notice, so that the reader shall not be distracted by difficulties that are purely palaeographical. A final _e_ derived from OFr. _é(e)_ or _ie_, OE. _-ig_, is printed _é_, to distinguish it from unaccented final _e_ which is regularly lost in Modern English. The extracts have been collated with the manuscripts, or with complete photographs, except Nos. IV (Thornton MS.), VII, VIII _b_, XI _a_, XVII, the manuscripts of which I have not been able to consult. The foot-notes as a rule take no account of conjectural emendations, variants from other manuscripts, or minutiae like erasures and corrections contemporary with the copy. SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY[28] [Foot-note 28: Books primarily of reference are distinguished by an asterisk. Details relating to texts, manuscript sources, editions, monographs, and articles that have appeared in periodicals, will be found in the bibliographical manuals cited.] DICTIONARIES. *_A New English Dictionary on Historical Principles_, ed. Sir J. A. H. Murray, H. Bradley, W. A. Craigie, C. T. Onions, Oxford 1888--[quoted as _N.E.D._]. *Stratmann, F. A. _A Middle English Dictionary_, new edn. by H. Bradley, Oxford 1891. BIBLIOGRAPHICAL. *Brown, Carleton. _A Register of Middle English Religious and Didactic Verse_ (Part I, List of MSS.; Part II, Indices), Oxford 1916-20 (Bibliographical Society). *Hammond, Miss E. P. _Chaucer: A Bibliographical Manual_, New York 1908. *Wells, J. E. _A Manual of the Writings in Middle English, 1050-1500_, New Haven, &c., 1916; Supplement, 1919. LITERATURE AND LEARNING. Chambers, E. K. _The Mediaeval Stage_, 2 vols., Oxford 1903. Clark, J. W. _The Care of Books_, Cambridge (new edn.) 1909. Ker, W. P. _English Literature, Mediaeval_, London 1912. [A good brief orientation.] Legouis, E. _Chaucer_ (transl. L. Lailavoix), London 1913. Rashdall, H. _The Universities of Europe in the Middle Ages_, 2 vols., Oxford 1895. CHURCH HISTORY. Capes, W. W. _The English Church in the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries_, London 1909. *Dugdale, Sir William. _Monasticon Anglicanum_, new edn. by Caley, Ellis and Bandinel, 6 vols., London 1846. [Gives detailed histories of the English religious houses.] Gasquet, Cardinal F. A. _English Monastic Life_, London, 4th edn. 1910. GENERAL HISTORY. Ashley, W. J. _An Introduction to English Economic History and Theory_, 2 vols., London 1888-93. Bateson, Mary. _Mediaeval England (1066-1350)_, London 1903. [A brief and exact social history.] Cutts, E. L. _Scenes and Characters of the Middle Ages_, London 1872; 3rd edn. 1911. [Useful for its illustrations from MSS.] Gasquet, Cardinal F. A. _The Black Death of 1348 and 1349_, London, 2nd edn. 1908. Jessopp, A. _The Coming of the Friars and other Historical Essays_, London, 4th edn. 1890. Jusserand, J. J. _English Wayfaring Life in the Middle Ages_ (transl. L. Toulmin Smith), London 1889, &c. revised 1921. [Invaluable.] Lechler, G. V. _John Wiclif and his English Precursors_ (transl. P. Lorimer), 2 vols., London 1878. Oman, Sir Charles Wm. C. _The Great Revolt of 1381_, Oxford 1906. Reville, A., et Petit-Dutaillis, Ch. _Le Soulèvement des Travailleurs d'Angleterre en 1381_, Paris 1898. Riley, H. T. _Memorials of London and London Life (1270-1419)_, London 1868. *Rogers, J. E. T. _A History of Agriculture and Prices in England (1259-1793)_. 7 vols., Oxford 1866-1902. [Rich in facts.] Smith, S. Armitage. _John of Gaunt_, London 1904. *Stubbs, Wm. _The Constitutional History of England_, 3 vols., Oxford (1st edn. 1874-78), 1903-6. Tout, T. F. _The History of England from the Accession of Henry III to the Death of Edward III (1216-1377)_, London 1905; new edn. 1920. Trevelyan, G. M. _England in the Age of Wycliffe_, London 1899; new edn., 1909. [A brilliant study.] WORKS RELATING CHIEFLY TO FRANCE. Enlart, C. _Le Costume_ (vol. iii of his _Manuel d'Archéologie Française_), Paris 1916. Faral, E. _Les Jongleurs en France au Moyen Âge_, Paris 1910. Paris, G. _La Littérature Française au Moyen Âge_, Paris, 5th edn. 1909. [A model handbook.] I ROBERT MANNYNG OF BRUNNE'S HANDLYNG SYNNE A.D. 1303 What is known of Robert Mannyng of Brunne is derived from his own works. In the Prologue to _Handlyng Synne_ he writes: To alle Crystyn men vndir sunne, And to gode men of Brunne, And speciali, alle be name, Þe felaushepe of Symprynghame, Roberd of Brunne greteþ [gh]ow In al godenesse þat may to prow; Of Brunne wake yn Kesteuene, Syxe myle besyde Sympryngham euene, Y dwelled yn þe pryorye Fyftene [gh]ere yn cumpanye.... And in the Introduction to his _Chronicle_: Of Brunne I am; if any me blame, Robert Mannyng is my name; Blissed be he of God of heuene Þat me Robert with gude wille neuene! In þe third Edwardes tyme was I, When I wrote alle þis story, In þe hous of Sixille I was a throwe; Dan[gh] Robert of Malton, þat [gh]e know, Did it wryte for felawes sake When þai wild solace make. From these passages it appears that he was born in Brunne, the modern Bourn, in Lincolnshire; and that he belonged to the Gilbertine Order. Sempringham was the head-quarters of the Order, and the dependent priory of Sixhill was near by. It has been suggested, without much evidence, that he was a lay brother, and not a full canon. His _Chronicle of England_ was completed in 1338. It falls into two parts, distinguished by a change of metre and source. The first, edited by Furnivall in the Rolls Series (2 vols. 1887), extends from the Flood to A.D. 689, and is based on Wace's _Brut_, the French source of Layamon's _Brut_. The second part, edited by Hearne, 2 vols., Oxford 1725, extends from A.D. 689 to the death of Edward I, and is based on the French _Chronicle_ of a contemporary, who is sometimes called Pierre de Langtoft, sometimes Piers of Bridlington, because he was a native of Langtoft in Yorkshire, and a canon of the Austin priory at Bridlington in the same county. Mannyng's _Chronicle_ has no great historical value, and its chief literary interest lies in the references to current traditions and popular stories. _Handlyng Synne_ is a much more valuable work. It was begun in 1303: Dane Felyp was mayster þat tyme Þat y began þys Englyssh ryme; Þe [gh]eres of grace fyl þan to be A þousynd and þre hundred and þre. In þat tyme turnede y þys On Englyssh tunge out of Frankys Of a boke as y fonde ynne, Men clepyn þe boke 'Handlyng Synne'. The source was again a French work written by a contemporary Northerner--William of Wadington's _Manuel de Pechiez_. The popularity of such treatises on the Sins may be judged from the number of works modelled upon them: e.g. the _Ayenbyte of Inwyt_, Gower's _Confessio Amantis_, and Chaucer's _Parson's Tale_. Their purpose was, as Robert explains, to enable a reader to examine his conscience systematically and constantly, and so to guard himself against vice. Two complete MSS. of _Handlyng Synne_ are known: British Museum MS. Harley 1701 (about 1350-75), and MS. Bodley 415, of a slightly later date. An important fragment is in the library of Dulwich College. The whole text, with the French source, has been edited by Furnivall for the Roxburghe Club, and later for the Early English Text Society. It treats, with the usual wealth of classification, of the Commandments, the Sins, the Sacraments, the Requisites and Graces of Shrift. But such a bald summary gives no idea of the richness and variety of its content. For Mannyng, anticipating Gower, saw the opportunities that the illustrative stories offered to his special gifts, and spared no pains in their telling. A few examples are added from his own knowledge. More often he expands Wadington's outlines, as in the tale of the Dancers of Colbek. Here the French source is brief and colourless. But the English translator had found a fuller Latin version--clearly the same as that printed from Bodleian MS. Rawlinson C 938 in the preface to Furnivall's Roxburghe Club edition--and from it he produced the well-rounded and lively rendering given below. Robert knew that a work designed to turn 'lewde men' from the ale-house to the contemplation of their sins must grip their attention; and in the art of linking good teaching with entertainment he is a master. He has the gift of conveying to his audience his own enjoyment of a good story. His loose-knit conversational style would stand the test of reading aloud to simple folk, and he allows no literary affectations, no forced metres or verbiage, to darken his meaning: Haf I alle in myn Inglis layd In symple speche as I couthe, Þat is lightest in mannes mouthe. I mad noght for no disours, Ne for no seggers, no harpours, But for þe luf of symple men Þat strange Inglis can not ken; For many it ere þat strange Inglis In ryme wate neuer what it is, And bot þai wist what it mente, Ellis me thoght it were alle schente. (_Chronicle_, ll. 72 ff.) The simple form reflects the writer's frankness and directness. He points a moral fearlessly, but without harshness or self-righteousness. And the range of his sympathies and interests makes _Handlyng Synne_ the best picture of English life before Langland and Chaucer. THE DANCERS OF COLBEK MS. Harley 1701 (about A.D. 1375); ed. Furnivall, ll. 8987 ff. Karolles, wrastlynges, or somour games, 1 Whoso euer haunteþ any swyche shames Yn cherche, oþer yn cherche[gh]erd, Of sacrylage he may be aferd; Or entyrludes, or syngynge, 5 Or tabure bete, or oþer pypynge-- Alle swyche þyng forbodyn es Whyle þe prest stondeþ at messe. Alle swyche to euery gode preste ys lothe, And sunner wyl he make hym wroth 10 Þan he wyl, þat haþ no wyt, Ne vndyrstondeþ nat Holy Wryt. And specyaly at hygh tymes Karolles to synge and rede rymys Noght yn none holy stedes, 15 Þat my[gh]t dysturble þe prestes bedes, Or [gh]yf he were yn orysun Or any ouþer deuocyun: Sacrylage ys alle hyt tolde, Þys and many oþer folde. 20 But for to leue yn cherche for to daunce, Y shal [gh]ow telle a ful grete chaunce, And y trow þe most þat fel Ys soþe as y [gh]ow telle; And fyl þys chaunce yn þys londe, 25 Yn Ingland, as y vndyrstonde, Yn a kynges tyme þat hyght Edward Fyl þys chau ce þat was so hard. Hyt was vppon a Crystemesse ny[gh]t Þat twelue folys a karolle dy[gh]t, 30 Yn wodehed, as hyt were yn cuntek, Þey come to a tounne men calle Colbek. Þe cherche of þe tounne þat þey to come Ys of Seynt Magne, þat suffred martyrdome; Of Seynt Bukcestre hyt ys also, 35 Seynt Magnes suster, þat þey come to. Here names of alle þus fonde y wryte, And as y wote now shul [gh]e wyte: Here lodesman, þat made hem glew, Þus ys wryte, he hy[gh]te Gerlew. 40 Twey maydens were yn here coueyne, Mayden Merswynde and Wybessyne. Alle þese come þedyr for þat enchesone Of þe prestes doghtyr of þe tounne. Þe prest hy[gh]t Robert, as y kan ame; 45 A[gh]one hyght hys sone by name; Hys doghter, þat þese men wulde haue, Þus ys wryte, þat she hy[gh]t Aue. Echoune consented to o wyl Who shuld go Aue oute to tyl, 50 Þey graunted echone out to sende Boþe Wybessyne and Merswynde. Þese wommen [gh]ede and tolled here oute Wyþ hem to karolle þe cherche aboute. Beu ne ordeyned here karollyng; 55 Gerlew endyted what þey shuld syng. Þys ys þe karolle þat þey sunge, As telleþ þe Latyn tunge: '_Equitabat Beuo per siluam frondosam, Ducebat secum Merswyndam formosam. 60 Quid stamus? cur non imus?_' 'By þe leued wode rode Beuolyne, Wyþ hym he ledde feyre Merswyne. Why stonde we? why go we noght?' Þys ys þe karolle þat Grysly wroght; 65 Þys songe sunge þey yn þe cherche[gh]erd-- Of foly were þey no þyng aferd-- Vnto þe matynes were alle done, And þe messe shuld bygynne sone. Þe preste hym reuest to begynne messe, 70 And þey ne left þerfore neuer þe lesse, But daunsed furþe as þey bygan, For alle þe messe þey ne blan. Þe preste, þat stode at þe autere, And herd here noyse and here bere, 75 Fro þe auter down he nam, And to þe cherche porche he cam, And seyd 'On Goddes behalue, y [gh]ow forbede Þat [gh]e no lenger do swych dede, But comeþ yn on feyre manere 80 Goddes seruyse for to here, And doþ at Crystyn mennys lawe; Karolleþ no more, for Crystys awe! Wurschyppeþ Hym with alle [gh]oure my[gh]t Þat of þe Vyrgyne was bore þys ny[gh]t.' 85 For alle hys byddyng lefte þey no[gh]t, But daunsed furþ, as þey þo[gh]t. Þe preste þarefor was sore agreued; He preyd God þat he on beleuyd, And for Seynt Magne, þat he wulde so werche-- 90 Yn whos wurschyp sette was þe cherche-- Þat swych a veniaunce were on hem sent, Are þey oute of þat stede were went, Þat <þey> my[gh]t euer ry[gh]t so wende Vnto þat tyme tweluemonth ende; 95 (Yn þe Latyne þat y fonde þore He seyþ nat 'tweluemonth' but 'euermore';) He cursed hem þere alsaume As þey karoled on here gaume. As sone as þe preste hadde so spoke 100 Euery hand yn ouþer so fast was loke Þat no man my[gh]t with no wundyr Þat tweluemo þe parte hem asundyr. Þe preste [gh]ede yn, whan þys was done, And commaunded hys sone A[gh]one 105 Þat shulde go swyþe aftyr Aue, Oute of þat karolle algate to haue. But al to late þat wurde was seyd, For on hem alle was þe veniaunce leyd. A[gh]one wende weyl for to spede; 110 Vnto þe karolle as swyþe he [gh]ede, Hys systyr by þe arme he hente, And þe arme fro þe body wente. Men wundred alle þat þere wore, And merueyle mowe [gh]e here more, 115 For, seþen he had þe arme yn hand, Þe body [gh]ede furþ karoland, And noþer <þe> body ne þe arme Bledde neuer blode, colde ne warme, But was as drye, with al þe haunche, 120 As of a stok were ryue a braunche. A[gh]one to hys fadyr went, And broght hym a sory present: 'Loke, fadyr,' he seyd, 'and haue hyt here, Þe arme of þy doghtyr dere, 125 Þat was myn owne syster Aue, Þat y wende y my[gh]t a saue. Þy cursyng now sene hyt ys Wyth veniaunce on þy owne flessh. Fellyche þou cursedest, and ouer sone; 130 Þou askedest veniaunce,--þou hast þy bone.' [Gh]ow þar nat aske [gh]yf þere was wo Wyth þe preste, and wyth many mo. Þe prest, þat cursed for þat daunce, On some of hys fyl harde chaunce. 135 He toke hys doghtyr arme forlorn And byryed hyt on þe morn; Þe nexte day þe arme of Aue He fonde hyt lyggyng aboue þe graue. He byryed on anouþer day, 140 And eft aboue þe graue hyt lay. Þe þrydde tyme he byryed hyt, And eft was hyt kast oute of þe pyt. Þe prest wulde byrye hyt no more, He dredde þe veniaunce ferly sore; 145 Ynto þe cherche he bare þe arme, For drede and doute of more harme, He ordeyned hyt for to be Þat euery man my[gh]t wyth ye hyt se. Þese men þat [gh]ede so karolland, 150 Alle þat [gh]ere, hand yn hand, Þey neuer oute of þat stede [gh]ede, Ne none my[gh]t hem þenne lede. Þere þe cursyng fyrst bygan, Yn þat place aboute þey ran, 155 Þat neuer ne felte þey no werynes As many [+]bodyes for goyng dos[+], Ne mete ete, ne drank drynke, Ne slepte onely alepy wynke. Ny[gh]t ne day þey wyst of none, 160 Whan hyt was come, whan hyt was gone; Frost ne snogh, hayle ne reyne, Of colde ne hete, felte þey no peyne; Heere ne nayles neuer grewe, Ne solowed cloþes, ne turned hewe; 165 Þundyr ne ly[gh]tnyng dyd hem no dere, Goddys mercy ded hyt fro hem were;-- But sungge þat songge þat þe wo wro[gh]t: 'Why stonde we? why go we no[gh]t?' What man shuld þyr be yn þys lyue 170 Þat ne wulde hyt see and þedyr dryue? Þe Emperoure Henry come fro Rome For to see þys hard dome. Whan he hem say, he wepte sore For þe myschefe þat he sagh þore. 175 He ded come wry[gh]tes for to make Coueryng ouer hem, for tempest sake. But þat þey wroght hyt was yn veyn, For hyt come to no certeyn, For þat þey sette on oo day 180 On þe touþer downe hyt lay. Ones, twyys, þryys, þus þey wro[gh]t, And alle here makyng was for no[gh]t. Myght no coueryng hyle hem fro colde Tyl tyme of mercy þat Cryst hyt wolde. 185 Tyme of grace fyl þurgh Hys my[gh]t At þe tweluemonth ende, on þe [gh]ole ny[gh]t. Þe same oure þat þe prest hem banned, Þe same oure atwynne þey [+]woned[+]; Þat houre þat he cursed hem ynne, 190 Þe same oure þey [gh]ede atwynne, And as yn twynkelyng of an ye Ynto þe cherche gun þey flye, And on þe pauement þey fyl alle downe As þey had be dede, or fal yn a swone. 195 Þre days styl þey lay echone, Þat none steryd oþer flesshe or bone, And at þe þre days ende To lyfe God graunted hem to wende. Þey sette hem vpp and spak apert 200 To þe parysshe prest, syre Robert: 'Þou art ensample and enchesun Of oure long confusyun; Þou maker art of oure trauayle, Þat ys to many grete meruayle, 205 And þy traueyle shalt þou sone ende, For to þy long home sone shalt þou wende.' Alle þey ryse þat yche tyde But Aue,--she lay dede besyde. Grete sorowe had here fadyr, here broþer; 210 Merueyle and drede had alle ouþer; Y trow no drede of soule dede, But with pyne was broght þe body dede. Þe fyrst man was þe fadyr, þe prest, Þat deyd aftyr þe do[gh]tyr nest. 215 Þys yche arme þat was of Aue, Þat none my[gh]t leye yn graue, Þe Emperoure dyd a vessel werche To do hyt yn, and hange yn þe cherche, Þat alle men my[gh]t se hyt and knawe, 220 And þenk on þe chaunce when men hyt sawe. Þese men þat hadde go þus karolland Alle þe [gh]ere, fast hand yn hand, Þogh þat þey were þan asunder [Gh]yt alle þe worlde spake of hem wunder. 225 Þat same hoppyng þat þey fyrst [gh]ede, Þat daunce [gh]ede þey þurgh land and lede, And, as þey ne my[gh]t fyrst be vnbounde, So efte togedyr my[gh]t þey neuer be founde, Ne my[gh]t þey neuer come a[gh]eyn 230 Togedyr to oo stede certeyn. Foure [gh]ede to þe courte of Rome, And euer hoppyng aboute þey nome, [+]Wyth sundyr lepys[+] come þey þedyr, But þey come neuer efte togedyr. 235 Here cloþes ne roted, ne nayles grewe, Ne heere ne wax, ne solowed hewe, Ne neuer hadde þey amendement, Þat we herde, at any corseynt, But at þe vyrgyne Seynt Edyght, 240 Þere was he botened, Seynt Teodryght, On oure Lady day, yn lenten tyde, As he slepte here toumbe besyde. Þere he had hys medycyne At Seynt Edyght, þe holy vyrgyne. 245 Brunyng þe bysshope of seynt Tolous Wrote þys tale so merueylous; Seþþe was hys name of more renoun, Men called hym þe pope Leoun. Þys at þe court of Rome þey wyte, 250 And yn þe kronykeles hyt ys wryte Yn many stedys be[gh]ounde þe see, More þan ys yn þys cuntré. Þarfor men seye, an weyl ys trowed, 'Þe nere þe cherche, þe fyrþer fro God'. 255 So fare men here by þys tale, Some holde hyt but a troteuale, Yn oþer stedys hyt ys ful dere And for grete merueyle þey wyl hyt here. A tale hyt ys of feyre shewyng, 260 Ensample and drede a[gh]ens cursyng. Þys tale y tolde [gh]ow to [gh]ow aferde Yn cherche to karolle, or yn cherche[gh]erde, Namely a[gh]ens þe prestys wylle: Leueþ whan he byddeþ [gh]ow be stylle. 265 [Foot-note: 21 for (2nd) _om. MS. Bodley 415_.] [Foot-note: 24 Ys as soþ as þe gospel _MS. Bodley_.] [Foot-note: 78 behalue] halfe _MS. Bodley_.] [Foot-note: 94 þey] _so MS. Bodley: om. MS. Harley_.] [Foot-note: 106 he] _so MS. Bodley_.] [Foot-note: 118 þe] _so MS. Bodley_.] [Foot-note: 136-7 forlor[=n]... mor[=n] _MS._] [Foot-note: 140 hyt] _so MS. Bodley_: _om. MS. Harley._] [Foot-note: 171 Þat] Þat hyt _MS. Harley_.] [Foot-note: 221 men] þey _MS. Bodley_.] [Foot-note: 227 [gh]ede] wente _MS. Bodley._] [Foot-note: 229 togedyr... neuer] my[gh]t þey neuer togedyr _MS. Bodley._] [Foot-note: 241 Seynt _om. MS. Bodley._] II SIR ORFEO _Sir Orfeo_ is found in three MSS.: (1) the Auchinleck MS. (1325-1350), a famous Middle English miscellany now in the Advocates' Library, Edinburgh; (2) British Museum MS. Harley 3810 (fifteenth century); (3) Bodleian MS. Ashmole 61 (fifteenth century). Our text follows the Auchinleck MS., with ll. 1-24 and ll. 33-46 supplied from the Harleian MS. The critical text of O. Zielke, Breslau 1880, reproduces the MSS. inaccurately. The story appears to have been translated from a French source into South-Western English at the beginning of the fourteenth century. It belongs to a group of 'lays' which claim to derive from Brittany, e.g. _Lai le Freine_, which has the same opening lines (1-22); _Emaré_; and Chaucer's _Franklin's Tale_. The story of Orpheus and Eurydice was known to the Middle Ages chiefly from Ovid (_Metamorphoses_ x) and from Virgil (_Georgics_ iv). King Alfred's rendering of it in his _Boethius_ is one of his best prose passages, despite the crude moralizing which makes Orpheus's backward glance at Eurydice before she is safe from Hades a symbol of the backslider's longing for his old sins. The Middle English poet has a lighter and daintier touch. The Greek myth is almost lost in a tale of fairyland, the earliest English romance of the kind; and to provide the appropriate happy ending, Sir Orfeo is made successful in his attempt to rescue Heurodis. The adaptation of the classical subject to a mediaeval setting is thorough. An amusing instance is the attempt in the Auchinleck MS. to give the poem an English interest by the unconvincing assurance that _Traciens_ (which from 'Thracian' had come to mean 'Thrace') was the old name of Winchester (ll. 49-50). Orfeo was a king, 25 In Inglond an hei[gh]e lording, A stalworþ man and hardi bo, Large and curteys he was also. His fader was comen of King Pluto, And his moder of King Iuno, 30 Þat sum time were as godes yhold, For auentours þat þai dede and told. Þis king soiournd in Traciens, Þat was a cité of noble defens; For Winchester was cleped þo Traciens wiþouten no. 50 Þe king hadde a quen of priis, Þat was ycleped Dame Herodis, Þe fairest leuedi, for þe nones, Þat mi[gh]t gon on bodi and bones, Ful of loue and of godenisse; 55 Ac no man may telle hir fairnise. Bifel so in þe comessing of May, When miri and hot is þe day, And oway beþ winter-schours, And eueri feld is ful of flours, 60 And blosme breme on eueri bou[gh] Oueral wexeþ miri anou[gh], Þis ich quen, Dame Heurodis, Tok to maidens of priis, And went in an vndrentide 65 To play bi an orchard side, To se þe floures sprede and spring, And to here þe foules sing. Þai sett hem doun al þre Vnder a fair ympe-tre, 70 And wel sone þis fair quene Fel on slepe opon þe grene. Þe maidens durst hir nou[gh]t awake, Bot lete hir ligge and rest take. So sche slepe til afternone, 75 Þat vndertide was al ydone. Ac as sone as sche gan awake, Sche crid and loþli bere gan make, Sche froted hir honden and hir fet, And crached hir visage, it bled wete; 80 Hir riche robe hye al torett, And was reuey d out of hir witt. Þe tvo maidens hir biside No durst wiþ hir no leng abide, Bot ourn to þe palays ful ri[gh]t, 85 And told boþe squier and kni[gh]t Þat her quen awede wold, And bad hem go and hir athold. Kni[gh]tes vrn, and leuedis also, Damisels sexti and mo, 90 In þe orchard to þe quen hye come, And her vp in her armes nome, And brou[gh]t hir to bed atte last, And held hir þere fine fast; Ac euer sche held in o cri, 95 And wold vp and owy. When Orfeo herd þat tiding, Neuer him nas wers for no þing. He come wiþ kni[gh]tes tene To chaumber ri[gh]t bifor þe quene, 100 And biheld, and seyd wiþ grete pité: 'O lef liif, what is te, Þat euer [gh]ete hast ben so stille, And now gredest wonder schille? Þi bodi, þat was so white ycore, 105 Wiþ þine nailes is al totore. Allas! þi rode, þat was so red, Is al wan as þou were ded; And also þine fingres smale Beþ al blodi and al pale. 110 Allas! þi louesom ey[gh]en to Lokeþ so man doþ on his fo. A! dame, ich biseche merci. Lete ben al þis reweful cri, And tel me what þe is, and hou, 115 And what þing may þe help now.' Þo lay sche stille atte last, And gan to wepe swiþe fast, And seyd þus þe king to: 'Allas! mi lord, Sir Orfeo, 120 Seþþen we first togider were, Ones wroþ neuer we nere, Bot euer ich haue yloued þe As mi liif, and so þou me. Ac now we mot delen ato; 125 Do þi best, for y mot go.' 'Allas!' quaþ he, 'forlorn icham. Whider wiltow go, and to wham? Whider þou gost, ichil wiþ þe, And whider y go, þou schalt wiþ me.' 130 'Nay, nay, sir, þat nou[gh]t nis; Ichil þe telle al hou it is: As ich lay þis vndertide, And slepe vnder our orchard-side, Þer come to me to fair kni[gh]tes 135 Wele y-armed al to ri[gh]tes, And bad me comen an hei[gh]ing, And speke wiþ her lord þe king. And ich answerd at wordes bold, Y durst nou[gh]t, no y nold. 140 Þai priked o[gh]ain as þai mi[gh]t driue; Þo com her king also bliue, Wiþ an hundred kni[gh]tes and mo, And damisels an hundred also, Al on snowe-white stedes; 145 As white as milke were her wedes: Y no sei[gh]e neuer [gh]ete bifore So fair creatours ycore. Þe king hadde a croun on hed, It nas of siluer, no of gold red, 150 Ac it was of a precious ston, As bri[gh]t as þe sonne it schon. And as son as he to me cam, Wold ich, nold ich, he me nam, And made me wiþ him ride 155 Opon a palfray, bi his side, And brou[gh]t me to his palays, Wele atird in ich ways, And schewed me castels and tours, Riuers, forestes, friþ wiþ flours, 160 And his riche stedes ichon; And seþþen me brou[gh]t o[gh]ain hom Into our owhen orchard, And said to me þus afterward: "Loke, dame, to-morwe þatow be 165 Ri[gh]t here vnder þis ympe-tre, And þan þou schalt wiþ ous go, And liue wiþ ous euermo; And [gh]if þou makest ous ylet, Whar þou be, þou worst yfet, 170 And totore þine limes al, Þat noþing help þe no schal; And þei þou best so totorn, [Gh]ete þou worst wiþ ous yborn."' When King Orfeo herd þis cas, 175 'O we!' quaþ he, 'allas, allas! Leuer me were to lete mi liif, Þan þus to lese þe quen mi wiif!' He asked conseyl at ich man, Ac no man him help no can. 180 Amorwe þe vndertide is come, And Orfeo haþ his armes ynome, And wele ten hundred kni[gh]tes wiþ him Ich y-armed stout and grim; And wiþ þe quen wenten he 185 Ri[gh]t vnto þat ympe-tre. Þai made scheltrom in ich a side, And sayd þai wold þere abide, And dye þer euerichon, Er þe quen schuld fram hem gon. 190 Ac [gh]ete amiddes hem ful ri[gh]t Þe quen was oway ytui[gh]t, Wiþ fairi forþ ynome; Men wist neuer wher sche was bicome. Þo was þer criing, wepe and wo. 195 Þe king into his chaumber is go, And oft swoned opon þe ston, And made swiche diol and swiche mon Þat nei[gh]e his liif was yspent: Þer was non amendement. 200 He cleped togider his barouns, Erls, lordes of renouns; And when þai al ycomen were, 'Lordinges,' he said, 'bifor [gh]ou here Ich ordainy min hei[gh]e steward 205 To wite mi kingdom afterward; In mi stede ben he schal, To kepe mi londes ouer al. For, now ichaue mi quen ylore, Þe fairest leuedi þat euer was bore, 210 Neuer eft y nil no woman se. Into wildernes ichil te, And liue þer euermore Wiþ wilde bestes in holtes hore. And when [gh]e vnderstond þat y be spent, 215 Make [gh]ou þan a parlement, And chese [gh]ou a newe king. Now doþ [gh]our best wiþ al mi þing.' Þo was þer wepeing in þe halle, And grete cri among hem alle; 220 Vnneþe mi[gh]t old or [gh]ong For wepeing speke a word wiþ tong. Þai kneled adoun al yfere, And praid him, [gh]if his wille were, Þat he no schuld nou[gh]t fram hem go. 225 'Do way!' quaþ he, 'it schal be so.' Al his kingdom he forsoke; Bot a sclauin on him he toke; He no hadde kirtel no hode, Schert, no noþer gode. 230 Bot his harp he tok algate, And dede him barfot out atte [gh]ate; No man most wiþ him go. O way! what þer was wepe and wo, When he, þat hadde ben king wiþ croun, 235 Went so pouerlich out of toun! Þurch wode and ouer heþ Into þe wildernes he geþ. Noþing he fint þat him is ays, Bot euer he liueþ in gret malais. 240 He þat hadde ywerd þe fowe and griis, And on bed þe purper biis, Now on hard heþe he liþ, Wiþ leues and gresse he him wriþ. He þat hadde had castels and tours, 245 Riuer, forest, friþ wiþ flours, Now, þei it comenci to snewe and frese, Þis king mot make his bed in mese. He þat had yhad kni[gh]tes of priis Bifor him kneland, and leuedis, 250 Now seþ he noþing þat him likeþ, Bot wilde wormes bi him strikeþ. He þat had yhad plenté Of mete and drink, of ich deynté, Now may he al day digge and wrote 255 Er he finde his fille of rote. In somer he liueþ bi wild frut And berien bot gode lite; In winter may he noþing finde Bot rote, grases, and þe rinde. 260 Al his bodi was oway duine For missays, and al tochine. Lord! who may telle þe sore Þis king sufferd ten [gh]ere and more? His here of his berd, blac and rowe, 265 To his girdelstede was growe. His harp, whereon was al his gle, He hidde in an holwe tre; And, when þe weder was clere and bri[gh]t, He toke his harp to him wel ri[gh]t, 270 And harped at his owhen wille. Into alle þe wode þe soun gan schille, Þat alle þe wilde bestes þat þer beþ For ioie abouten him þai teþ; And alle þe foules þat þer were 275 Come and sete on ich a brere, To here his harping afine, So miche melody was þerin; And when he his harping lete wold, No best bi him abide nold. 280 He mi[gh]t se him bisides Oft in hot vndertides Þe king o fairy wiþ his rout Com to hunt him al about, Wiþ dim cri and bloweing; 285 And houndes also wiþ him berking; Ac no best þai no nome, No neuer he nist whider þai bicome. And oþer while he mi[gh]t him se As a gret ost bi him te 290 Wele atourned ten hundred kni[gh]tes, Ich y-armed to his ri[gh]tes, Of cuntenaunce stout and fers, Wiþ mani desplaid baners, And ich his swerd ydrawe hold, 295 Ac neuer he nist whider þai wold. And oþer while he sei[gh]e oþer þing: Kni[gh]tes and leuedis com daunceing In queynt atire, gisely, Queynt pas and softly; 300 Tabours and trunpes [gh]ede hem bi, And al maner menstraci. And on a day he sei[gh]e him biside Sexti leuedis on hors ride, Gentil and iolif as brid on ris,-- 305 Nou[gh]t o man amonges hem þer nis. And ich a faucoun on hond bere, And riden on haukin bi o riuere. Of game þai founde wel gode haunt, Maulardes, hayroun, and cormeraunt; 310 Þe foules of þe water ariseþ, Þe faucouns hem wele deuiseþ; Ich faucoun his pray slou[gh]. Þat sei[gh]e Orfeo, and lou[gh]: 'Parfay!' quaþ he, 'þer is fair game, 315 Þider ichil, bi Godes name! Ich was ywon swiche werk to se.' He aros, and þider gan te. To a leuedi he was ycome, Biheld, and haþ wele vndernome, 320 And seþ bi al þing þat it is His owhen quen, Dam Heurodis. [Gh]ern he biheld hir, and sche him eke, Ac noiþer to oþer a word no speke. For messais þat sche on him sei[gh]e, 325 Þat had ben so riche and so hei[gh]e, Þe teres fel out of her ei[gh]e. Þe oþer leuedis þis ysei[gh]e, And maked hir oway to ride, Sche most wiþ him no lenger abide. 330 'Allas!' quaþ he, 'now me is wo. Whi nil deþ now me slo? Allas! wr_e_che, þat y no mi[gh]t Dye now after þis si[gh]t! Allas! to long last mi liif, 335 When y no dar nou[gh]t wiþ mi wiif, No hye to me, o word speke. Allas! whi nil min hert breke? Parfay!' quaþ he, 'tide wat bitide, Whider so þis leuedis ride, 340 Þe selue way ichil streche; Of liif no deþ me no reche.' His sclauain he dede on also spac, And henge his harp opon his bac, And had wel gode wil to gon,-- 345 He no spard noiþer stub no ston. In at a roche þe leuedis rideþ, And he after, and nou[gh]t abideþ. When he was in þe roche ygo Wele þre mile oþer mo, 350 He com into a fair cuntray, As bri[gh]t so sonne on somers day, Smoþe and plain and al grene, Hille no dale nas þer non ysene. Amidde þe lond a castel he si[gh]e, 355 Riche and real, and wonder hei[gh]e. Al þe vtmast wal Was clere and schine as cristal; An hundred tours þer were about, Degiselich, and bataild stout; 360 Þe butras com out of þe diche, Of rede gold y-arched riche; Þe vousour was anow ed al Of ich maner diuers animal. Wiþin þer wer wide wones 365 Al of precious stones. Þe werst piler on to biholde Was al of burnist gold. Al þat lond was euer li[gh]t, For when it schuld be þerk and ni[gh]t, 370 Þe riche stones li[gh]t gonne, As bri[gh]t as doþ at none þe sonne. No man may telle, no þenche in þou[gh]t, Þe riche werk þat þer was wrou[gh]t; Bi al þing him þink þat it is 375 Þe proude court of Paradis. In þis castel þe leuedis ali[gh]t; He wold in after, [gh]if he mi[gh]t. Orfeo knokkeþ atte gate, Þe porter was redi þerate, 380 And asked what he wold haue ydo. 'Parfay!' quaþ he, 'icham a minstrel, lo! To solas þi lord wiþ mi gle, [Gh]if his swete wille be.' Þe porter vndede þe [gh]ate anon, 385 And lete him into þe castel gon. Þan he gan bihold about al, And sei[gh]e [+]ful[+] liggeand wiþin þe wal Of folk þat were þider ybrou[gh]t, And þou[gh]t dede, and nare nou[gh]t. 390 Sum stode wiþouten hade, And sum non armes nade, And sum þurch þe bodi hadde wounde, And sum lay wode, ybounde, And sum armed on hors sete, 395 And sum astrangled as þai ete, And sum were in water adreynt, And sum wiþ fire al forschreynt Wiues þer lay on childbedde, Sum ded, and sum awedde; 400 And wonder fele þer lay bisides, Ri[gh]t as þai slepe her vndertides. Eche was þus in þis warld ynome, Wiþ fairi þider ycome. Þer he sei[gh]e his owhen wiif, 405 Dame Heurodis, his l_e_f liif, Slepe vnder an ympe-tre: Bi her cloþes he knewe þat it was he. And when he hadde bihold þis meruails alle, He went into þe kinges halle. 410 Þan sei[gh]e he þer a semly si[gh]t, A tabernacle blisseful and bri[gh]t, Þerin her maister king sete, And her quen fair and swete. Her crounes, her cloþes, schine so bri[gh]t, 415 Þat vnneþe bihold he hem mi[gh]t. When he hadde biholden al þat þing, He kneled adoun bifor þe king. 'O lord,' he seyd, '[gh]if it þi wille were, Mi menstraci þou schust yhere.' 420 Þe king answerd: 'What man artow, Þat art hider ycomen now? Ich, no non þat is wiþ me, No sent neuer after þe; Seþþen þat ich here regni gan, 425 Y no fond neuer so folehardi man Þat hider to ous durst wende, Bot þat ichim wald ofsende.' 'Lord,' quaþ he, 'trowe ful wel, Y nam bot a pouer menstrel; 430 And, sir, it is þe maner of ous To seche mani a lordes hous; Þei we nou[gh]t welcom no be, [Gh]ete we mot proferi forþ our gle.' Bifor þe king he sat adoun, 435 And tok his harp so miri of soun, And tempreþ his harp, as he wele can, And blisseful notes he þer gan, Þat al þat in þe palays were Com to him for to here, 440 And liggeþ adoun to his fete, Hem þenkeþ his melody so swete. Þe king herkneþ and sitt ful stille, To here his gle he haþ gode wille; Gode bourde he hadde of his gle, 445 Þe riche quen also hadde he. When he hadde stint his harping, Þan seyd to him þe king: 'Menstrel, me likeþ wele þi gle. Now aske of me what it be, 450 Largelich ichil þe pay. Now speke, and tow mi[gh]t asay.' 'Sir,' he seyd, 'ich biseche þe Þatow woldest [gh]iue me Þat ich leuedi, bri[gh]t on ble, 455 Þat slepeþ vnder þe ympe-tre.' 'Nay,' quaþ þe king, 'þat nou[gh]t nere! A sori couple of [gh]ou it were, For þou art lene, rowe, and blac, And sche is louesum, wiþouten lac; 460 A loþlich þing it were forþi To sen hir in þi compayni.' 'O sir,' he seyd, 'gentil king, [Gh]ete were it a wele fouler þing To here a lesing of þi mouþe, 465 So, sir, as [gh]e seyd nouþe, What ich wold aski, haue y schold, And nedes þou most þi word hold.' Þe king seyd: 'Seþþen it is so, Take hir bi þe hond, and go; 470 Of hir ichil þatow be bliþe.' He kneled adoun, and þonked him swiþe; His wiif he tok bi þe hond, And dede him swiþe out of þat lond, And went him out of þat þede,-- 475 Ri[gh]t as he come þe way he [gh]ede. So long he haþ þe way ynome, To Winchester he is ycome, Þat was his owhen cité; Ac no man knewe þat it was he. 480 No forþer þan þe tounes ende For knoweleche no durst wende, Bot wiþ a begger y bilt ful narwe, Þer he tok his herbarwe, To him and to his owhen wiif, 485 As a minstrel of pouer liif, And asked tidinges of þat lond, And who þe kingdom held in hond. Þe pouer begger in his cote Told him euerich a grot: 490 Hou her quen was stole owy Ten [gh]er gon wiþ fairy; And hou her king en exile [gh]ede, Bot no man nist in wiche þede; And hou þe steward þe lond gan hold; 495 And oþer mani þinges him told. Amorwe, o[gh]ain nonetide, He maked his wiif þer abide; Þe beggers cloþes he borwed anon, And heng his harp his rigge opon, 500 And went him into þat cité, Þat men mi[gh]t him bihold and se. Erls and barouns bold, Buriays and leuedis him gun bihold. 'Lo,' þai seyd, 'swiche a man! 505 Hou long þe here hongeþ him opan! Lo, hou his berd hongeþ to his kne! He is yclongen also a tre!' And as he [gh]ede in þe strete, Wiþ his steward he gan mete, 510 And loude he sett on him a crie: 'Sir steward,' he seyd, 'merci! Icham an harpour of heþenisse; Help me now in þis destresse!' Þe steward seyd: 'Com wiþ me, come; 515 Of þat ichaue þou schalt haue some. Euerich gode harpour is welcom me to, For mi lordes loue Sir Orfeo.' In þe castel þe steward sat atte mete, And mani lording was bi him sete. 520 Þer were trompour and tabourers, Harpours fele, and crouders. Miche melody þai maked alle, And Orfeo sat stille in þe halle, And herkneþ. When þai ben al stille, 525 He toke his harp and tempred schille, Þe bli fulest notes he harped þere Þat euer ani man yherd wiþ ere; Ich man liked wele his gle. Þe steward biheld and gan yse, 530 And knewe þe harp als bliue. 'Menstrel,' he seyd, 'so mot þou þriue, Where hadestow þis harp, and hou? Y pray þat þou me telle now.' 'Lord,' quaþ he, 'in vncouþe þede, 535 Þurch a wildernes as y [gh]ede, Þer y founde in a dale Wiþ lyouns a man totorn smale, And wolues him frete wiþ teþ so scharp. Bi him y fond þis ich harp; 540 Wele ten [gh]ere it is ygo.' 'O,' quaþ þe steward, 'now me is wo! Þat was mi lord Sir Orfeo. Allas! wreche, what schal y do, Þat haue swiche a lord ylore? 545 A way! þat ich was ybore! Þat him was so hard grace y[gh]arked, And so vile deþ ymarked!' Adoun he fel aswon to grounde. His barouns him tok vp in þat stounde, 550 And telleþ him hou it geþ-- It nis no bot of manes deþ. King Orfeo knewe wele bi þan His steward was a trewe man And loued him as he au[gh]t to do, 555 And stont vp and seyt þus: 'Lo, Steward, herkne now þis þing: [Gh]if ich were Orfeo þe king, And hadde ysuffred ful [gh]ore In wildernisse miche sore, 560 And hadde ywon mi quen owy Out of þe lond of fairy, And hadde ybrou[gh]t þe leuedi hende Ri[gh]t here to þe tounes ende, And wiþ a begger her in ynome, 565 And were miself hider ycome Pouerlich to þe, þus stille, For to asay þi gode wille, And ich founde þe þus trewe, Þou no schust it neuer rewe: 570 Sikerlich, for loue or ay, Þou schust be king after mi day. And [gh]if þou of mi deþ hadest ben bliþe, Þou schust haue voided also swiþe.' Þo al þo þat þerin sete 575 Þat it was King Orfeo vnder[gh]ete, And þe steward him wele knewe; Ouer and ouer þe bord he þrewe, And fel adoun to his fet; So dede euerich lord þat þer sete, 580 And al þai seyd at o criing: '[Gh]e beþ our lord, sir, and our king!' Glad þai were of his liue. To chaumber þai ladde him als biliue, And baþed him, and schaued his berd, 585 And tired him as a king apert. And seþþen wiþ gret processioun Þai brou[gh]t þe quen into þe toun, Wiþ al maner menstraci. Lord! þer was grete melody! 590 For ioie þai wepe wiþ her ei[gh]e Þat hem so sounde ycomen sei[gh]e. Now King Orfeo newe coround is, And his quen Dame Heurodis, And liued long afterward; 595 And seþþen was king þe steward. Harpours in Bretaine after þan Herd hou þis meruaile bigan, And made herof a lay of gode likeing, And nempned it after þe king; 600 Þat lay 'Orfeo' is yhote, Gode is þe lay, swete is þe note. Þus com Sir Orfeo out of his care. God graunt ous alle wele to fare. [Foot-note: ll. 1-24 _from Harl. 3810: om. MS._] [Foot-note: ll. 7-8 _follow_ ll. 9-10 _in Harl._] [Foot-note: 12 o loue] to lowe _Harl._] [Foot-note: 26 In Inglond] And in his tyme _Harl._] [Foot-note: 33-46 _from Harl. 3810: om. MS._] [Foot-note: 49-50 _om. Harl., Ashm._] [Foot-note: 51 Þe king] He _Harl._: And _Ashm._] [Foot-note: 82 reueysed] rauysed _Ashm._: reueyd _MS._: wode out _Harl._] [Foot-note: 230 no] ne _Ashm.: om. MS._] [Foot-note: 333 wreche] wroche _MS._] [Foot-note: 406 lef] liif _MS._] [Foot-note: 478 Winchester] Traciens _Ashm._: Crassens _Harl._] III MICHAEL OF NORTHGATE'S AYENBYTE OF INWYT A.D. 1340. Michael of Northgate was a monk of St. Augustine's, Canterbury. From a library catalogue of the monastery it appears that he was a lover of books, for he is named as the donor of twenty-five MSS., a considerable collection for those days. Their titles show a taste not merely for religious works, but for science--mathematics, chemistry, medicine, as they were known at the time. Four of these MSS. have been traced, and one of them, British Museum MS. Arundel 57, is Michael's autograph copy of the _Ayenbyte_. On folio 2 of the MS. are the words: _Þis boc is Dan Michelis of Northgate, ywrite an Englis of his o[gh]ene hand, þet hatte 'Ayenbyte of Inwyt'; and is of the boc-house of Saynt Austines of Canterberi, mid þe lettres. CC._ 'CC.' is the press-mark given in the catalogue. A note at the end of the text shows that it was finished on October 27, 1340: _Ymende þet þis boc is uolueld ine þe eue of þe holy apostles Symon an Iudas_ [i.e. Oct. 27] _of ane broþer of the cloystre of Sauynt Austin of Canterberi, in the yeare of oure Lhordes beringe 1340._ The _Ayenbyte_ has been edited for the Early English Text Society by R. Morris. The title means literally 'Remorse of Conscience', but from the contents of the work it would appear that the writer meant rather 'Stimulus to the Conscience', or 'Prick of Conscience'. It is in fact a translation from the French _Somme des Vices et des Vertues_, compiled by Friar Lorens in 1279 for King Philip le Hardi, and long held to be the main source of Chaucer's _Parson's Tale_. Caxton rendered the _Somme_ into English prose as _The Royal Book_. It treats of the Commandments, the Creed, the Seven Deadly Sins, the Seven Petitions of the Paternoster, and the Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit. Dan Michael's purpose is stated in some doggerel lines at the end: Nou ich wille þet ye ywyte Hou hit is ywent Þet þis boc is ywrite Mid Engliss of Kent. Þis boc is ymad uor lewede men, Vor uader, and uor moder, and uor oþer ken, Ham uor to ber[gh]e uram alle manyere zen, Þet ine hare inwytte ne bleue no uoul wen. His translation is inaccurate, and sometimes unintelligible, and the treatment is so barren of interest that the work seems to have fallen flat even in its own day, when the popular appetite for edification was keen and unspoiled. But if its literary merit is slight, linguistically it is one of the most important works in Middle English. It provides a long prose text, exactly dated and exactly localized; we have the author's autograph copy to work from; and the dialect is well distinguished. These circumstances, unique in Middle English, make it possible to study the Kentish dialect of the mid-fourteenth century under ideal conditions. HOW MERCY INCREASES TEMPORAL GOODS. Hou Merci multiplieþ þe timliche guodes, hyerof we habbeþ uele uayre uorbisnen, huerof ich wille hier zome telle. Me ret of Saint Germain of Aucer_r_e þet, þo he com uram Rome, ate outguoinge of Melane, he acsede at onen of his diaknen yef he hedde eny zeluer, and he ansuerede þet {5} he ne hedde bote þri pans, uor Say t Germayn hit hedde al yeue to pouren. Þanne he him het þet he his ssolde yeue to þe poure, uor God hedde yno[gh] of guode, huerof he hise uedde uor þane day. Þe dyacne mid greate pine and mid greate grochinge yeaf þe tuaye pans, and ofhild þane þridde. Þe {10} sergont of ane riche kni[gh]te him bro[gh]te ane his lhordes haf tuo hondred pans. Þo clepede he his dyacne, and him zede þet he hedde benome þe poure ane peny, and yef he hedde yeue þane þridde peny to þe poure, þe kni[gh]t him hedde yzent þri hondred pans. {15} Efterward me ret ine þe lyue of Ion þe Amoner, þet wes zuo ycleped uor þe greate elmesses þet he dede: A riche ientilman wes yrobbed of þieues, zuo þet him na[gh]t ne blefte. He him com to playni to þe uorzede manne, and he him zede his cas. He hedde greate reuþe þerof, and het his {20} desspendoure þet he him yeaue uyftene pond of gold. Þe spendere, be his couaytise, ne yeaf bote vyf. An haste a gentil wymman wodewe zente to þe uore-yzede Ion uif hondred pond of gold. Þo he clepede his spendere, and him acsede hou moche he hedde yyeue to þe kni[gh]te. He ansuerede {25} 'vyftene pond.' Þe holy man ansuerede þet 'nay, he ne hedde bote vyf'; and huanne he hit wiste þe ilke zelue þet his hedde onderuonge, zuo zayde to his spendere þet yef he hedde yyeue þe viftene pond þet he hedde yhote, oure Lhord him hede yzent be þe guode wyfman a þouzond and vyf {30} hondred pond. And huanne he acsede ate guode wyfman, þo he hedde hise ycleped, hou moche hi hedde him ylete, hi andzuerede þet uerst hi hedde ywrite ine hare testament þet hi him let a þousend and vyf hondred pond. Ac hi lokede efterward ine hare testament, and hi yze[gh] þe þousend pond {35} defaced of hire write, and zuo ylefde þe guode wyfman þet God wolde þet hi ne zente bote vif hondred. Efterward Saint Gregori telþ þet Saint Boniface uram þet he wes child he wes zuo piteuous þet he yaf ofte his kertel and his sserte to þe poure uor God, þa[gh] his moder him byete {40} ofte þeruore. Þanne bevil þet þet child yze[gh] manie poure þet hedden mezeyse. He aspide þet his moder nes na[gh]t þer. An haste he yarn to þe gerniere, and al þet his moder hedde ygadered uor to pasi þet yer he hit yaf þe poure. And þo his moder com, and wyste þe ilke dede, hy wes al out of hare {45} wytte. Þet child bed oure Lhorde, and þet gernier wes an haste al uol. Efterward þer wes a poure man, ase me zayþ, þet hedde ane cou; and yhyerde zigge of his preste ine his prechinge þet God zede ine his spelle þet God wolde yelde an hondreduald {50} al þet me yeaue uor him. Þe guode man, mid þe rede of his wyue, yeaf his cou to his preste, þet wes riche. Þe prest his nom bleþeliche, and hise zente to þe oþren þet he hedde. Þo hit com to euen, þe guode mannes cou com hom to his house ase hi wes ywoned, and ledde mid hare alle þe {55} prestes ken, al to an hondred. Þo þe guode man yze[gh] þet, he þo[gh]te þet þet wes þet word of þe Godspelle þet he hedde yyolde; and him hi weren yloked beuore his bissoppe aye þane prest. Þise uorbisne sseweþ wel þet merci is guod chapuare, uor hi deþ wexe þe timliche guodes. {60} IV RICHARD ROLLE OF HAMPOLE D. 1349. Richard Rolle was born at Thornton-le-Dale, near Pickering, in Yorkshire. He was sent to Oxford, already a formidable rival to the University of Paris; but the severer studies were evidently uncongenial to his impulsive temperament. He returned home without taking orders, improvised for himself a hermit's dress, and fled into solitude. His piety attracted the favour of Sir John and Lady Dalton, who gave him a cell on their estate. Here, in meditation, he developed his mystical religion. He did not immure himself, or cut himself off from human companionship. For a time he lived near Anderby, where was the cell of the recluse Margaret Kirkby, to whom he addressed his _Form of Perfect Living_. Another important work, _Ego Dormio et Cor Meum Vigilat_, was written for a nun of Yedingham (Yorks.). Towards the end of his life he lived in close friendship with the nuns of Hampole, and for one of them he wrote his _Commandment of Love to God_. At Hampole he died in 1349, the year of the Black Death. By the devout he was regarded as a saint, and had his commemoration day, his office, and his miracles; but he was never canonized. He wrote both in Latin and in English, and it is not always easy to distinguish his work from that of his many followers and imitators. The writings attributed to him are edited by C. Horstmann, _Yorkshire Writers_, 2 vols., London 1895-6. Besides the prose works noted above, he wrote, at the request of Margaret Kirkby, a _Commentary on the Psalms_ (ed. Bramley, Oxford 1884), based on the Latin of Peter Lombard. A long didactic poem in Northern English, the _Prick of Conscience_, has been attributed to him from Lydgate's time onwards; but his authorship has recently been questioned, chiefly on the ground that the poem is without a spark of inspiration. It is not certain that he wrote _Love is Life_, which is included here because it expresses in characteristic language his central belief in the personal bond, the burning love, between God and man. The first prose selection shows that he did not disdain the examples from natural history that were so popular in the sermons of the time. The second is chapter xi of the _Form of Perfect Living_, which is found as a separate extract from an early date. With Rolle began a movement of devotional piety, which, as might be expected from its strong appeal to the emotions, was taken up first among religious women; and signs of a striving for effect in his style suggest that the hermit was not indifferent to the admiration of his followers. He brings to his teaching more heart than mind. He escapes the problems of the world, which seemed so insistent to his contemporaries, by denying the world's claims. His ideas and temperament are diametrically opposed to those of the other great figure in the religious life of fourteenth-century England--Wiclif, the schoolman, politician, reformer, controversialist. Yet they have in common a sincerity and directness of belief that brushes aside conventions, and an enthusiasm that made them leaders in an age when the Church as a whole suffered from apathy. A. LOVE IS LIFE. Cambridge University Library MS. DD. 5. 64, III (about 1400) f. 38 a. uf es lyf þat lastes ay, þar it in Criste es feste, For wele ne wa it chaunge may, als wryten has men wyseste. Þe nyght it tournes intil þe day, þi trauel intyll reste; If þou wil luf þus as I say, þou may be wyth þe beste. Lufe es thoght wyth grete desyre of a fayre louyng; 5 Lufe I lyken til a fyre þat sloken may na thyng; Lufe vs clenses of oure syn; luf vs bote sall bryng; Lufe þe Keynges hert may wyn; lufe of ioy may syng. Þe settel of lufe es lyft hee, for intil heuen it ranne; Me thynk in erth it es sle, þat makes men pale and wanne; 10 Þe bede of blysse it gase ful nee, I tel þe as I kanne: Þof vs thynk þe way be dregh, luf copuls God and manne. Lufe es hatter þen þe cole; lufe may nane beswyke. Þe flawme of lufe wha myght it thole, if it war ay ilyke? Luf vs comfortes, and mase in qwart, and lyftes tyl heuenryke; 15 Luf rauysches Cryste intyl owr hert; I wate na lust it lyke. Lere to luf, if þou wyl lyfe when þou sall hethen fare; All þi thoght til Hym þou gyf þat may þe kepe fra kare: Loke þi hert fra Hym noght twyn, if þou in wandreth ware; Sa þou may Hym welde and wyn, and luf Hym euermare. 20 Iesu, þat me lyfe hase lent, intil Þi lufe me bryng! Take til Þe al myne entent, þat Þow be my [gh]hernyng. Wa fra me away war went, and comne war my couaytyng, If þat my sawle had herd and hent þe sang of Þi louyng. Þi lufe es ay lastand, fra þat we may it fele; 25 Þarein make me byrnand, þat na thyng gar it kele. My thoght take into Þi hand, and stabyl it ylk a dele, Þat I be noght heldand to luf þis worldes wele. If I lufe any erthly thyng þat payes to my wyll, And settes my ioy and my lykyng when it may comm me tyll, 30 I mai drede of partyng, þat wyll be hate and yll: For al my welth es bot wepyng when pyne mi saule sal spyll. Þe ioy þat men hase sene es lyckend tyl þe haye, Þat now es fayre and grene, and now wytes awaye. Swylk es þis worlde, I wene, and bees till Domesdaye, 35 All in trauel and tene, fle þat na man it maye. If þou luf in all þi thoght, and hate þe fylth of syn, And gyf Hym þi sawle þat it boght, þat He þe dwell within, Als Crist þi sawle hase soght, and þerof walde noght blyn, Sa þou sal to blys be broght, and heuen won within. 40 Þe kynd of luf es þis, þar it es trayst and trew, To stand styll in stabylnes, and chaunge it for na new. Þe lyfe þat lufe myght fynd, or euer in hert it knew, Fra kare it tornes þat kyend, and lendes in myrth and glew. For now, lufe þow, I rede, Cryste, as I þe tell, 45 And with aungels take þi stede: þat ioy loke þou noght sell! In erth þow hate, I rede, all þat þi lufe may fell, For luf es stalworth as þe dede, luf es hard as hell. Luf es a lyght byrthen; lufe gladdes [gh]ong and alde; Lufe es withowten pyne, as lofers hase me talde; 50 Lufe es a gastly wyne, þat makes men bygge and balde; Of lufe sal he na thyng tyne þat hit in hert will halde. Lufe es þe swettest thyng þat man in erth hase tane; Lufe es Goddes derlyng; lufe byndes blode and bane. In lufe be owre lykyng, I ne wate na better wane, 55 For me and my lufyng lufe makes bath be ane. Bot fleschly lufe sal fare as dose þe flowre in May, And lastand be na mare þan ane houre of a day, And sythen syghe ful sare þar lust, þar pryde, þar play, When þai er casten in kare til pyne þat lastes ay. 60 When þair bodys lyse in syn, þair sawls mai qwake and drede, For vp sal ryse al men, and answer for þair dede. If þai be fonden in syn, als now þair lyfe þai lede, Þai sal sytt hel within, and myrknes hafe to mede. Riche men þair hend sal wryng, and wicked werkes sal by 65 In flawme of fyre, bath knyght and keyng, with sorow schamfully. If þou wil lufe, þan may þou syng til Cryst in melody; Þe lufe of Hym ouercoms al thyng, þarto þou traiste trewly. sygh and sob, bath day and nyght, for ane sa fayre of hew! Þar es na thyng my hert mai light, bot lufe þat es ay new. 70 Wha sa had Hym in his syght, or in his hert Hym knew, His mournyng turned til ioy ful bryght, his sang intil glew. In myrth he lyfes, nyght and day, þat lufes þat swete chylde; It es Iesu, forsoth I say, of al mekest and mylde. Wreth fra hym walde al away, þof he wer neuer sa wylde, 75 He þat in hert lufed Hym þat day, fra euel He wil hym schylde. Of Iesu mast lyst me speke, þat al my bale may bete; Me thynk my hert may al tobreke when I thynk on þat swete; In lufe lacyd He hase my thoght, þat I sal neuer forgete. Ful dere me thynk He hase me boght with blodi hende and fete. 80 For luf my hert es bowne to brest, when I þat faire behalde; Lufe es fair þare it es fest, þat neuer will be calde; Lufe vs reues þe nyght-rest, in grace it makes vs balde; Of al warkes luf es þe best, als haly men me talde. Na wonder gyf I syghand be, and sithen in sorow be sette: 85 Iesu was nayled apon þe tre, and al blody forbette. To thynk on Hym es grete pyté--how tenderly He grette-- Þis hase He sufferde, man, for þe, if þat þou syn wyll lette. Þare es na tonge in erth may tell of lufe þe swetnesse. Þat stedfastly in lufe kan dwell, his ioy es endlesse. 90 God schylde þat he sulde til hell, þat lufes and langand es, Or euer his enmys sulde hym qwell, or make his luf be lesse. Iesu es lufe þat lastes ay, til Hym es owre langyng; Iesu þe nyght turnes to þe day, þe dawyng intil spryng. Iesu, thynk on vs now and ay, for Þe we halde oure keyng; 95 Iesu, gyf vs grace, as Þou wel may, to luf Þe withowten endyng. [Foot-note: 45 For now] Forþi _MS. Lambeth 583_.] [Foot-note: 51 wyne] = wynne _MS._] [Foot-note: 65 hend] handes _MS., apparently altered from_ hend.] [Foot-note: 69 I] _so MS. Lambeth 583_.] B. THE NATURE OF THE BEE. (The Thornton MS. (before 1450); ed. Horstmann, vol. i, p. 193.) _Moralia Ricardi Heremite de Natura Apis._ The bee has thre kyndis. Ane es þat scho es neuer ydill, and scho es noghte with thaym þat will noghte wyrke, bot castys thaym owte, and puttes thaym awaye. Anothire es þat when scho flyes scho takes erthe in hyr fette, þat scho be noghte lyghtly ouerheghede in the ayere of wynde. The {5} thyrde es þat scho kepes clene and bryghte hire wynge[gh]. Thus ryghtwyse men þat lufes God are neuer in ydyllnes. For owthyre þay ere in trauayle, prayand, or thynkande, or redande, or othere gude doande; or withtakand ydill mene, and schewand thaym worthy to be put fra þe ryste of heuene, {10} for þay will noghte trauayle here. Þay take erthe, þat es, þay halde þamselfe vile and erthely, that thay be noghte blawene with þe wynde of vanyté and of pryde. Thay kepe thaire wynges clene, that es, þe twa commandementes of charyté þay fulfill in gud concyens, and {15} thay hafe othyre vertus, vnblendyde with þe fylthe of syne and vnclene luste. Arestotill sais þat þe bees are feghtande agaynes hym þat will drawe þaire hony fra thayme. Swa sulde we do agayne deuells, þat afforces thame to reue fra vs þe hony of poure {20} lyfe and of grace. For many are, þat neuer kane halde þe ordyre of lufe yne_n_ce þaire frendys, sybbe or fremmede. Bot outhire þay lufe þaym ouer mekill, settand thaire thoghte vnryghtwysely on thaym, or þay luf thayme ouer lyttill, yf þay doo noghte all as þey wolde till þame. Swylke kane {25} noghte fyghte for thaire hony, forthy þe deuelle turnes it to wormes, and makes þeire saules oftesythes full bitter in angwys, and tene, and besynes of vayne thoghtes, and oþer wrechidnes. For thay are so heuy in erthely frenchype þat þay may noghte flee intill þe lufe of Iesu Criste, in þe wylke {30} þay moghte wele forgaa þe lufe of all creaturs lyfande in erthe. Wharefore, accordandly, Arystotill sais þat some fowheles are of gude flyghyng, þat passes fra a lande to anothire. Some are of ill flyghynge, for heuynes of body, and for<þi> {35} þaire neste es noghte ferre fra þe erthe. Thus es it of thayme þat turnes þame to Godes seruys. Some are of gude flyeghynge, for thay flye fra erthe to heuene, and rystes thayme thare in thoghte, and are fedde in delite of Goddes lufe, and has thoghte of na lufe of þe worlde. Some are þat {40} kan noghte flyghe fra þis lande, bot in þe waye late theyre herte ryste, and delyttes þaym in sere lufes of mene and womene, als þay come and gaa, nowe ane and nowe anothire. And in Iesu Criste þay kan fynde na swettnes; or if þay any tyme fele oghte, it es swa lyttill and swa schorte, for othire thoghtes {45} þat are in thayme, þat it brynges thaym till na stabylnes. or þay are lyke till a fowle þat es callede strucyo or storke, þat has wenges, and it may noghte flye for charge of body. Swa þay hafe vndirstandynge, and fastes, and wakes, and semes haly to mens syghte; bot thay may noghte flye to lufe {50} and contemplacyone of God, þay are so chargede wyth othyre affeccyons and othire vanytés. [Foot-note: 22 ynence] ynesche _MS._] [Foot-note: 23 mekill] _MS. follows with_: or thay lufe þame ouer lyttill, _caught up from below_.] THE SEVEN GIFTS OF THE HOLY GHOST. (Chap. xi of _The Form of Perfect Living_; ed. Horstmann, vol. i, p. 196.) Þe seuene gyftes of þe Haly Gaste, þat ere gyfene to men and wymmene þat er ordaynede to þe ioye of heuene, and ledys theire lyfe in this worlde reghtwysely. Thire are thay:--Wysdome, {55} Undyrstandynge, Counsayle, Strenghe, Connynge, Peté, the Drede of God. Begynne we at Consaile, for þareof es myster at the begynnynge of oure werkes, þat vs myslyke noghte aftyrwarde. With thire seuene gyftes þe Haly Gaste teches sere mene serely. {60} Consaile es doynge awaye of worldes reches, and of all delytes of all thynge[gh] þat mane may be tagyld with, in thoghte or dede, and þa_r_with drawynge intill contemplacyone of Gode. Undyrstandynge es to knawe whate es to doo, and whate {65} es to lefe, and þat that sall be gyffene, to gyffe it to thaym þat has nede, noghte till oþer þat has na myster. Wysedome es forgetynge of erthely thynges and thynkynge of heuen, with discrecyone of all men_s_ dedys. In þis gyfte schynes contemplacyone, þat es, Saynt Austyne says, a gastely {70} dede of fleschely affeccyones, thurghe þe ioye of a raysede thoghte. Strenghe es lastynge to fullfill gude purpose, þat it be noghte lefte, for wele ne for waa. Peté es þat a man be mylde, and gaynesay noghte Haly {75} Writte whene it smyttes his synnys, whethire he vndyrstand it or noghte; bot in all his myghte purge he þe vilté of syne in hyme and oþer. Connynge es þat makes a man of gude , noghte ruysand hyme of his reghtewysnes, bot sorowand of his {80} synnys, and þat man gedyrs erthely gude anely to the honour of God, and prow to oþer mene þane hymselfe. The Drede of God es þat we turne noghte agayne till oure syne thurghe any ill eggyng. And þa_n_ es drede perfite in vs and gastely, when we drede to wrethe God in þe leste syne {85} þat we kane knawe, and flese it als venyme. [Foot-note: 60 teches] towches _Cambridge MS. DD. 5. 64_.] [Foot-note: 63 þar] þat _MS. Thornton_.] [Foot-note: 69 mens] _so Cambridge MS. DD. 5. 64_ = mene _MS. Thornton_.] [Foot-note: 79 hope] _from Cambridge MS. DD. 5. 64: om. MS. Thornton_.] [Foot-note: 84 þan] _Cambridge MS. DD. 5. 64_: þen _MS. Arundel 507_: þat _MS. Thornton_.] V SIR GAWAYNE AND THE GRENE KNIGHT ABOUT 1350-75. _Sir Gawayne_ has been admirably edited by Sir F. Madden for the Bannatyne Club, 1839, and later by R. Morris for the Early English Text Society. It is found in British Museum MS. Nero A X, together with three other alliterative poems, named from their first words _Pearl_, _Patience_, and _Cleanness_. _Pearl_ supplies the next specimen; _Patience_ exemplifies the virtue by the trials of Jonah; _Cleanness_ teaches purity of life from Scriptural stories. All these poems are in the same handwriting; all are in a West-Midland dialect; all appear to be of the same age; and none is without literary merit. For these reasons, which are good but not conclusive, they are assumed to be by the same author. Attempts to identify this author have been unsuccessful. The story runs as follows: King Arthur is making his Christmas feast with his court at Camelot. On New Year's Day he declares that he will not eat until he has seen or heard some marvel. The first course of the feast is barely served when a tall knight, clad all in green, with green hair, and a green horse to match, rides into the hall. He carries a holly bough and a huge axe, and tauntingly invites any knight to strike him a blow with the axe, on condition that he will stand a return blow on the same day a year hence. Gawayne accepts the challenge and strikes off the Green Knight's head. The Green Knight gathers up his head, gives Gawayne an appointment for next New Year's Day at the Green Chapel, and rides off. The year passes, and Gawayne, despite the fears of the court, sets out in quest of the Green Chapel. On Christmas Eve he arrives at a splendid castle, and finding that the Green Chapel is close at hand, accepts an invitation to stay and rest until New Year's Day. On each of three days the knight of the castle goes hunting, and persuades Gawayne to rest at home. They make an agreement that each shall give the other whatever he gets. The lady of the castle makes love to Gawayne, and kisses him once on the first day, twice on the second day, thrice on the third day; and on the third day she gives him her girdle, which he accepts because it has the magic power of preserving the wearer from wounds. Each evening he duly gives the kisses to the knight, and receives in return the spoils of the hunting of deer and boar and fox. But he conceals the girdle. The extract begins with Gawayne preparing on New Year's morning to stand the return blow at the Green Chapel. The poem ends by the Green Knight revealing that he is himself the lord of the castle; that he went to Arthur's court at the suggestion of Morgan la Fay; that he had urged his wife to make love to Gawayne and try his virtue; and that he would not have harmed him at all, if he had not committed the slight fault of concealing the girdle. Gawayne returns to the court, bearing the girdle as a sign of his shame, and tells his story. The knights of the court agree in future to wear a bright green belt for Gawayne's sake. _Sir Gawayne_ is admittedly the best of the alliterative romances. It must have come down to us practically as it was written by the poet, for it is free from the flatness and conventional phrasing which is characteristic of romances that have passed through many popular recensions. The descriptions of nature, of armour and dresses, the hunting scenes, and the love making, are all excellently done; and the poet shows the same richness of imagination and skill in producing pictorial effects that are so noticeable in _Pearl_. He has too a quiet humour that recalls Chaucer in some of his moods. THE TESTING OF SIR GAWAYNE. British Museum MS. Nero A X (about 1400); ed. R. Morris, ll. 2069 ff. The brygge wat[gh] brayde doun, and þe brode [gh]ate[gh] Vnbarred and born open vpon boþe halue. Þe burne blessed hym bilyue, and þe brede[gh] passed; Prayses þe porter bifore þe prynce kneled, Gef hym God and goud day, þat Gawayn He saue, 5 And went on his way with his wy[gh]e one, Þat schulde teche hym to tourne to þat tene place Þer þe ruful race he schulde resayue. Þay bo[gh]en bi bonkke[gh] þer bo[gh]e[gh] ar bare; Þay clomben bi clyffe[gh] þer clenge[gh] þe colde. 10 Þe heuen wat[gh] vp halt, bot vgly þer vnder,-- Mist muged on þe mor, malt on þe mounte[gh], Vch hille hade a hatte, a myst-hakel huge. Broke[gh] byled and breke bi bonkke[gh] aboute, Schyre schaterande on schore[gh], þer þay doun schowued. 15 Wela wylle wat[gh] þe way þer þay bi wod schulden, Til hit wat[gh] sone sesoun þat þe sunne ryses þat tyde. Þay were on a hille ful hy[gh]e, Þe quyte snaw lay bisyde; 20 Þe burne þat rod hym by Bede his mayster abide. 'For I haf wonnen yow hider, wy[gh]e, at þis tyme, And now nar [gh]e not fer fro þat note place Þat [gh]e han spied and spuryed so specially after. 25 Bot I schal say yow for soþe, syþen I yow knowe, And [gh]e ar a lede vpon lyue þat I wel louy, Wolde [gh]e worch bi my wytte, [gh]e worþed þe better. Þe place þat [gh]e prece to ful perelous is halden. Þer wone[gh] a wy[gh]e in þat waste, þe worst vpon erþe, 30 For he is stiffe and sturne, and to strike louies, And more he is þen any mon vpon myddelerde, And his body bigger þen þe best fowre Þat ar in Arþure[gh] hous, He_c_tor, oþer oþer. He cheue[gh] þat chaunce at þe chapel grene, 35 Þer passes non bi þat place so proude in his armes Þat he ne dyn_g_e[gh] hym to deþe with dynt of his honde; For he is a mon methles, and mercy non vses, For be hit chorle oþer chaplayn þat bi þe chapel rydes, Monk oþer masse-prest, oþer any mon elles, 40 Hym þynk as queme hym to quelle as quyk go hymseluen. Forþy I say þe, as soþe as [gh]e in sadel sitte, Com [gh]e þere, [gh]e be kylled, may þe, kny[gh]t, rede-- Trawe [gh]e me þat trwely--þa[gh] [gh]e had twenty lyues to spende. 45 He hat[gh] wonyd here ful [gh]ore, On bent much baret bende, A[gh]ayn his dynte[gh] sore [Gh]e may not yow defende. 'Forþy, goude Sir Gawayn, let þe gome one, 50 And got[gh] away sum oþer gate, vpon Godde[gh] halue! Cayre[gh] bi sum oþer kyth, þer Kryst mot yow spede, And I schal hy[gh] me hom a[gh]ayn, and hete yow fyrre Þat I schal swere bi God and alle His gode hal[gh]e[gh], As help me God and þe halydam, and oþe[gh] innoghe, 55 Þat I schal lelly yow layne, and lance neuer tale Þat euer [gh]e fondet to fle for freke þat I wyst.' 'Grant merci,' quod Gawayn, and gruchyng he sayde: 'Wel worth þe, wy[gh]e, þat wolde[gh] my gode, And þat lelly me layne I leue wel þou wolde[gh]. 60 Bot helde þou hit neuer so holde, and I here passed, Founded for ferde for to fle, in fourme þat þou telle[gh], I were a kny[gh]t kowarde, I my[gh]t _n_ot be excused. Bot I wyl to þe chapel, for chaunce þat may falle, And talk wyth þat ilk tulk þe tale þat me lyste, 65 Worþe hit wele oþer wo, as þe wyrde lyke[gh] hit hafe. Þa[gh]e he be a sturn knape To sti[gh]tel, and stad with staue, Ful wel con Dry[gh]tyn schape 70 His seruaunte[gh] for to saue.' 'Mary!' quod þat oþer mon, 'now þou so much spelle[gh] Þat þou wylt þyn awen nye nyme to þyseluen, And þe lyst lese þy lyf, þe lette I ne kepe. Haf here þi helme on þy hede, þi spere in þi honde, 75 And ryde me doun þis ilk rake bi [gh]on rokke syde Til þou be bro[gh]t to þe boþem of þe brem valay. Þenne loke a littel on þe launde, on þi lyfte honde, And þou schal se in þat slade þe self chapel, And þe borelych burne on bent þat hit kepe[gh]. 80 Now fare[gh] wel, on Gode[gh] half! Gawayn þe noble; For alle þe golde vpon grounde I nolde go wyth þe, Ne bere þe fela[gh]schip þur[gh] þis fryth on fote fyrre.' Bi þat þe wy[gh]e in þe wod wende[gh] his brydel, Hit þe hors with þe hele[gh] as harde as he my[gh]t, 85 Lepe[gh] hym ouer þe launde, and leue[gh] þe kny[gh]t þere al one. 'Bi Godde[gh] self!' quod Gawayn, 'I wyl nauþer grete ne grone; To Godde[gh] wylle I am ful bayn, 90 And to Hym I haf me tone.' Thenne gyrde[gh] he to Gryngolet, and gedere[gh] þe rake, Schowue[gh] in bi a schore at a scha[gh]e syde, Ride[gh] þur[gh] þe ro[gh]e bonk ry[gh]t to þe dale; And þenne he wayted hym aboute, and wylde hit hym þo[gh]t, 95 And se[gh]e no syngne of resette bisyde[gh] nowhere, Bot hy[gh]e bonkke[gh] and brent vpon boþe halue, And ru[gh]e knokled knarre[gh] with knorned stone[gh]; Þe skwe[gh] of þe scowtes skayned hym þo[gh]t. Þenne he houed, and wythhylde his hors at þat tyde, 100 And ofte chaunged his cher þe chapel to seche: He se[gh] non suche in no syde, and selly hym þo[gh]t Sone, a lyttel on a launde, a lawe as hit we , A bal[gh] ber[gh] bi a bonke, þe brymme bysyde, Bi a for[gh] of a flode þat ferked þare; 105 Þe borne blubred þerinne as hit boyled hade. Þe kny[gh]t kache[gh] his caple, and com to þe lawe, Li[gh]te[gh] doun luflyly, and at a lynde tache[gh] Þe rayne and his riche with a ro[gh]e braunche. Þenne he bo[gh]e[gh] to þe ber[gh]e, aboute hit he walke[gh], 110 Debatande with hymself quat hit be my[gh]t. Hit hade a hole on þe ende and on ayþer syde, And ouergrowen with gresse in glodes aywhere, And al wat[gh] hol[gh] inwith, nobot an olde caue, Or a creuisse of an olde cragge, he couþe hit no[gh]t deme 115 with spelle. 'We! Lorde,' quod þe gentyle kny[gh]t, 'Wheþer þis be þe grene chapelle? He my[gh]t aboute mydny[gh]t Þe dele his matynnes telle! 120 'Now iwysse,' quod Wowayn, 'wysty is here; Þis oritore is vgly, with erbe[gh] ouergrowen; Wel biseme[gh] þe wy[gh]e wruxled in grene Dele here his deuocioun on þe deuele[gh] wyse. Now I fele hit is þe fende, in my fyue wytte[gh], 125 Þat hat[gh] stoken me þis steuen to strye me here. Þis is a chapel of meschaunce, þat chekke hit bytyde! Hit is þe corsedest kyrk þat euer I com inne!' With he[gh]e helme on his hede, his launce in his honde, He rome[gh] vp to þe rokke of þo ro[gh] wone[gh]. 130 Þene herde he, of þat hy[gh]e hil, in a harde roche, Bi[gh]onde þe broke, in a bonk, a wonder breme noyse. Quat! hit clatered in þe clyff, as hit cleue schulde, As one vpon a gryndelston hade grounden a syþe; What! hit wharred and whette, as water at a mulne; 135 What! hit rusched and ronge, rawþe to here. Þenne 'Bi Godde!' quod Gawayn, 'þat gere a_s_ I trowe Is ryched at þe reuerence me, renk, to mete bi rote. Let God worche, we loo! 140 Hit helppe[gh] me not a mote. My lif þa[gh] I forgoo, Drede dot[gh] me no lote.' Thenne þe kny[gh]t con calle ful hy[gh]e: 'Who sti[gh]tle[gh] in þis sted, me steuen to holde? 145 For now is gode Gawayn goande ry[gh]t here. If any wy[gh]e o[gh]t wyl, wynne hider fast, Oþer now oþer neuer, his nede[gh] to spede.' 'Abyde,' quod on on þe bonke abouen ouer his hede, 'And þou schal haf al in hast þat I þe hy[gh]t ones.' 150 [Gh]et he rusched on þat rurde rapely a þrowe, And wyth quettyng awharf, er he wolde ly[gh]t; And syþen he keuere[gh] bi a cragge, and come[gh] of a hole, Whyrlande out of a wro wyth a felle weppen, A Dene[gh] ax nwe dy[gh]t, þe dynt with o [gh]elde, 155 With a borelych bytte bende by þe halme, Fyled in a fylor, fowre fote large,-- Hit wat[gh] no lasse bi þat lace þat lemed ful bry[gh]t,-- And þe gome in þe grene gered as fyrst, Boþe þe lyre and þe legge[gh], lokke[gh] and berde, 160 Saue þat fayre on his fote he founde[gh] on þe erþe, Sette þe stele to þe stone, and stalked bysyde. Whan he wan to þe watter, þer he wade nolde, He hypped ouer on hys ax, and orpedly stryde[gh], Bremly broþe on a bent þat brode wat[gh] aboute, 165 on snawe. Sir Gawayn þe kny[gh]t con mete, He ne lutte hym no þyng lowe; Þat oþer sayde 'Now, sir swete, Of steuen mon may þe trowe. 170 'Gawayn,' quod þat grene gome, 'God þe mot loke! Iwysse þou art welco_m_, wy[gh]e, to my place, And þou hat[gh] tymed þi trauayl as truee mon schulde, And þou knowe[gh] þe couenaunte[gh] kest vus bytwene: At þis tyme twelmonyth þou toke þat þe falled, 175 And I schulde at þis nwe [gh]ere [gh]eply þe quyte. And we ar in þis valay verayly oure one; Here ar no renkes vs to rydde, rele as vus like[gh]. Haf þy helme of þy hede, and haf here þy pay. Busk no more debate þen I þe bede þenne 180 When þou wypped of my hede at a wap one.' 'Nay, bi God' quod Gawayn, 'þat me gost lante! I schal gruch þe no grwe for grem þat falle[gh]. Bot sty[gh]tel þe vpon on strok, and I schal stonde stylle And warp þe no wernyng to worch as þe lyke[gh], 185 nowhare.' He lened with þe nek, and lutte, And schewed þat schyre al bare, And lette as he no[gh]t dutte; For drede he wolde not dare. 190 Then þe gome in þe grene grayþed hym swyþe, Gedere[gh] vp hys grymme tole Gawayn to smyte; With alle þe bur in his body he ber hit on lofte, Munt as ma[gh]tyly as marre hym he wolde: Hade hit dryuen adoun as dre[gh] as he atled, 195 Þer hade ben ded of his dynt þat do[gh]ty wat[gh] euer. Bot Gawayn on þat giserne glyfte hym bysyde, As hit com glydande adoun on glode hym to schende, And schranke a lytel with þe schulderes for þe scharp yrne. Þat oþer schalk wyth a schunt þe schene wythhalde[gh], 200 And þenne repreued he þe prynce with mony prowde worde[gh]: 'Þou art not Gawayn,' quod þe gome, 'þat is so goud halden, Þat neuer ar[gh]ed for no here, by hylle ne be vale, And now þou fles for ferde er þou fele harme[gh]! Such cowardise of þat kny[gh]t cowþe I neuer here. 205 Nawþer fyked I ne fla[gh]e, freke, quen þou myntest, Ne kest no kauelacion, in kynge[gh] hous Arthor. My hede fla[gh] to my fote, and [gh]et fla[gh] I neuer; And þou, er any harme hent, ar[gh]e[gh] in hert; Wherfore þe better burne me burde be called 210 þerfore.' Quod Gawayn 'I schunt one[gh], And so wyl I no more; Bot þa[gh] my hede falle on þe stone[gh], I con not hit restore. 215 Bot busk, burne, bi þi fayth! and bryng me to þe poynt. Dele to me my destiné, and do hit out of honde, For I schal stonde þe a strok, and start no more Til þyn ax haue me hitte: haf here my trawþe.' 'Haf at þe þenne!' quod þat oþer, and heue[gh] hit alofte, 220 And wayte[gh] as wroþely as he wode were. He mynte[gh] at hym ma[gh]tyly, bot not þe mon ryue[gh], Withhelde heterly h s honde, er hit hurt my[gh]t. Gawayn grayþely hit byde[gh], and glent with no membre, Bot stode stylle as þe ston, oþer a stubbe auþer 225 Þat raþeled is in roché grounde with rote[gh] a hundreth. Þen muryly efte con he mele, þe mon in þe grene: 'So now þou hat[gh] þi hert holle, hitte me bihou s. Halde þe now þe hy[gh]e hode þat Arþur þe ra[gh]t, And kepe þy kanel at þis kest, [gh]if hit keuer may.' 230 Gawayn ful gryndelly with greme þenne sayde: 'Wy! þresch on, þou þro mon, þou þrete[gh] to longe. I hope þat þi hert ar[gh]e wyth þyn awen seluen.' 'For soþe,' quod þat oþer freke, 'so felly þou speke[gh], I wyl no lenger on lyte lette þin ernde 235 ri[gh]t nowe.' Þenne tas he hym stryþe to stryke, And frounses boþe lyppe and browe. No meruayle þa[gh] hym myslyke Þat hoped of no rescowe. 240 He lyftes ly[gh]tly his lome, and let hit doun fayre, With þe barbe of þe bitte bi þe bare nek, Þa[gh] he homered heterly, hurt hym no more, Bot snyrt hym on þat on syde, þat seuered þe hyde; Þe scharp schrank to þe flesche þur[gh] þe schyre grece 245 Þat þe schene blod ouer his schulderes schot to þe erþe; And quen þe burne se[gh] þe blode blenk on þe snawe, He sprit forth spenne fote more þen a spere lenþe, Hent heterly his helme, and on his hed cast, Schot with his schuldere[gh], his fayre schelde vnder, 250 Brayde[gh] out a bry[gh]t sworde, and bremely he speke[gh];-- Neuer syn þat he wat[gh] burne borne of his moder Wat[gh] he neuer in þis worlde wy[gh]e half so blyþe-- 'Blynne, burne, of þy bur, bede me no mo! I haf a stroke in þis stede withoute stryf hent, 255 And if þow reche[gh] me any mo, I redyly schal quyte, And [gh]elde [gh]ederly a[gh]ayn--and þer to [gh]e tryst-- and foo. Bot on stroke here me falle[gh]-- Þe couenaunt schop ry[gh]t so 260 in Arþure[gh] halle[gh]-- And þerfore, hende, now hoo!' The haþel heldet hym fro, and on his ax rested, Sette þe schaft vpon schore, and to þe scharp lened, And loked to þe leude þat on þe launde [gh]ede, 265 How þat do[gh]ty, dredles, deruely þer stonde[gh] Armed, ful a[gh]le[gh]: in hert hit hym lyke[gh]. Þenn he mele[gh] muryly wyth a much steuen, And wyth a ry kande rurde he to þe renk sayde: 'Bolde burne, on þis bent be not so gryndel. 270 No mon here vnmanerly þe mysboden habbe<[gh]> Ne kyd, bot as couenaunde at kynge[gh] kort schaped. I hy[gh]t þe a strok and þou hit hat[gh]; halde þe wel payed. I relece þe of þe remnaunt of ry[gh]tes alle oþer. Iif I deliuer had bene, a boffet paraunter 275 I couþe wroþeloker haf waret,--to þe haf wro[gh]t anger. Fyrst I mansed þe muryly with a mynt one, And roue þe wyth no rof sore, with ry[gh]t I þe profered For þe forwarde þat we fest in þe fyrst ny[gh]t, And þou trystyly þe trawþe and trwly me halde[gh], 280 Al þe gayne þow me gef, as god mon schulde. Þat oþer munt for þe morne, mon, I þe profered, Þou kyssedes my clere wyf, þe cosse[gh] me ra[gh]te[gh]. For boþe two here I þe bede bot two bare myntes boute scaþe. 285 Trwe mon trwe restore, Þenne þar mon drede no waþe. At þe þrid þou fayled þore, And þerfor þat tappe ta þe. For hit is my wede þat þou were[gh], þat ilke wouen girdel, 290 Myn owen wyf hit þe weued, I wot wel forsoþe. Now know I wel þy cosses, and þy costes als, And þe wowyng of my wyf: I wro[gh]t hit myseluen. I sende hir to asay þe, and sothly me þynkke[gh] On þe fautlest freke þat euer on fote [gh]ede. 295 As perle bi þe quite pese is of prys more, So is Gawayn, in god fayth, bi oþer gay kny[gh]te[gh]. Bot here yow lakked a lyttel, sir, and lewté yow wonted; Bot þat wat[gh] for no wylyde werke, ne wowyng nauþer, Bot for [gh]e lufed your lyf; þe lasse I yow blame.' 300 Þat oþer stif mon in study stod a gret whyle, So agreued for greme he gryed withinne; Alle þe blode of his brest blende in his face, Þat al he schrank for schome þat þe schalk talked. Þe forme worde vpon folde þat þe freke meled: 305 'Corsed worth cowarddyse and couetyse boþe! In yow is vylany and vyse þat vertue disstrye[gh].' Þenne he ka[gh]t to þe knot, and þe kest lawse[gh], Brayde broþely þe belt to þe burne seluen: 'Lo! þer þe falssyng! foule mot hit falle! 310 For care of þy knokke cowardyse me ta[gh]t To acorde me with couetyse, my kynde to forsake, Þat is larges and lewté þat longe[gh] to kny[gh]te[gh]. Now am I fawty and falce, and ferde haf ben euer Of trecherye and vntrawþe: boþe bityde sor[gh]e 315 and care! I biknowe yow, kny[gh]t, here stylle, Al fawty is my fare; Lete[gh] me ouertake your wylle And efte I schal be ware.' 320 Thenn lo[gh]e þat oþer leude, and luflyly sayde: 'I halde hit hardily hole, þe harme þat I hade. Þou art confessed so clene, beknowen of þy mysses, And hat[gh] þe penaunce apert of þe poynt of myn egge, I halde þe polysed of þat ply[gh]t, and pured as clene 325 As þou hade[gh] neuer forfeted syþen þou wat[gh] fyrst borne; And I gif þe, sir, þe gurdel þat is golde-hemmed, For hit is grene as my goune. Sir Gawayne, [gh]e maye Þenk vpon þis ilke þrepe, þer þou forth þrynge[gh] Among prynces of prys; and þis a pure token 330 Of þe chaunce _at_ þe grene chapel _of_ cheualrous kny[gh]te[gh]. And [gh]e schal in þis nwe [gh]er a[gh]ayn to my wone[gh], And we schyn reuel þe remnaunt of þis ryche fest ful bene.' Þer laþed hym fast þe lord, 335 And sayde 'With my wyf, I wene, We schal yow wel acorde, Þat wat[gh] your enmy kene.' 'Nay, for soþe,' quod þe segge, and sesed hys helme, And hat[gh] hit of hendely, and þe haþel þonkke[gh], 340 'I haf soiorned sadly; sele yow bytyde! And He [gh]elde hit yow [gh]are þat [gh]arkke[gh] al menskes! And comaunde[gh] me to þat cortays, your comlych fere, Boþe þat on and þat oþer myn honoured ladye[gh], Þat þus hor kny[gh]t wyth hor kest han koyntly bigyled. 345 Bot hit is no ferly þa[gh] a fole madde, And þur[gh] wyles of wymmen be wonen to sor[gh]e, For so wat[gh] Adam in erde with one bygyled, And Salamon with fele sere, and Samson eftsone[gh] Dalyda dalt hym hys wyrde, and Dauyth þerafter 350 Wat[gh] blended with Barsabe, þat much bale þoled. Now þese were wrathed wyth her wyles, hit were a wynne huge To luf hom wel, and leue hem not, a leude þat couþe. For þes wer forne þe freest, þat fol[gh]ed alle þe sele Exellently of alle þyse oþer vnder heuenryche 355 þat mused; And alle þay were biwyled With wymmen þat þay vsed. Þa[gh] I be now bigyled, Me þink me burde be excused.' 360 [Foot-note: 34 Hector] Hestor _MS._] [Foot-note: 37 dynge[gh]] dynne[gh] _MS._] [Foot-note: 63 not] mot _MS._] [Foot-note: 69 and] & & _MS._] [Foot-note: 137 as] at _MS._] [Foot-note: 172 welcom] welcon _MS._] [Foot-note: 179 þy (1st)] þy þy _MS._] [Foot-note: 237 he] he he _MS._] [Foot-note: 322 hardily] hardilyly _MS._] [Foot-note: 331 _at... of_ (2nd)] _transposed in MS._] [Foot-note: 358 With] With wyth _MS._] VI THE PEARL ABOUT 1375. The facts leading to the presumption that _Pearl_ and _Sir Gawayne_ are by the same author have been mentioned in the prefatory note to _Sir Gawayne_. But the poems are markedly different in subject and tone. _Pearl_, like Chaucer's _Death of Blanche the Duchess_, is an elegy cast in the vision form made popular by the _Roman de la Rose_. The subject is a little girl, who died before she was two years old, and the treatment is deeply religious. Her death is symbolized as the loss of a pearl without spot, that slipped from its owner's hand through the grass into the earth. On a festival day in August, the poet, while mourning his loss, falls asleep on his child's grave. His spirit passes to a land of flowers and rich fruits, where birds of flaming hues sing incomparably, where the cliffs are of crystal and beryl, and a river runs in a bed of gleaming jewels. On the other side of the river, which is lovelier still, sits a maiden dressed all in white, with coronet and ornaments of pearl. The poet recognizes his lost child, but cannot call to her for wonder and dread, until she rises and salutes him. He complains that since her loss he has been a joyless jeweller. She rebukes him gently; she is not lost, but made safe and beautiful for ever. Overjoyed, he says he will cross the river and live with her in this paradise; but she warns him against such presumption, for since Adam's fall the river may be crossed only by the way of death. He is in despair to think that now that his Pearl is found, he must still live joyless, apart from her; but he is bidden to resign himself to God's will and mercy, because rebellion will avail him nothing. At this point begins the argument on salvation by grace or salvation by works which is here reprinted. The maiden then continues the discussion, explaining that 'the innocent are ay safe by right', and that only those who come as little children can win the bliss sought by the man who sold his all for a matchless pearl. Next the poet asks whence her beauty comes, and what her office is. She replies that she is one of the brides of Christ, whom St. John in the Apocalypse saw arrayed for the bridal in the New Jerusalem. He asks to see their mansions, and by special grace is allowed to view the holy city from without. He sees it as St. John saw it, gleaming with gold, with its pillars of precious stone, its gates of pearl; its streets lighted by a divine radiance, so that there is no need of moon or sun. There is no church or chapel or temple there: God himself is the minister, and Christ is the sacrifice. Mortal eye could not bear the splendour, and he stood 'as stylle as dased quayle'. At evening came the procession of the virgin brides of Christ, each bearing on her breast the pearl of perfect happiness. The Lamb leads them, in pearl-white robes, his side bleeding, his face rapt; while elders make obeisance, and angels sing songs of joy as He nears the throne of God. Suddenly the poet sees his Pearl among her companions. Overcome with longing and delight, he tries to cross the river, only to wake in the garden where he fell asleep. Henceforth he is resigned to the pleasure of the Prince of Heaven. The reader will be able to judge the author's poetical gift from the selection, which has been chosen as one of the less ornate passages. Even here the form distracts attention from the matter by its elaborateness. A difficult rime scheme is superimposed on the alliterative line; stanza is interlinked with stanza; each group of five stanzas is distinguished by a similar refrain, and bound to the preceding and following groups by repetition in the first and last lines. So too the close of the poem echoes the beginning. With such intricacy of plan, it is not surprising that the rime is sometimes forced, and the sense strained or obscure. It is rather a matter for wonder that, in so long a work, the author was able to maintain his marvellous technique without completely sacrificing poetry to metrical gymnastics. The highly wrought, almost overwrought, effect is heightened when the poem is read as a whole. If _Piers Plowman_ gives a realistic picture of the drabness of mediaeval life, _Pearl_, more especially in the early stanzas, shows a richness of imagery and a luxuriance in light and colour that seem scarcely English. Yet they have their parallels in the decorative art of the time--the elaborate carving in wood and stone; the rich colouring of tapestries, of illuminated books and painted glass; the designs of the jewellers, goldsmiths, and silversmiths, which even the notaries who made the old inventories cannot pass without a word of admiration. The _Pearl_ reminds us of the tribute due to the artists and craftsmen of the fourteenth century. The edition by C. G. Osgood, Boston 1906, is the handiest. THE PEARL, ll. 361-612. (MS. Cotton Nero A X (about 1400).) Thenne demed I to þat damyselle: 'Ne worþe no wrathþe vnto my Lorde, If rapely raue, spornande in spelle; My herte wat[gh] al wyth mysse remorde, As wallande water got[gh] out of welle. 5 I do me ay in Hys myserecorde; Rebuke me neuer wyth worde[gh] felle, Þa[gh] I forloyne, my dere endorde, Bot _k_yþe[gh] me kyndely your coumforde, Pytosly þenkande vpon þysse: 10 Of care and me [gh]e made acorde, Þat er wat[gh] grounde of alle my blysse. 'My blysse, my bale, [gh]e han ben boþe, Bot much þe bygger [gh]et wat[gh] my mon; Fro þou wat[gh] wroken fro vch a woþe, 15 I wyste neuer quere my perle wat[gh] gon. Now I hit se, now leþe[gh] my loþe; And, quen we departed, we wern at on; God forbede we be now wroþe, We meten so selden by stok oþer ston. 20 Þa[gh] cortaysly [gh]e carp con, I am bot mol and ma_n_ere[gh] mysse; Bot Crystes mersy, and Mary, and Ion, Þise arn þe grounde of alle my blysse. 'In blysse I se þe blyþely blent, 25 And I a man al mornyf mate; [Gh]e take þeron ful lyttel tente, Þa[gh] I hente ofte harme[gh] hate. Bot now I am here in your presente, I wolde bysech, wythouten debate, 30 [Gh]e wolde me say in sobre asente What lyf [gh]e lede erly and late. For I am ful fayn þat your astate Is worþen to worschyp and wele, iwysse; Of alle my ioy þe hy[gh]e gate 35 Hit is, _and_ grounde of alle my blysse.' 'Now blysse, burne, mot þe bytyde,' Þen sayde þat lufsoum of lyth and lere, 'And welcum here to walk and byde, For now þy speche is to me dere. 40 Maysterful mod and hy[gh]e pryde, I hete þe, arn heterly hated here. My Lorde ne loue[gh] not for to chyde, For meke arn alle þat wone[gh] Hym nere; And when in Hys place þou schal apere, 45 Be dep deuote in hol mekenesse; My Lorde þe Lamb loue[gh] ay such chere, Þat is þe grounde of alle my blysse. 'A blysful lyf þou says I lede; Þou wolde[gh] knaw þerof þe stage. 50 Þow wost wel when þy perle con schede I wat[gh] ful [gh]ong and tender of age; Bot my Lorde þe Lombe, þur[gh] Hys Godhede, He toke myself to Hys maryage, Corounde me quene in blysse to brede 55 In lenghe of daye[gh] þat euer schal wage; And sesed in alle Hys herytage Hys lef is, I am holy Hysse; Hys prese, Hys prys, and Hys parage Is rote and grounde of alle my blysse.' 60 'Blysful,' quod I, 'may þys be trwe?-- Dysplese[gh] not if I speke errour-- Art þou þe quene of heuene[gh] blwe, Þat al þys worlde schal do honour? We leuen on Marye þat grace of grewe, 65 Þat ber a barne of vyrgynflour; Þe croune fro hyr quo mo[gh]t remwe Bot ho hir passed in sum fauour? Now, for synglerty o hyr dousour, We calle hyr Fenyx of Arraby, 70 Þat freles fle[gh]e of hyr fasor, Lyk to þe quen of cortaysye.' 'Cortayse Quen,' þenne s yde þat gaye, Knelande to grounde, folde vp hyr face, 'Makele[gh] Moder and myryest May, 75 Blessed Bygynner of vch a grace!' Þenne ros ho vp and con restay, And speke me towarde in þat space: 'Sir, fele here porchase[gh] and fonge[gh] pray, Bot supplantore[gh] none wythinne þys place. 80 Þat emperise al heuene[gh] hat[gh], And vrþe and helle in her bayly; Of erytage [gh]et non wyl ho chace, For ho is quen of cortaysye. 'The court of þe kyndom of God alyue 85 Hat[gh] a property in hytself beyng: Alle þat may þerinne aryue Of alle þe reme is quen oþer kyng, And neuer oþer [gh]et schal depryue, Bot vchon fayn of oþere[gh] hafyng, 90 And wolde her coroune[gh] wern worþe þo fyue, If possyble were her mendyng. Bot my Lady, of quom Iesu con spryng, Ho halde[gh] þe empyre ouer vus ful hy[gh]e; And þat dysplese[gh] non of oure gyng, 95 For ho is quene of cortaysye. 'Of courtaysye, as sayt[gh] Saynt Poule, Al arn we membre[gh] of Iesu Kryst; As heued and arme and legg and naule Temen to hys body ful trwe and t yste, 100 Ry[gh]t so is vch a Krysten sawle A longande lym to þe Mayster of myste. Þenne loke what hate oþer any gawle Is tached oþer ty[gh]ed þy lymme[gh] bytwyste: Þy heued hat[gh] nauþer greme ne gryste 105 On arme oþer fynger þa[gh] þou ber by[gh]e: So fare we alle wyth luf and lyste To kyng and quene by cortaysye.' 'Cortaysé,' quod I, 'I leue, And charyté grete, be yow among, 110 Bot my speche þat yow ne greue, * * * * * Þyself in heuen ouer hy[gh] þou heue, To make þe quen þat wat[gh] so [gh]onge. What more honour mo[gh]te he acheue 115 Þat hade endured in worlde stronge, And lyued in penaunce hys lyue[gh] longe, Wyth bodyly bale hym blysse to byye? What more worschyp mo[gh]t h_e_ fonge, Þen corounde be kyng by cortaysé? 120 'That cortaysé is to fre of dede, [Gh]yf hyt be soth þat þou cone[gh] saye; Þou lyfed not two [gh]er in oure þede; Þou cowþe[gh] neuer God nauþer plese ne pray, Ne neuer nawþer Pater ne Crede; 125 And quen mad on þe fyrst day! I may not traw, so God me spede, Þat God wolde wryþe so wrange away; Of countes, damysel, par ma fay! Wer fayr in heuen to halde asstate, 130 Aþer elle[gh] a lady of lasse aray; Bot a quene!--hit is to dere a date.' 'Þer is no date of Hys godnesse,' Þen sayde to me þat worþy wy[gh]te, 'For al is trawþe þat He con dresse, 135 And He may do no þynk bot ry[gh]t, As Mathew mele[gh] in your messe, In sothful Gospel of God Almy[gh]t, In sample he can ful grayþely gesse, And lykne[gh] hit to heuen ly[gh]te: 140 "My regne," He sayt[gh], "is lyk on hy[gh]t To a lorde þat hade a uyne, I wate. Of tyme of [gh]ere þe terme wat[gh] ty[gh]t, To labor vyne wat[gh] dere þe date. '"Þat date of [gh]ere wel knawe þys hyne. 145 Þe lorde ful erly vp he ros, To hyre werkmen to hys vyne, And fynde[gh] þer summe to hys porpos. Into acorde þay con declyne For a pené on a day, and forth þay got[gh], 150 Wryþen and worchen and don gret pyne, Keruen and caggen and man hit clos. Aboute vnder, þe lorde to marked tot[gh], And ydel men stande he fynde[gh] þerate. 'Why stande [gh]e ydel?' he sayde to þos; 155 'Ne knawe [gh]e of þis day no date?' '"'Er date of daye hider arn we wonne;' So wat[gh] al samen her answar so[gh]t; 'We haf standen her syn ros þe sunne, And no mon bydde[gh] vus do ry[gh]t no[gh]t.' 160 'Gos into my vyne, dot[gh] þat [gh]e conne,' So sayde þe lorde, and made hit to[gh]t; 'What resonabele hyre be na[gh]t be runne I yow pay in dede and þo[gh]te.' Þay wente into þe vyne and wro[gh]te, 165 And al day þe lorde þus [gh]ede his gate, And nw men to hys vyne he bro[gh]te, Welne[gh] wyl day wat[gh] passed date. '"At þe date of day of euensonge, On oure byfore þe sonne go doun, 170 He se[gh] þer ydel men ful stronge, And sa de to he_m_ wyth sobre soun: 'Wy stonde [gh]e ydel þise daye[gh] longe?' Þay sayden her hyre wat[gh] nawhere boun. 'Got[gh] to my vyne, [gh]emen [gh]onge, 175 And wyrke[gh] and dot[gh] þat at [gh]e moun.' Sone þe worlde bycom wel broun, Þe sunne wat[gh] doun, and hit wex late; To take her hyre he mad sumoun; Þe day wat[gh] al apassed date. 180 '"The date of þe daye þe lorde con knaw, Called to þe reue: 'Lede, pay þe meyny; Gyf hem þe hyre þat I hem owe; And fyrre, þat non me may reprené, Set hem alle vpon a rawe, 185 And gyf vchon ilyche a peny; Bygyn at þe laste þat stande[gh] lowe, Tyl to þe fyrste þat þou atteny.' And þenne þe fyrst bygonne to pleny, And sayden þat þay hade trauayled sore: 190 'Þese bot on oure hem con streny; Vus þynk vus o[gh]e to take more. '"'More haf we serued, vus þynk so, Þat suffred han þe daye[gh] hete, Þenn þyse þat wro[gh]t not houre[gh] two, 195 And þou dot[gh] hem vus to counterfete.' Þenne sayde þe lorde to on of þo: 'Frende no waning I wyl þe [gh]ete; Take þat is þyn owne and go. And I hyred þe for a peny agrete, 200 Quy bygynne[gh] þou now to þrete? Wat[gh] not a pené þy couenaunt þore? Fyrre þen couenaunde is no[gh]t to plete. Wy schalte þou þenne ask more? '"'More weþer [+]louyly[+] is me my gyfte 205 To do wyth myn quat so me lyke[gh]? Oþer elle[gh] þyn y[gh]e to lyþer is lyfte For I am goude and non byswyke[gh]?' 'Þus schal I,' quod Kryste, 'hit skyfte: Þe laste schal be þe fyrst þat stryke[gh], 210 And þe fyrst be laste, be he neuer so swyft; For mony ben calle , þa[gh] fewe be myke[gh].'" Þus pore men her part ay pyke[gh], Þa[gh] þay com late and lyttel wore; And þa[gh] her sweng wyth lyttel atslyke[gh], 215 Þe merci of God is much þe more. 'More haf I of ioye and blysse hereinne, Of ladyschyp gret and lyue[gh] blom, Þen alle þe wy[gh]e[gh] in þe worlde my[gh]t wynne By þe way of ry[gh]t to aske dome. 220 Wheþer welnygh now I con bygynne-- In euentyde into þe vyne I come-- Fyrst of my hyre my Lorde con mynne, I wat[gh] payed anon of al and sum. [Gh]et oþer þer werne þat toke more tom, 225 Þat swange and swat for long [gh]ore, Þat [gh]et of hyre no þynk þay nom, Paraunter no[gh]t schal to[gh]ere more.' Then more I meled and sayde apert: 'Me þynk þy tale vnresounable; 230 Godde[gh] ry[gh]t is redy and euermore rert, Oþer Holy Wryt is bot a fable; In Sauter is sayd a verce ouerte Þat speke[gh] a poynt determynable: "Þou quyte[gh] vchon as hys desserte, 235 Þou hy[gh]e Kyng ay pretermynable." Now he þat stod þe long day stable, And þou to payment com hym byfore, Þenne þe lasse in werke to take more able, And euer þe lenger þe lasse þe more.' 240 'Of more and lasse in Gode[gh] ryche,' Þat gentyl sayde, 'lys no ioparde, For þer is vch mon payed ilyche, Wheþer lyttel oþer much be hys rewarde, For þe gentyl Cheuentayn is no chyche; 245 Queþersoeuer He dele nesch oþer harde, He laue[gh] Hys gyfte[gh] as water of dyche, Oþer gote[gh] of golf þat neuer charde. Hys fraunchyse is large þat euer dard To Hym þat mat[gh] in synne rescoghe; 250 No blysse bet[gh] fro hem reparde, For þe grace of God is gret inoghe. [Foot-note: 9 kyþe[gh]] lyþe[gh] _MS._] [Foot-note: 22 manere[gh]] marere[gh] _MS._] [Foot-note: 36 and] in _MS._] [Foot-note: 112 _a line omitted in MS._] [Foot-note: 119 he] ho _MS._] [Foot-note: 164 pay] pray _MS._] [Foot-note: 169 date of day] day of date _MS._] [Foot-note: 172 hem] hen _MS._] [Foot-note: 178 and] & & _MS._] [Foot-note: 186 ilyche] [=i]lyche _MS._] [Foot-note: 243 ilyche] inlyche _MS._] VII THE GEST HYSTORIALE OF THE DESTRUCTION OF TROY ABOUT 1375. The Fall of Troy was one of the most popular subjects of mediaeval story. Lydgate wrote a _Troy Book_ about 1420; fragments of another are attributed to 'Barbour', whose identity with the author of _The Bruce_ has been questioned; a third version, anonymous, is known as the _Laud Troy Book_; and Caxton chose as the first work to be printed in English the _Recuyell of the Historyes of Troye_ (about 1474). More famous than any of these full histories are two single stories detached from the cycle: Jason's Quest of the Golden Fleece, which is admirably told by Gower in the fifth book of his _Confessio Amantis_; and the Love of Troilus and Cressida, which gave a theme both to Chaucer and to Shakespeare. The _Gest Hystoriale of the Destruction of Troy_, from which our extracts are taken, is a free rendering of the prose _Historia Troiana_ finished in 1287 by Guido de Columna (most probably the modern Terranova in Sicily). The translation, which appears to have been made in the North or North-West Midlands in the second half of the fourteenth century, is preserved only in an imperfect fifteenth-century MS. at the Hunterian Museum, Glasgow. In the Early English Text Society's print, edited by Panton and Donaldson, the text extends to over 14,000 lines. The table of contents prefixed to the MS. promises '_the nome of the knight þat causet it_ [sc. _the story_] _to be made, and the nome of hym that translatid it out of Latyn into Englysshe_'; but the extant MS. does not fulfil the promise. The execution suggests a set task and a journeyman poet. Phrases are repeated carelessly; there is a great deal of padding; the versification is monotonous; and the writer is too often at the mercy of the alliteration to maintain a serious level. Yet he is not a slavish or a dull translator. The more romantic elements of the story, such as the matter of the _Odyssey_, had already been whittled away in his original, and he shows little desire or capacity to restore them. But he knew as well as the Old English poets the forcefulness of alliterative verse in scenes of violence, and describes with unflagging zest and vigour the interminable battles of the siege, and storms such as that which wrecked the fleet of Ajax. The Prologue is a curious example of the pseudo-critical attitude of the Middle Ages. Homer is despised as a teller of impossible tales, and a partisan of the Greeks,--for Hector is the popular hero of the mediaeval versions. The narratives of Dares Phrygius and Dictys Cretensis, products of the taste for fictitious history that spread westward from Greek-speaking lands in the fourth and following centuries, are accepted as reliable documents; and Guido de Columna as their authoritative literary interpreter. No mention is made of Benoît de Sainte-Maure, whose _Roman de Troie_, written in French about 1184, served as source to Guido, and, directly or indirectly, as inspiration to the whole body of Western writers who dealt with the 'Matter of Troy'. For these lapses the English translator need not be held responsible. On the merits of Homer, Dares, Dictys, and Guido de Columna, he probably accepted without question the word of his master Guido. PROLOGUE. Maistur in magesté, Maker of alle, Endles and on, euer to last! Now, God, of þi grace, graunt me þi helpe, And wysshe me with wyt þis werke for to ende Off aunters ben olde of aunsetris nobill, 5 And slydyn vppon shlepe by slomeryng of age; Of stithe men in stoure, strongest in armes, And wisest in wer, to wale in hor tyme, Þat ben drepit with deth, and þere day paste, And most out of mynd for þere mecull age. 10 Sothe stories ben stoken vp, and straught out of mynde, And swolowet into swym by swiftenes of yeres, For new þat ben now next at our hond, Breuyt into bokes for boldyng of hertes, On lusti to loke with lightnes of wille, 15 Cheuyt throughe chaunce and chaungyng of peopull; Sum tru for to traist, triet in þe ende, Sum feynit o fere and ay false vnder. Yche wegh as he will warys his tyme, And has lykyng to lerne þat hym list after. 20 But olde stories of stithe þat astate helde May be solas to sum þat it segh neuer, Be writyng of wees þat wist it in dede, With sight for to serche of hom þat suet after, To ken all the crafte how þe case felle 25 By lokyng of letturs þat lefte were of olde. Now of Troy for to telle is myn entent euyn, Of the stoure and þe stryffe when it distroyet was. Þof fele yeres ben faren syn þe fight endid, And it meuyt out of mynd, myn hit I thinke, 30 Alss wise men haue writen the wordes before, Left it in Latyn for lernyng of us. But sum poyetis full prist þat put hom þerto With fablis and falshed fayned þere speche, And made more of þat mater þan hom maister were. 35 Sum lokyt ouer litle, and lympit of the sothe. Amonges þat menye, to myn hym be nome, Homer was holden haithill of dedis Qwiles his dayes enduret, derrist of other, Þat with the Grekys was gret, and of Grice comyn. 40 He feynet myche fals was neuer before wroght, And turnet þe truth, trust ye non other. Of his trifuls to telle I haue no tome nowe, Ne of his feynit fare þat he fore with: How goddes foght in the filde, folke as þai were! 45 And other errours vnable, þat after were knowen, That poyetis of prise have preuyt vntrew: Ouyde and othir þat onest were ay, Virgille þe virtuus, verrit for nobill, Thes dampnet his dedys, and for dull holdyn. 50 But þe truth for to telle, and þe text euyn, Of þat fight, how it felle in a few yeres, Þat was clanly compilet with a clerk wise, On Gydo, a gome þat graidly hade soght, And wist all þe werks by weghes he hade, 55 That bothe were in batell while the batell last, And euþer sawte and assembly see with þere een. Thai wrote all þe werkes wroght at þat tyme In letturs of þere langage, as þai lernede hade: Dares and Dytes were duly þere namys. 60 Dites full dere was dew to the Grekys, A lede of þat lond, and logede hom with. The tother was a tulke out of Troy selfe, Dares, þat duly the dedys behelde. Aither breuyt in a boke on þere best wise, 65 That sithen at a sité somyn were founden, After, at Atthenes, as aunter befell. The whiche bokes barely, bothe as þai were, A Romayn ouerraght, and right hom hymseluyn, That Cornelius was cald to his kynde name. 70 He translated it into Latyn for likyng to here, But he shope it so short þat no shalke might Haue knowlage by course how þe case felle; For he brought it so breff, and so bare leuyt, Þat no lede might have likyng to loke þerappon; 75 Till þis Gydo it gate, as hym grace felle, And declaret it more clere, and on clene wise. In this shall faithfully be founden, to the fer ende, All þe dedis bydene as þai done were: How þe groundes first grew, and þe grete hate, 80 Bothe of torfer and tene þat hom tide aftur. And here fynde shall ye faire of þe felle peopull: What kynges þere come of costes aboute; Of dukes full doughty, and of derffe erles, That assemblid to þe citie þat sawte to defend; 85 Of þe Grekys þat were gedret how gret was þe nowmber, How mony knightes þere come, and kynges enarmede, And what dukes thedur droghe for dedis of were; What shippes þere were shene, and shalkes within, Bothe of barges and buernes þat broght were fro Grese; 90 And all the batels on bent þe buernes betwene; What duke þat was dede throughe dyntes of hond, Who fallen was in fylde, and how it fore after. Bothe of truse and trayne þe truthe shalt þu here, And all the ferlies þat fell, vnto the ferre ende. 95 Fro this prologe I passe, and part me þerwith. Frayne will I fer, and fraist of þere werkes, Meue to my mater, and make here an ende. EXPLICIT PROLOGUE. THE XXXI BOKE: OF THE PASSAGE OF THE GREKYS FRO TROY (ll. 12463-12547). Hyt fell thus, by fortune, þe fairest of þe yere Was past to the point of the pale wintur. 100 Heruest, with the heite and the high sun, Was comyn into colde, with a course low. Trees, thurgh tempestes, tynde hade þere leues, And briddes abatid of hor brem songe; The wynde of the west wackenet aboue, 105 Blowyng full bremly o the brode ythes; The clere aire ouercast with cloudys full thicke, With mystes full merke mynget with showres. Flodes were felle thurgh fallyng of rayne, And wintur vp wacknet with his wete aire. 110 The gret nauy of the Grekes and the gay kynges Were put in a purpos to pas fro the toune. Sore longit þo lordis hor londys to se, And dissiret full depely, doutyng no wedur. Þai counted no course of the cold stormys, 115 Ne the perellis to passe of the pale windes. Hit happit hom full hard in a hondqwile, And mony of þo mighty to misse of hor purpos. Thus tho lordes in hor longyng laghton þe watur, Shotton into ship mong shene knightes, 120 With the tresowre of þe toune þai token before, Relikes full rife, and miche ranke godes. Clere was the course of the cold flodis, And the firmament faire, as fell for the wintur. Thai past on the pale se, puld vp hor sailes, 125 Hadyn bir at þere backe, and the bonke leuyt. Foure dayes bydene, and hor du nyghtis, Ful soundly þai sailed with seasonable windes. The fyft day fuersly fell at the none, Sodonly the softe winde vnsoberly blew; 130 A myste and a merkenes myngit togedur; A thoner and a thicke rayne þrublet in the skewes, With an ugsom noise, noy for to here; All flasshet in a fire the firmament ouer; Was no light but a laite þat launchit aboue: 135 Hit skirmyt in the skewes with a skyre low, Thurgh the claterand clowdes clos to the heuyn, As the welkyn shuld walt for wodenes of hete; With blastes full bigge of the breme wyndes, Walt vp the waghes vpon wan hilles. 140 Stith was the storme, stird all the shippes, Hoppit on hegh with heste of the flodes. The sea was unsober, sondrit the nauy, Walt ouer waghes, and no way held, Depertid the pepull, pyne to behold, 145 In costes vnkowthe; cut down þere sailes, Ropis al torochit, rent vp the hacches, Topcastell ouerturnyt, takelles were lost. The night come onone, noye was the more! All the company cleane of the kyng Telamon, 150 With þere shippes full shene, and þe shire godis, Were brent in the bre with the breme lowe Of the leymonde laite þat launchit fro heuyn, And euyn drownet in the depe, dukes and other! Oelius Aiax, as aunter befelle, 155 Was stad in the storme with the stith windes, With his shippes full shene and the shire godes. Thrifty and þriuaund, thretty and two There were brent on the buerne with the breme low, And all the freikes in the flode floterand aboue. 160 Hymseluyn in the sea sonkyn belyue, Swalprit and swam with swyngyng of armys. [Gh]et he launchet to londe, and his lyf hade, Bare of his body, bretfull of water, In the slober and the sluche slongyn to londe; 165 There he lay, if hym list, the long night ouer, Till the derke was done, and the day sprang; Þare sum of his sort, þat soght were to lond And than wonen of waghes, with wo as þai might, Laited þere lord on the laund-syde, 170 If hit fell h_y_m by fortune the flodes to passe. Þan found þai the freike in the fome lye, And comford hym kyndly, as þere kyd lord; With worchip and wordes wan hym to fote. Bothe failet hym the fode and the fyne clothes. 175 Thus þere goddes with gremy with þe Grekes fore, Mighty Myner a, of malis full grete, For Telamon, in tene, tid for to pull Cassandra the clene out of hir cloise temple. Thus hit fell hom by fortune of a foule ende, 180 For greuyng þere goddes in hor gret yre. Oftsythes men sayn, and sene is of olde, Þat all a company is cumbrit for a cursed shrewe. [Foot-note: 168-9 _transposed in MS._] [Foot-note: 171 hym] hom _MS._] VIII PIERS PLOWMAN (1362-1400) BY WILLIAM LANGLAND Recent criticism of _Piers Plowman_ has done more to weaken the hold of opinions once generally accepted than to replace them by others better founded. It is still most probable that 'Long Will', who is more than once mentioned in the text as the poet, was William Langland. The earliest external evidence of his home and parentage is given in a fifteenth-century note in MS. Dublin D 4. 1, of which both the matter and the vile Latinity bear the stamp of genuineness: 'Memorandum quod Stacy de Rokayle, pater Willielmi de Langlond, qui Stacius fuit generosus, et morabatur in Schiptone under Whicwode, tenens domini le Spenser in comitatu Oxon., qui praedictus Willielmus fecit librum qui vocatur Perys Ploughman.' Shipton-under-Wychwood is near Burford in Oxfordshire. The poem shows familiarity with the Malvern Hills and the streets of London; but it is hard to say how much is fact and how much is fiction in the references to Long Will in the text itself, more especially the description of his London life added as the Sixth Passus in Version C, and reproduced here as the second extract. Since Skeat's edition for the Early English Text Society, the many manuscripts have been grouped into three main types. The shortest, or A-text, appears from internal evidence to have been written about 1362. The B-text (about 1377) has the most compact manuscript tradition. It is distinguished by considerable additions throughout, and by the reconstruction and expansion of the visions of Dowel, Dobet, Dobest, which make up the second half of the poem. The C-text, the latest and fullest form, appears to have been completed in the last decade of the fourteenth century. Until recently it has been assumed that these three versions represent progressive revisions by the author. But Professor Manly has found considerable support for his view that more than one writer--perhaps as many as five--had a share in the work. For the present, judgement on this question, and on the intricate problem of the relations of the different versions, is suspended until the results of a complete re-examination of all the MSS. are available. It would not be surprising to find that even when this necessary work is done differences of opinion on the larger questions remain as acute as ever. It is impossible in short space to give an outline of the whole work, which describes no less than eleven visions. The structure is loose, and allegory is developed or dropped with disconcerting abruptness, for the writer does not curb his vigorous imagination in the interests of formal correctness. The first part is the best known. On a May morning the poet falls asleep on the Malvern Hills and sees a 'Field full of Folk', where all classes of men are busy about their occupations, more particularly the nefarious occupations that engage the attention of the moralist. Holy Church explains that a high tower in the Field is the home of Truth; and that a 'deep dale' is the Castle of Care, where Wrong dwells with the wicked. She points out Falseness, who is about to marry Lady Meed (i.e. Reward, whether deserved reward or bribe). Lady Meed and her company are haled before the King, who, with Reason and Conscience as his guides, decides her case, and upholds the plea of Peace against Wrong. The second vision is prefaced (in the C-text only) by the passage printed as the second selection. The poet falls asleep again, and sees Conscience preaching to the people in the Field. Representatives of the Seven Deadly Sins are vividly described. They are brought to penitence, and all set out in search of Truth. But no one knows the way. A palmer who wears the trophies of many pilgrimages to distant saints is puzzled by their inquiries, for he has never heard of pilgrims seeking Truth. Then Peter the Plowman comes forward and explains the way in allegorical terms. Here the first extract begins. The second vision closes with a general pardon given by Truth to Piers Plowman in this simple form: Do wel, and haue wel, and God shal haue þi sowle; And do yuel, and haue yuel, hope þow non other But after þi ded-day þe Deuel shal haue þi sowle. The several visions of the second part make up the lives of Dowel, Dobet, and Dobest. Piers Plowman is there identified with Christ, and the poem ends with Conscience, almost overcome by sin, setting out resolutely in search of Piers. First impressions of mediaeval life are usually coloured by the courtly romances of Malory and his later refiners. Chaucer brings us down to reality, but his people belong to a prosperous middle-class world, on holiday and in holiday mood. _Piers Plowman_ stands alone as a revelation of the ignorance and misery of the lower classes, whose multiplied grievances came to a head in the Peasants' Revolt of 1381. It must not be supposed that Langland idealized the labourers. Their indolence and improvidence are exposed as unsparingly as the vices of the rich; and Piers himself is not so much a representative of the English workman in the fourteenth century as a character drawn straight from the Gospels. Still, such an eager plea for humbleness, simplicity, and honest labour, could not fail to encourage the political hopes of the poor, and we see in John Ball's letter (p. 160) that 'Piers Plowman' had become a catchword among them. The poet himself rather deprecates political action. His satire is directed against the general slackening of the bonds of duty that marked the last years of an outworn system of society. For the remedy of abuses he appeals not to one class but to all: king, nobles, clergy, and workers must model their lives on the pattern of the Gospels. A. FROM THE B-TEXT, PASSUS VI. Bodleian MS. Laud 581 (about 1400). 'This were a wikked way, but whoso hadde a gyde That wolde folwen vs eche a fote:' þus þis folke hem mened. Quat[gh] Perkyn þe plouman: 'Bi Seynt Peter of Rome! I haue an half-acre to erye bi þe heigh way. Hadde I eried þis half-acre, and sowen it after, 5 I w_o_l_de_ wende with [gh]ow, and þe way teche.' 'Þis were a longe lettynge,' quod a lady in a sklayre; 'What sholde we wommen worche þerewhiles?' 'Somme shal sowe <þe> sakke,' quod Piers, 'for shedyng of þe whete; And [gh]e, louely ladyes, with [gh]oure longe fyngres, 10 Þat [gh]e han silke and sendal to sowe, whan tyme is, Chesibles for chapelleynes, cherches to honoure; Wyues and wydwes wolle and flex spynneth, Maketh cloth, I conseille [gh]ow, and kenneth so [gh]owre dou[gh]tres; Þe nedy and þe naked, nymmeth hede how hii liggeth, 15 And casteth hem clothes, for so comaundeth Treuthe. For I shal lene hem lyflode, but [gh]if þe londe faille, Flesshe and bred, bothe to riche and to pore, As longe as I lyue, for þe Lordes loue of heuene. And alle manere of men þat þorw mete and drynke lybbeth, 20 Helpith hym to worche wi[gh]tliche þat wynneth [gh]owre fode.' 'Bi Crist!' quod a kny[gh]te þo, 'he kenneth vs þe best; Ac on þe teme trewly tau[gh]te was I neuere. Ac kenne me,' quod þe kny[gh]te, 'and, bi Cryst! I wil assaye.' 'Bi seynt Poule!' quod Perkyn, '[gh]e profre [gh]ow so faire, 25 Þat I shal swynke, and swete, and sowe for vs bothe, And oþer laboures do for þi loue al my lyf tyme, In couenaunt þat þow kepe Holi Kirke and myselue Fro wastoures and fro wykked men þat þis worlde struyeth; And go hunte hardiliche to hares and to foxes, 30 To bores and to brockes þat breketh adown myne hegges, And go affaite þe faucones wilde foules to kille, For suche cometh to my croft, and croppeth my whete.' Curteislich þe kny[gh]te þanne comsed þise wordes: 'By my power, Pieres,' quod he, 'I pli[gh]te þe my treuthe 35 To fulfille þis forward, þow[gh] I fi[gh]te sholde; Als longe as I lyue, I shal þe mayntene.' '[Gh]e, and [gh]it a poynt,' quod Pieres, 'I preye [gh]ow of more; Loke [gh]e tene no tenaunt, but Treuthe wil assent. And þowgh [gh]e mowe amercy hem, late Mercy be taxoure, 40 And Mekenesse þi mayster, maugré Medes chekes; And þowgh pore men profre [gh]ow presentis and [gh]iftis, Nym it nau[gh]te, an auenture [gh]e mowe it nau[gh]te deserue; For þow shalt [gh]elde it a[gh]ein at one [gh]eres ende In a ful perillous place, Purgatorie it hatte. 45 And mysbede nou[gh]te þi bondemen, þe better may þow spede; Þowgh he be þyn vnderlynge here, wel may happe in heuene Þat he worth worthier sette and with more blisse: _Amice, ascende superius_. For in charnel atte chirche cherles ben yuel to knowe, 50 Or a kni[gh]te fram a knaue þere,--knowe þis in þin herte. And þat þow be trewe of þi tonge, and tales þat þow hatie, But if þei ben of wisdome or of witte, þi werkmen to chaste. Holde with none harlotes, ne here nou[gh]te her tales, And nameliche atte mete suche men eschue, 55 For it ben þe deueles disoures, I do þe to vnderstande.' 'I assente, bi Seynt Iame!' seyde þe kni[gh]te þanne, 'Forto worche bi þi wordes þe while my lyf dureth.' 'And I shal apparaille me,' quod Perkyn, 'in pilgrimes wise, And wende with [gh]ow I wil til we fynde Treuthe, 60 And cast on me my clothes, yclouted and hole, My cokeres and my coffes, for colde of my nailles, And hange myn hoper at myn hals, in stede of a scrippe, A busshel of bredcorne brynge me þerinne, For I wil sowe it myself; and sitthenes wil I wende 65 To pylgrymage, as palmers don, pardoun forto haue. Ac whoso helpeth me to erie or sowen here, ar I wende, Shal haue leue, bi owre Lorde, to lese here in heruest, And make hem mery þeremydde, maugré whoso bigruccheth it. And alkyn crafty men, þat konne lyuen in treuthe, 70 I shal fynden hem fode, þat feithfulliche libbeth.'... (Dame 'Worche-whan-tyme-is' Pieres wyf hi[gh]te; His dou[gh]ter hi[gh]te 'Do-ri[gh]te-so- or-þi-dame-shal-þe-bete'; His sone hi[gh]te 'Suffre-þi-souereynes- to-hauen-her-wille-, Deme-hem-nou[gh]te-, for-, if-þow-doste-, þow-shalt-it-dere-abugge.') 75 'Late God yworth with al, for so His worde techeth; For now I am olde and hore, and haue of myn owen, To penaunce and to pilgrimage I wil passe with þise other. Forþi I wil, or I wende, do wryte my biqueste. _In Dei nomine, amen_, I make it myseluen. 80 He shal haue my soule þat best hath yserued it, And fro þe fende it defende, for so I bileue, Til I come to His acountes, as my _Credo_ me telleth, To haue a relees and a remissioun on þat rental I leue. Þe kirke shal haue my caroigne and kepe my bones, 85 For of my corne and catel he craued þe tythe; I payed it hym prestly, for peril of my soule, Forthy is he holden, I hope, to haue me in his masse, And mengen in his memorye amonge alle Crystene. My wyf shal haue of þat I wan with treuthe, and nomore, 90 And dele amonge my dou[gh]tres and my dere children; For þowgh I deye todaye, my dettes ar quitte; I bare home þat I borwed, ar I to bedde [gh]ede. And with þe residue and þe remenaunte, bi þe rode of Lukes! I wil worschip þerwith Treuthe bi my lyue, 95 And ben his pilgryme atte plow, for pore mennes sake. My plow-fote shal be my pyk-staf, and picche atwo þe rotes, And helpe my culter to kerue, and clense þe forwes.' Now is Perkyn and his pilgrymes to þe plowe faren; To erie þis halue-acre holpyn hym manye. 100 Dikeres and delueres digged vp þe balkes; Þerewith was Perkyn apayed, and preysed hem faste. Other werkemen þere were þat wrou[gh]ten ful [gh]erne; Eche man in his manere made hymself to done, And some, to plese Perkyn, piked vp þe wedes. 105 At heighe pryme Peres lete þe plowe stonde, To ouersen hem hymself, and whoso best wrou[gh]te He shulde be huyred þerafter whan heruest-tyme come. And þanne seten somme and songen atte nale, And hulpen erie his half-acre with 'how! trollilolli!' 110 'Now, bi þe peril of my soule!' quod Pieres, al in pure tene, 'But [gh]e arise þe rather, and rape [gh]ow to worche, Shal no greyne þat groweth glade [gh]ow at nede; And þough [gh]e deye for dole, þe deuel haue þat reccheth!' Tho were faitoures aferde, and feyned hem blynde; 115 Somme leyde here legges aliri, as suche loseles conneth, And made her mone to Pieres, and preyde hym of grace: 'For we haue no lymes to laboure with, lorde, ygraced be [gh]e! Ac we preye for [gh]ow, Pieres, and for [gh]owre plow bothe, Þat God of His grace [gh]owre grayne multiplye, 120 And [gh]elde [gh]ow of [gh]owre almesse þat [gh]e [gh]iue vs here; For we may nou[gh]te swynke ne swete, suche sikenesse vs eyleth.' 'If it be soth,' quod Pieres, 'þat [gh]e seyne, I shal it sone asspye. [Gh]e ben wastoures, I wote wel, and Treuthe wote þe sothe, And I am his olde hyne, and hi[gh]te hym to warne 125 Which þei were in þis worlde his werkemen appeyred. [Gh]e wasten þat men wynnen with trauaille and with tene, Ac Treuthe shal teche [gh]ow his teme to dryue, Or [gh]e shal ete barly bred and of þe broke drynke. But if he be blynde, _or_ broke-legged, or bolted with yrnes, 130 He shal ete whete bred and drynke with myselue, Tyl God of his goodnesse amendement hym sende. Ac [gh]e my[gh]te trauaille as Treuthe wolde, and take mete and huyre To kepe kyne in þe felde, þe corne fro þe bestes, Diken, or deluen, or dyngen vppon sheues, 135 Or helpe make morter, or bere mukke afelde. In lecherye an in losengerye [gh]e lyuen, and in sleuthe, And al is þorw suffrance þat veniaunce [gh]ow ne taketh. Ac ancres and heremytes, þat eten but at nones, And namore er morwe, myne almesse shul þei haue, 140 And of my catel to cope hem with þat han cloistres and cherches. Ac Robert Renne-aboute shal nou[gh]e haue of myne, Ne posteles, but þey preche conne, and haue powere of þe bisschop; They shal haue payne and potage, and make hemself at ese, For it is an vnresonable religioun þat hath ri[gh]te nou[gh]te of certeyne.' 145 And þanne gan a Wastoure to wrath hym, and wolde haue yfou[gh]te, And to Pieres þe plowman he profered his gloue; A Brytonere, a braggere, abosted Pieres als:-- 'Wiltow or neltow, we wil haue owre wille Of þi flowre and of þi flessche, fecche whan vs liketh, 150 And make vs myrie þermyde, maugré þi chekes!' Thanne Pieres þe plowman pleyned hym to þe kny[gh]te, To kepe hym, as couenaunte was, fram cursed shrewes, And fro þis wastoures wolues-kynnes, þat maketh þe worlde dere: 'For þo waste, and wynnen nou[gh]te, and þat ilke while 155 Worth neuere plenté amonge þe poeple þerwhile my plow liggeth.' Curteisly þe kny[gh]te þanne, as his kynde wolde, Warned Wastoure, and wissed hym bettere, 'Or þow shalt abugge by þe lawe, by þe ordre þat I bere!' 'I was nou[gh]t wont to worche,' quod Wastour, 'and now wil I nou[gh]t bigynne', 160 And lete li[gh]te of þe lawe, and lasse of þe kny[gh]te, And sette Pieres at a pees, and his plow bothe, And manaced Pieres and his men [gh]if þei mette eftsone. 'Now, by þe peril of my soule!' quod Pieres, 'I shal apeyre [gh]ow alle!' And houped after Hunger, þat herd hym atte firste: 165 'Awreke me of þise wastoures,' quod he 'þat þis worlde schendeth!' Hunger in haste þo hent Wastour bi þe mawe, And wronge hym so bi þe wombe þat bothe his eyen wattered. He buffeted þe Britoner aboute þe chekes, Þat he loked like a lanterne al his lyf after. 170 He bette hem so bothe, he barste nere here guttes; Ne hadde Pieres with a pese-lof preyed Hunger to cesse, They hadde ben doluen bothe, ne deme þow non other. 'Suffre hem lyue,' he seyde 'and lete hem ete with hogges, Or elles benes and bren ybaken togideres, 175 Or elles melke and mene ale;' þus preyed Pieres for hem. Faitoures for fere herof flowen into bernes, And flapten on with flayles fram morwe til euen, That Hunger was nou[gh]t so hardy on hem for to loke, For a potful of peses þat Peres hadde ymaked. 180 An heep of heremites henten hem spades, And ketten here copes, and courtpies hem made, And wenten as werkemen with spades and with schoueles, And doluen and dykeden to dryue aweye Hunger. Blynde and bedreden were botened a þousande, 185 Þat seten to begge syluer; sone were þei heled. For þat was bake for Bayarde was bote for many hungry, And many a beggere for benes buxome was to swynke, And eche a pore man wel apayed to haue pesen for his huyre, And what Pieres preyed hem to do as prest as a sperhauke. 190 And þereof was Peres proude, and put hem to werke, And [gh]af hem mete as he my[gh]te aforth, and mesurable huyre. Þanne hadde Peres pité, and preyed Hunger to wende Home into his owne erde, and holden hym þere: 'For I am wel awroke now of wastoures, þorw þi my[gh]te. 195 Ac I preye þe, ar þow passe,' quod Pieres to Hunger, 'Of beggeres and of bidderes what best be done? For I wote wel, be þow went, þei wil worche ful ille; For myschief it maketh þei beth so meke nouthe, And for defaute of her fode þis folke is at my wille. 200 Þey are my blody bretheren,' quod Pieres, 'for God bou[gh]te vs alle; Treuthe tau[gh]te me ones to louye hem vchone, And to helpen hem of alle þinge ay as hem nedeth. And now wolde I witen of þe what were þe best, An how I my[gh]te amaistrien hem, and make hem to worche.' 205 'Here now,' quod Hunger 'and holde it for a wisdome: Bolde beggeres and bigge, þat mowe her bred biswynke, With houndes bred and hors bred holde vp her hertis, Abate hem with benes for bollyng of her wombe; And [gh]if þe gomes grucche, bidde hem go swynke, 210 And he shal soupe swettere whan he it hath deseruid. And if þow fynde any freke, þat fortune hath appeyred Or any maner fals men, fonde þow suche to cnowe; Conforte hym with þi catel, for Crystes loue of heuene; Loue hem and lene hem, so lawe of God techeth:-- 215 _Alter alterius onera portate_. And alle maner of men þat þow my[gh]te asspye That nedy ben and nau[gh]ty, helpe hem with þi godis; Loue hem, and lakke hem nou[gh]te; late God take þe veniaunce; Theigh þei done yuel, late þow God aworthe:-- 220 _Michi vindictam, et ego retribuam_. And if þow wil be graciouse to God, do as þe Gospel techeth, And bilow þe amonges low men; so shaltow lacche grace:-- _Facite vobis amicos de mamona iniquitatis_.' 'I wolde nou[gh]t greue God,' quod Piers, 'for al þe good on grounde; 225 Mi[gh]te I synnelees do as þow seist?' seyde Pieres þanne. '[Gh]e, I bihote þe,' quod Hunger, 'or ellis þe Bible lieth; Go to Genesis þe gyaunt, þe engendroure of vs alle:-- "_In sudore_ and swynke þow shalt þi mete tilye, And laboure for þi lyflode," and so owre Lorde hy[gh]te. 230 And Sapience seyth þe same, I seigh it in þe Bible:-- "_Piger pro frigore_ no felde nolde tilye, And þerfore he shal begge and bidde, and no man bete his hunger." Mathew with mannes face mouthed þise wordis:-- Þat _seruus nequam_ had a nam, and for he wolde nou[gh]te chaffare, 235 He had maugré of his maistre for euermore after, And binam his mnam, for he ne wolde worche, And [gh]af þat mnam to hym þat ten mnames hadde; And with þat he seyde, þat Holi Cherche it herde, "He þat hath shal haue, and helpe þere it nedeth, 240 And he þat nou[gh]t hath shal nou[gh]t haue, and no man hym helpe; And þat he weneth wel to haue, I wil it hym bireue." Kynde Witt wolde þat eche a wyght wrou[gh]te, Or in dykynge, or in deluynge, or trauaillynge in preyeres, Contemplatyf lyf or actyf lyf, Cryst wolde men wrou[gh]te. 245 Þe Sauter seyth in þe psalme of _Beati omnes_, Þe freke þat fedeth hymself with his feythful laboure, He is blessed by þe boke, in body and in soule:-- _Labores manuum tuarum, etc._' '[Gh]et I prey [gh]ow,' quod Pieres, '_par charité!_ and [gh]e kunne 250 Eny leef of lechecraft, lere it me, my dere. For somme of my seruaunt[gh], and myself bothe, Of al a wyke worche nou[gh]t, so owre wombe aketh.' 'I wote wel,' quod Hunger, 'what sykenesse [gh]ow eyleth; [Gh]e han maunged ouermoche, and þat maketh [gh]ow grone. 255 Ac I hote þe,' quod Hunger, 'as þow þyne hele wilnest, That þow drynke no day ar þow dyne somwhat. Ete nou[gh]te, I hote þe, ar hunger þe take, And sende þe of his sauce to sauoure with þi lippes; And kepe some tyl sopertyme, and sitte nou[gh]t to longe; 260 Arise vp ar appetit haue eten his fulle. Lat nou[gh]t Sire Surfait sitten at þi borde.... And [gh]if þow diete þe þus, I dar legge myne eres Þat Phisik shal his furred hodes for his fode selle, And his cloke of Calabre, with alle þe knappes of golde, 265 And be fayne, bi my feith, his phisik to lete, And lerne to laboure with londe, for lyflode is swete; For morthereres aren mony leches, Lorde hem amende! Þei do men deye þorw here drynkes, ar Destiné it wolde.' 'By Seynt Poule!' quod Pieres, 'þise aren profitable wordis. 270 Wende now, Hunger, whan þow wolt, þat wel be þow euere, For this is a louely lessoun; Lorde it þe for[gh]elde!' 'Byhote God,' quod Hunger, 'hennes ne wil I wende, Til I haue dyned bi þis day, and ydronke bothe.' 'I haue no peny,' quod Peres 'poletes forto bigge, 275 Ne neyther gees ne grys, but two grene cheses, A fewe cruddes and creem, and an hauer-cake, And two loues of benes and bran ybake for my fauntis; And [gh]et I sey, by my soule, I haue no salt bacoun Ne no kokeney, bi Cryst, coloppes forto maken. 280 Ac I haue percil, and porettes, and many koleplantes, And eke a cow and a kalf, and a cart-mare To drawe afelde my donge þe while þe drought lasteth. And bi þis lyflode we mot lyue til Lammasse tyme; And bi þat I hope to haue heruest in my croft, 285 And þanne may I di[gh]te þi dyner as me dere liketh.' Alle þe pore peple þo pesecoddes fetten, Benes and baken apples þei brou[gh]te in her lappes, Chibolles and cheruelles and ripe chiries manye, And profred Peres þis present to plese with Hunger. 290 Al Hunger eet in hast, and axed after more. Þanne pore folke for fere fedde Hunger [gh]erne With grene poret and pesen--to poysoun Hunger þei þou[gh]te. By þat it neighed nere heruest, newe corne cam to chepynge; Þanne was folke fayne, and fedde Hunger with þe best, 295 With good ale, as Glotoun tau[gh]te, and gerte Hunger go slepe. And þo wolde Wastour nou[gh]t werche, but wandren aboute, Ne no begger ete bred that benes inne were, But of coket, or clerematyn, or elles of clene whete, Ne none halpeny ale in none wise drynke, 300 But of þe best and of þe brounest þat in borgh is to selle. Laboreres þat haue no lande to lyue on but her handes, Deyned nou[gh]t to dyne aday ny[gh]t-olde wortes; May no peny-ale hem paye, ne no pece of bakoun, But if it be fresch flesch, other fische, fryed other bake, 305 And that _chaude_ or _plus chaud_, for chillyng of here mawe. And but if he be heighlich huyred, ellis wil he chyde, And þat he was werkman wrou[gh]t waille þe tyme; A[gh]eines Catones conseille comseth he to iangle:-- _Paupertatis onus pacienter ferre memento_. 310 He greueth hym a[gh]eines God, and gruccheth a[gh]eines resoun, And þanne curseth he þe kynge, and al his conseille after, Suche lawes to loke, laboreres to greue. Ac whiles Hunger was her maister, þere wolde none of hem chyde, Ne stryue a[gh]eines his statut, so sterneliche he loked. 315 Ac I warne [gh]ow, werkemen, wynneth while [gh]e mowe, For Hunger hide ward hasteth hym faste, He shal awake with water wastoures to chaste. Ar fyue <[gh]ere> be fulfilled suche famyn shal aryse, Thorwgh flodes and þourgh foule wederes frutes shul faille; 320 And so sayde Saturne, and sent [gh]ow to warne: Whan [gh]e se þe sonne amys, and two monkes hedes, And a mayde haue þe maistrie, and multiplied bi eight, Þanne shal Deth withdrawe, and Derthe be Iustice, And Dawe þe Dyker deye for hunger, 325 But if God of his goodnesse graunt vs a trewe. [Foot-note: 6 wolde] wil _MS._] [Foot-note: 130 or] and _MS._] B. FROM THE C-TEXT, PASSUS VI, ll. 1-104. MS. Phillips 8231 (about 1400). Thus ich awaked, wot God, wanne ich wonede on Cornehulle, Kytte and ich in a cote, cloþed as a lollere, And lytel _ylete_ by, leyue me for soþe, Among lollares of London and lewede heremytes; For ich made of þo men as Reson me tauhte. 5 For as ich cam by Conscience, wit Reson ich mette, In an hote heruest, wenne ich hadde myn hele, And lymes to labore with, and louede wel fare, And no dede to do bote drynke and to slepe: In hele and in vnité on me aposede, 10 Romynge in remembraunce, thus Reson me aratede:-- 'Canstow seruen,' he seide, 'oþer syngen in a churche, Oþer coke for my cokers, oþer to þe cart picche, Mowe, oþer mowen, oþer make bond to sheues, Repe, oþer be a repereyue, and aryse erliche, 15 Oþer haue an horne and be haywarde, and liggen oute a nyghtes, And kepe my corn in my croft fro pykers and þeeues? Oþer shappe shon oþer cloþes, oþer shep oþer kyn kepe, eggen oþer harwen, oþer swyn oþer gees dryue, Oþer eny kyns craft þat to þe comune nudeþ, 20 Hem þat bedreden be bylyue to fynde?' 'Certes,' ich seyde, 'and so me God helpe, Ich am to waik to worche with sykel oþer with sythe, And to long, leyf me, lowe for to stoupe, To worchen as a workeman eny wyle to dure.' 25 'Thenne hauest þow londes to lyue by,' quath Reson, 'oþer lynage riche That fynden þe þy fode? For an hydel man þow semest, A spendour þat spende mot, oþer a spille-tyme, Oþer beggest þy bylyue aboute ate menne hacches, Oþer faitest vpon Frydays oþer feste-dayes in churches, 30 The wiche is lollarene lyf, þat lytel ys preysed Þer Ryghtfulnesse rewardeþ ryght as men deserueþ:-- _Reddit unicuique iuxta opera sua_. Oþer þow ert broke, so may be, in body oþer in membre, Oþer ymaymed þorw som myshap werby þow my[gh]t be excused?' 35 'Wanne ich [gh]ong was,' quath ich, 'meny [gh]er hennes, My fader and my frendes founden me to scole, Tyl ich wiste wyterliche wat Holy Wryt menede, And wat is best for þe body, as þe Bok telleþ, And sykerest for þe soule, by so ich wolle continue. 40 And [gh]ut fond ich neuere, in faith, sytthen my frendes deyden, Lyf þat me lyked, bote in þes longe clothes. Hyf ich by laboure sholde lyue and lyflode deseruen, That labour þat ich lerned best þer_with_ lyue ich sholde:-- _In eadem uocatione qua uocati estis_. 45 And ich lyue in Londene and on Londen bothe; The lomes þat ich laboure with and lyflode deserue Ys _Paternoster_, and my Prymer, _Placebo_ and _Dirige_, And my Sauter som tyme, and my Seuene Psalmes. Thus ich synge for hure soules of suche as me helpen, 50 And þo þat fynden me my fode vochen saf, ich trowe, To be wolcome wanne ich come oþerwyle in a monthe, Now with hym and now with hure; and þusgate ich begge Withoute bagge oþer botel bote my wombe one. And also, moreouer, me þynkeþ, syre Reson, 55 Men sholde constreyne no clerke to knauene werkes; For by lawe of _Leuitici_, þat oure Lord ordeynede, Clerkes þat aren crouned, of kynde vnderstondyng, Sholde noþer swynke, ne swete, ne swere at enquestes, Ne fyghte in no vauntwarde, ne hus fo greue:-- 60 _Non reddas malum pro malo_. For it ben aires of heuene alle þat ben crounede, And in queer in churches Cristes owene mynestres:-- _Dominus pars hereditatis mee_; & alibi: _Clementia non constringit_. Hit bycomeþ for clerkus Crist for to seruen, 65 And knaues vncrouned to cart and to worche. For shold no clerk be crouned bote yf he ycome were Of franklens and free men, and of folke yweddede. Bondmen and bastardes and beggers children, Thuse bylongeþ to labour, and lordes children sholde seruen, 70 Bothe God and good men, as here degree askeþ; Some to synge masses, oþer sitten and wryte, Rede and receyue þat Reson ouhte spende; And sith bondemenne barnes han be mad bisshopes, And barnes bastardes han ben archidekenes, 75 And sopers and here sones for seluer han be knyghtes, And lordene sones here laborers, and leid here rentes to wedde, For þe ryght of þes reame ryden a[gh]ens oure enemys, In confort of þe comune and þe kynges worshep, And monkes and moniales, þat mendinauns sholden fynde, 80 Han mad here kyn knyghtes, and knyghtfees purchase , Popes and patrones poure gentil blod refuseþ, And taken Symondes sone seyntewarie to kepe. Lyf-holynesse and loue han ben longe hennes, And wole, til hit be wered out, or oþerwise ychaunged. 85 Forþy rebuke me ryght nouht, Reson, ich [gh]ow praye; For in my conscience ich knowe what Crist wolde þat ich wrouhte. Preyers of parfyt man and penaunce discret Ys þe leueste labour þat oure Lord pleseþ. _Non de solo_,' ich seide, 'for soþe _uiuit homo, 90 Nec in pane et pabulo_, þe _Paternoster_ witnesseþ: _Fiat uoluntas tua_ fynt ous alle þynges.' Quath Conscience, 'By Crist! ich can nat see this lyeþ; Ac it semeth nouht parfytnesse in cytees for to begge, Bote he be obediencer to pryour oþer to mynstre.' 95 'That ys soth,' ich seide 'and so ich byknowe That ich haue tynt tyme, and tyme mysspended; And [gh]ut, ich hope, as he þat ofte haueþ chaffared, Þat ay hath lost and lost, and at þe laste hym happed He bouhte suche a bargayn he was þe bet euere, 100 And sette hus lost at a lef at þe laste ende, Suche a wynnynge hym warth þorw wyrdes of hus grace:-- _Simile est regnum celorum thesauro abscondito in agro, et cetera_; _Mulier que inuenit dragmam, et cetera_; So hope ich to haue of Hym þat his almyghty 105 A gobet of Hus grace, and bygynne a tyme Þat alle tymes of my tyme to profit shal turne.' 'Ich rede þe,' quath Reson þo 'rape þe to bygynne Þe lyf þat ys lowable and leel to þe soule'-- '[Gh]e, and continue,' quath Conscience; and to þe churche ich wente. 110 [Foot-note: 3 And a lytel ich let by _MS._] [Foot-note: 19 Heggen] Eggen _MS._] [Foot-note: 44 þerwith] þerhwit _MS._] [Foot-note: 62 alle] and alle _MS._] [Foot-note: 63 in churches] and in kirkes _Ilchester MS._] [Foot-note: 92 tua] tuas _MS._] [Foot-note: 99 laste] latiste _MS._] IX MANDEVILLE'S TRAVELS _Mandeville's Travels_ were originally written in French, perhaps in 1356 or 1357. Their popularity was immediate, and Latin and English translations soon appeared. The English texts published show three forms. The first, imperfect, is the text of the early prints. The second, from Cotton MS. Titus C xvi (about 1400-25), was first printed in 1725, and is followed in the editions by Halliwell, 1839 and 1866, and by Hamelius, 1919. The third, from Egerton MS. 1982 (about 1400-25), has been edited for the Roxburghe Club by G. F. Warner, with the French text, and an excellent apparatus. Our selections follow the Cotton MS. The _Travels_ fall into two parts: (i) a description of the routes to the Holy Land, and an account of the Holy Places; (ii) a narrative of travel in the more distant parts of Asia. Throughout the author poses as an eyewitness. But in fact the book is a compilation, made without much regard to time or place. For the first part William de Boldensele, who wrote in 1336 an account of a visit to the Holy Land, is the main source. The second part follows the description of an Eastern voyage written by Friar Odoric of Pordenone in 1330. Other materials from the mediaeval encyclopaedists are woven in, and there is so little trace of original observation that it is doubtful whether the author travelled far beyond his library. In the preface he claims to be Sir John Mandeville, an Englishman born at St. Albans. The people of St. Albans were driven to desperate shifts to explain the absence of his tomb from their abbey; but until 1798 it was actually to be seen at the church of the Guillemins, Liège, with this inscription: 'Hic iacet vir nobilis Dom Ioannes de Mandeville, alias dictus ad Barbam, Miles, Dominus de Campdi, natus de Anglia, medicinae professor, devotissimus orator, et bonorum suorum largissimus pauperibus erogator, qui, toto quasi orbe lustrato, Leodii diem vitae suae clausit extremum A.D. MCCCLXXII, mensis Nov. die xvii.' A Liège chronicler, Jean d'Outremeuse (d. 1399), who claims the invidious position of his confidant and literary executor, gives further details: Mandeville was 'chevalier de Montfort en Angleterre'; he was obliged to leave England because he had slain a nobleman; he came to Liège in 1343; and was content to be known as 'Jean de Bourgogne dit à la Barbe'. Now Jean de Bourgogne, with whom Sir John Mandeville is identified by d'Outremeuse, is known as the writer of a tract on the Plague, written at Liège in 1365. Further, the Latin text of the _Travels_ mentions that the author met at Liège a certain 'Johannes ad Barbam', recognized him as a former physician at the court of the Sultan of Egypt, and took his advice and help in the writing of the _Travels_. Again, in 1322, the year in which Sir John Mandeville claims to have left England, a Johan de Burgoyne was given good reason to flee the country, because a pardon, granted to him the previous year for his actions against the Despensers, was then withdrawn. Curiously enough, a John Mandeville was also of the party opposed to the Despensers. Nothing has come of the attempts to attach the clues--St. Albans, Montfort, Campdi, the arms on the tomb at Liège--to the English family of Mandeville. It seems likely that 'Sir John Mandeville' was an alias adopted by Jean de Bourgogne, unless both names cover Jean d'Outremeuse. The Epilogue to the Cotton version shows how early the plausible fictions of the text had infected the history of its composition. It is clear that the English versions do not come from the hand of the writer of the _Travels_, who could not have been guilty of such absurdities as the translation of _montaignes_ by 'þe hille of Aygnes' in the Cotton MS. But whoever the author was, he shows a courtesy and modesty worthy of a knight, begging those with more recent experience to correct the lapses of his memory, and remembering always the interests of later travellers, who might wish to glean some marvels still untold. He might well have pleaded in the fourteenth century that the time had not come when prose fiction could afford to throw off the disguise of truth. [THE VOIAGE AND TRAVAILE OF SIR IOHN MAUNDEVILE, KT.] British Museum MS. Cotton Titus C xvi (about 1400-25). From chap. xiv (xviii), f. 65 b. Ethiope is departed in two princypall parties; and þat is in the Est partie, and in the Meridionall partie, the whiche partie meridionall is clept Moretane. And the folk of þat contree ben blake ynow, and more blake þan in the toþer partie; and þei ben clept Mowres. In þat partie is a well, {5} þat in the day it is so cold þat no man may drynke þereoffe; and in the nyght it is so hoot þat no man may suffre hys hond þerein. And be[gh]onde þat partie, toward the South, to passe by the See Occean, is a gret lond and a gret contrey. But men may not duell þere, for the feruent brennynge of the {10} sonne, so is it passynge hoot in þat contrey. In Ethiope all the ryueres and all the watres ben trouble, and þei ben somdell salte, for the gret hete þat is þere. And the folk of þat contree ben lyghtly dronken, and han but litill appetyt to mete.... {15} In Ethiope ben many dyuerse folk, and Ethiope is clept 'Cusis.' In þat contree ben folk þat han but o foot; and þei gon so blyue þat it is meruaylle; and the foot is so large þat it schadeweth all the body a[gh]en the sonne, whanne þei wole lye and reste hem. {20} In Ethiope, whan the children ben [gh]onge and lytill, þei ben all [gh]alowe; and whan þat þei wexen of age, þat [gh]alownesse turneth to ben all blak. In Ethiope is the cytee of Saba, and the lond of the whiche on of the þre Kynges, þat presented oure Lord in Bethleem, was kyng offe. {25} Fro Ethiope men gon into Ynde be manye dyuerse contreyes. And men clepen the high Ynde 'Emlak'. And Ynde is devyded in þre princypall parties; þat is: the more, þat is a full hoot contree; and Ynde the lesse, þat is a full atempree contrey, þat streccheth to the lond of Medé; and the þridde {30} part, toward the Septentrion, is full cold, so þat for pure cold and contynuell frost the water becometh cristall. And vpon tho roches of cristall growen the gode dyamandes, þat ben of trouble colour. [Gh]alow cristall draweth colour lyke oylle. And þei ben so harde þat no man may pollysch {35} hem; and men clepen hem 'dyamandes' in þat contree, and 'hamese' in anoþer contree. Othere dyamandes men fynden in Arabye, þat ben not so gode; and þei ben more broun and more tendre. And oþer dyamandes also men fynden in the Ile of Cipre, þat ben [gh]it more tendre; and hem men may wel {40} pollische. And in the lond of Macedoyne men fynden dyamaundes also. But the beste and the moste precyiouse ben in Ynde. And men fynden many tyme harde dyamandes in a masse, þat cometh out of gold, whan men puren it and fynen it out {45} of the myne, whan men breken þat masse in smale peces. And sum tyme it happeneth þat men fynden summe as grete as a pese, and summe lasse; and þei ben als harde as þo of Ynde. And all be it þat men fynden gode dyamandes in Ynde, {50} [gh]it natheles men fynden hem more comounly vpon the roches in the see, and vpon hilles where the myne of gold is. And þei growen many togedre, on lytill, another gret. And þer ben summe of the gretnesse of a bene, and summe als grete as an hasell-note. And þei ben square and poynted of here owne {55} kynde, boþe abouen and benethen, withouten worchinge of mannes hond. And þei growen togedre, male and femele. And þei ben norysscht with the dew of heuene. And þei engendren comounly, and bryngen forth smale children, þat multiplyen {60} and growen all the [gh]eer. I haue often tymes assayed þat [gh]if a man kepe hem with a lityll of the roche, and wete hem with May dew oftesithes, þei schull growe eueryche [gh]eer; and the smale wole wexen grete. For right as the fyn perl congeleth and wexeth gret of the dew of heuene, right so doth the verray {65} dyamand; and right as the perl, of his owne kynde, taketh roundnesse, right so the dyamand, be vertu of God, taketh squarenesse. And men schall bere the dyamaund on his left syde; for it is of grettere vertue þanne, þan on the right syde. For the {70} strengthe of here growynge is toward the North, þat is the left syde of the world, and the left partie of man is, whan he turneth his face toward the Est. And [gh]if [gh]ou lyke to knowe the vertues of þe dyamand, as men may fynden in þe Lapidarye, þat many men knowen {75} noght, I schall telle [gh]ou, as þei be[gh]onde the see seyn and affermen, of whom all science and all philosophie cometh from. He þat bereth the dyamand vpon him, it [gh]eueth him hardynesse and manhode, and it kepeth the lemes of his body hole. {80} It [gh]eueth him victorye of his enemyes, in plee and in werre, [gh]if his cause be rightfull; and it kepeth him þat bereth it in gode wytt; and it kepeth him fro strif and ryot, fro euyll sweuenes, from sorwes, and from enchauntementes, and from fantasyes and illusiouns of wykked spirites. And [gh]if ony cursed wycche {85} or enchauntour wolde bewycche him þat bereth the dyamand, all þat sorwe and myschance schall turne to himself, þorgh vertue of þat ston. And also no wylde best dar assaylle the man þat bereth it on him. Also the dyamand scholde ben [gh]ouen frely, withouten coueytynge, and withouten byggynge; {90} and þan it is of grettere vertue. And it maketh a man more strong and more sad a[gh]enst his enemyes. And it heleth him þat is lunatyk, and hem þat the fend pursueth or trauayleth. And [gh]if venym or poysoun be brought in presence of the dyamand, anon it begynneth to wexe moyst, and for to {95} swete. Þere ben also dyamandes in Ynde þat ben clept 'violastres',--for here colour is liche vyolet, or more browne þan the violettes,--þat ben full harde and full precyous. But [gh]it sum men loue not hem so wel as the oþere. But in soth to {100} me, I wolde louen hem als moche as þe oþere; for I haue seen hem assayed. Also þere is anoþer maner of dyamandes þat ben als white as cristall, but þei ben a lityll more trouble; and þei ben gode and of gret vertue, and all þei ben square and poynted of here owne kynde. And summe {105} ben six squared, summe four squared, and summe þre, as nature schapeth hem. And þerfore whan grete lordes and knyghtes gon to seche worschipe in armes, þei beren gladly the dyamaund vpon hem. I schal speke a litill more of the dyamandes, allþough {110} I tarye my matere for a tyme, to þat ende þat þei þat knowen hem not be not disceyued be gabberes þat gon be the contree, þat sellen hem. For whoso wil bye the dyamand, it is nedefull to him þat he knowe hem, because þat men counterfeten hem often of cristall þat is [gh]alow; and of saphires of cytryne {115} colour, þat is [gh]alow also; and of the saphire loupe; and of many oþer stones. But, I tell [gh]ou, theise contrefetes ben not so harde; and also the poyntes wil breken lightly; and men may esily pollissche hem. But summe werkmen, for malice, wil not pollische hem, to þat entent to maken men beleue þat þei may {120} not ben pollisscht. But men may assaye hem in this manere: First schere with hem, or write with hem, in saphires, in cristall, or in oþer precious stones. After þat men taken the ademand, þat is the schipmannes ston, þat draweth the nedle to him, and men leyn the dyamand vpon the ademand, and leyn the nedle {125} before the ademand; and [gh]if the dyamand be gode and vertuous, the ademand draweth not the nedle to him, whils the dyamand is þere present. And this is the preef þat þei be[gh]onde the see maken. Natheles it befalleth often tyme þat the gode dyamand leseth his vertue, be synne and for incontynence of him þat {130} bereth it. And þanne is it nedfull to make it to recoueren his vertue a[gh]en, or ell it is of litill value. Chap. xxvi (xxx), f. 112 a. Now schall I seye [gh]ou sewyngly of contrees and yles þat ben be[gh]onde the contrees þat I haue spoken of. Wherfore {135} I seye [gh]ou, in passynge be the lond of Cathaye toward the high Ynde, and toward Bacharye, men passen be a kyngdom þat men clepen 'Caldilhe', þat is a full fair contré. And þere groweth a maner of fruyt, as þough it weren gowrdes; and whan þei ben rype, men kutten hem ato, and men fynden {140} withinne a lytyll best, in flesch, in bon, and blode as þough it were a lytill lomb, withouten wolle. And men eten bothe the frut and the best: and þat is a gret merueylle. Of þat frute I haue eten, allþough it were wondirfull: but þat I knowe wel, þat God is merueyllous in his werkes. And natheles I tolde {145} hem of als gret a merueyle to hem, þat is amonges vs: and þat was of the Bernakes. For I tolde hem þat in oure contree weren trees þat baren a fruyt þat becomen briddes fleeynge; and þo þat fellen in the water lyuen; and þei þat fallen on the erthe dyen anon; and þei ben right gode to mannes mete. And hereof {150} had þei als gret meruaylle þat summe of hem trowed it were an inpossible thing to be. In þat contré ben longe apples of gode sauour, whereof ben mo þan an hundred in a clustre, and als manye in another: and þei han grete longe leves and large, of two fote long or more. And in þat contree, and in {155} oþer contrees þere abouten, growen many trees, þat beren clowe gylofres, and notemuges, and grete notes of Ynde, and of canell, and of many oþer spices. And þere ben vynes þat beren so grete grapes þat a strong man scholde haue ynow to done for to bere o clustre with all the grapes. In {160} þat same regioun ben the mountaynes of Caspye þat men clepen 'Vber' in the contree. Betwene þo mountaynes the Iewes of ten lynages ben enclosed, þat men clepen Goth and Magoth; and þei mowe not gon out on no syde. Þere weren enclosed twenty two kynges with hire peple, þat dwelleden {165} betwene the mountaynes of Sy_t_hye. Þere Kyng Alisandre chacede hem betwene þo mountaynes; and þere he thoughte for to enclose hem þorgh werk of his men. But whan he saugh þat he myghte not don it, ne bryng it to an ende, he preyed to God of Nature þat He wolde parforme þat þat he {170} had begonne. And all were it so þat he was a payneme, and not worthi to ben herd, [gh]it God of His grace closed the mountaynes togydre; so þat þei dwellen þere, all faste ylokked and enclosed with high mountaynes alle aboute, saf only on o syde; and on þat syde is the See of Caspye. Now {175} may sum men asken: sith þat the see is on þat o syde, wherfore go þei not out on the see syde, for to go where þat hem lyketh? But to this questioun I schal answere: þat See of Caspye goth out be londe, vnder the mountaynes, and renneth be the desert at o syde of the contree; and after it streccheth vnto the endes {180} of Persie. And allþough it be clept a see, it is no see, ne it toucheth to non oþer see; but it is a lake, the grettest of the world. And þough þei wolden putten hem into þat see, þei ne wysten neuer where þat þei scholde arryuen. And also þei conen no langage but only hire owne, þat no man {185} knoweth but þei: and þerfore mowe þei not gon out. And also [gh]ee schull vnderstonde þat the Iewes han no propre lond of hire owne, for to dwellen inne, in all the world, but only þat lond betwene the mountaynes. And [gh]it þei [gh]elden tribute for þat lond to the queen of Amazoine, the whiche þat {190} maketh hem to ben kept in cloos full diligently, þat þei schull not gon out on no syde, but be the cost of hire lond. For hire lond marcheth to þo mountaynes. And often it hath befallen þat summe of þe Iewes han gon vp the mountaynes, and avaled down to the valeyes: but gret nombre of folk ne {195} may not do so. For the mountaynes ben so hye, and so streght vp, þat þei moste abyde þere, maugree hire myght. For þei mowe not gon out, but be a litill issue þat was made be strengthe of men; and it lasteth wel a four grete myle. And after is þere [gh]it a lond all desert, where men {200} may fynde no water, ne for dyggynge, ne for non other þing: wherfore men may not dwellen in þat place. So is it full of dragounes, of serpentes, and of oþer venymous bestes, þat no man dar not passe, but [gh]if it be be strong wynter. And þat streyt passage men clepen in þat contree 'Clyron'. And þat {205} is the passage þat the Queen of Amazoine maketh to ben kept. And þogh it happene sum of hem, be fortune, to gon out, þei conen no maner of langage but Ebrew, so þat þei can not speke to the peple. And [gh]it natheles, men seyn þei schull gon out in the tyme of Antecrist, and þat þei schull maken {210} gret slaughter of Cristene men. And þerfore all the Iewes þat dwellen in all londes lernen allweys to speken Ebrew, in hope þat whan the oþer Iewes schull gon out, þat þei may vnderstonden hire speche, and to leden hem into Cristendom, for to destroye the Cristene peple. For the Iewes seyn þat {215} þei knowen wel be hire prophecyes þat þei of Caspye schull gon out and spreden þorghout all the world; and þat the Cristene men schull ben vnder hire subieccioun als longe as þei han ben in subieccioun of hem. And [gh]if þat [gh]ee wil wyte how þat þei schull fynden hire weye, after þat I haue herd {220} seye, I schall tell [gh]ou. In the tyme of Antecrist, a fox schall make þere his [+]trayne[+], and mynen an hole, where Kyng Alisandre leet make the [gh]ates: and so longe he schall mynen and percen the erthe, til þat he schall passe þorgh towardes þat folk. And whan þei seen the fox, they schull {225} haue gret merueylle of him, because þat þei saugh neuer such a best. For of all oþere bestes þei han enclosed amonges hem, saf only the fox. And þanne þei schulle chacen him and pursuen him so streyte, till þat he come to the same place þat he cam fro. And þanne þei schulle {230} dyggen and mynen so strongly, till þat þei fynden the [gh]ates þat King Alisandre leet make of grete stones and passynge huge, wel symented and made stronge for the maystrie. And þo [gh]ates þei schull breken, and so gon out, be fyndynge of þat issue. {235} Fro þat lond gon men toward the lond of Bacharie, where ben full yuele folk and full cruell. In þat lond ben trees þat beren wolle, as þogh it were of scheep; whereof men maken clothes, and all þing þat may ben made of wolle. In þat contree ben many ipotaynes, þat dwellen som tyme in the {240} water, and somtyme on the lond: and þei ben half man and half hors, as I haue seyd before; and þei eten men, whan þei may take hem. And þere ben ryueres and watres þat ben fulle byttere, þree sithes more þan is the water of the see. In þat contré ben many griffounes, more plentee þan in ony {245} other contree. Sum men seyn þat þei han the body vpward as an egle, and benethe as a lyoun: and treuly þei seyn soth þat þei ben of þat schapp. But o griffoun hath the body more gret, and is more strong, þanne eight lyouns, of suche lyouns as ben o this half; and more gret and strongere þan an {250} hundred egles, suche as we han amonges vs. For o griffoun þere wil bere fleynge to his nest a gret hors, [gh]if he may fynde him at the poynt, or two oxen [gh]oked togidere, as þei gon at the plowgh. For he hath his talouns so longe and so large and grete vpon his feet, as þough þei weren hornes of grete oxen, or of {255} bugles, or of ky[gh]n; so þat men maken cuppes of hem, to drynken of. And of hire ribbes, and of the pennes of hire wenges, men maken bowes full stronge, to schote with arwes and quarell. From þens gon men be many iourneyes þorgh the lond of Prestre Iohn, the grete emperour of Ynde. And men clepen {260} his roialme the Yle of Pentexoire. EPILOGUE. Þere ben manye oþer dyuerse contrees and many oþer merueyles be[gh]onde, þat I haue not seen: wherfore of hem I can not speke propurly, to tell [gh]ou the manere of hem. And also in the contrees where I haue ben, ben manye {265} mo dyuersitees of many wondirfull thinges þanne I make mencioun of, for it were to longe thing to deuyse [gh]ou the manere. And þerfore þat þat I haue deuysed [gh]ou of certeyn contrees, þat I haue spoken of before, I beseche [gh]oure worthi and excellent noblesse þat i_t_ suffise to [gh]ou at this tyme. For {270} [gh]if þat I deuysed [gh]ou all þat is be[gh]onde the see, another man peraunter, þat wolde peynen him and trauaylle his body for to go into þo marches for to encerche þo contrees, myghte ben blamed be my wordes, in rehercynge manye straunge thinges; for he myghte not seye no thing of newe, in the {275} whiche the hereres myghten hauen ouþer solace or desport or lust or lykyng in the herynge. For men seyn allweys þat newe thinges and newe tydynges ben plesant to here. Wherfore I wole holde me stille, withouten ony more rehercyng of dyuersitee[gh] or of meruaylles þat ben be[gh]onde, to þat entent {280} and ende þat whoso wil gon into þo contrees, he schall fynde ynowe to speke of, þat I haue not touched of in no wyse. And [gh]ee schull vndirstonde, [gh]if it lyke [gh]ou, þat at myn hom comynge I cam to Rome, and schewed my lif to oure {285} holy fadir the Pope, and was assoylled of all þat lay in my conscience, of many a dyuerse gr_e_uous poynt, as men mosten nedes þat ben in company, dwellyng amonges so many a dyuerse folk of dyuerse secte and of beleeve, as I haue ben. And amonges all, I schewed hym this tretys, þat I had made {290} after informacioun of men þat knewen of thinges þat I had not seen myself; and also of merueyles and customes þat I hadde seen myself, as fer as God wolde [gh]eue me grace: and besoughte his holy fadirhode þat my boke myghte ben examyned and corrected be avys of his wyse and discreet {295} conseill. And oure holy fader, of his special grace, remytted my boke to ben examyned and preued be the avys of his seyd conseill. Be the whiche my boke was preeued for trewe; in so moche þat þei schewed me a boke, þat my boke was examynde by, þat comprehended full moche more be an {300} hundred part; be the whiche the _Mappa Mundi_ was made after. And so my boke (all be it þat many men ne list not to [gh]eue credence to no þing, but to þat þat þei seen with hire eye, ne be the auctour ne the persone neuer so trewe) is affermed and preued be oure holy fader, in maner and forme {305} as I haue seyd. And I Iohn Maundevyll knyght aboueseyd, (allþough I be vnworthi) þat departed from oure contrees and passed the see the [gh]eer of grace 1322, þat haue passed many londes and manye yles and contrees, and cerched manye full {310} strange places, and haue ben in many a full gode honourable companye, and at many a faire dede of armes, all be it þat I dide none myself, for myn vnable insuffisance; and now I am comen hom, mawgree myself, to reste, for gowtes artetykes þat me distreynen, þat diffynen the ende of my labour, a[gh]enst {315} my will, God knoweth. And þus takynge solace in my wrechched reste, recordynge the tyme passed, I haue fulfilled þeise thinges and putte hem wryten in this boke, as it wolde come into my mynde, the [gh]eer of grace 1356 in the 34th [gh]eer þat I departede from oure contrees. Wherfore I preye to all {320} the rederes and hereres of this boke, [gh]if it plese hem, þat þei wolde preyen to God for me, and I schall preye for hem. And alle þo þat seyn for me a _Paternoster_, with an _Aue Maria_, þat God for[gh]eue me my synnes, I make hem parteneres and graunte hem part of all the gode pilgrymages, {325} and of all the gode dedes þat I haue don, [gh]if ony ben to his plesance; and noght only of þo, but of all þat euere I schall do vnto my lyfes ende. And I beseche Almyghty God, fro whom all godenesse and grace cometh fro, þat He vouchesaf of His excellent mercy and habundant grace to {330} fullfylle hire soules with inspiracioun of the Holy Gost, in makynge defence of all hire gostly enemyes here in erthe, to hire saluacioun, bothe of body and soule; to worschipe and thankynge of Him þat is þree and on, withouten begynnynge and withouten endyng; þat is withouten qualitee good, {335} withouten quantytee gret; þat in alle places is present, and all thinges conteynynge; the whiche þat no goodnesse may amende, ne non euell empeyre; þat in perfyte Trynytee lyueth and regneth God, be alle worldes and be all tymes. Amen, Amen, Amen. {340} X THE BRUCE WRITTEN IN 1375 BY JOHN BARBOUR. John Barbour was archdeacon of Aberdeen, an auditor of the Scottish exchequer, and a royal pensioner. Consequently a number of isolated records of his activities have been preserved. In 1364 he was granted a safe-conduct to travel with four students to Oxford. In 1365 and 1368 he had permission to travel through England so that he might study in France. The notices of his journeys, his offices, and his rewards point to a busy and successful life. He died in 1395. According to Wyntoun, Barbour's works were (1) _The Bruce_; (2) _The Stewartis Oryginalle_ (or _Pedigree of the Stewarts_), now lost; (3) a _Brut_, which some have identified with extant fragments of a Troy Book (see the prefatory note to No. VII), and others with (2) _The Stewartis Oryginalle_. _The Bruce_ is found in two late MSS., both copied by John Ramsay; the first, St. John's College, Cambridge, MS. G 23, in the year 1487; the second, now at the Advocates' Library, Edinburgh, in 1489. It has been edited by Skeat for the Early English Text Society, and for the Scottish Text Society. The poem is valuable for the history, more especially the traditional history, of the period 1304-33. Barbour speaks of it as a romance, and the freedom and vividness of the narrative, with its hero-worship of Robert Bruce and Douglas, place it well above the ordinary chronicle. But far from disclaiming historical accuracy, Barbour prides himself that truth well told should have a double claim to popularity: Storys to rede ar delitabill Suppos that thai be nocht bot fabill: Than suld storys that suthfast wer, And thai war said on gud maner, Hawe doubill plesance in heryng: The fyrst plesance is the carpyng, And the tothir the suthfastnes, That schawys the thing rycht as it wes. He did not misjudge the taste of his country, and _The Bruce_, with which the Scottish contribution to English literature begins, long held its place as the national epic of Scotland. The specimen describes an incident in the unsuccessful siege of Berwick, 1319. THE BRUCE, Bk. xvii, ll. 593 ff. St. John's College (Cambridge) MS. G 23 (A.D. 1487). Thai at the sege lay, Or it wes passit the fift day, Had maid thame syndry apparale To gang eftsonis till assale. Of gret gestis ane sow thai maid 5 That stalward heling owth it had, With armyt men enew tharin, And instrumentis als for to myne. Syndry scaffatis thai maid vithall That war weill hyar than the wall, 10 And ordanit als that by the se The toune suld weill assal[gh]eit be. And thai vithin that saw thame swa So gret apparale schap till ma, Throu Cra_bb_is consale, that ves sle, 15 Ane cren thai haf gert dres vp hye, Rynand on quhelis, that thai mycht bring It quhar neid war of mast helping. And pik and ter als haf thai tane, And lynt hardis, with brynstane, 20 And dry treis that weill wald byrne, And mellit syne athir othir in; And gret flaggatis tharof thai maid, Gyrdit with irnebandis braid; Of thai flaggatis mycht mesurit be 25 Till a gret twnnys quantité. Thai flaggatis, byrnand in a baill, With thair cren thoucht thai till availl, And, gif the sow come to the wall, Till lat thame byrnand on hir fall, 30 And with ane stark cheyne hald thame thar Quhill all war brint that ves thar. Engynys alsua for till cast Thai ordanit and maid redy fast, And set ilk man syne till his ward; 35 And Schir Valter, the gude Steward, With armyt men suld ryde about, And se quhar at thar var mast dout, And succur thar with his men[gh]he. And quhen thai into sic degré 40 Had maid thame for thair assaling, On the Rude-evyn in the dawing, The Inglis host blew till assale. Than mycht men with ser apparale Se that gret host cum sturdely. 45 The toune enveremyt thai in hy, And assalit with sa gud will,-- For all thair mycht thai set thartill,-- That thai thame pressit fast of the toune. Bot thai that can thame abandoune 50 Till ded, or than till woundis sare, So weill has thame defendit thare That ledderis to the ground thai slang, And vith stanys so fast thai dang Thair fais, that feill thai left lyand, 55 Sum ded, sum hurt, and sum swavnand. Bot thai that held on fut in hy Drew thame avay deliuerly, And skunnyrrit tharfor na kyn thing, Bot went stoutly till assalyng; 60 And thai abovin defendit ay, And set thame till so harde assay, _Quhill_ that feill of thame voundit war, _And_ thai so gret defens maid thar, That thai styntit thair fais mycht. 65 Apon sic maner can thai ficht Quhill it wes neir noyne of the day. Than thai without, in gret aray, Pressit thair sow toward the wall; And thai within weill soyne gert call 70 The engynour that takyne was, And gret manans till him mais, And swoir that he suld de, bot he Provit on the sow sic sutelté That he t_o_frusch_yt_ hir ilke deill. 75 And he, that has persauit weill That the dede wes neir hym till, Bot gif he mycht fulfill thar will, Thoucht that he all his mycht vald do: Bendit in gret hy than wes scho, 80 And till the sow wes soyn evin set. In hye he gert draw the cleket, And smertly swappit out the stane, That evyn out our the sow is gane, And behynd hir a litill we 85 It fell, and than thai cryit hye That war in hir: 'Furth to the wall, For dreid it is ouris all.' The engynour than deliuerly Gert bend the gyne in full gret hy, 90 And the stane smertly swappit out. It flaw quhedirand with a rout, And fell richt evin befor the sow. Thair hertis than begouth till grow, Bot [gh]eit than with thair mychtis all 95 Thai pressit the sow toward the wall, And has hir set thar_to_ iuntly. The gynour than gert bend in hy The gyne, and swappit out the stane, That evin toward the lift is gane, 100 And with gret wecht syne duschit doune Richt by the wall, in a randoune, That hyt the sow in sic maner That it that wes the mast summer, And starkast for till stynt a strak, 105 In swndir with that dusche he brak. The men ran out in full gret hy, And on the wallis thai can cry That 'thair sow ferryit wes thair!' Iohne Crab, that had his geir all [gh]ar, 110 In his faggatis has set the fyre, And our the wall syne can thame wyre, And brynt the sow till brandis bair. With all this fast assal[gh]eand war The folk without, with felloune ficht; 115 And thai within with mekill mycht Defendit manfully thar stede Intill gret auentur of dede. The schipmen with gret apparale Com with thair schippes till assale, 120 With top-castellis warnist weill, And wicht men armyt intill steill; Thair batis vp apon thair mastis Drawyn weill hye and festnyt fast is, And pressit with that gret atour 125 Toward the wall. Bot the gynour Hit in ane hespyne with a stane, And the men that war tharin gane Sum dede, _sum_ dosnyt, vyndland. Fra thine furth durst nane tak vpon hand 130 With schippes pres thame to the vall. But the laiff war assal[gh]eand all On ilk a syde sa egyrly, That certis it wes gret ferly That thai folk sic defens has maid, 135 For the gret myscheif that thai had: For thair wallis so law than weir That a man richt weill with a sper Micht strik ane othir vp in the face, As eir befor tald till [gh]ow was; 140 And feill of thame war woundit sare, And the layf so fast travaland war That nane had tume rest for till ta, Thair aduersouris assail[gh]eit swa. Thai war within sa stratly stad 145 That thar wardane with _him_ had Ane hundreth men in cumpany Armyt, that wicht war and hardy, And raid about for till se quhar That his folk hardest pressit war, 150 Till releif thame that had mister, Com syndry tymes in placis ser Quhar sum of the defensouris war All dede, and othir woundit sare, Swa that he of his cumpany 155 Behufit to leiff thair party; Swa that, be he ane cours had maid About, _of_ all _the_ men he had Thair wes levit with him bot ane, That he ne had thame left ilkane 160 To releve quhar he saw mister. And the folk that assal[gh]eand wer At Mary-[gh]et behevin had The barras, and a fyre had maid At the drawbrig, and brynt it doune, 165 And war thringand in gret foysoune Richt in the [gh]et, ane fire till ma. And thai within gert smertly ga Ane to the wardane, for till say How thai war set in hard assay. 170 And quhen Schir Valter Steward herd How men sa stratly with thame ferd, He gert cum of the castell then All that war thar of armyt men,-- For thar that day assal[gh]eit nane,-- 175 And with that rout in hy is gane Till Mary-[gh]et, and till the wall Is went, and saw the myscheif all, And vmbethoucht hym suddandly, Bot gif gret help war set in hy 180 Tharto, thai suld burne vp the [gh]et _With_ the fire _he_ fand tharat. Tharfor apon gret hardyment He suddanly set his entent, And gert all wyde set vp the [gh]et, 185 And the fyre that he fand tharat With strinth of men he put avay. He set hym in full hard assay, For thai that war assal[gh]eand thar Pressit on hym with vapnys bair, 190 And he defendit with all his mycht. Thar mycht men se a felloune sicht: With staffing, stoking, and striking Thar maid thai sturdy defending, For with gret strynth of men the [gh]et 195 Thai defendit, and stude tharat, Magré thair fais, quhill the nycht Gert thame on bath halfis leif the ficht. [Foot-note: 15 Crabbis] Craggis _MS._: Crabys _MS. Edinburgh_.] [Foot-note: 63 Quhill] How _MS._] [Foot-note: 64 And] þat _MS._] [Foot-note: 75 tofruschyt] till frusche _MS._] [Foot-note: 97 tharto] þar in _MS._] [Foot-note: 129 Sum dede dosnyt sum dede vyndland _MS._] [Foot-note: 146 him] þame _MS._] [Foot-note: 158 of] to _MS._ the] to _MS._] [Foot-note: 182 With] And _MS._ he fand] haffand _MS._] XI JOHN WICLIF D. 1384. Like Richard Rolle, Wiclif was a Yorkshireman by birth. Of his career at Oxford little is known until 1360, when he is described as 'master of Balliol'. From Balliol he was presented to the living of Fillingham, and, after a series of preferments, he accepted in 1374 the rectory of Lutterworth, which he held till his death in 1384. Wiclif's life was stormy. His acknowledged pre-eminence as a theologian and doctor in the University did not satisfy his active and combative mind. 'False peace', he said, 'is grounded in rest with our enemies, when we assent to them without withstanding; and sword against such peace came Christ to send.' He lacked neither enemies nor the moral courage to withstand them. At first, under the powerful patronage of John of Gaunt, he entered into controversies primarily political, opposing the right of the Pope to make levies on England, which was already overburdened with war-taxation, and to appoint foreigners to English benefices. On these questions popular opinion was on his side. He proceeded to attack the whole system of Church government, urging disendowment; rejecting the papal authority, which had been weakened in 1378 by the fierce rivalry of Urban VI and Clement VII; attacking episcopal privileges, the established religious orders, and the abuse of indulgences, pardons, and sanctuary. Still his opinions found a good deal of popular and political support. Then in 1380 he publicly announced his rejection of the doctrine of transubstantiation. From the results of such a heresy his friends could no longer protect him. Moderate opinion became alarmed and conservative after the Peasants' Revolt of 1381. Richard II was no friend of heretics. John of Gaunt, himself unpopular by this time, commanded silence. And in 1382 the secular party in Oxford were compelled, after a struggle, to condemn and expel their favourite preacher and his followers. Wiclif retired to Lutterworth, and continued, until struck down by paralysis in the last days of 1384, to inspire his 'poor preachers'--the founders of the Lollard sect which lived on to join forces with Lutheranism in the sixteenth century--and to develop in a series of Latin and English works the doctrines that later came to be associated with Puritanism. His authorship is often doubtful. In the interests of orthodoxy the early MSS. of his writings were ruthlessly destroyed, as in the famous bonfire of his works at Carfax, Oxford, in 1411. And his followers included not only the simple folk from whom later the 'poor priests' were recruited, but able University men, trained in his new doctrines, bred in the same traditions, and eager to emulate their master in controversy. So his share in the famous Wiclif Bible (ed. Forshall and Madden, Oxford 1850) is still uncertain. Part of the translation seems to have been made by Nicholas of Hereford, and a later recension is claimed for another Oxford disciple, John Purvey. But Wiclif probably inspired the undertaking, for to him, as to the later Puritans, the word of the Bible was the test by which all matters of belief, ritual, and Church government must be tried; and he was particularly anxious, in opposition to the established clergy and the friars, that laymen should read it in their own language. Contemporaries, friend and foe, ascribe the actual translation to him. John Huss, the Bohemian reformer, who was martyred in 1416 for teaching Wiclif's doctrines, states that Wiclif 'translated all the Bible into English'. Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury, is equally positive when he writes to the Pope in 1412 that 'the son of the Old Serpent filled up the cup of his malice against Holy Church by the device of a new translation of the Scriptures into his native tongue'. The first selection, chapter xv of the _De Officio Pastorali_ (ed. Matthew, pp. 429 f.), states the case for translation. In the second (ed. Matthew, pp. 188 ff.) some essential points of Wiclif's teaching are explained. In abuse of his opponents he maintains the sturdy tradition of controversy that still survives in Milton's prose. The style is rugged and vigorous; the thought logical and packed close. And it is easy to see the source of his strength. In an age whose evils were patent to all, many reproved this or that particular abuse, but the system as a whole passed unchallenged. Wiclif, almost alone in his generation, had the reasoning power to go to the root of the matter, and the moral courage not only to state fearlessly what, rightly or wrongly, he found to be the source of evil, but to insist on basic reform. It is difficult nowadays, when modern curiosity has made familiar the practice of mining among the foundations of beliefs, society, and government, to realize the force of authority that was ranged against unorthodox reformers in the fourteenth century. If the popular support he received indicates that this force was already weakening, Wiclif must still be reckoned among the greatest of those who broke the way for the modern world. A. THE TRANSLATION OF THE BIBLE. _De Officio Pastorali, chap. xv._ MS. Ashburnham XXVII (15th century). Ant heere þe freris wiþ þer fautours seyn þat it is heresye to write þus Goddis lawe in English, and make it knowun to lewid men. And fourty signes þat þey bringen for to shewe an heretik ben not worþy to reherse, for nou[gh]t groundiþ hem but nygromansye. {5} It semyþ first þat þe wit of Goddis lawe shulde be tau[gh]t in þat tunge þat is more knowun, for þis wit is Goddis word. Whanne Crist seiþ in þe Gospel þat boþe heuene and erþe shulen passe, but His wordis shulen not passe, He vndirstondith bi His woordis His wit. And þus Goddis wit is Hooly Writ, {10} þat may on no maner be fals. Also þe Hooly Gost [gh]af to apostlis wit at Wit Sunday for to knowe al maner langagis, to teche þe puple Goddis lawe þerby; and so God wolde þat þe puple were tau[gh]t Goddis lawe in dyuerse tungis. But what man, on Goddis half, shulde reuerse Goddis ordenaunse and {15} His wille? And for þis cause Seynt Ierom trauelide and translatide þe Bible fro dyuerse tungis into Lateyn, þat it my[gh]te be aftir translatid to oþere tungis. And þus Crist and His apostlis tau[gh]ten þe puple in þat tunge þat was moost knowun to þe {20} puple. Why shulden not men do nou so? And herfore autours of þe newe law, þat weren apostlis of Iesu Crist, writen þer Gospels in dyuerse tungis þat weren more knowun to þe puple. Also þe worþy reume of Fraunse, notwiþstondinge alle {25} lettingis, haþ translatid þe Bible and þe Gospels, wiþ oþere trewe sentensis of doctours, out of Lateyn into Freynsch. Why shulden not Engli[gh]schemen do so? As lordis of Englond han þe Bible in Freynsch, so it were not a[gh]enus resoun þat þey hadden þe same sentense in Engli[gh]sch; for {30} þus Goddis lawe wolde be betere knowun, and more trowid, for onehed of wit, and more acord be bitwixe reumes. And herfore freris han tau[gh]t in Englond þe Paternoster in Engli[gh]sch tunge, as men seyen in þe pley of [Gh]ork, and in many oþere cuntreys. Siþen þe Paternoster is part of Matheus {35} Gospel, as clerkis knowen, why may not al be turnyd to Engli[gh]sch trewely, as is þis part? Specialy siþen alle Cristen men, lerid and lewid, þat shulen be sauyd, moten algatis sue Crist, and knowe His lore and His lif. But þe comyns of Engli[gh]schmen knowen it best in þer modir tunge; and þus it {40} were al oon to lette siche knowing of þe Gospel and to lette Engli[gh]sch men to sue Crist and come to heuene. Wel y woot defaute may be in vntrewe translating, as my[gh]ten haue be many defautis in turnyng fro Ebreu into Greu, and fro Greu into Lateyn, and from o langage into {45} anoþer. But lyue men good lif, and studie many persones Goddis lawe, and whanne chaungyng of wit is foundun, amende þey it as resoun wole. Sum men seyn þat freris trauelen, and þer fautours, in þis cause for þre chesouns, þat y wole not aferme, but God woot {50} wher þey ben soþe. First þey wolden be seun so nedeful to þe Engli[gh]schmen of oure reume þat singulerly in her wit lay[gh] þe wit of Goddis lawe, to telle þe puple Goddis lawe on what maner euere þey wolden. And þe secound cause herof is seyd to stonde in þis sentense: freris wolden lede þe puple in {55} techinge hem Goddis lawe, and þus þei wolden teche sum, and sum hide, and docke sum. For þanne defautis in þer lif shulden be lesse knowun to þe puple, and Goddis lawe shulde be vntreweliere knowun boþe bi clerkis and bi comyns. Þe þridde cause þat men aspien stondiþ in þis, as þey seyn: alle {60} þes newe ordris dreden hem þat þer synne shulde be knowun, and hou þei ben not groundid in God to come into þe chirche; and þus þey wolden not for drede þat Goddis lawe were knowun in Engli[gh]sch; but þey my[gh]ten putte heresye on men [gh]if Engli[gh]sch toolde not what þey seyden. {65} God moue lordis and bischops to stonde for knowing of His lawe! B. OF FEIGNED CONTEMPLATIVE LIFE. Corpus Christi College (Cambridge) MS. 296 (1375-1400), p. 165. Of feyned contemplatif lif, of song, of þe Ordynal of Salisbury, and of bodely almes and worldly bysynesse of prestis; hou bi þes foure þe fend lettiþ hem fro prechynge of þe Gospel.-- First, whanne trewe men techen bi Goddis lawe wit and {5} reson, þat eche prest owiþ to do his my[gh]t, his wit, and his wille to preche Cristis Gospel, þe fend blyndiþ ypocritis to excuse hem by feyned contemplatif lif, and to seie þat, siþ it is þe beste, and þei may not do boþe togidre, þei ben nedid for charité of God to leue þe prechynge of þe Gospel, and {10} lyuen in contemplacion. See nowe þe ypocrisie of þis false seiynge. Crist tau[gh]t and dide þe beste lif for prestis, as oure feiþ techiþ, siþ He was God and my[gh]te not erre. But Crist preched þe Gospel, and charged alle His apostlis and disciplis to goo and preche þe {15} Gospel to alle men. Þan it is þe beste lif for prestis in þis world to preche þe Gospel. Also God in þe olde lawe techiþ þat þe office of a prophete is to schewe to þe peple here foule synnys. But eche prest is a prophete bi his ordre, as Gregory seyþ vpon þe Gospellis. {20} Þanne it is þe office of eche prest to preche and telle þe synnys of þe peple; and in þis manere schal eche prest be an aungel of God, as Holy Writt seiþ. Also Crist and Ion Baptist leften desert and precheden þe Gospel to here deþ þerfore; and þis was most charité; for ellis {25} þei weren out of charité, or peierid in charité, þat my[gh]te not be in hem boþe, siþ þe ton was God, and no man after Crist was holyere þan Baptist, and he synned not for þis prechynge. Also þe holy prophete Ieromye, halwid in his moder wombe, my[gh]tte not be excused fro prechynge bi his contemplacion, {30} but chargid of God to preche þe synnes of þe peple, and suffre peyne þerfore, and so weren alle þe prophetis of God. A Lord! siþ Crist and Ion Baptist and alle þe prophetis of God weren nedid bi charité to come out of desert to preche {35} to þe peple, and leue here sol arie preiere, hou dore we fonnyd heretikys seie þat it is betre to be stille, and preie oure owen fonnyd ordynaunce, þan to preche Cristis Gospel? Lord! what cursed spirit of lesyngis stiriþ prestis to close hem in stonys or wallis for al here lif, siþ Crist comaundiþ to {40} alle His apostlis and prestis to goo into alle þe world and preche þe Gospel. Certis þei ben opyn foolis, and don pleynly a[gh]enst Cristis Gospel; and, [gh]if þei meyntenen þis errour, þei ben cursed of , and ben perilous ypocritis and heretikis also. And siþ men ben holden heretikis þat done {45} a[gh]enst þe popis lawe, seiþ pleynly þat eche þat comeþ to presthod takiþ þe office of a bedele, or criere, to goo bifore Domesday to crie to þe peple here synnes and vengaunce of God, whi ben not þo prestis heretikis þat leuen to preche Cristis Gospel, and {50} compelle oþere treue men to leue prechynge of þe Gospel? Siþ þis lawe is Seynt Gregoryes lawe, groundid opynly in Goddis lawe and reson and charité; and oþere lawes of þe peple ben contrarie to Holy Writt and reson and charité, for to meyntene pride and coueitise of Anticristis worldly clerkis. {55} But ypocritis allegen þe Gospel,--þat Magdaleyne chees to hereself þe beste part whanne she saat bisiden Cristis feet and herde His word. Soþ it is þat þis meke sittynge and deuout herynge of Cristis wordis was best to Magdeleyne, for sche hadde not office of prechynge as prestis han, siþ sche was {60} a womman, þat hadde not auctorité of Goddis lawe to teche and preche opynly. But what is þis dede to prestis, þat han expresse þe comaundement of God and men to preche þe Gospel? Where þei wolen alle be wommen in ydelnesse, and suen not Iesu Crist in lif and prechynge þe Gospel, þat {65} He comandiþ Hymself boþe in þ_e_ olde lawe and newe? Also þis p_e_sible herynge of Cristis word and brennynge loue þat Magdeleyne hadde was þe beste part, for it schal be ende in heuene of good lif in þis world. But in þis _world_ þe beste lif for prestis is holy lif in kepynge Goddis hestis, and {70} trewe prechynge of þe Gospel, as Crist dide, and chargid alle His prestis to do <þe same>. And þes ypocritis wenen þat here dremys and fantasies of hemself ben contemplacion, and þat prechynge of þe Gospel be actif lif; and so þei menen þat Crist tok þe worse lif for þis world, and nedid alle His prestis {75} to leue þe betre and take þe worse lif; and þus þes fonnyd ypocritis putten errour in Iesu Crist. But who ben more heretikis? Also þes blynde ypocritis alleggen þat Crist biddiþ vs preie euermore, and Poul biddiþ þat we preie wiþoute lettynge, and {80} þan we prestis may not preche, as þei feynen falsly. But here þes ypocritis schullen wite þat Crist and Poul vnderstonden of preiere of holy lif, þat eche man doþ as longe as he dwelliþ in charité; and not of babelynge of lippis, þat no man may euere do wiþouten cessynge; for ellis no man in þis {85} world my[gh]te fulfille þe comaundement of Crist; and þis techiþ Austyn and oþere seyntis. And siþ men þat fulfillen not Goddis lawe, and ben out of charité, ben not acceptid in here preiynge of lippis,--for here preiere in lippis is abhomynable, as Holy Writt seiþ bi {90} Salomon,--þes prestis þat prechen not þe Gospel, as Crist biddiþ, ben not able to preie for mercy, but disceyuen hemself and þe peple, and dispisen God, and stiren Hym to wraþþe and vengaunce, as Austyn and Gregory and oþere seyntis techen. {95} And principaly þes ypocritis þat han rentes, and worldly lordischipes, and parische chirchis approprid to hem, a[gh]enst Holy Writt boþe old and newe, by symonye and lesyngis _on_ Crist and His apostelis, for stynkynge gronyngys and abite of holynesse, and f_or_ distroiynge of Goddis ordynaunce, and for {100} singuler profession maade to foolis and, in cas, to fendis of helle,--þes foolis schullen lerne what is actif lif and contemplatif bi Goddis lawe, and þanne þei my[gh]tten wite þat þei han neiþer þe ton ne þe toiþer, siþ þei chargen more veyn statutis _of_ synful men, and, in cas, deuelys, þan þei {105} chargen þe heste of God, and werkis of mercy, and poyntis of charité. And þe fende blyndiþ hem so moche, þat þei seyn indede þat þei moten neuere preie to p_le_synge of God, siþ þei vnablen hemself to do þe office of prestis bi Goddis lawe, and purposen to ende in here feyned deuocion, þat is blasphemye {110} to God. Also bi song þe fend lettiþ men to studie and preche þe Gospel; for siþ mannys wittis ben of certeyn mesure and my[gh]t, þe more þat þei ben occupied aboute siche mannus song, þe lesse moten þei be sette aboute Goddis lawe. For {115} þis stiriþ men to pride, and iolité, and oþere synnys, and so vnableþ hem many gatis to vnderstonde and kepe Holy Writt, þat techeþ mekenesse, mornynge for oure synnys and oþere mennus, and stable lif, and charité. And [gh]it God in all þe lawe of grace chargiþ not siche song, but deuocion in {120} herte, trewe techynge, and holy spekynge in tonge, and goode werkis, and holy lastynge in charité and mekenesse. But mannus foly and pride stieþ vp euere more and more in þis veyn nouelrie. First men ordeyned songe of mornynge whanne þei weren {125} in prison, for techynge of þe Gospel, as Ambrose, _as_ men seyn, to putte awey ydelnesse, and to be not vnoccupied in goode manere for þe tyme. And þat songe and o_u_r acordiþ not, for oure stiriþ to iolité and pride, and here stiriþ to mornynge, and to dwelle lenger in wordis of Goddis lawe. {130} Þan were matynys, and masse, and euensong, _placebo_ and _dirige_, and comendacion, and matynes of Oure Lady, ordeyned of synful men to be songen wiþ hei[gh]e criynge, to lette men fro þe sentence and vnderstondynge of þat þat was þus songen, and to maken men wery, and vndisposid to studie {135} Goddis lawe for akyng of hedis. And of schort tyme þanne more veyn iapis founden: deschaunt, countre note, and orgon, and smale brekynge, þat stiriþ veyn men to daunsynge more þan mornynge; and herefore ben many proude lorelis founden and dowid wiþ temperal and worldly {140} lordischipis and gret cost. But þes foolis schulden drede þe scharpe wordis of Austyn, þat seiþ: 'As oft as þe song likiþ me more þan doþ þe sentence þat is songen, so oft I confesse þat I synne greuously.' And [gh]if þes knackeris excusen hem bi song in þe olde lawe, {145} seie þat Crist, þat best kepte þe olde lawe as it schulde be aftirward, tau[gh]t not ne chargid vs wiþ sich bodely song, ne ony of His apostlis, but wiþ deuocion in herte, and holy lif, and trewe prechynge, and þat is ynowþ[gh] and þe beste. But who schulde þanne charge vs wiþ more, oure þe fredom and {150} li[gh]tnesse of Cristis lawe? And [gh]if þei seyn þat angelis heryen God bi song in heuene, seie þat we kunnen not þat song; but þei ben in ful victorie of here enemys, and we ben in perilous b_atai_le, and in þe valeye of wepynge and mornynge; and oure song lettiþ vs {155} fro betre occupacion, and stiriþ vs to many grete synnes, and to for[gh]ete vs self. But oure flecshly peple haþ more lykynge in here bodely eris in sich knackynge and taterynge, þan in herynge of Goddis lawe, and spekynge of þe blisse of heuene; for þei {160} wolen hire proude prestis and oþere lorelis þus to knacke notis for many markis and poundis. But þei wolen not [gh]eue here almes to prestis and children to lerne and teche Goddis lawe. And þus, bi þis nouelrie of song, is Goddis lawe vnstudied and not kepte, and pride and oþere grete {165} synnys meyntenyd. And þes fonnyd lordis and peple gessen to haue more þank of God, and worschipe Hym more, in haldynge vp of here owen nouelries wiþ grete cost, þan in lernynge, and techynge, and meyntenynge of his lawe, and his seruauntis, {170} and his ordynaunce. But where is more disceit in feiþ, hope and charité? For whanne þer ben fourty or fyfty in a queer, þre or foure proude lorellis schullen knacke þe most deuout seruyce þat no man schal here þe sentence, and alle oþere schullen be doumbe, and loken on hem as foolis. And þanne {175} strumpatis and þeuys preisen Sire Iacke, or Hobbe, and Williem þe proude clerk, hou smale þei knacken here notis; and seyn þat þei seruen wel God and Holy Chirche, whanne þei dispisen God in his face, and letten oþere Cristene men of here deuocion and compunccion, and stiren hem to worldly {180} vanyté. And þus trewe seruyce of God is lettid, and þis veyn knackynge for oure iolité and pride is preised abouen þe mone. Also þe Ordynalle of Salisbury lettiþ moche prechynge of þe Gospel; for folis chargen þat more þan þe maundementis of God, and to studie and teche Cristis Gospel. For [gh]if {185} a man faile in his Ordynale, men holden þat grete synne, and reprouen hym þerof faste; but [gh]if a preste breke þe hestis of God, men chargen þat litel or nou[gh]t. And so [gh]if prestis seyn here matynes, masse, and euensong aftir Salisbury vsse, þei hemself and oþere men demen it is ynow[gh], þouþ þei neiþer {190} preche ne teche þe hestis of God and þe Gospel. And þus þei wenen þat it is ynow[gh] to fulfille synful mennus ordynaunce, and to leue þe ri[gh]tfulleste ordynaunce of God, þat He chargid prestis to performe. But, Lord! what was prestis office ordeyned bi God bifore {195} þat Salisbury vss was maad of proude prestis, coueitous and dronkelewe? Where God, þat dampneþ alle ydelnesse, charg_id_ hem not at þe ful wiþ þe beste occupacion for hemself and oþere men? Hou doren synful folis chargen Cristis prestis wiþ so moche nouelrie, and euermore cloute more to, {200} þat þei may not frely do Goddis ordynaunce? For þe Iewis in þe olde lawe haden not so manye serymonyes of sacrifices ordeyned bi God as prestis han now ri[gh]ttis and reulis maade of synful men. And [gh]it þe olde lawe in þes charious customes mosten nedes cesse for fredom of Cristis Gospel. But þis {205} fredom is more don awei bi þis nouelrie þan bi customes of þe olde lawe. And þus many grete axen where a prest may, wiþouten dedly synne, seie his masse wiþouten matynys; and þei demen it dedly synne a prest to fulfille þe ordynaunce of God in his fredom, wiþoute nouelrie of synful men, þat lettiþ {210} prestis fro þe betre occupacion; as [gh]if þei demen it dedly synne to leue þe worse þing, and take þe betre, whanne þei may not do boþe togidre. And þus, Lord! Þin owen ordynaunce þat Þou madist for Þi prestis is holden errour, and distroied for þe fonnyd nouelrie {215} of synful foolis, and, in cas, of fendis in helle. But here men moste be war þat vnder colour of þis fredom þei ben betre occupied in þe lawe of God to studie it and teche it, and not slou[gh] ne ydel in ouermoche sleep, and vanyté, and oþer synnes, for þat is þe fendis panter. {220} See now þe blyndnesse of þes foolis. Þei seyn þat a prest may be excused fro seiynge of masse, þat God comaundid Himself to þe substance þerof, so þat he here on. But he schal not be excused but [gh]if he seie matynes and euensong himself, þat synful men han ordeyned; and þus þei chargen {225} more here owene fyndynge þan Cristis comaundement. A Lord! [gh]if alle þe studie and traueile þat men han now abowte Salisbury vss, wiþ multitude _of_ newe costy portos, antifeners, graielis, and alle oþere bokis, weren turned into makynge of biblis, and in studiynge and techynge þerof, hou {230} moche schulde Goddis lawe be forþered, and knowen, and kept, and now in so moche it is hyndrid, vnstudied, and vnkept. Lord! hou schulden riche men ben excused þat costen so moche in grete schapellis, and costy bokis of mannus ordynaunce, for fame and nobleie of þe world, and wolen not {235} spende so moche aboute bokis of Goddis lawe, and for to studie hem and teche hem: siþ þis were wiþoute comparison betre on alle siddis, and ly[gh]ttere, and sykerere? But [gh]it men þat knowen þe fredom of Goddis ordynaunce for prestis to be þe beste, wiþ grete sorow of herte seyn here {240} matynes, masse, and euensong, whanne þei schulden ellis be betre occupied, last þei sclaundren þe sike conscience of here breþeren, þat [gh]it knowen not Goddis lawe. God brynge þes prestis to þe fredom to studie Holy Writt, and lyue þerafter, and teche it oþer men frely, and to preie as long and as {245} moche as God meueþ hem þerto, and ellis turne to oþere medeful werkis, as Crist and His apostlis diden; and þat þei ben not constreyned to blabre alle day wiþ tonge and grete criynge, as pies and iaies, þing þat þei knowen not, and to peiere here owen soule for defaute of wis deuocion and charité! {250} Also bysynesse of worldly occupacion of prestis lettiþ prechynge of þe Gospel, for þei ben so besy <þer>aboute, and namely in herte, þat þei þenken litel on Goddis lawe, and han no sauour þerto. And seyn þat þei don þus for hospitalité, and to releue pore men wiþ dedis of charité. But, hou euere {255} men speken, it his for here owen couetise, and lustful lif in mete and drynk and precious cloþis, and for name of þe world in fedynge of riche men; and litel or nou[gh]t comeþ frely to pore men þat han most nede. But þes prestis schulden sue Crist in manere of lif and {260} trewe techynge. But Crist lefte sich occupacion, and His apostlis also, and weren betre occupied in holy preiere and trewe techynge of þe Gospel. And þis determinacion and ful sentence was [gh]ouen of alle þe apostlis togidre, whanne þei hadden resceyued þe plenteuous [gh]iftis of þe Holy Gost. Lord! {265} where þes worldly prestis wisere þan ben alle þe apostlis of Crist? It semeth þat þei ben, or ellis <þei ben> fooles. Also Crist wolde not take þe kyngdom whan þe puple wolde haue maad Him kyng, as Iones Gospel telleþ. But if it haade be a prestis office to dele aboute þus bodi almes, {270} Crist, þat coude best haue do þis office, wolde haue take þes temperal goodis to dele hem among poeuere men. But He wolde not do þus, but fley, and took no man of þe aposteles wiþ him, so faste He hiede. Lord! where worldly prestis kunnen bettere don þis partinge of worldly goodis _þan_ Iesu {275} Crist? And [gh]if þei seyn þat Crist fedde þe puple in desert with bodily almes, manye þousand, as þe Gospel saiþ: þat dide Crist by miracle, to shewe His godhede, and to teche prestes {280} hou[gh] þei schulden fede gostly Cristene men by Goddis word. For so dide Cristis aposteles, and hadde not whereof to do bodily almes, whan þei mi[gh]ten haue had tresour and iuelis ynowe of kynggis and lordis. Also Peter saiþ in Dedis of Apostlis to a pore man þat to {285} him neiþer was gold ne siluer; and [gh]it he performede wel þe office of a trewe prest. But oure prestis ben so bysye aboute worldly occupacioun þat þei semen bettere bailyues or reues þan gostly prestis of Iesu Crist. For what man is so bysy aboute marchaundise, and oþere worldly doyngis, as ben {290} preostes, þat shulden ben ly[gh]t of heuenly lif to alle men abouten hem? But certes þei shulde be as bysy aboute studyinge of Goddys lawe, and holy preyer, not of _Famulorum_, but of holy desires, and clene meditacioun of God, and trewe techinge of {295} þe Gospel, as ben laboreris aboute worldly labour for here sustenaunce. And muche more bysie, [gh]if þei mi[gh]ten, for þey ben more holden for to lyue wel, and <[gh]eue> ensaumple of holi lif to þe puple, and trewe techinge of Holy Writ, þanne þe people is holden to [gh]yue hem dymes or offringis or ony {300} bodily almes. And þerfore prestis shulde not leue ensaumple of good lif, and studyinge of Holi Writ, and trewe techinge þerof, ne bodily almes, ne for worldly goodis, ne for sauynge of here bodily lif. And as Crist sauede þe world by writynge and techinge of {305} foure Euaungelistis, so þe fend casteþ to dampne þe world and prestis for lettynge to preche þe Gospel by þes foure: by feyned contemplacioun, by song, by Salisbury vse, and by worldly bysynes of prestis. God for His mercy styre þes prestis to preche þe Gospel in {310} word, in lif; and be war of Sathanas disceitis. Amen. [Foot-note: 7 fend] fendis _MS._] [Foot-note: 66 þe] þo _MS._] [Foot-note: 67 pesible] posible _MS._] [Foot-note: 69 world] lif _MS._] [Foot-note: 98 on] & _MS._] [Foot-note: 100 for (1st)] fro _MS._] [Foot-note: 105 of (1st)] & _MS._] [Foot-note: 108 plesynge] preisynge _MS. altered later_.] [Foot-note: 126 as (2nd)] and _MS._] [Foot-note: 128 oure] oþer _MS._] [Foot-note: 154 bataile] baitale _MS._] [Foot-note: 198 chargid] chargen _MS._] [Foot-note: 202 not so] _repeated MS._] [Foot-note: 228 of] & _MS._] [Foot-note: 275 þan] of _MS._] XII JOHN GOWER D. 1408. John Gower, a Londoner himself, came of a good Kentish family. Chaucer must have known him well, for he chose him as his attorney when leaving for the Continent in 1378, and, with the dedication of _Troilus and Criseyde_, labelled him for ever as 'moral Gower'. Gower's marriage with Agnes Groundolf, probably a second marriage, is recorded in 1398. Blindness came on him a few years later. His will, dated August 15, 1408, was proved on October 24, 1408, so that his death must fall between those two points. By his own wish he was buried in St. Saviour's, Southwark, the church of the canons of St. Mary Overy, to whom he was a liberal benefactor. On his tomb in St. Saviour's Church, Gower is shown with his head resting on three great volumes, representing his principal works--the _Speculum Meditantis_, the _Vox Clamantis_, and the _Confessio Amantis_. The _Speculum Meditantis_, or _Mirour de l'Omme_, is a handbook of sins and sinners, written in French. The _Vox Clamantis_, written in Latin, covers similar ground. Opening with a vision of the Peasants' Revolt of 1381, the poet passes in review the faults of the different grades of society--clergy, nobles, labourers, traders, lawyers--and ends with an admonition to the young King Richard II. In his English work, the _Confessio Amantis_, he expressly abandons the task of setting the world to rights, and promises to change his style henceforth. Now he will sing of Love. The machinery of the poem is suggested by the great source of mediaeval conventions, the _Roman de la Rose_. On a May morning the poet, a victim of love, wanders afield and meets the Queen of Love (cp. the beginning of Chaucer's _Legend of Good Women_). She bids him confess to her priest Genius. Genius hears the confession, sustaining with some incongruity the triple rôle of high priest of Love, Christian moralist, and entertainer--for it is he who tells the stories which, woven about the frame work of the Seven Deadly Sins, make the real matter of the poem. The first form of the _Confessio_ was completed in 1390. It contains a Prologue in which the suggestion for the poem is ascribed to Richard II, and an Epilogue in his praise. In this version the Queen of Love at parting gives Gower a message for Chaucer: And gret wel Chaucer whan ye mete, As mi disciple and mi poete: For in the floures of his youthe In sondri wise, as he wel couthe, Of ditees and of songes glade, The whiche he for mi sake made, The lond fulfild is overal. Wherof to him in special Above alle othre I am most holde. Forthi now, in hise daies olde, Thow schalt him telle this message, That he upon his latere age, To sette an ende of alle his werk, As he which is myn owne clerk, Do make his testament of love, As thou hast do thi schrifte above, So that mi Court it mai recorde. In the final form, completed in 1392-3, Richard's name disappears from the Prologue; the dedication to his popular rival, Henry of Lancaster, is made prominent; the eulogy in the Epilogue is dropped; and with it the compliment to Chaucer. Whether this last omission is due to chance, or to some change in the relations between the two poets, is not clear. In his own day Gower was ranked with Chaucer. His reputation was still high among the Elizabethans; and he has the distinction of appearing as Chorus in a Shakespearian play--_Pericles_--of which his story of _Apollonius of Tyre_, in Bk. viii of the _Confessio_, was the immediate source. A selection gives a very favourable impression of his work. He has a perfect command of the octosyllabic couplet; an easy style, well suited to narrative; and a classic simplicity of expression for which the work of his predecessors in Middle English leaves us unprepared. Throughout the whole of the _Confessio Amantis_, more than 30,000 lines, the level of workmanship is remarkable, and almost every page shows some graceful and poetical verses. Yet the poem as a whole suffers from the fault that Gower tried to avoid: It dulleth ofte a mannes wit To him that schal it aldai rede. One defect, obvious to a modern reader, would hardly be noticed by his contemporaries: he often incorporates in his poetry matter proper only to an encyclopaedia, such as the discourse on the religions of the world in Bk. v, or that on Philosophy in Bk. vii. Another is more radical: for all his wide reading, his leading ideas lack originality. It is hardly a travesty to say that the teaching of his works amounts to this: 'In the moral world, avoid the Seven Deadly Sins in the five sub-classifications of each; in the political world keep your degree without presuming'. Such a negative and conventional message cannot sustain the fabric of three long poems. Their polished and facile moralizing becomes almost exasperating if it be remembered that the poet wrote when a whole system of society was falling, and falling noisily, about him. Modern taste rejects Gower the moralist and political writer, and his claim to present as apart from historical value rests on the delightful single stories which served as embroidery to his serious themes. The extracts are taken from the admirable edition by G. C. Macaulay: 'The Works of John Gower', 4 vols., Oxford 1899-1902. A. CEIX AND ALCEONE. From Bk. iv, ll. 2927 ff. This finde I write in Poesie: Ceïx the king of Trocinie Hadde Alceone to his wif, Which as hire oghne hertes lif Him loveth; and he hadde also 5 A brother, which was cleped tho Dedalion, and he per cas Fro kinde of man forschape was Into a goshauk of liknesse; Wherof the king gret hevynesse 10 Hath take, and thoghte in his corage To gon upon a pelrinage Into a strange regioun, Wher he hath his devocioun To don his sacrifice and preie, 15 If that he mihte in eny weie Toward the goddes finde grace His brother hele to pourchace, So that he mihte be reformed Of that he hadde be transformed. 20 To this pourpos and to this ende This king is redy for to wende, As he which wolde go be schipe; And for to don him felaschipe His wif unto the see him broghte, 25 With al hire herte and him besoghte That he the time hire wolde sein Whan that he thoghte come a[gh]ein: 'Withinne,' he seith, 'tuo monthe day.' And thus in al the haste he may 30 He tok his leve, and forth he seileth, Wepende and sche hirself beweileth, And torneth hom, ther sche cam fro. Bot whan the monthes were ago, The whiche he sette of his comynge, 35 And that sche herde no tydinge, Ther was no care for to seche: Wherof the goddes to beseche Tho sche began in many wise, And to Iuno hire sacrifise 40 Above alle othre most sche dede, And for hir lord sche hath so bede To wite and knowe hou that he ferde, That Iuno the goddesse hire herde, Anon and upon this matiere 45 Sche bad Yris hir messagere To Slepes hous that he schal wende, And bidde him that he make an ende, Be swevene and schewen al the cas Unto this ladi, hou it was. 50 This Yris, fro the hihe stage Which undertake hath the message, Hire reyny cope dede upon, The which was wonderli begon With colours of diverse hewe, 55 An hundred mo than men it knewe; The hevene lich unto a bowe Sche bende, and so she cam doun lowe, The god of Slep wher that sche fond; And that was in a strange lond, 60 Which marcheth upon Chymerie: For ther, as seith the Poesie, The God of Slep hath mad his hous, Which of entaille is merveilous. Under an hell ther is a cave, 65 Which of the sonne mai noght have, So that noman mai knowe ariht The point betwen the dai and nyht: Ther is no fyr, ther is no sparke, Ther is no dore, which mai charke, 70 Wherof an yhe scholde unschette, So that inward ther is no lette. And for to speke of that withoute, Ther stant no gret tree nyh aboute Wher on ther myhte crowe or pie 75 Alihte, for to clepe or crie; Ther is no cok to crowe day, Ne beste non which noise may; The hell bot al aboute round Ther is growende upon the ground 80 Popi, which berth the sed of slep, With othre herbes suche an hep. A stille water for the nones Rennende upon the smale stones, Which hihte of Lethes the rivere, 85 Under that hell in such manere Ther is, which [gh]ifth gret appetit To slepe. And thus full of delit Slep hath his hous; and of his couche Withinne his chambre if I schal touche, 90 Of hebenus that slepi tree The bordes al aboute be, And for he scholde slepe softe, Upon a fethrebed alofte He lith with many a pilwe of doun. 95 The chambre is strowed up and doun With swevenes many thousendfold. Thus cam Yris into this hold, And to the bedd, which is al blak, Sche goth, and ther with Slep sche spak, 100 And in the wise as sche was bede The message of Iuno sche dede. Ful ofte hir wordes sche reherceth, Er sche his slepi eres perceth; With mochel wo bot ate laste 105 His slombrende yhen he upcaste And seide hir that it schal be do. Wherof among a thousend tho Withinne his hous that slepi were, In special he ches out there 110 Thre, whiche scholden do this dede: The ferste of hem, so as I rede, Was Morpheüs, the whos nature Is for to take the figure Of what persone that him liketh, 115 Wherof that he ful ofte entriketh The lif which slepe schal be nyhte; And Ithecus that other hihte, Which hath the vois of every soun, The chiere and the condicioun 120 Of every lif, what so it is: The thridde suiende after this Is Panthasas, which may transforme Of every thing the rihte forme, And change it in an other kinde. 125 Upon hem thre, so as I finde, Of swevenes stant al thapparence, Which other while is evidence, And other while bot a iape. Bot natheles it is so schape, 130 That Morpheüs be nyht al one Appiereth until Alceone In liknesse of hir housebonde Al naked ded upon the stronde, And hou he dreynte in special 135 These othre tuo it schewen al: The tempeste of the blake cloude, The wode see, the wyndes loude, Al this sche mette, and sih him dyen; Wherof that sche began to crien, 140 Slepende abedde ther sche lay, And with that noise of hire affray Hir wommen sterten up aboute, Whiche of here ladi were in doute, And axen hire hou that sche ferde; 145 And sche, riht as sche syh and herde, Hir swevene hath told hem everydel: And thei it halsen alle wel And sein it is a tokne of goode. Bot til sche wiste hou that it stode, 150 Sche hath no confort in hire herte, Upon the morwe and up sche sterte, And to the see, wher that sche mette The bodi lay, withoute lette Sche drowh, and whan that sche cam nyh, 155 Stark ded, hise armes sprad, sche syh Hire lord flietende upon the wawe. Wherof hire wittes ben withdrawe, And sche, which tok of deth no kepe, Anon forth lepte into the depe 160 And wolde have cawht him in hire arm. This infortune of double harm The goddes fro the hevene above Behielde, and for the trowthe of love, Which in this worthi ladi stod, 165 Thei have upon the salte flod Hire dreinte lord and hire also Fro deth to lyve torned so That thei ben schapen into briddes Swimmende upon the wawe amiddes. 170 And whan sche sih hire lord livende In liknesse of a bridd swimmende, And sche was of the same sort, So as sche mihte do desport, Upon the ioie which sche hadde 175 Hire wynges bothe abrod sche spradde, And him, so as sche mai suffise, Beclipte and keste in such a wise, As sche was whilom wont to do: Hire wynges for hire armes tuo 180 Sche tok, and for hire lippes softe Hire harde bile, and so ful ofte Sche fondeth in hire briddes forme, If that sche mihte hirself conforme To do the plesance of a wif, 185 As sche dede in that other lif: For thogh sche hadde hir pouer lore, Hir will stod as it was tofore, And serveth him so as sche mai. Wherof into this ilke day 190 Togedre upon the see thei wone, Wher many a dowhter and a sone Thei bringen forth of briddes kinde; And for men scholden take in mynde This Alceoun the trewe queene, 195 Hire briddes [gh]it, as it is seene, Of Alceoun the name bere. B. ADRIAN AND BARDUS. From Bk. v, ll. 4937 ff. To speke of an unkinde man, I finde hou whilom Adrian, Of Rome which a gret lord was, Upon a day as he per cas To wode in his huntinge wente, 5 It hapneth at a soudein wente, After his chace as he poursuieth, Thurgh happ, the which noman eschuieth, He fell unwar into a pet, Wher that it mihte noght be let. 10 The pet was dep and he fell lowe, That of his men non myhte knowe Wher he becam, for non was nyh Which of his fall the meschief syh. And thus al one ther he lay 15 Clepende and criende al the day For socour and deliverance, Til a[gh]ein eve it fell per chance, A while er it began to nyhte, A povere man, which Bardus hihte, 20 Cam forth walkende with his asse, And hadde gadred him a tasse Of grene stickes and of dreie To selle, who that wolde hem beie, As he which hadde no liflode, 25 Bot whanne he myhte such a lode To toune with his asse carie. And as it fell him for to tarie That ilke time nyh the pet, And hath the trusse faste knet, 30 He herde a vois, which cride dimme, And he his ere to the brimme Hath leid, and herde it was a man, Which seide, 'Ha, help hier Adrian, And I wol [gh]iven half mi good.' 35 The povere man this understod, As he that wolde gladly winne, And to this lord which was withinne He spak and seide, 'If I thee save, What sikernesse schal I have 40 Of covenant, that afterward Thou wolt me [gh]ive such reward As thou behihtest nou tofore?' That other hath his othes swore Be hevene and be the goddes alle, 45 If that it myhte so befalle That he out of the pet him broghte, Of all the goodes whiche he oghte He schal have evene halvendel. This Bardus seide he wolde wel; 50 And with this word his asse anon He let untrusse, and therupon Doun goth the corde into the pet, To which he hath at þe ende knet A staf, wherby, he seide, he wolde 55 That Adrian him scholde holde. Bot it was tho per chance falle, Into that pet was also falle An ape, which at thilke throwe, Whan that the corde cam doun lowe, 60 Al sodeinli therto he skipte And it in bothe hise armes clipte. And Bardus with his asse anon Him hath updrawe, and he is gon. But whan he sih it was an ape, 65 He wende al hadde ben a iape Of faierie, and sore him dradde: And Adrian eftsone gradde For help, and cride and preide faste, And he eftsone his corde caste; 70 Bot whan it cam unto the grounde, A gret serpent it hath bewounde, The which Bardus anon up drouh. And thanne him thoghte wel ynouh It was fantosme, bot yit he herde 75 The vois, and he therto ansuerde, 'What wiht art thou in Goddes name?' 'I am,' quod Adrian, 'the same, Whos good thou schalt have evene half.' Quod Bardus, 'Thanne a Goddes half 80 The thridde time assaie I schal': And caste his corde forth withal Into the pet, and whan it cam To him, this lord of Rome it nam, And therupon him hath adresced, 85 And with his hand ful ofte blessed, And thanne he bad to Bardus hale. And he, which understod his tale, Betwen him and his asse, al softe, Hath drawe and set him up alofte 90 Withouten harm, al esely. He seith noght ones 'grant merci,' Bot strauhte him forth to the cité, And let this povere Bardus be. And natheles this simple man 95 His covenant, so as he can, Hath axed; and that other seide, If so be that he him umbreide Of oght that hath be speke or do, It schal ben venged on him so, 100 That him were betre to be ded. And he can tho non other red, But on his asse a[gh]ein he caste His trusse, and hieth homward faste: And whan that he cam hom to bedde, 105 He tolde his wif hou that he spedde. Bot finaly to speke oght more Unto this lord he dradde him sore. So that a word ne dorste he sein. And thus upon the morwe a[gh]ein, 110 In the manere as I recorde, Forth with his asse and with his corde To gadre wode, as he dede er, He goth; and whan that he cam ner Unto the place where he wolde, 115 He hath his ape anon beholde, Which hadde gadred al aboute Of stickes hiere and there a route, And leide hem redy to his hond, Wherof he made his trosse and bond. 120 Fro dai to dai and in this wise This ape profreth his servise, So that he hadde of wode ynouh. Upon a time and as he drouh Toward the wode, he sih besyde 125 The grete gastli serpent glyde, Til that sche cam in his presence, And in hir kinde a reverence Sche hath him do, and forth withal A ston mor briht than a cristall 130 Out of hir mouth tofore his weie Sche let doun falle, and wente aweie For that he schal noght ben adrad. Tho was this povere Bardus glad, Thonkende God and to the ston 135 He goth and takth it up anon, And hath gret wonder in his wit Hou that the beste him hath aquit, Wher that the mannes sone hath failed, For whom he hadde most travailed. 140 Bot al he putte in Goddes hond, And torneth hom, and what he fond Unto his wif he hath it schewed; And thei, that weren bothe lewed, Acorden that he scholde it selle. 145 And he no lengere wolde duelle, Bot forth anon upon the tale The ston he profreth to the sale; And riht as he himself it sette, The iueler anon forth fette 150 The gold and made his paiement; Therof was no delaiement. Thus whan this ston was boght and sold, Homward with ioie manyfold This Bardus goth; and whan he cam 155 Hom to his hous and that he nam His gold out of his purs, withinne He fond his ston also therinne, Wherof for ioie his herte pleide, Unto his wif and thus he seide, 160 'Lo, hier my gold, lo, hier mi ston!' His wif hath wonder therupon, And axeth him hou that mai be. 'Nou, be mi trouthe! I not,' quod he, 'Bot I dar swere upon a bok 165 That to my marchant I it tok, And he it hadde whan I wente: So knowe I noght to what entente It is nou hier, bot it be grace. Forthi tomorwe in other place 170 I wole it fonde for to selle, And if it wol noght with him duelle, Bot crepe into mi purs a[gh]ein, Than dar I saufly swere and sein It is the vertu of the ston.' 175 The morwe cam, and he is gon To seche aboute in other stede His ston to selle, and he so dede, And lefte it with his chapman there. Bot whan that he cam elleswhere 180 In presence of his wif at hom, Out of his purs and that he nom His gold, he fond his ston withal. And thus it fell him overal, Where he it solde in sondri place, 185 Such was the fortune and the grace. Bot so wel may nothing ben hidd, That it nys ate laste kidd: This fame goth aboute Rome So ferforth that the wordes come 190 To themperour Iustinian; And he let sende for the man, And axede him hou that it was. And Bardus tolde him al the cas, Hou that the worm and ek the beste, 195 Althogh thei maden no beheste, His travail hadden wel aquit; Bot he which hadde a mannes wit, And made his covenant be mouthe, And swor therto al that he couthe, 200 To parte and [gh]iven half his good, Hath nou for[gh]ete hou that it stod, As he which wol no trouthe holde. This Emperour al that he tolde Hath herd, and thilke unkindenesse 205 He seide he wolde himself redresse. And thus in court of iuggement This Adrian was thanne assent, And the querele in audience Declared was in the presence 210 Of themperour and many mo; Wherof was mochel speche tho And gret wondringe among the press. Bot ate laste natheles For the partie which hath pleigned 215 The lawe hath diemed and ordeigned Be hem that were avised wel, That he schal have the halvendel Thurghout of Adrianes good. And thus of thilke unkinde blod 220 Stant the memoire into this day, Wherof that every wys man may Ensamplen him, and take in mynde What schame it is to ben unkinde; A[gh]ein the which reson debateth, 225 And every creature it hateth. XIII JOHN OF TREVISA'S TRANSLATION OF HIGDEN'S POLYCHRONICON 1387. Ranulph Higden (d. 1364) was a monk of St. Werburgh's at Chester, and has been doubtfully identified with the 'Randal Higden' who is said to have travelled to Rome to get the Pope's consent to the acting of the Chester miracle plays in English. His _Polychronicon_, so called because it is the chronicle of many ages, is a compilation covering the period from the Creation to 1352. In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries it was the favourite universal history; and the First Book, which deals with general geography, has still a special interest for the light it throws on the state of knowledge in Chaucer's day. Two English prose translations are known: Trevisa's, completed in 1387, and modernized and printed by Caxton in 1482; and an anonymous rendering made in the second quarter of the fifteenth century. Both are printed, with Higden's Latin, in the edition by Babington and Lumby, Rolls Series, 9 vols., 1865-86. John of Trevisa was a Cornishman. He was a fellow of Exeter College, Oxford, from 1362 to 1365; and was one of those expelled from Queen's College for 'unworthiness' in 1379. He became vicar of Berkeley, and at the request of Sir Thomas Berkeley undertook the translation of the _Polychronicon_. In 1398 he brought to an end another long work, the translation of _Bartholomaeus de Proprietatibus Rerum_, the great encyclopaedia of natural science at this time. He died at Berkeley in 1402. Trevisa was a diligent but not an accurate or graceful translator. He rarely adds anything from his own knowledge, though we have an example in the account of the reform of teaching at Oxford while he was there. The interest of his work depends chiefly on the curiosity of some passages in his originals. A. THE MARVELS OF BRITAIN. CHAP. xlii. MS. Tiberius D. vii (about 1400), f. 39 a. In Brytayn buþ hoot welles wel arayed and yhy[gh]t to þe vse of mankunde. Mayster of þulke welles ys þe gret spyryt of Minerua. Yn hys hous fuyr duyreþ alwey, þat neuer chaungeþ into askes, bote þar þe fuyr slakeþ, hyt changeþ ynto stony clottes. {5} Yn Brytayn buþ meny wondres. Noþeles foure buþ most wonderfol. Þe furste ys at Pectoun. Þar bloweþ so strong a wynd out of þe chenes of þe eorþe þat hyt casteþ vp a[gh]e cloþes þat me casteþ yn. Þe secunde ys at Stonhenge bysydes Salesbury. Þar gret stones and wondur huge buþ {10} arered an hy[gh], as hyt were [gh]ates, so þat þar semeþ [gh]ates yset apon oþer [gh]ates. Noþeles hyt ys no[gh]t clerlych yknowe noþer parceyuet hou[gh] and wharfore a buþ so arered and so wonderlych yhonged. Þe þridde ys at Cherdhol. Þer ys gret holwenes vndur eorþe. Ofte meny men habbeþ {15} ybe þerynne, and ywalked aboute wiþynne, and yseye ryuers and streemes, bote nowhar conneþ hy fynde non ende. Þe feurþe ys þat reyn ys yseye arered vp of þe hulles, and anon yspronge aboute yn þe feeldes. Also þer ys a gret pond þat conteyneþ þre score ylondes couenable for men to dwelle {20} ynne. Þat pound ys byclypped aboute wiþ six score rooches. Apon euerych rooch ys an egle hys nest; and þre score ryuers eorneþ into þat pound, and non of ham alle eorneþ into þe se, bot on. Þar ys a pound yclosed aboute wiþ a wal of tyyl and of ston. Yn þat pound men wascheþ and baþeþ {25} wel ofte, and euerych man feeleþ þe water hoot oþer cold ry[gh]t as a wol hymsylf. Þar buþ also salt welles fer fram þe se, and buþ salt al þe woke long forto Saturday noon, and fersch fram Saturday noon forto Moneday. Þe water of þis welles, whanne hyt ys ysode, turneþ into smal salt, fayr and {30} whyyt. Also þar ys a pond þe water þerof haþ wondur worchyng, for þey al an ost stood by þe pond, and turnede þe face þyderward, þe water wolde drawe vyolentlych toward þe pond, and weete al here cloþes. So scholde hors be drawe yn þe same wyse. Bote [gh]ef þe face ys aweyward {35} fram þe water, þe water noyeþ no[gh]t. Þer ys a welle <þat> non streem eorneþ þarfram noþer þerto, and [gh]et four maner fysch buþ ytake þarynne. Þat welle ys bote twenty foot long, and twenty foot brood, and no[gh]t deop bote to þe kneo, and ys yclosed wiþ hy[gh] bankkes in euerych syde. {40} Yn þe contray aboute Wynchestre ys a den. Out of þat den alwey bloweþ a strong wynd, so þat no man may endure for to stonde tofor þat den. Þar ys also a pond þat turneþ tre into yre and hyt be þerynne al a [gh]er, and so tren buþ yschape into whestones. Also þer ys yn þe cop of an hul {45} a buryel. Euerych man þat comeþ and meteþ þat buriel a schal fynde hyt euene ry[gh]t of hys oune meete; and [gh]ef a pylgrym oþer eny wery man kneoleþ þerto, anon a schal be al fersch, and of werynes schal he feele non nuy. Fast by pe Ministre of Wynburney, þat ys no[gh]t fer fram {50} Bathe, ys a wode þat bereþ moche fruyt. [Gh]ef pe tren of þat wode falle into a water oþer grounde <þat> þar ys ny[gh], and lygge þar al a [gh]er, þe tren teorneþ ynto stoones. Vndur þe cité of Chestre eorneþ þe ryuer Dee, þat now todeleþ Engelond and Wales. Þat ryuer euerych monthe {55} chaungeþ hys fordes, as men of þe contray telleþ, and leueþ ofte þe chanel. Bote wheþer þe water drawe more toward Engelond oþer toward Wales, to what syde þat hyt be, þat [gh]er men of þat syde schal habbe þe wors ende and be ouerset, and þe men of þe oþer syde schal habbe þe betre ende and be {60} at here aboue. Whanne þe water chaungeþ so hys cours, hyt bodeþ such happes. Þis ryuer Dee eorneþ and comeþ out of a lake þat hatte Pimbilmere. Yn þe ryuer ys gret plenté of samon. Noþeles in þe lake ys neuer samon yfounde. B. THE LANGUAGES OF BRITAIN. CHAP. lix. As hyt ys yknowe hou[gh] meny maner people buþ in þis ylond, þer buþ also of so meny people longages and tonges. Noþeles Walschmen and Scottes, þat buþ no[gh]t ymelled wiþ oþer nacions, holdeþ wel ny[gh] here furste longage and speche, bote [gh]ef Scottes, þat were som tyme confederat and wonede {5} wiþ þe Pictes, drawe somwhat after here speche. Bote þe Flemmynges þat woneþ in þe west syde of Wales habbeþ yleft here strange speche, and spekeþ Saxonlych ynow. Also Englysch men, þey[gh] hy hadde fram þe bygynnyng þre maner speche, Souþeron, Norþeron, and Myddel speche in þe {10} myddel of þe lond, as hy come of þre maner people of Germania, noþeles by commyxstion and mellyng, furst wiþ Danes and afterward wiþ Normans, in menye þe contray longage ys apeyred, and som vseþ strange wlaffyng, chyteryng, harryng, and garryng grisbittyng. Þis apeyryng of þe {15} burþtonge ys bycause of twey þinges. On ys for chyldern in scole, a[gh]enes þe vsage and manere of al oþer nacions, buþ compelled for to leue here oune longage, and for to construe here lessons and here þinges a Freynsch, and habbeþ suþthe þe Normans come furst into Engelond. Also gentil men {20} children buþ ytau[gh]t for to speke Freynsch fram tyme þat a buþ yrokked in here cradel, and conneþ speke and playe wiþ a child hys brouch; and oplondysch men wol lykne hamsylf to gentil men, and fondeþ wiþ gret bysynes for to speke Freynsch, for to be more ytold of. {25} [Þys manere was moche y-vsed tofore þe furste moreyn, and ys seþthe somdel ychaunged. For Iohan Cornwal, a mayster of gramere, chayngede þe lore in gramerscole and construccion of Freynsch into Englysch; and Richard Pencrych lurnede þat manere techyng of hym, and oþer men of Pencrych, so þat {30} now, þe [gh]er of oure Lord a þousond þre hondred foure score and fyue, of þe secunde kyng Richard after þe Conquest nyne, in al þe gramerscoles of Engelond childern leueþ Frensch, and construeþ and lurneþ an Englysch, and habbeþ þerby avauntage in on syde, and desavauntage yn anoþer. {35} Here avauntage ys þat a lurneþ here gramer yn lasse tyme þan childern wer ywoned to do. Disavauntage ys þat now childern of gramerscole conneþ no more Frensch þan can here lift heele, and þat ys harm for ham and a scholle passe þe se and trauayle in strange londes, and in meny caas also. {40} Also gentil men habbeþ now moche yleft for to teche here childern Frensch.] Hyt semeþ a gret wondur hou[gh] Englysch, þat ys þe burþ tonge of Englysch men, and here oune longage and tonge, ys so dyuers of soon in þis ylond; and þe longage of Normandy ys comlyng of anoþer lond, and haþ on maner {45} soon among al men þat spekeþ hyt ary[gh]t in Engelond. [Noþeles þer ys as meny dyuers maner Frensch yn þe rem of Fraunce as ys dyuers manere Englysch in þe rem of Engelond.] Also of þe forseyde Saxon tonge, þat ys deled a þre, and ys abyde scarslych wiþ feaw vplondysch men, and ys gret {50} wondur, for men of þe est wiþ men of þe west, as hyt were vnder þe same party of heuene, acordeþ more in sounyng of speche þan men of þe norþ wiþ men of þe souþ. Þerfore hyt ys þat Mercii, þat buþ men of myddel Engelond, as hyt were parteners of þe endes, vndurstondeþ betre þe syde {55} longages, Norþeron and Souþeron, þan Norþeron and Souþeron vndurstondeþ eyþer oþer. Al þe longage of þe Norþhumbres, and specialych at [Gh]ork, ys so scharp, slyttyng, and frotyng, and vnschape, þat we Souþeron men may þat longage vnneþe vndurstonde. Y trowe {60} þat þat ys bycause þat a buþ ny[gh] to strange men and aliens, þat spekeþ strangelych, and also bycause þat þe kynges of Engelond woneþ alwey fer fram þat contray; for a buþ more yturnd to þe souþ contray, and [gh]ef a goþ to þe norþ contray, a goþ wiþ gret help and strengthe. {65} Þe cause why a buþ more in þe souþ contray þan in þe norþ may be betre cornlond, more people, more noble cytés, and more profytable hauenes. XIV POLITICAL PIECES In the thirteenth century political poems were written chiefly in Latin or French. In the fourteenth century a steadily growing tendency to use English witnesses the increased interest of the people in politics and social questions. The fullest collections are those edited by T. Wright, _Political Songs of England_ (John to Edward II), Camden Society, 1839; and _Political Poems and Songs_ (Edward III to Richard III), Rolls Series, 2 vols., 1859-61. The selections A and B are from the poems of Laurence Minot, of which the best edition is the third by J. Hall, Oxford 1914. Minot was a better patriot than a poet, and his boisterous contempt for the Scots and French reflects the spirit of England in the early days of Edward III's greatness. The empty phrases in which the anonymous piece C abounds do not disguise a note of despair. The long war with France was becoming more and more hopeless. The plague that added to its miseries had carried off Henry, first Duke of Lancaster, in 1361. The Black Prince, to whom the nation looked for guidance, had died in 1376. The inglorious old age of Edward III ended in the following year. But there remained the hope, soon to be falsified, that the boy king Richard II would steer the ship of state to safety. D is the earliest text of the letter which John Ball addressed to the Essex members of the Great Society of Peasants on the eve of the revolt of 1381. It shows how deep an impression the characters and allegorical form of _Piers Plowman_ had made on the oppressed serfs and labourers, and it gives some idea of the vague and incoherent thinking that brought ruin on their enterprise. Ball, who had defied established authority all his life, was freed from prison by the rebels, became a ringleader, and preached to their assembly on Blackheath a famous sermon with the text: When Adam dalf, and Eve span, Who was then the gentleman? A few weeks later he was executed by sentence of Lord Chief Justice Tressilian, who had been charged by the King to take vengeance on the rebels. The distich E sums up briefly the history of a year which turned moderate men against Richard II. A fuller contemporary picture of the events that led to his deposition is found in the alliterative poem _Richard the Redeles_, attributed by Skeat to the author of _Piers Plowman_. A. ON THE SCOTS (ABOUT 1333). BY LAURENCE MINOT. MS. Cotton Galba E. ix (about 1425), f. 52 a. _Now for to tell [gh]ou will I turn Of batayl of Banocburn_ Skottes out of Berwik and of Abirdene At þe Bannokburn war [gh]e to kene; Þare slogh [gh]e many sakles, als it was sene, And now has King Edward wroken it, I wene. It es wrokin, I wene, wele wurth þe while! 5 War [gh]it with þe Skottes for þai er ful of gile! Whare er [gh]e Skottes of Saint Iohnes toune? Þe boste of [gh]owre baner es betin all doune. When [gh]e bosting will bede, Sir Edward es boune For to kindel [gh]ow care, and crak [gh]owre crowne. 10 He has crakked [gh]owre croune, wele worth þe while Schame bityde þe Skottes, for þai er full of gile! Skottes of Striflin war steren and stout, Of God ne of gude men had þai no dout. Now haue þai, þe pelers, priked obout, 15 Bot at þe last Sir Edward rifild þaire rout. He has rifild þaire rout, wele wurth þe while! Bot euer er þai vnder bot gaudes and gile. Rughfute riueling, now kindels þi care; Berebag with þi boste, þi biging es bare; 20 Fals wretche and forsworn, whider wiltou fare? Busk þe vnto Brig, and abide þare. Þare, wretche, saltou won, and wery þe while; Þi dwelling in Dondé es done for þi gile. Þe Skottes gase in Burghes and betes þe stretes; 25 Al þise Inglis men harmes he hetes; Fast makes he his mone to men þat he metes, Bot fone frendes he findes þat his bale betes. Fune betes his bale, wele wurth þe while! He vses al threting with gaudes and gile. 30 Bot many man thretes and spekes ful ill Þat sum tyme war better to be stane--still. Þe Skot in his wordes has wind for to spill, For at þe last Edward sall haue al his will. He had his will at Berwik, wele wurth þe while! 35 Skottes broght him þe kayes,--bot get for þaire gile. B. THE TAKING OF CALAIS (1347). BY LAURENCE MINOT. MS. Cotton Galba E. ix (about 1425), f. 55 b. _How Edward als þe romance sais Held his sege bifor Calais._ Calays men, now mai [gh]e care, And murni g mun [gh]e haue to mede; Mirth on mold get [gh]e no mare, Sir Edward sall ken [gh]ow [gh]owre crede. Whilum war [gh]e wight in wede 5 To robbing rathly for to ren; Mend [gh]ow sone of [gh]owre misdede: [Gh]owre care es cumen, will [gh]e it ken. Kend it es how [gh]e war kene Al Inglis men with dole to dere. 10 Þaire gudes toke [gh]e al bidene, No man born wald [gh]e forbere. [Gh]e spared noght with swerd ne spere To stik þam, and þaire gudes to stele. With wapin and with ded of were 15 Þus haue [gh]e wonnen werldes wele. Weleful men war [gh]e iwis, Bot fer on fold sall [gh]e noght fare: A bare sal now abate [gh]owre blis And wirk [gh]ow bale on bankes bare. 20 He sall [gh]ow hunt, als hund dose hare, Þat in no hole sall [gh]e [gh]ow hide; For all [gh]owre speche will he noght spare, Bot bigges him right by [gh]owre side. Biside [gh]ow here þe bare bigins 25 To big his boure in winter tyde, And all bityme takes he his ines With semly se gantes him biside. Þe word of him walkes ful wide-- Iesu saue him fro mischance! 30 In bataill dar he wele habide Sir Philip and Sir Iohn of France. Þe Franche men er fers and fell, And mase grete dray when þai er dight; Of þam men herd slike tales tell, 35 With Edward think þai for to fight, Him for to hald out of his right, And do him treson with þaire tales: Þat was þaire purpos, day and night, Bi counsail of þe Cardinales. 40 Cardinales with hattes rede War fro Calays wele thre myle; Þai toke þaire counsail in þat stede How þai might Sir Edward bigile. Þai lended þare bot litill while 45 Till Franche men to grante þaire grace: Sir Philip was funden a file, He fled and faght noght in þat place. In þat place þe bare was blith, For all was funden þat he had soght. 50 Philip þe Valas fled ful swith With þe batail þat he had broght. For to haue Calays had he thoght All at his ledeing, loud or still; Bot all þaire wiles war for noght: 55 Edward wan it at his will. Lystens now, and [gh]e may lere, Als men þe suth may vnderstand, Þe knightes þat in Calais were Come to Sir Edward sare wepeand. 60 In kirtell one, and swerd in hand, And cried, 'Sir Edward, þine are. Do now, lord, bi law of land Þi will with vs for euermare'. Þe nobill burgase and þe best 65 Come vnto him to haue þaire hire. Þe comun puple war ful prest Rapes to bring obout þaire swire. Þai said all: 'Sir Philip, oure syre, And his sun, Sir Iohn of France, 70 Has left vs ligand in þe mire, And broght vs till þis doleful dance. Our horses þat war faire and fat Er etin vp ilkone bidene; Haue we nowþer conig ne cat 75 Þat þai ne er etin, and hundes kene Al er etin vp ful clene-- Es nowther leuid biche ne whelp-- Þat es wele on oure sembland sene, And þai er fled þat suld vs help.' 80 A knight þat was of grete renowne-- Sir Iohn de Viene was his name-- He was wardaine of þe toune And had done Ingland mekill schame. For all þaire boste þai er to blame, 85 Ful stalworthly þare haue þai streuyn. A bare es cumen to mak þam tame, Kayes of þe toun to him er gifen. Þe kaies er [gh]olden him of þe [gh]ate,-- Lat him now kepe þam if he kun. 90 To Calais cum þai all to late, Sir Philip, and Sir Iohn his sun. Al war ful ferd þat þare ware fun, Þaire leders may þai barely ban. All on þis wise was Calais won: 95 God saue þam þat it sogat wan! C. ON THE DEATH OF EDWARD III, A.D. 1377. Bodleian MS. Vernon (about 1400), f. 4106. A! dere God, what mai þis be, Þat alle þing weres and wasteþ awai? Frendschip is but a vanyté, Vnneþe hit dures al a day. Þei beo so sliper at assai, 5 So leof to han, and loþ to lete, And so fikel in heore fai, Þat selden isei[gh]e is sone for[gh]ete. I sei hit not wiþouten a cause, And þerfore takes riht good hede, 10 For [gh]if [gh]e construwe wel þis clause, I puit [gh]ou holly out of drede Þat for puire schame [gh]or hertes wol blede And [gh]e þis matere wysli trete: He þat was vr moste spede 15 Is selden iseye and sone for[gh]ete. Sum tyme an Englisch schip we had, Nobel hit was and heih of tour, Þorw al Cristendam hit was drad, And stif wolde stande in vch a stour, 20 And best dorst byde a scharp schour, And oþer stormes, smale and grete. Now is þat schip, þat bar þe flour, Selden se[gh]e and sone for[gh]ete. Into þat schip þer longed a rooþur 25 Þat steered þe schip and gouerned hit; In al þis world nis such anoþur, As me þinkeþ in my wit. Whyl schip and roþur togeder was knit, Þei dredde nouþer tempest, druy[gh]e nor wete; 30 Nou be þei boþe in synder flit, Þat selden sey[gh]e is sone for[gh]ete. Scharpe wawes þat schip has sayled, And sayed alle sees at auentur. For wynt ne wederes neuer hit fayled 35 Whil þe roþur mihte enduir. Þou[gh] þe see were rouh or elles dimuir, Gode hauenes þat schip wolde gete. Nou is þat schip, I am wel suir, Selde iseye and sone for[gh]ete. 40 Þis goode schip I may remene To þe chiualrye of þis londe; Sum tyme þei counted nou[gh]t a bene Beo al Fraunce, ich vnderstonde. Þei tok and slou[gh] hem with heore honde, 45 Þe power of Fraunce, boþ smal and grete, And brou[gh]t þe king hider to byde her bonde: And nou riht sone hit is for[gh]ete. Þat schip hadde a ful siker mast, And a sayl strong and large, 50 Þat made þe gode schip neuer agast To vndertake a þing of charge; And to þat schip þer longed a barge Of al Fraunce [gh]af nou[gh]t a clete; To vs hit was a siker targe, 55 And now riht clene hit is for[gh]ete. Þe roþur was nouþer ok ne elm,-- Hit was Edward þe Þridde, þe noble kniht. Þe Prince his sone bar vp his helm, Þat neuer scoumfited was in fiht. 60 The Kyng him rod and rouwed ariht; Þe Prince dredde nouþur stok nor strete. Nou of hem we lete ful liht: Þat selde is se[gh]e is sone for[gh]ete. Þe swifte barge was Duk Henri, 65 Þat noble kniht and wel assayed, And in his leggaunce worþili He abod mony a bitter brayd. [Gh]if þat his enemys ou[gh]t outrayed, To chastis hem wolde he not lete. 70 Nou is þat lord ful lowe ileyd: Þat selde is se[gh]e is sone for[gh]ete. Þis gode Comunes, bi þe rode! I likne hem to the schipes mast, Þat with heore catel and heore goode 75 Mayntened þe werre boþ furst and last, Þe wynd þat bleu[gh] þe schip wiþ blast Hit was gode pre[gh]ers, I sei hit atrete. Nou is deuoutnes out icast, And mony gode dedes ben clen for[gh]ete. 80 Þus ben þis lordes ileid ful lowe: Þe stok is of þe same rote; An ympe biginnes for to growe And [gh]it I hope schal ben vr bote, To holde his fomen vnder fote, 85 And as a lord be set in sete. Crist leue þat he so mote, Þat selden ise[gh]e be not for[gh]ete! Weor þat impe fully growe, Þat he had sarri sap and piþ, 90 I hope he schulde be kud and knowe For conquerour of moni a kiþ. He is ful lyflich in lyme and liþ In armes to trauayle and to swete. Crist leeue we so fare him wiþ 95 Þat selden se[gh]e be neuer for[gh]ete! And þerfore holliche I ou rede, Til þat þis ympe beo fully growe, Þat vch a mon vp wiþ þe hede And mayntene him, boþe hei[gh]e and lowe. 100 Þe Frensche men cunne boþe boste and blowe, And wiþ heore scornes vs toþrete, And we beoþ boþe vnkuynde and slowe, Þat selden se[gh]e is sone for[gh]ete. And þerfore, gode sires, takeþ reward 105 Of [gh]or douhti kyng þat dy[gh]ede in age, And to his sone, Prince Edward, Þat welle was of alle corage. Suche two lordes of hei[gh] parage I not in eorþe whon we schal gete; 110 And nou heore los biginneþ to swage, Þat selde ise[gh]e is sone for[gh]ete. [Foot-note: 42 chilualrye _MS._] [Foot-note: 110 I] In _MS._] D. JOHN BALL'S LETTER TO THE PEASANTS OF ESSEX, 1381. St. Albans MS. British Museum Royal 13. E. ix (about 1400), f. 287 a. Iohon Schep, som tyme Seynte Marie prest of [Gh]ork, and now of Colchestre, greteth wel Iohan Nameles, and Iohan þe Mullere, and Iohon Cartere, and biddeþ hem þat þei bee war of gyle in borugh, and stondeth togidre in Godes name, and biddeþ Peres Plou[gh]man go to his werk, and chastise {5} wel Hobbe þe Robbere, and takeþ wiþ [gh]ow Iohan Trewman, and alle hiis felawes, and no mo, and loke schappe [gh]ou to on heued, and no mo. Iohan þe Mullere haþ ygrounde smal, smal, smal; Þe Kynges sone of heuene schal paye for al. 10 Be war or _y_e be wo; Knoweþ [gh]our freend fro [gh]our foo; Haueth ynow, and seith 'Hoo'; And do wel and bettre, and fleth synne, And sekeþ pees, and hold [gh]ou þerinne; 15 and so biddeþ Iohan Trewman and alle his felawes. [Foot-note: 4 togidre] togidedre _MS._] [Foot-note: 11 ye] þe _MS._] E. ON THE YEAR 1390-1. St. John's College (Oxford) MS. 209, f. 57 a. The ax was sharpe, the stokke was harde, In the xiiii yere of Kyng Richarde. XV MISCELLANEOUS PIECES IN VERSE Under this head are grouped a number of short poems, representing forms of composition that survive only by fortunate chance. A is a curious little song, which has been printed from Hale MS. 135 by G. E. Woodbine in _Modern Language Review_, vol. iv, p. 236, and reconstructed by Skeat at vol. v, p. 105, of the same periodical. B and C are the best-known lyrics of the important collection edited by Böddeker, _Altenglische Dichtungen des MS. Harley 2253_, Berlin 1878. They are literary and rather artificial in form. D and E are minstrels' songs found, among other popular snatches, on a fly-leaf of Bodleian MS. Rawlinson D. 913, and edited by Heuser in _Anglia_, vol. xxx, p. 173. In E lines 14-16 and ll. 17-19 are to be expanded on the model of ll. 7-13. All these songs are early, and have a lightness and gaiety that become rare as the fourteenth century advances. F is one of several English scraps (ed. Furnivall in _Political, Religious, and Love Poems_, E.E.T.S., pp. 249 ff.) that are found scattered through the Latin text of MS. Harley 7322. Most of the English pieces are without poetical merit, but in this one poem the writer has attained a perfect simplicity. G, printed in Wright and Halliwell's _Reliquiae Antiquae_, 1845, vol. i, p. 144, has been recognized as the first of the English ballads. It is the only example before 1400 of the swift and dramatic movement, the sudden transitions, and the restrained expression, characteristic of the ballad style. H, first printed in _Reliquiae Antiquae_, vol. i, p. 240, is the latest of the short pieces. With onomatopoeic effects it gives a vivid if unfriendly picture of a blacksmith's forge on a busy night. I is a charm edited by Furnivall at p. 43 of the E.E.T.S. volume in which F appears. A. NOW SPRINGS THE SPRAY. Lincoln's Inn MS. Hale 135 (about 1300). _Nou sprinkes þe sprai, Al for loue icche am so seek Þat slepen I ne mai._ Als I me rode þis endre dai O mi playinge, 5 Seih I hwar a litel mai Bigan to singge: 'Þe clot him clingge! Wai es him i louue-longinge Sal libben ai!' 10 _Nou sprinkes, &c._ Son icche herde þat mirie note, _Þ_ider I drogh; I fonde hire in an herber swot Vnder a bogh, With ioie inogh. 15 Son I asked: 'Þou mirie mai, Hwi sinkestou ai?' _Nou sprinkes, &c._ Þan answerde þat maiden swote Midde wordes fewe: 'Mi lemman me haues bihot 20 Of louue trewe: He chaunges anewe. _Y_iif I mai, it shal him rewe Bi þis dai.' _Nou sprinkes, &c._ [Foot-note: 4 Þis endre dai als I me rode _MS.; corr. Skeat_.] [Foot-note: 5 playinge] _indistinct_.] [Foot-note: 8 clingge] clingges _MS._] B. SPRING. MS. Harley 2253 (about 1325), f. 71 b. Lenten ys come wiþ loue to toune, Wiþ blosmen and wiþ briddes roune, Þat al þis blisse bryngeþ. Dayese[gh]es in þis dales, Notes suete of nyhtegales, 5 Vch foul song singeþ. Þe þrestelcoc him þreteþ oo, Away is huere wynter wo, When woderoue springeþ. Þis foules singeþ ferly fele, 10 Ant wlyteþ on huere [+]wynter[+] wele, Þat al þe wode ryngeþ. Þe rose rayleþ hire rode, Þe leues on þe lyhte wode Waxen al wiþ wille. 15 Þe mone mandeþ hire bleo, Þe lilie is lossom to seo, Þe fenyl and þe fille. Wowes þis wilde drakes; [+]Miles[+] murgeþ huere makes, 20 Ase strem þat strikeþ stille. Mody meneþ, so do_þ_ mo-- Ichot ycham on of þo, For loue þat likes ille. Þe mone mandeþ hire lyht; 25 So doþ þe semly sonne bryht, When briddes singeþ breme. Deawes donkeþ þe dounes; Deores wiþ huere derne rounes, Domes for te deme; 30 Wormes woweþ vnder cloude; Wymmen waxeþ wounder proude, So wel hit wol hem seme. [Gh]ef me shal wonte wille of on, Þis wunne weole y wole forgon, 35 Ant wyht in wode be fleme. [Foot-note: 22 doþ] doh _MS._] C. ALYSOUN. MS. Harley 2253, f. 63 b. Bytuene Mersh and Aueril, When spray biginneþ to springe, Þe lutel foul haþ hire wyl On hyre lud to synge. Ich libbe in loue-longinge 5 For semlokest of alle þynge; He may me blisse bringe-- Icham in hire baundoun. _An hendy hap ichabbe yhent; Ichot from heuene it is me sent; 10 From alle wymmen mi loue is lent, And lyht on Alysoun._ On heu hire her is fayr ynoh, Hire browe broune, hire e[gh]e blake; Wiþ lossum chere he on me loh, 15 Wiþ middel smal and wel ymake. Bote he me wolle to hire take, For te buen hire owen make, Longe to lyuen ichulle forsake, And feye fallen adoun. 20 _An hendy hap, &c._ Nihtes when y wende and wake, Forþi myn wonges waxeþ won, Leuedi, al for þine sake Longinge is ylent me on. In world nis non so wyter mon 25 Þat al hire bounté telle con; Hire swyre is whittore þen þe swon, And feyrest may in toune. _An hend , &c._ Icham for wowyng al forwake, Wery so water in wore, 30 Lest eny reue me my make, Ychabbe y[gh]yrned [gh]ore. Betere is þolien whyle sore Þen mournen euermore. Geynest vnder gore, 35 Herkne to my roun. _An hendi ._ 40 D. THE IRISH DANCER. Bodleian MS. Rawlinson D. 913. Icham of Irlaunde, Ant of the holy londe Of Irlande. Gode sire, pray ich _þ_e, For of saynte charité, 5 Come ant daunce wyt me In Irlaunde. [Foot-note: 4 þe] [gh]e _MS._] E. THE MAID OF THE MOOR. Bodleian MS. Rawlinson D. 913. Maiden in the mor lay, In the mor lay, Seuenyst fulle, seuenist fulle, Maiden in the mor lay, In the mor lay, 5 Seuenistes fulle ant a day. Welle wa_s_ hire mete; Wat was hire mete? Þe primerole ant the,-- Þe primerole ant the,-- 10 Welle was hire mete; Wat was hire mete?-- The primerole ant the violet. Welle ; Wat was hire dryng? 15 Þe chelde water of <þe> welle-spring. Welle was hire bour; Wat was hire bour? Þe rede rose an te lilie flour. [Foot-note: 7 was] wat _MS._] F. THE VIRGIN'S SONG. British Museum MS. Harley 7322 (about 1375), f. 135 b. Iesu, swete sone dere! On porful bed list þou here, And þat me greueþ sore; For þi cradel is ase a bere, Oxe and asse beþ þi fere: Weepe ich mai þarfore. Iesu, swete, beo noth wroþ, Þou ich nabbe clout ne cloþ Þe on for to folde, Þe on to folde ne to wrappe, 10 For ich nabbe clout ne lappe; Bote ley þou þi fet to my pappe, And wite þe from þe colde. G. JUDAS. Trinity College (Cambridge) MS. B. 14. 39 (about 1300), f. 34 a. Hit wes upon a Scere Þorsday þat vre Louerd aros; Ful milde were þe wordes He spec to Iudas: Iudas, þou most to Iurselem, oure mete for to bugge; Þritti platen of seluer þou bere upo þi rugge. Þou comest fer i þe brode stret, fer i þe brode strete; 5 Summe of þine cunesmen þer þou meist imete. Imette wid is soster, þe swikele wimon: 'Iudas, þou were wrþe me stende þe wid ston, (_bis_) For þe false prophete þat tou bileuest upon.' 'Be stille, leue soster, þin herte þe tobreke! 10 Wiste min Louerd Crist, ful wel He wolde be wreke.' 'Iudas, go þou on þe roc, heie upon þe ston, Lei þin heued i my barm, slep þou þe anon.' Sone so Iudas of slepe was awake, Þritti platen of seluer from hym weren itake. 15 He drou hymselve bi þe top, þat al it lauede a blode; Þe Iewes out of Iurselem awenden he were wode. Foret hym com þe riche Ieu þat heiste Pilatus: 'Wolte sulle þi Louerd, þat hette Iesus?' 'I nul sulle my Louerd for nones cunnes eiste, 20 Bote hit be for þe þritti platen þat He me bitaiste.' 'Wolte sulle þi Lord Crist for enes cunnes golde?' 'Nay, bote hit be for þe platen þat He habben wolde.' In him com ur Lord gon, as is postles seten at mete: 'Wou sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete? (_bis_) 25 Ic am iboust ant isold today for oure mete.' Up stod him Iudas: 'Lord, am I þat? I nas neuer o þe stude þer me Þe euel spec.' Up him stod Peter, ant spec wid al is miste: 'Þau Pilatus him come wid ten hundred cnistes, (_bis_) 30 Yet ic wolde, Louerd, for Þi loue fiste.' 'Stille þou be, Peter! Wel I þe icnowe; Þou wolt fursake me þrien ar þe coc him crowe.' H. THE BLACKSMITHS. British Museum MS. Arundel 292 (about 1425-50), f. 71 b. Swarte smekyd smeþes smateryd wyth smoke Dryue me to deth wyth den of here dyntes. Swech noys on nyghtes ne herd men neuer: What knauene cry and clateryng of knockes! Þe cammede kongons cryen after 'col, col!' 5 And blowen here bellewys, þat al here brayn brestes: 'Huf, puf!' seith þat on; 'haf, paf!' þat oþer. Þei spyttyn and spraulyn and spellyn many spelles; Þei gnauen and gnacchen, þei gronys togydere, And holdyn hem hote wyth here hard hamers. 10 Of a bole-hyde ben here barm-fellys; Here schankes ben schakeled for the fere flunderys; Heuy hamerys þei han, þat hard ben handled, Stark strokes þei stryken on a stelyd stokke: Lus, bus! las, das! rowtyn be rowe. 15 Swech dolful a dreme þe deuyl it todryue! Þe mayster longith a lityl, and lascheth a lesse, Twyneth hem tweyn, and towchith a treble: Tik, tak! hic, hac! tiket, taket! tyk, tak! Lus, bus! lus, das! swych lyf thei ledyn 20 Alle cloþemerys: Cryst hem gyue sorwe! May no man for brenwaterys on nyght han hys rest! I. RATS AWAY. Bodleian MS. Rawlinson C. 288, f. 113 (15th-century writing, blurred). I comawnde alle þe ratones þat are here abowte, Þat non dwelle in þis place, withinne ne withowte, Thorgh þe vertu of Iesu Crist, þat Mary bare abowte, Þat alle creatures owyn for to lowte, And thorgh þe vertu of Mark, Mathew, Luke, an Ion,-- 5 Alle foure Awangelys corden into on,-- Thorgh þe vertu of Sent Geretrude, þat mayde clene, God graunte þat grace Þat raton dwelle in þe place Þat here namis were nemeled in; 10 And thorgh þe vertu of Sent Kasi, Þat holy man, þat prayed to God Almyty For skathes þat þei deden Hys medyn Be dayes and be ny[gh]t, 15 God bad hem flen and gon out of euery manesse sy[gh]t. _Dominus Deus Sabaot!_ Emanuel, þe gret Godes name! I betweche þes place from ratones and from alle oþer schame. God saue þis place fro alle oþer wykked wytes, Boþe be dayes and be nytes! _et in nomine Patris et Filii_, 20 &c. [Foot-note: 13 skathes] t _altered from_ f (?) _MS._] XVI THE YORK PLAY 'HARROWING OF HELL' British Museum MS. Addit. 35290 (about 1430-40), f. 193 b. The miracle play _Harrowing of Hell_ is assigned to the craft of Saddlers in the York cycle, edited by Miss L. Toulmin-Smith, Oxford 1885, pp. 372 ff. This is the text reproduced below. It is also found, though in a less perfect form, among the _Towneley Plays_, ed. England and Pollard, E.E.T.S., 1897, pp. 293 ff. All the mediaeval stories of Christ's Descent into Hell are based on the gospel of Nicodemus, which seems to date from the fourth century, though the legend is referred to nearly two centuries earlier. This apocryphal narrative was popular throughout the Middle Ages. There is a prose translation in late Anglo-Saxon, and a Middle English verse rendering supplies some of the phrases in the play. Two points deserve notice for their bearing on the development of miracles. A trace of their origin in the services of the Church is seen in the use made of the Scriptural passage 'Attollite portas, principes, vestras, et elevamini portae aeternales, et introibit rex gloriae', the dramatic possibilities of which were recognized in ritual from an early date. And the growing taste for comic scenes is met, without prejudice to the serious characters, by the rudimentary buffoonery of the Devil and his companions. DRAMATIS PERSONAE. ADAME EUA ISAIAH SYMEON IESUS IOHANNES BAPTISTA MOYSES BELSABUB SATTAN DAUID BELLIALL MICHILL (Archangel) PRIMUS DIABOLUS SECUNDUS DIABOLUS [SCENE I, _outside the gates of Hell_.] 1. <_Iesus._ M>anne on molde, be meke to me, And haue thy Maker in þi mynde, And thynke howe I haue tholid for þe With pereles paynes for to be pyned. The forward of my Fadir free 5 Haue I fulfillid, as folke may fynde, Þerfore aboute nowe woll I bee Þat I haue bought for to vnbynde. Þe feende þame wanne with trayne, Thurgh frewte of erthely foode; 10 I haue þame getyn agayne Thurgh bying with my bloode. 2. And so I schall þat steede restore F_ro_ whilke þe feende fell for synne; Þare schalle mankynde wonne euermore 15 In blisse þat schall neuere blynne. All þat in werke my werkemen were, Owte of thare woo I wol þame wynne, And some signe schall I sende before Of grace, to garre þer gamys begynne. 20 A light I woll þei haue To schewe þame I schall come sone; My bodie bidis in graue Tille alle thes dedis be done. 3. My Fadir ordand on þis wise 25 Aftir His will þat I schulde wende, For to fulfille þe prophicye , And als I spake my solace to spende. My frendis, þat in me faith affies, Nowe fro ther fois I schall þame fende, 30 And on the thirde day ryght vprise, And so tille heuen I schall assende. Sithen schall I come agayne To deme bothe goode and ill Tille endles ioie or peyne; 35 Þus is my Fadris will. [SCENE II, _Hell; at one side Limbo, enclosing the patriarchs and prophets; a light shines across_.] 4. _Adame._ Mi bretheren, harkens to me here, Swilke hope of heele neuere are we hadde. Foure thowsande and sex hundereth [gh]ere Haue we bene heere in [+]þis stedde[+]. 40 Nowe see I signe of solace seere, A glorious gleme to make vs gladde, Wherfore I hope oure helpe is nere, And sone schall sesse oure sorowes sadde. _Eua._ Adame, my husband hende, 45 Þis menys solas certayne; Such light gune on vs lende In Paradise full playne. 5. _Isaiah._ Adame, we schall wele vndirstande; I, Ysaias, as God me kende, 50 I prechid in Neptalym þat lande, And [Gh]abulon, even vntill ende. I spake of folke in mirke walkand, And saide a light schulde on þame lende; This lered I whils I was leuand, 55 Nowe se I God þis same hath sende. Þis light comes all of Criste, Þat seede, to saue vs nowe, Þus is my poynte puplisshid. But Symeon, what sais þou? 60 6. _Symeon._ Þhis, my tale of farleis feele, For in þis temple His frendis me fande; I hadde delite with Hym to dele, And halsed homely with my hande. I saide, 'Lorde, late thy seruaunt lele 65 Passe nowe in pesse to liffe lastand, For nowe myselfe has sene Thy hele, Me liste no lengar to liffe in lande.' Þis light Þou hast purueyed To folkes þat liffis in leede, 70 Þe same þat I þame saide, I see fulfillid in dede. 7. _Iohan. Baptista._ Als voyce criand to folke I kende Þe weyes of Criste, als I wele kanne; I baptiste Hym with bothe my hande 75 Euen in þe floode of flume Iordanne. Þe Holy Goste fro heuene discende Als a white dowue doune on Hym þanne; The Fadir voice, my mirthe to mende, Was made to me euen als manne, 80 'This is my Sone,' he saide, 'In whome me paies full wele.' His light is on vs laide, He comes oure cares to kele. 8. _Moyses._ Of þat same light lernyng haue I, 85 To me Moyses He mustered his myght, And also vnto anodir, Hely, Wher we were on an hille on hight. Whyte as snowe was His body, And His face like to þe sonne to sight: 90 No man on molde was so myghty Grathely to loke agaynste þat light; Þat same light se I nowe Shynyng on vs sarteyne, Wherfore trewly I trowe 95 We schalle sone passe fro payne. 9. _i Diabolus._ Helpe! Belsabub! to bynde þer boyes, Such harrowe was neuer are herde in helle. _ii Diab._ Why rooris þou soo, Rebalde? þou royis; What is betidde, canne þou ought telle? 100 _i Diab._ What! heris þou no[gh]t þis vggely noyse? Þes lurdans þat in Lymbo dwelle, Þei make menyng of many ioies, And musteres grete mirthe þame emell. _ii Diab._ Mirthe? nay, nay, þat poynte is paste, 105 More hele schall þei neuer haue. _i Diab._ Þei crie on Criste full faste, And sais he schal þame saue. 10. _Belsabub._ [Gh]a, if he saue þame noght, we schall, For they are sperde in speciall space; 110 Whils I am prince and principall Schall þei neuer passe oute of þis place. Calle vppe Astrotte and Anaball To giffe þer counsaille in þis case, Bele-Berit and Belial, 115 To marre þame þat swilke maistries mase. Say to Satan oure sire, And bidde þame bringe also Lucifer louely of lyre. _i Diab._ Al redy, lorde, I goo. 120 11. _Iesus [Without]._ _Attollite portas, principes_, Oppen vppe, [gh]e princes of paynes sere, _Et eleuamini eternales_, Youre yendles [gh]atis þat [gh]e haue here. _Sattan._ What page is þere þat makes prees, 125 And callis hym kyng of vs in fere? _Dauid [in Limbo]._ I lered leuand, withouten lees, He is a kyng of vertues clere. A! Lorde, mekill of myght, And stronge in ilke a stoure, 130 In batailes ferse to fight, And worthy to wynne honnoure. 12. _Sattan._ Honnoure! in þe deuel way, for what dede? All erthely men to me are thrall; Þe lady þat calles hym lorde in leede 135 Hadde neuer [gh]itt herberowe, house, ne halle. _i Diab._ Harke, Belsabub! I haue grete drede, For hydously I herde hym calle. _Belliall._ We! spere oure [gh]ates, all ill mot þou spede! And sette furthe watches on þe wall. 140 And if he calle or crie To make vs more debate, Lay on hym þan hardely, And garre hym gang his gate. 13. _Sattan._ Telle me what boyes dare be so bolde 145 For drede to make so mekill draye. _i Diab._ Itt is þe Iewe þat Iudas solde For to be dede, þis othir daye. _Sattan._ O we! þis tale in tyme is tolde, Þis traytoure traues vs alway; 150 He schall be here full harde in holde, Loke þat he passe noght, I þe praye. _ii Diab._ Nay, nay, he will no[gh]t wende Away or I be ware, He shappis hym for to schende 155 Alle helle, or he go ferre. 14. _Sattan._ Nay, faitour, þerof schall he faile, For alle his fare I hym deffie; I knowe his trantis fro toppe to taile, He leuys with gaudis and with gilery. 160 Þerby he brought oute of oure bale, Nowe late, La[gh]ar of Betannye, Þerfore I gaffe to þe Iewes counsaille Þat þei schulde alway garre hym dye. I entered in Iudas 165 Þat forwarde to fulfille, Þerfore his hire he has, Allway to wonne here stille. 15. _Belsabub._ Sir Sattanne, sen we here þe saie Þat þou and _þ_e Iewes wer same assente, 170 And wotte he wanne La[gh]ar awaye, Þat tille vs was tane for to tente, Trowe þou þat þou marre hym maye To mustir myghtis, what he has mente? If he nowe depriue vs of oure praye, 175 We will [gh]e witte whanne þei are wente. _Sattan._ I bidde [gh]ou be no[gh]t abasshed, But boldely make youe boune With toles þat [gh]e on traste, And dynge þat dastard doune. 180 16. _Iesus [Without]._ _Principes, portas tollite_, Vndo youre [gh]atis, [gh]e princis of pryde, _Et introibit rex glorie_, Þe kyng of blisse comes in þis tyde. [_Enters the gates of Hell._ _Sattan._ Owte! harrowe is hee 185 Þat sais his kyngdome schall be cryed? _Dauid [in Limbo]._ Þat may þou in my Sawter see For þat poynte _I_ prophicie . I saide þat he schuld breke Youre barres and bandis by name, 190 And on youre werkis take wreke; Nowe schalle [gh]e see þe same. 17. _Iesus._ Þis steede schall stonde no lenger stoken; Opynne vppe, and latte my pepul passe! _Diabolus._ Owte! beholdes, oure baill is brokynne, 195 And brosten are alle oure bandis of bras. Telle Lucifer alle is vnlokynne. _Belsabub._ What þanne, is Lymbus lorne? allas! Garre Satan helpe þat we wer wroken; Þis werke is werse þanne euere it was. 200 _Sattan._ I badde [gh]e schulde be boune If he made maistries more; Do dynge þat dastard doune, And sette hym sadde and sore. 18. _Belsabub._ [Gh]a, sette hym sore, þat is sone saide, 205 But come þiselffe and serue hym soo; We may not bide his bittir braide, He wille vs marre and we wer moo. _Sattan._ What! faitours, wherfore are [gh]e ferde? Haue [gh]e no force to flitte hym froo? 210 Belyue loke þat my gere be grathed, Miselffe schall to þat gedlyng goo. [_To Iesus._] Howe! belamy, abide, With al thy booste and bere, And telle to me þis tyde, 215 What maistries makes þou here? 19. _Iesus._ I make no maistries but for myne, Þame wolle I saue, I telle þe nowe; Þou hadde no poure þame to pyne, But as my prisoune for þer prowe 220 Here haue þei soiorned, noght as thyne, But in thy warde, þou wote wele howe. _Sattan._ And what deuel haste þou done ay syne, Þat neuer wolde negh þame nere, or nowe? _Iesus._ Nowe is þe tyme certayne 225 Mi Fadir ordand before Þat they schulde passe fro payne, And wonne in mirthe euer more. 20. _Sattan._ Thy fadir knewe I wele be sight, He was a write his mette to wynne, 230 And Marie me menys þi modir hight, Þe vttiremeste ende of all þi kynne. Who made þe be so mekill of myght? _Iesus._ Þou wikid feende, latte be thy dynne! Mi Fadir wonnys in heuen on hight, 235 With blisse þat schall neuere blynne. I am His awne sone, His forward to fulfille; And same ay schall we wonne, And sundir whan we wolle. 240 21. _Sattan._ God sonne! þanne schulde þou be ful gladde, Aftir no catel neyd thowe craue! But þou has leued ay like a ladde, And in sorowe, as a symple knaue. _Iesus._ Þat was for hartely loue I hadde 245 Vnto mannis soule, it for to saue; And for to make þe mased and madde, And by þat resoune þus dewly to haue Mi godhede here, I hidde In Marie modir myne, 250 For it schulde no[gh]t be kidde To þe, nor to none of thyne. 22. _Sattan._ A! þis wolde I were tolde in ilke a toune. So, sen þou sais God is thy sire, I schall þe proue, be right resoune, 255 Þou motes His men into þe myre. To breke His bidding were þei boune, And, for they did at my desire, Fro Paradise He putte þame doune In helle here to haue þer hyre. 260 And thyselfe, day and nyght, Has taught al men emang To do resoune and right, And here werkis þou all wrang. 23. _Iesus._ I wirke noght wrang, þat schal þow witte, 265 If I my men fro woo will wynne; Mi prophetis playnly prechid it, All þis note þat nowe begynne. Þai saide þat I schulde be obitte, To hell þat I schulde entre in, 270 And saue my seruauntis fro þat pitte, Wher dampned saulis schall sitte for synne. And ilke trewe prophettis tale Muste be fulfillid in mee; I haue þame boughte with bale, 275 And in blisse schal þei be. 24. _Sattan._ Nowe sen þe liste allegge þe lawes, Þou schalte be atteynted, or we twynne, For þo þat þou to wittenesse drawes Full even agaynste þe will begynne. 280 Salamon saide in his sawes Þat whoso enteres helle withynne Shall neuer come oute, þus clerkis knawes, And þerfore, felowe, leue þi dynne. Iob, þi seruaunte, also 285 Þus in his tyme gune telle, Þat nowthir frende nor foo Shulde fynde reles in helle. 25. _Iesus._ He saide full soth, þat schall þou see, Þat in helle may be no reles, 290 But of þat place þan preched he Where synffull care schall euere encrees. And in þat bale ay schall þou be, Whare sorowes sere schall neuer sesse, And for my folke þerfro wer free, 295 Nowe schall þei passe to þe place of pees. Þai were here with my wille, And so schall þei fourthe wende, And þiselue schall fulfille Þer wooe withouten ende. 300 26. _Sattan._ O we! þanne se I howe þou menys emang Some mesure with malice to melle, Sen þou sais all schall no[gh]t gang, But some schalle alway with vs dwelle. _Iesus._ [Gh]aa, witte þou wele, ellis were it wrang, 305 Als cursed Cayme þat slewe Abell, And all þat hastis hemselue to hange, Als Iudas and Archedefell, Datan and Abiron, And alle of þare assente; 310 Als tyrantis euerilkone Þat me and myne turmente. 27. And all þat liste noght to lere my lawe, Þat I haue lefte in lande nowe newe, Þat is my comyng for to knawe, 315 And to my sacramente pursewe, Mi dede, my rysing, rede be rawe, Who will noght trowe, þei are noght trewe, Vnto my dome I schall þame drawe, And iuge þame worse þanne any Iewe. 320 And all þat likis to leere My lawe, and leue þerbye, Shall neuere haue harmes heere, But welthe, as is worthy. 28. _Sattan._ Nowe here my hande, I halde me paied; 325 Þis poynte is playnly for oure prowe; If þis be soth þat þou hast saide, We schall haue moo þanne we haue nowe. Þis lawe þat þou nowe late has laide I schall lere men no[gh]t to allowe. 330 Iff þei it take, þei be betraied, For I schall turne þame tyte, I trowe. I schall walke este and weste, And garre þame werke wele werre. _Iesus._ Naye, feende, þou schall be feste, 335 Þat þou schalte flitte not ferre. 29. _Sattan._ Feste! þat were a foule reasoune, Nay, bellamy, þou bus be smytte. _Iesus._ Mighill! myne aungell, make þe boune, And feste yone fende, þat he noght flitte. 340 And Deuyll, I comaunde þe go doune Into thy selle where þou schalte sitte. [_Satan sinks._ _Sattan._ Owt, ay! herrowe! helpe Mahounde! Nowe wex I woode oute of my witte. _Belsabub._ Sattan, þis saide we are, 345 Nowe schall þou fele þi fitte. _Sattan._ Allas! for dole and care, I synke into helle pitte. [_Falls into the pit._ 30. _Adame._ A! Iesu Lorde, mekill is Þi myght, That mekis Þiselffe in þis manere, 350 Vs for to helpe, as Þou has hight, Whanne both forfette, I and my feere. Here haue we leuyd withouten light Foure thousand and six hundred [gh]ere; Now se I be þis solempne sight 355 Howe Thy mercy hath made vs cle_r_e. _Eue._ A! Lorde, we were worthy Mo turmentis for to taste, But mende vs with mercye, Als Þou of myght is moste. 360 31. _Baptista._ A! Lorde, I loue Þe inwardly, That me wolde make Þi messengere Thy comyng in erth for to crye, And teche Þi faith to folke in feere; And sithen before Þe for to dye, 365 And bringe boodworde to þame here, How þai schulde haue Thyne helpe in hye: Nowe se I all Þi poyntis appere. Als Dauid prophete trewe Ofte tymes tolde vntill vs, 370 Of þis comyng he knewe, And saide it schulde be þus. 32. _Dauid._ Als I haue saide, [gh]itt saie I soo, _Ne derelinquas, Domine, Animam meam inferno_, 375 Leffe noght my saule, Lorde, aftir Þe, In depe helle where dampned schall goo, Ne suffre neuere [+]saules fro Þe be[+] The sorowe of þame þat wonnes in woo Ay full of filthe, [+]þat may repleye[+]. 380 _Adame._ We thanke His grete goodnesse He fette vs fro þis place, Makes ioie nowe more and lesse; _Omnis._ We laude God of His grace. 33. _Iesus._ Adame and my frendis in feere, 385 Fro all youre fooes come fourth with me, [Gh]e schalle be sette in solas seere, Wher [gh]e schall neuere of sorowes see. And Mighill, myn aungell clere, Ressayue þes saules all vnto þe, 390 And lede þame als I schall þe lere To Paradise with playe and plenté. [_They come out of Limbo._ Mi graue I woll go till, Redy to rise vpperight, And so I schall fulfille 395 That I before haue highte. 34. _Michill._ Lorde, wende we schall aftir Þi sawe, To solace sere þai schall be sende, But þat þer deuelis no draught vs drawe, Lorde, blisse vs with Þi holy hende. 400 _Iesus._ Mi blissing haue [gh]e all on rawe, I schall be with youe, wher [gh]e wende, And all þat lelly luffes my lawe, Þai schall be blissid withowten ende. _Adame._ To Þe, Lorde, be louyng, 405 Þat vs has wonne fro waa, For solas will we syng, _Laus Tibi cum gloria_. [_Exeunt._ [Foot-note: 14 Fro] For _MS._] [Foot-note: 40 in þis stedde] in darknes stad _Towneley_.] [Foot-note: 49 Isaiah] Isaac _MS._] [Foot-note: 170 þe] [gh]e _MS._] [Foot-note: 185 what harlot] _from Towneley MS.: om. MS._] [Foot-note: 188 I] of _MS._] [Foot-note: 242 neyd thowe craue] þus þe I telle _first hand_.] [Foot-note: 244 as] _added later MS._] [Foot-note: 244 knaue] braide _first hand_.] [Foot-note: 347 dole] dolee _MS._] [Foot-note: 356 clere] clene _MS._] XVII THE TOWNELEY PLAY OF NOAH Towneley MS. (about 1475), ff. 76 ff. The Towneley Miracles, so called because the manuscript belonged in recent times to the library of Towneley Hall in Lancashire, are edited by England and Pollard, E.E.T.S., 1897. The cycle is a composite one--for instance it includes a later form of the York play _Harrowing of Hell_ (No. XVI, above)--but it is distinguished by a group of plays and interpolated scenes which seem to have been specially composed for representation at Wakefield. Formally this group is marked by the use of a peculiar nine-lined stanza, riming a a a a b c c c b, with central rimes in the first four lines. The rough vigour of the comic scenes is still more distinctive, and there can be little doubt that all are the work of one man. The specimen of his style most often reprinted is _The Second Shepherd's Play_, which has an original and purely secular comic plot. The _Play of Noah_ is more typical of the English Miracle in its later development. This subject was always popular with early playwrights, for the Ark made a spectacle, and the traditional quarrels of Noah and his wife gave scope for contests in fisticuffs and rough raillery--the stuff of primitive comedy. DRAMATIS PERSONAE. NOE DEUS VXOR NOE PRIMUS FILIUS SECUNDUS FILIUS TERCIUS FILIUS PRIMA MULIER SECUNDA MULIER TERCIA MULIER 1. _Noe._ Myghtfull God veray, Maker of all that is, Thre persons withoutten nay, oone God in endles blis, Thou maide both nyght and day, beest, fowle, and fysh, All creatures that lif may wroght Thou at Thi wish, As Thou wel myght; 5 The son, the moyne, verament, Thou maide, the firmament, The sternes also full feruent To shyne Thou maide ful bright. 2. Angels Thou maide ful euen, all orders that is, 10 To haue the blis in heuen; this did Thou, more and les, Full mervelus to neuen; yit was ther vnkyndnes More bi foldis seuen then I can well expres; For whi? Of all angels in brightnes 15 God gaf Lucifer most lightnes, Yit prowdly he flyt his des, And set hym euen Hym by. 3. He thoght hymself as worthi as Hym that hym made, In brightnes, in bewty, therfor He hym degrade, 20 Put hym in a low degré soyn after, in a brade, Hym and all his menye, wher he may be vnglad For euer. Shall thay neuer wyn away Hence vnto Domysday, 25 Bot burne in bayle for ay; Shall thay neuer dysseuer. 4. Soyne after, that gracyous Lord to his liknes maide man, That place to be restord euen as He began, Of the Trinité bi accord, Adam and Eue that woman, 30 To multiplie without discord, in Paradise put He thaym, And sithen to both Gaf in commaundement On the Tre of Life to lay no hend. Bot yit the fals feynd 35 Made Hym with man wroth, 5. Entysyd man to glotony, styrd him to syn in pride; Bot in Paradise, securly, myght no syn abide, And therfor man full hastely was put out in that tyde, In wo and wandreth for to be, in paynes full vnrid 40 To knowe, Fyrst in erth, _and_ sythen in hell With feyndis for to dwell, Bot He his mercy mell To those that will Hym trawe. 45 6. Oyle of mercy He hus hight, as I haue hard red, To euery lifyng wight that wold luf Hym and dred; Bot now before His sight euery liffyng leyde, Most party day and nyght, syn in word and dede Full bold; 50 Som in pride, ire, and enuy, Som in couet_ei_s and glotyny, Som in sloth and lechery, And other wise many fold. 7. Therfor I drede lest God on vs will take veniance, 55 For syn is now alod, without any repentance. Sex hundreth yeris and od haue I, without distance, In erth, as any sod, liffyd with grete grevance Allway; And now I wax old, 60 Seke, sory, and cold, As muk apon mold I widder away. 8. Bot yit will I cry for mercy and call: Noe, Thi seruant, am I, Lord ouer all! 65 Therfor me, and my fry shal with me fall, Saue from velany, and bryng to Thi hall In heuen; And kepe me from syn This warld within; 70 Comly Kyng of mankyn, I pray The, here my stevyn! [_God appears above._] 9. _Deus._ Syn I haue maide all thyng that is liffand, Duke, emperour, and kyng, with Myne awne hand, For to haue thare likyng, bi see and bi sand, 75 Euery man to My bydyng shuld be bowand Full feruent, That maide man sich a creatoure, Farest of favoure; Man must luf Me paramoure 80 By reson, and repent. 10. Me thoght I shewed man luf when I made hym to be All angels abuf, like to the Trynyté; And now in grete reprufe full low ligis he, In erth hymself to stuf with syn that displeas_es_ Me 85 Most of all. Veniance will I take In erth for syn sake; My grame thus will I wake Both of grete and small. 90 11. I repente full sore that euer maide I man; Bi me he settis no store, and I am his soferan; I will distroy therfor both beest, man and woman, All shall perish, les and more; that bargan may thay ban That ill has done. 95 In erth I se right noght Bot syn that is vnsoght; Of those that well has wroght Fynd I bot a fone. 12. Therfor shall I fordo all this medill-erd 100 With floodis that shall flo and ryn with hidous rerd; I haue good cause therto; for Me no man is ferd. As I say shal I do--of veniance draw My swerd, And make end Of all that beris life, 105 Sayf Noe and his wife, For thay wold neuer stryfe With Me, then Me offend. 13. Hym to mekill wyn, hastly will I go To Noe my seruand, or I blyn, to warn hym of his wo. 110 In erth I se bot syn reynand to and fro, Emang both more and myn, ichon other fo With all thare entent. All shall I fordo With floodis that shall floo; 115 Wirk shall I thaym wo That will not repent. [_God descends and addresses Noah._] 14. Noe, My freend, I thee commaund, from cares the to keyle, A ship that thou ordand of nayle and bord ful wele. Thou was alway well-wirkand, to Me trew as stele, 120 To My bydyng obediand: frendship shal thou fele To mede. Of lennthe thi ship be Thre hundreth cubettis, warn I the, Of heght euen thirté, 125 Of fyfty als in brede. 15. Anoynt thi ship with pik and tar, without and als within, The water out to spar--this is a noble gyn; Look no man the mar, thre che_s_e chambres begyn; Thou must spend many a spar this wark or thou wyn 130 To end fully. Make in thi ship also Parloures oone or two, And houses of offyce mo For beestis that ther must be. 135 16. Oone cubite on hight a wyndo shal thou make; On the syde a doore, with slyght, beneyth shal thou take; With the shal no man fyght, nor do the no kyn wrake. When all is doyne thus right, thi wife, that is thi make, Take in to the; 140 Thi sonnes of good fame, Sem, Iaphet, and Came, Take in also hame, Thare wifis also thre. 17. For all shal be fordone that lif in land, bot ye, 145 With floodis that from abone shal fall, and that plenté; It shall begyn full sone to rayn vncessantlé, After dayes seuen be done, and induyr dayes fourty, Withoutten fayll. Take to thi ship also 150 Of ich kynd beestis two, Mayll and femayll, bot no mo, Or thou pull vp thi sayll, 18. For thay may the avayll when al this thyng is wroght. Stuf thi ship with vitayll, for hungre that ye perish noght. Of beestis, foull, and catayll, for thaym haue thou in 155 thoght, For thaym is My counsayll that som socour be soght In hast. Thay must haue corn and hay, And oder mete alway. 160 Do now as I the say, In the name of the Holy Gast. 19. _Noe._ A! _benedicite!_ what art thou that thus Tellys afore that shall be? Thou art full mervelus! Tell me, for charité, thi name so gracius. 165 _Deus._ My name is of dignyté, and also full glorius To knowe. I am God most myghty, Oone God in Trynyty, Made the and ich man to be; 170 To luf Me well thou awe. 20. _Noe._ I thank The, Lord so dere, that wold vowchsayf Thus low to appere to a symple knafe. Blis vs, Lord, here, for charité I hit crafe, The better may we stere the ship that we shall hafe, 175 Certayn. _Deus._ Noe, to the and to thi fry My blyssyng graunt I; Ye shall wax and multiply And fill the erth agane, 180 21. When all thise floodis ar past, and fully gone away. _Noe._ Lord, homward will I hast as fast as that I may; My will I frast what she will say, [_Exit_ Deus.] And I am agast that we get som fray Betwixt vs both; 185 For she is full tethee, For litill oft angré; If any thyng wrang be, Soyne is she wroth. _Tunc perget ad vxorem._ 22. God spede, dere wife, how fayre ye? 190 _Vxor._ Now, as euer myght I thryfe, the wars I thee see. Do tell me belife where has thou thus long be? To dede may we dryfe, or lif, for the, For want. When we swete or swynk, 195 Thou dos what thou thynk, Yit of mete and of drynk Haue we veray skant. 23. _Noe._ Wife, we ar hard sted with tythyngis new. _Vxor._ Bot thou were worthi be cled in Stafford blew; 200 For thou art alway adred, be it fals or trew, Bot God knowes I am led, and that may I rew, Full ill; For I dar be thi borow, From euen vnto morow 205 Thou spekis euer of sorow; God send the onys thi fill! 24. We women may wary all ill husbandis; I haue oone, bi Mary that lowsyd me of my bandis! If he teyn, I must tary, how so euer it standis, 210 With seymland full sory, wryngand both my handis For drede. Bot yit other while, What with gam and with gyle, I shall smyte and smyle, 215 And qwite hym his mede. 25. _Noe._ We! hold thi tong, ram-skyt, or I shall the still. _Vxor._ By my thryft, if thou smyte, I shal turne the vntill. _Noe._ We shall assay as tyte. Haue at the, Gill! Apon the bone shal it byte. _Vxor._ A, so, Mary! thou smytis ill! 220 Bot I suppose I shal not in thi det Flyt of this flett! Take the ther a langett To tye vp thi hose! 225 26. _Noe._ A! wilt thou so? Mary! that is myne. _Vxor._ Thou shal thre for two, I swere bi Godis pyne! _Noe._ And I shall qwyte the tho, in fayth, or syne. _Vxor._ Out apon the, ho! _Noe._ Thou can both byte and whyne With a rerd; 230 For all if she stryke, Yit fast will she skryke; In fayth, I hold none slyke In all medill-erd. 27. Bot I will kepe charyté, for I haue at do. 235 _Vxor._ Here shal no man tary the, I pray the go to! Full well may we mys the, as euer haue I ro; To spyn will I dres me. _Noe._ We! fare well, lo; Bot wife, Pray for me beselé 240 To eft I com vnto the. _Vxor._ Euen as thou prays for me, As euer myght I thrife. [_Exit_ Vxor.] 28. _Noe._ I tary full lang fro my warke, I traw; Now my gere will I fang, and thederward draw; 245 I may full ill gang, the soth for to knaw, Bot if God help amang, I may sit downe daw To ken; Now assay will I How I can of wrightry, 250 _In nomine patris, et filii, Et spiritus sancti. Amen._ 29. To begyn of this tree my bonys will I bend, I traw from the Trynyté socoure will be send; It fayres full fayre, thynk me, this wark to my hend; 255 Now blissid be He that this can amend. Lo, here the lenght, Thre hundreth cubettis euenly; Of breed, lo, is it fyfty; The heght is euen thyrty 260 Cubettis full strenght. 30. Now my gowne will I cast and wyrk in my cote, Make will I the mast or I flyt oone foote; A! my bak, I traw, will brast! This is a sory note! Hit is wonder that I last, sich an old dote, 265 All dold, To begyn sich a wark! My bonys ar so stark, No wonder if thay wark, For I am full old. 270 31. The top and the sayll both will I make, The helme and the castell also will I take, To drife ich a nayll will I not forsake, This gere may neuer fayll, that dar I vndertake Onone. 275 This is a nobull gyn, Thise nayles so thay ryn Thoro more and myn Thise bordis ichon. 32. Wyndow and doore, euen as He saide, 280 Thre ches chambre, thay ar well maide, Pyk and tar full sure therapon laide; This will euer endure, therof am I paide; For why? It is better wroght 285 Then I coude haif thoght. Hym that maide all of noght I thank oonly. 33. Now will I hy me, and no thyng be leder, My wife and my meneye to bryng euen heder. 290 Tent hedir tydely, wife, and consider, Hens must vs fle, all sam togeder, In hast. _Vxor._ Whi, syr, what alis you? Who is that asalis you? 295 To fle it avalis you And ye be agast. 34. _Noe._ Ther is garn on the reyll other, my dame. _Vxor._ Tell me that ich a deyll, els get ye blame. _Noe._ He that cares may keill--blissid be His name!-- 300 He has for oure seyll to sheld vs fro shame, And sayd All this warld aboute With floodis so stoute, That shall ryn on a route, 305 Shall be ouerlaide. 35. He saide all shall be slayn, bot oonely we, Oure barnes that ar bayn, and thare wifis thre. A ship He bad me ordayn, to safe vs and oure fee; Therfor with all oure mayn thank we that fre, 310 Beytter of bayll. Hy vs fast, go we thedir. _Vxor._ I wote neuer whedir, I dase and I dedir For ferd of that tayll. 315 36. _Noe._ Be not aferd, haue done, trus sam oure gere, That we be ther or none, without more dere. _Primus filius._ It shall be done full sone. Brether, help to bere. _Secundus filius._ Full long shall I not hoyne to do my devere, Brether sam. 320 _Tercius filius._ Without any yelp, At my myght shall I help. _Vxor._ Yit, for drede of a skelp, Help well thi dam. 37. _Noe._ Now ar we there as we shuld be; 325 Do get in oure gere, oure catall and fe, Into this vessell here, my chylder fre. _Vxor._ I was neuer bard ere, as euer myght I the, In sich an oostré as this. In fath, I can not fynd 330 Which is before, which is behynd. Bot shall we here be pynd, Noe, as haue thou blis? 38. _Noe._ Dame, as it is skill, here must vs abide grace; Therfor, wife, with good will, com into this place. 335 _Vxor._ Sir, for Iak nor for Gill will I turne my face, Till I haue on this hill spon a space On my rok. Well were he myght get me! Now will I downe set me; 340 Yit reede I no man let me, For drede of a knok. 39. _Noe._ Behold to the heuen the cateractes all, That are open full euen, grete and small, And the planettis seuen left has thare stall. 345 Thise thoners and levyn downe gar fall Full stout Both halles and bowers, Castels and towres. Full sharp ar thise showers 350 That renys aboute. 40. Therfor, wife, haue done, com into ship fast. _Vxor._ Yei, Noe, go cloute thi shone, the better will thai last. _Prima mulier._ Good moder, com in sone, for all is ouercast Both the son and the mone. _Secunda mulier._ And many wynd blast 355 Full sharp. Thise floodis so thay ryn, Therfor, moder, come in. _Vxor._ In fayth, yit will I spyn; All in vayn ye carp. 360 41. _Tercia mulier._ If ye like ye may spyn, moder, in the ship. _Noe._ Now is this twyys com in, dame, on my frenship. _Vxor._ Wheder I lose or I wyn, in fayth, thi felowship Set I not at a pyn. This spyndill will I slip Apon this hill, 365 Or I styr oone fote. _Noe._ Peter! I traw we dote. Without any more note Come in if ye will. 42. _Vxor._ Yei, water nyghys so nere that I sit not dry, 370 Into ship with a byr therfor will I hy For drede that I drone here. _Noe._ Dame, securly, It bees boght full dere ye abode so long by Out of ship. _Vxor._ I will not, for thi bydyng, 375 Go from doore to mydyng. _Noe._ In fayth, and for youre long taryyng Ye shal lik on the whyp. 43. _Vxor._ Spare me not, I pray the, bot euen as thou thynk, Thise grete wordis shall not flay me. _Noe._ Abide, dame, and drynk, 380 For betyn shall thou be with this staf to thou stynk; Ar strokis good? say me. _Vxor._ What say ye, Wat Wynk? _Noe._ Speke! Cry me mercy, I say! _Vxor._ Therto say I nay. 385 _Noe._ Bot thou do, bi this day! Thi hede shall I breke. 44. _Vxor._ Lord, I were at ese, and hertely full hoylle, Might I onys haue a measse of wedows coyll; For thi saull, without lese, shuld I dele penny doyll, 390 So wold mo, no frese, that I se on this sole Of wifis that ar here, For the life that thay leyd, Wold thare husbandis were dede, For, as euer ete I brede, 395 So wold I oure syre were. 45. _Noe._ Yee men that has wifis, whyls they ar yong, If ye luf youre lifis, chastice thare tong: Me thynk my hert ryfis, both levyr and long, To se sich stryfis wedmen emong. 400 Bot I, As haue I blys, Shall chastyse this. _Vxor._ Yit may ye mys, Nicholl Nedy! 405 46. _Noe._ I shall make þe still as stone, begynnar of blunder! I shall bete the bak and bone, and breke all in sonder. [_They fight._] _Vxor._ Out, alas, I am gone! Oute apon the, mans wonder! _Noe._ Se how she can grone, and I lig vnder; Bot, wife, 410 In this hast let vs ho, For my bak is nere in two. _Vxor._ And I am bet so blo That I may not thryfe. [_They enter the Ark._] 47. _Primus filius._ A! whi fare ye thus, fader and moder both? 415 _Secundus filius._ Ye shuld not be so spitus, standyng in sich a woth. _Tercius filius._ Thise ar so hidus, with many a cold coth. _Noe._ We will do as ye bid vs, we will no more be wroth, Dere barnes! Now to the helme will I hent, 420 And to my ship tent. _Vxor._ I se on the firmament, Me thynk, the seven starnes. 48. _Noe._ This is a grete flood, wife, take hede. _Vxor._ So me thoght, as I stode; we ar in grete drede; 425 Thise wawghes ar so wode. _Noe._ Help, God, in this nede! As Thou art stereman good, and best, as I rede, Of all; Thou rewle vs in this rase, As Thou me behete hase. 430 _Vxor._ This is a perlous case. Help, God, when we call! 49. _Noe._ Wife, tent the stere-tre, and I shall asay The depnes of the see that we bere, if I may. _Vxor._ That shall I do ful wysely. Now go thi way, 435 For apon this flood haue we flett many day With pyne. _Noe._ Now the water will I sownd: A! it is far to the grownd; This trauell I expownd 440 Had I to tyne. 50. Aboue all hillys bedeyn the water is rysen late Cubettis fyfteyn, bot in a higher state It may not be, I weyn, for this well I wate: This forty dayes has rayn beyn; it will therfor abate 445 Full lele. This water in hast Eft will I tast. Now am I agast, It is wanyd a grete dele. 450 51. Now are the weders cest, and cateractes knyt, Both the most and the leest. _Vxor._ Me thynk, bi my wit, The son shynes in the eest. Lo, is not yond it? We shuld haue a good feest, were thise floodis flyt So spytus. 455 _Noe._ We haue been here, all we, Thre hundreth dayes and fyfty. _Vxor._ Yei, now wanys the see; Lord, well is vs! 52. _Noe._ The thryd tyme will I prufe what depnes we bere. 460 _Vxor._ _H_ow long shall thou hufe? Lay in thy lyne there. _Noe._ I may towch with my lufe the grownd evyn here. _Vxor._ Then begynnys to grufe to vs mery chere; Bot, husband, What grownd may this be? 465 _Noe._ The hyllys of Armonye. _Vxor._ Now blissid be He That thus for vs can ordand! 53. _Noe._ I see toppys of hyllys he, many at a syght, No thyng to let me, the wedir is so bright. 470 _Vxor._ Thise ar of mercy tokyns full right. _Noe._ Dame, th_ou_ counsell me, what fowll best myght, And cowth, With flight of wyng Bryng, without taryying, 475 Of mercy som tokynyng, Ayther bi north or southe? 54. For this is the fyrst day of the tent moyne. _Vxor._ The ravyn, durst I lay, will com agane sone; As fast as thou may, cast hym furth, haue done; 480 He may happyn today com agane or none With grath. _Noe._ I will cast out also Dowfys oone or two. Go youre way, go, 485 God send you som wathe! 55. Now ar thise fowles flone into seyr countré; Pray we fast ichon, kneland on our kne, To Hym that is alone worthiest of degré, That He wold send anone oure fowles som fee 490 To glad vs. _Vxor._ Thai may not fayll of land, The water is so wanand. _Noe._ Thank we God Allweldand, That Lord that made vs! 495 56. It is a wonder thyng, me thynk, sothlé, Thai ar so long taryyng, the fowles that we Cast out in the mornyng. _Vxor._ Syr, it may be Thai tary to thay bryng. _Noe._ The ravyn is a-hungrye All way; 500 He is without any reson; And he fynd any caryon, As peraventure may be fon, He will not away. 57. The dowfe is more gentill, her trust I vntew, 505 Like vnto the turtill, for she is ay trew. _Vxor._ Hence bot a litill she commys, lew, lew! She bryngys in her bill som novels new; Behald! It is of an olif tre 510 A branch, thynkys me. _Noe._ It is soth, perdé, Right so is it cald. 58. Doufe, byrd full blist, fayre myght the befall! Thou art trew for to trist, as ston in the wall; 515 Full well I it wist thou wold com to thi hall. _Vxor._ A trew tokyn ist we shall be sauyd all: For whi? The water, syn she com, Of depnes plom 520 Is fallen a fathom And more, hardely. 59. _Primus filius._ Thise floodis ar gone, fader, behold. _Secundus filius._ Ther is left right none, and that be ye bold. _Tercius filius._ As still as a stone oure ship is stold. 525 _Noe._ Apon land here anone that we were, fayn I wold, My childer dere, Sem, Iaphet and Cam, With gle and with gam, Com go we all sam, 530 We will no longer abide here. 60. _Vxor._ Here haue we beyn, Noy, long enogh With tray and with teyn, and dreed mekill wogh. _Noe._ Behald on this greyn nowder cart ne plogh Is left, as I weyn, nowder tre then bogh, 535 Ne other thyng; Bot all is away; Many castels, I say, Grete townes of aray, Flitt has this flowyng. 540 61. _Vxor._ Thise floodis not afright all this warld so wide Has mevid with myght on se and bi side. _Noe._ To dede ar thai dyght, prowdist of pryde, Euerich a wyght that euer was spyde With syn, 545 All ar thai slayn, And put vnto payn. _Vxor._ From thens agayn May thai neuer wyn? 62. _Noe._ Wyn? No, iwis, bot He that myght hase 550 Wold myn of thare mys, and admytte thaym to grace; As He in bayll is blis, I pray Hym in this space, In heven hye with His to purvaye vs a place, That we, With His santis in sight, 555 And His angels bright, May com to His light: Amen, for charité. _Explicit processus Noe._ [Foot-note: 129 chese] chefe _MS._] NOTES I #Dialect#: North-East Midland of Lincolnshire. #Inflexions#:-- VERB: pres. ind. 2 sg. _hast_ 131. 3 sg. _stondeþ_ 8. 3 pl. _calle_ 32, _seye_ 254; beside _dos_ 157 (see note). imper. pl. _comeþ_ 80, _doþ_ 82. pres. p. _karoland_ (in rime) 117, 150, 222. strong pp. _wryte_ 37, _fal_ 195, _gone_ 161. PRONOUN 3 PERS.: fem. nom. _she_ 48; pl. nom. _þey_ 32; poss. _here_ 37; obj. _hem_ 39. The inflexions are very much simplified as compared with those of the Kentish _Ayenbyte_ (III), but the verse shows that final unaccented _-e_ was better preserved in the original than in our late MS., e.g. _And specyaly at hygh<[.e]> tym[.e]s_ 13. _For to see þys hard<[.e]> dome_ 173. _And at þe þre<[.e]> day<[.e]>s end[.e]_ 198. _Þat non[.e] my[gh]t<[.e]> leye yn grau[.e]_ 217. #Sounds#: _[=o,]_ is regular for OE. _[=a]_: _lothe_ 9, _wroth_ 10, &c. but the only decisive rime is _also_ (OE. _alsw[=a]_): _to_ (OE. _t[=o]_) 35-6, where _[=o,]_ after _(s)w_ has become close _[=o.]_; see Appendix § 8. ii, note. #Syntax#: the loose constructions, e.g. ll. 15 ff. (note), 134-5, 138-9, 216-19, are characteristic of the period. * * * * * The history of this legend is traced by E. Schröder, _Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte_, vol. xvii, 1896, pp. 94 ff., and, more summarily, by Gaston Paris, _Les Danseurs maudits_, Paris 1900. The circumstances from which it sprang appear to belong to the year 1021. Kölbigk, in Anhalt, Saxony, was the scene of the dance. In 1074 it is referred to as 'famous' by a German chronicler, who records the healing of one of the dancers in 1038 through the miraculous powers of St. Wigbert. Mendicants who suffered from or could simulate nervous diseases like St. Vitus's dance, were quick to realize their opportunity, and two letters telling the story were circulated as credentials by pretended survivors of the band. Both are influenced in form by a sermon of St. Augustine of Hippo which embodies a similar story (Migne, _Patrologia_, vol. xxxviii, col. 1443). The first (Letter of Otbert), which claims to be issued by Peregrinus bishop of Cologne, spread rapidly through Western Europe. This was the version that Mannyng found in William of Wadington. The second (Letter of Theodric) makes Bruno bishop of Toul, afterwards Pope Leo IX, vouch for the facts. It was incorporated in the account of the miraculous cure of Theodric at the shrine of St. Edith of Wilton, and is known only from English sources. This was the text that Mannyng used. A later English version, without merit, is found in the dreary fifteenth-century _Life of St. Editha_ (ed. Horstmann, ll. 4063 ff.). * * * * * 1 ff. _games_: Dances and shows in the churchyard were constantly condemned by the Church in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. In 1287 a synod at Exeter rules _ne quisquam luctas, choreas, vel alios ludos inhonestos in coemeteriis exercere praesumat, praecipue in vigiliis et festis sanctorum_. See Chambers, _The Mediaeval Stage_, vol. i, pp. 90 ff. 6. _or tabure bete_: Note the use of _bete_ infin. as a verbal noun = _betyng_; cp. XI _b_ 184-5. 10-12. 'And he (_sc._ a good priest) will become angered sooner than one who has no learning, and who does not understand Holy Writ.' 15 ff. _noght... none_: An accumulation of negatives in ME. makes the negation more emphatic. Here the writer wavers between two forms of expression: (1) 'do not sing carols in holy places', and (2) 'to sing carols in holy places is sacrilege'. 25-8. _yn þys londe_, &c. The cure of Theodric, not the dance, took place in England. Brightgiva is said to have been abbess of Wilton at the time (1065), and 'King Edward' is Edward the Confessor (1042-66). 34-5. The church of Kölbigk is dedicated to St. Magnus, of whom nothing certain is known. The memory of St. Bukcestre, if ever there was such a saint, appears to be preserved only in this story. 36. _þat þey come to_: Construe with _hyt_ in l. 35. 37 ff. _Here names of alle_: The twelve followers of Gerlew are named in the Latin text, but Mannyng gives only the principal actors. The inconsistency is still more marked in the Bodleian MS., which after l. 40 adds:-- _Þe ouþer twelue here names alle Þus were þey wrete, as y can kalle._ Otherwise the Bodleian MS. is very closely related to the Harleian, sharing most of its errors and peculiarities. 44. _þe prestes doghtyr of þe tounne_, 'the priest of the town's daughter'. In early ME. the genitive inflexion is not, as in Modern English, added to the last of a group of words: cp. XIV _d_ 10 _Þe Kynges sone of heuene_ 'the King of Heaven's son'. The same construction occurs in VIII _a_ 19 _for þe Lordes loue of heuene_ = 'for the love of the Lord of Heaven', and in VIII _a_ 214; but in these passages the genitive is objective, and Modern English does not use the inflexion at all (note to I 83). The ME. and modern expressions have their point of agreement in the position of the genitive inflexion, which always precedes immediately the noun on which the genitive depends. Cp. notes to II 518, VI 23, and XIV _d_ 1. 46. _A[gh]one_: _[gh]_ = _z_ here. The name is _Azo_ in the Latin. 55. _Beu ne_: (derived from the accusative _Beuonem_) = _Beuo_ of l. 59 and _Beuolyne_ of l. 62. The form is properly _Bovo_ not _Bevo_. Considerable liberties were taken with proper names to adapt them to metre or rime: e.g. l. 52 _Merswynde_; l. 63 _Merswyne_; cp. note to l. 246. This habit, and frequent miscopying, make it difficult to rely on names in mediaeval stories. 65. _Grysly_: An error for _Gerlew_, Latin _Gerleuus_, from Low German _G[=e]rl[=e]f_ = OE. _G[=a]rl[=a]f_. 83. _for Crystys awe_: In Modern English a phrase like _Christ's awe_ could mean only 'the awe felt by Christ'. But in OE. _Cristes ege_, or _ege Cristes_, meant also 'the awe of Christ (which men feel)', the genitive being objective. In ME. the word order _eie Cristes_ is dropped, but _Cristes eie_ (or _awe_, the Norse form) is still regular for '(men's) fear of Christ'. Hence formal ambiguities like _þe Lordes loue of heuene_ VIII _a_ 19, which actually means '(men's) love of the Lord of Heaven', but grammatically might mean 'the Lord of Heaven's love (for men)'--see note to l. 44 above. 96-7. The Latin Letter of Theodric in fact has _ab isto officio ex Dei nutu amodo non cessetis_, but probably _amodo_ is miswritten for _anno_. 127. _a saue_: lit. 'have safe', i.e. 'rescue'. _Saue_ is here adj. 128-9. _ys_: _flessh_: The rime requires the alternative forms _es_ (as in l. 7) and _fles(s)_. Cp. note to VII 4. 132. _[Gh]ow þar nat aske_: 'There is no need for you to ask'; _[gh]ow_ is dative after the impersonal _þar_. 156-7. _werynes_: _dos_. The rime is false. Perhaps Mannyng wrote: _As many body for goyng es_ [sc. _wery_], and a copyist misplaced _es_, writing: _As many body es for goyng_. If _body es_ were read as _bodyes_, a new verb would then be added. 169. Note the irony of the refrain. The Letter of Otbert adds the picturesque detail that they gradually sank up to their waists in the ground through dancing on the same spot. 172. _Þe Emperoure Henry_: Probably Henry II of Germany, Emperor from 1014 to 1024. A certain vagueness in points of time and place would save the bearers of the letter from awkward questions. 188-9. _banned_: _woned_. The rime (OE. _bannan_ and _wunian_) is false, and the use of _woned_ 'remained' is suspicious. Mannyng perhaps wrote _bende_ 'put in bonds': _wende_ (= _[gh]ede_ l. 191) 'went'; or (if the form _band_ for _banned(e)_ could be evidenced so early) _band_ 'cursed': _wand_, pret. of _winden_, 'went'. 195. _fal yn a swone_: So MS., showing that by the second half of the fourteenth century the pp. adj. _aswon_ had been wrongly analysed into the indef. article _a_ and a noun _swon_. Mannyng may have written _fallen aswone_. See Glossary, _s.v._ _aswone_. 234. _Wyth sundyr lepys_: 'with separate leaps'; but _Wyth_ was probably added by a scribe who found in his original _sundyrlepys_, adv., meaning 'separately',-- _Kar suvent par les mains Des malvais escrivains Sunt livre corrumput._ 240. _Seynt Edyght._ St. Edith (d. 984) was daughter of King Edgar, and abbess of Wilton. The rime is properly _Edit_: _Teodric_, for _t_ and _k_ are sufficiently like in sound to rime together in the best ME. verse; cp. note to XV _g_ 27. 246. _Brunyng... seynt Tolous_: Latin _Bruno Tullanus_. Robert probably did not hesitate to provide a rime by turning Toul into Toulouse. Bruno afterwards became Pope Leo IX (1049-54). 254-5. _trowed_: _God_. Read _tr[)o]d_, a shortened form, revealed by rimes in North Midland texts. The identical rime occurs three times in Mannyng's _Chronicle_ (ed. Hearne, p. 339; ed. Furnivall, ll. 7357-8, 8111-12); and, again with substitution of _troud_ for _trod_, in _Havelok_, ll. 2338-9. Cp. note to XVII 56. II #Dialect#: South-Western, with some admixture of Northern forms due to a copyist. #Inflexions#:-- VERB: pres. ind. 1 sg. _ichaue_, &c. (see note to l. 129). 2 sg. _makest_ 169, _worst_ 170. 3 sg. _geþ_ (in rime) 238; contracted _fint_ 239, _last_ 335, _sitt_ 443, _stont_ 556. 2 pl. _[gh]e beþ_ 582. 3 pl. _strikeþ_ 252 (proved by rime with 3 sg. _likeþ_). imper. pl. _make_ 216, _chese_ 217; beside _doþ_ 218. pres. p. _berking_ 286 (in rime with verbal sb.); _daunceing_ (in rime) 298. The forms _kneland_ 250, _liggeand_ 388, are due to a Northern copyist. strong pp. (various forms): _go_ (: _wo_) 196, _ygo_ (: _mo_) 349, _ydone_ (: _-none_) 76, _comen_ 29, _come_ 181, _ycomen_ 203, _yborn_ 174, _bore_ 210. infin. Note _aski_ (OE. _acsian_) 467 (App. § 13 vii). PRONOUN 3 PERS.: fem. nom. _he_ 408, 446, _hye_ 337, beside _sche_ 75, 77, &c. pl. nom. _he_ (in rime) 185, _hye_ 91, beside _þai_ 32, 69, &c. poss. _her_ 'their' 87, 413, 415; obj. _hem_ 69, &c. NOUN: Note the plurals _honden_ 79, _berien_ 258. The original text preserved final _-e_ better than the extant MSS., e.g. _And seyd<[.e]> þus þe king<[.e]> to_ 119. _Þat noþing help<[.e]> þe no schal_ 172. _Al þe vt<[.e]>mast<[.e]> wal_ 357. _So, sir, as [gh]e seyd<[.e]> nouþ[.e]_ 466. #Sounds#: _[=o,]_ for OE. _[=a]_ is proved in rime: _biholde_ (OE. _beháldan_): _gold_ (OE. _góld_) 367-8 (cp. 467-8); and _yhote_ (OE. _geh[=a]ten_): _note_ (OFr. _note_) 601-2. The rime _frut_: _lite_ 257-8 points to original _frut_: _lut_ (OE. _l[=y]t_), with Western _[=ü]_, from OE. _[=y]_, riming with OFr. _[=ü]_. * * * * * 1-22. These lines, found also in _Lai le Freine_, would serve as preface to any of the Breton lays, with the couplet ll. 23-4 as the special connecting link. In the Auchinleck MS., _Orfeo_ begins on a fresh leaf at l. 25, without heading or capitals to indicate that it is a new poem. The leaf preceding has been lost. There is good reason to suppose that it contained the lines supplied in the text from the Harleian MS. 4. _frely_, 'goodly': _Lai le Freine_ has _ferly_ 'wondrous'. 12. MS. _moost to lowe_: means 'most (worthy) to be praised', and there are two or three recorded examples of _to lowe_ = _to alowe_ in this sense. But MS. Ashmole and the corresponding lines in _Lai le Freine_ point to _most o loue_ 'mostly of love' as the common reading. The typical 'lay' is a poem of moderate length, telling a story of love, usually with some supernatural element, in a refined and courtly style. 13. _Brytayn_, 'Brittany': so _Brytouns_ 16 = 'Bretons'. Cp. Chaucer, _Franklin's Tale, Prologue_, beginning _Thise olde gentil Britons in hir dayes Of diverse aventures maden layes Rymeyed in hir firste Briton tonge, Whiche layes with hir instrumentz they songe_, &c. 20. The curious use of _it_ after the plural _layes_ is perhaps not original. _Lai le Freine_ has: _And maked a lay and yaf it name_. 26. _In Inglond_: an alteration of the original text to give local colour. Cp. ll. 49-50 and l. 478. 29-30. _Pluto_: the King of Hades came to be regarded as the King of Fairyland; cp. Chaucer, _Merchant's Tale_, l. 983 _Pluto that is the kyng of fairye_. The blunder by which Juno is made a king is apparently peculiar to the Auchinleck copy. 33-46. These lines are not in the Auchinleck MS., but are probably authentic. Otherwise little prominence would be given to Orfeo's skill as a harper. 41 ff. A confused construction: _In þe world was neuer man born_ should be followed by _<þat> he schulde þinke_; but the writer goes on as if he had begun with 'every man in the world'. _And_ = 'if'. 46. _ioy and_ overload the verse, and are probably an unskilful addition to the text. 49-50. These lines are peculiar to the Auchinleck MS., and are clearly interpolated; cp. l. 26 and l. 478. Winchester was the old capital of England, and therefore the conventional seat of an English king. 57. _comessing_: The metre points to a disyllabic form _comsing_ here, and to _comsi_ in l. 247. 80. _it bled wete_: In early English the clause which is logically subordinate is sometimes made formally co-ordinate. More normal would be _þat (it) bled wete_ 'until (_or_ so that) it bled wet'; i.e. until it was wet with blood. 82. _reuey d_ or some such form of _ravished_ is probably right. _reneyd_ 'apostate' is a possible reading of the MS., but does not fit the sense. _N. E. D._ suggests _remeued_. 102. _what is te?_: 'What ails you?; cp. l. 115. _Te_ for _þe_ after _s_ of _is_. Such modifications are due either to dissimilation of like sounds, as _þ_: _s_ which are difficult in juxtaposition; or to assimilation of unlike sounds, as _þatow_ 165, for _þat þow_. 115. 'What ails you, and how it came about?'; cp. l. 102. 129. _ichil_ = _ich wille_; and so _ichaue_ 209, _icham_ 382, _ichot_ XV _b_ 23. These forms, reduced to _chill_, _cham_, &c., were still characteristic of the Southern dialect in Shakespeare's time: cp. _King Lear_, IV. vi. 239 _Chill not let go, Zir_. 131. _þat nou[gh]t nis_: 'That cannot be'; cp. l. 457 _þat nou[gh]t nere_. 157-8. _palays_: _ways_. The original rime was perhaps _palys_: _wys_ 'wise'. 170. 'Wherever you may be, you shall be fetched.' 201-2. _barouns_: _renouns_. Forms like _renouns_ in rime are usually taken over from a French original. 215. The overloaded metre points to a shorter word like _wite_ for _vnderstond_. 216. _Make [gh]ou þan a parlement_: _[gh]ou_ is not nom., but dat. 'for yourselves'. Observe that Orfeo acts like a constitutional English king. 241. _þe fowe and griis_: A half translation of OFr. _vair et gris_. _Vair_ (Lat. _varius_) was fur made of alternate pieces of the grey back and white belly of the squirrel. Hence it is rendered by _fowe_, OE. _f[=a]g_ 'varicolor'. _Griis_ is the grey back alone, and the French word is retained for the rime with _biis_, which was probably in the OFr. original. 258. _berien_: The MS. may be read _berren_, but as this form is incorrect it is better to assume that the _i_ has been carelessly shaped by the scribe. 289. _him se_, 'see (for himself), and similarly _slep þou þe_ XV _g_ 13. This reflexive use of the dative pronoun, which cannot be reproduced in a modern rendering, is common in OE. and ME., especially with verbs of motion; cp. note to XV _g_ 24. But distinguish _went him_ 475, 501, where _him_ is accusative, not dative (OE. _wente hine_), because the original sense of _went_ is 'turned', which naturally takes a reflexive object. 342. _me no reche_ = _I me no reche_. The alternative would be the impersonal _me no recheþ_. 343. _also spac_ = _also bliue_ 142 = _also swiþe_ 574: 'straightway', &c. 363. MS. _auowed_ (or _anowed_) is meaningless here. _Anow ed_, or the doubtful by-form _anow ed_ 'adorned', is probably the true reading. 382. The line is too long--a fault not uncommon where direct speech is introduced, e.g. l. 419 and I 78. Usually a correct line can be obtained by dropping words like _quath he_, which are not as necessary in spoken verse as they are where writing alone conveys the sense. But sometimes the flaw may lie in the forms of address: l. 382 would be normal without _Parfay_; l. 419 may once have been: _And seyd 'Lord, [gh]if þi wille were'._ There is no task more slippery than the metrical reconstruction of ME. poems, particularly those of which the extant text derives from the original not simply through a line of copyists, but through a line of minstrels who passed on the verses from memory and by word of mouth. 388. The line seems to be corrupt, and, as usual, the Harleian and Ashmole MSS. give little help. _Ful_ can hardly be a sb. meaning 'multitude' from the adj. _full_. Some form of _fele_ (OE. _fela_) 'a great number' would give possible grammar and sense (cp. l. 401), but bad metre. Perhaps _ful_ should be deleted as a scribe's anticipation of _folk_ in the next line; for the construction _sei[gh]e... of folk_ cp. XVI 388; and _Hous of Fame_, Bk. iii, ll. 147 ff. 433. _Þei we nou[gh]t welcom no be_: Almost contemporary with _Sir Orfeo_ is the complaint of an English writer that the halls of the nobles stood open to a lawyer, but not to a poet: _Exclusus ad ianuam poteris sedere Ipse licet venias, Musis comitatus, Homere!_ 'Though thou came thyself, Homer, with all the Muses, thou mightst sit at the door, shut out!', T. Wright, _Political Songs_ (1839), p. 209. 446. _hadde he_, 'had she'. For _he_ (OE. _h[=e]o_) = 'she' cp. l. 408. 450. 'Now ask of me whatsoever it may be'. The plots of mediaeval romances often depend on the unlimited promises of an unwary king, whose honour compels him to keep his word. So in the story of Tristram, an Irish noble disguised as a minstrel wins Ysolde from King Mark by this same device, but is himself cheated of his prize by Tristram's skill in music. 458. 'An ill-matched pair you two would be!' 479. The halting verse may be completed by adding _sum tyme_ before _his_, with the Harley and Ashmole MSS. 483. _ybilt_ of the MS. and editors cannot well be a pp. meaning 'housed'. I prefer to take _bilt_ as sb. = _bild_, _build_ 'a building'; and to suppose that _y_ has been miswritten for _[=y]_, the contraction for _yn_. 495. _gan hold_, 'held'; a good example of the ME. use of _gan_ + infinitive with the sense of the simple preterite. 515. An unhappy suggestion _home_ for the second _come_ has sometimes been accepted. But a careful Southern poet could not rime _home_ (OE. _h[=a]m_) and _some_ (OE. _s[)u]m_). See note to VI 224. 518. _For mi lordes loue Sir Orfeo_, 'for my lord Sir Orfeo's love'. Logically the genitive inflexion should be added to both of two substantives in apposition, as in OE. _on Herodes dagum cyninges_ 'in the days of King Herod'. But in ME. the first substantive usually has the inflexion, and the second is uninflected; cp. V 207 _kynge[gh] hous Arthor_ 'the house of King Arthur'; and notes to I 44, VI 23. 544. _Allas! wreche_: _wreche_ refers to the speaker, as in l. 333. 551. _hou it geþ--_: The sense is hard to convey without some cumbrous paraphrase like 'the inexorable law of this world--'. 552. _It nis no bot of manes deþ_: 'There is no remedy for man's death', i.e. violent grief will do no good. Note _it nis_ 'there is (not)'. In ME. the anticipated subject is commonly _it_ where we use _there_. 565. _in ynome_: ' taken up my abode'; _in_ 'dwelling' = NE. 'inn'. 599. _herof_ overloads the line and is omitted in the Ashmole MS. III #Dialect#: Pure Kentish of Canterbury. #Inflexions# are well preserved, and are similar to those found in contemporary South-Western texts. VERB: pres. ind. 3 sg. _multiplieþ_ 1; contracted _ret_ 3, 16. 1 pl. _habbeþ_ 2. strong pp. _yyeue_ 25, _yhote_ 29. PRONOUN 3 PERS.: the new forms _she_, _they_, _their_, _them_ are not used. 3 sg. fem. nom. _hi_ 32, _hy_ 45; poss. _hare_ 33, beside _hire_ 36; pl. nom. _hi_ 58. Note the objective form _his(e)_ = 'her' 32, 53 (twice); and = 'them' 7, 8, 28. NOUN: plurals in _-en_ occur: _uorbisnen_ 2, _ken_ 56. In _diaknen_ 5, _-en_ represents the dat. pl. inflexion. ADJECTIVE: _onen_ dat. sg. 4, _oþren_ dat. pl. 53, _þane_ acc. sg. masc. 59, _þet (word)_ nom. sg. neut. 57, show survivals rare even in the South at this date. #Sounds#: Characteristic of the South-East is _[)=e]_ for OE. (West-Saxon) _[)=y]_: _kertel_ (OE. _cyrtel_) 39, _ken_ (OE. _c[=y]_) 56. Old diphthongs are preserved in _greate_ (OE. _gr[=e]at_) 9, _yeaf_ 22. In _hyerof_ 1, _yhyerde_ 49, _hier_ 2, _þieues_ 18, _ye_, _ie_ represent diphthongs developed in Kentish rather than simple close _[=e]_. Initial _z_ = _s_ in _zome_ 'some' 2, _zede_ 'said' 12, _zuo_ 'so' 17; and initial _u_ = _f_ in _uele_ 2, _uayre_ 2, _uram_ 4, _bevil_ 41, evidence dialectical changes which occurred also in the South-West. #Syntax#: The constructions are distorted by slavish following of the French original; see note to ll. 48-60. * * * * * 3. Saint Germain of Auxerre (MS. _Aucerne_) is famous for his missions to Britain in the first half of the fifth century. This particular story is found in the _Acta Sanctorum_ for July 31, p. 229. 16. St. John the Almoner (d. 616) was bishop of Alexandria. For the story see _Acta Sanctorum_ for January 23, p. 115. 27-8. _and huanne he hit wiste þe ilke zelue þet his hedde onderuonge_: an obscure sentence. Perhaps: 'and when he, the same who had received them (i.e. John, who had received the five hundred pounds), knew it' (sc. the truth). 38. This tale of Boniface, bishop of Ferentia in Etruria, is told in the _Dialogues_ of Gregory the Great, Bk. i, chap. 9. Its first appearance in English is in the translation of the _Dialogues_ made by Bishop Wærferth for King Alfred (ed. Hans Hecht, Leipzig 1900, pp. 67 ff.). 48-60. The French original of the passage, taken from an elegant fourteenth-century MS., Cotton Cleopatra A.V., fol. 144 a, will show how slavishly Dan Michael followed his source:-- _Apres il fu un poure home, sicom on dit, qui auoit une vache; e oi dire a son prestre en sarmon que Dieu disoit en leuangile que Dieu rendoit a cent doubles quanque on donast por lui. Le prodomme du conseil sa femme dona sa uache a son prestre, qui estoit riches. Le prestre la prist uolentiers, e lenuoia pestre auoec les autres quil auoit. Kant uint au soir, la uache au poure home sen uint a son hostel chies le poure homme, com ele auoit acoustume, e amena auoeques soi toutes les uaches au prestre, iukes a cent. Quant le bon home uit ce, si pensa que ce estoit le mot de leuangile que li auoit rendu; e li furent aiugiees deuant son euesque contre le prestre. Cest ensample moustre bien que misericorde est bone marchande, car ele multiplie les biens temporels._ 58-9. 'And they were adjudged to him before his bishop against the priest', i.e. the bishop ruled that the poor man should have all the cows. The French _fabliau_ '_Brunain_' takes up the comic rather than the moral aspect of the story. A peasant, hearing the priest say that gifts to God are doubly repaid, thought it was a favourable opportunity to give his cow Blérain--a poor milker--to the priest. The priest ties her with his own cow Brunain. To the peasant's great joy, the unprofitable Blérain returns home, leading with her the priest's good cow. IV #Dialect#: Northern of Yorkshire. #Inflexions#: are reduced almost as in Modern English. VERB: pres. ind. 1 sg. _settes_ _a_ 30; beside uninflected _sygh_ _a_ 69, _sob_ _a_ 69. 3 sg. _lastes_ _a_ 1. 1 pl. _flese_ _b_ 86: beside _we drede_ _b_ 85. 3 pl. _lyse_ _a_ 61, _lufes_ _b_ 7, &c. beside _þay take_, _þay halde_ _b_ 12, &c., which agree with the Midland forms. pres. p. _lastand_ _a_ 25, _byrnand_ _a_ 26, riming with _hand_. strong pp. _wryten_ _a_ 2. Note the Northern and North Midland short forms _mase_ 'makes' _a_ 15, _tane_ 'taken' _a_ 53 (in rime). PRONOUN 3 pers.: sg. fem. _scho_ _b_ 1; pl. nom. _þai_ _a_ 60; poss. _þar_ _a_ 59 or _þair_ _a_ 65; obj. _thaym_ _b_ 2. The demonstrative _thire_ 'these' at _b_ 55, _b_ 59 is specifically Northern. #Sounds#: OE. _[=a]_ is regularly represented by _[=a]_, not by _[=o,]_ of the South and most of the Midlands: _wa_ _a_ 2, _euermare_ _a_ 20, _balde_ 'bold' _a_ 51; _bane_ (in rime) _a_ 54. _[=o.]_ becomes _[=u]_ (_[=ü]_?) in _gud(e)_ _b_ 9, _b_ 15; and its length is sometimes indicated by adding _y_, as in _ruysand_ 'vaunting' _b_ 80. * * * * * _a._ 'This poem is largely a translation of sentences excerpted from Rolle's _Incendium Amoris_, cc. xl-xli (Miss Allen in _Mod. Lang. Review_ for 1919, p. 320). Useful commentaries are his prose _Form of Perfect Living_ (ed. Horstmann, vol. i, pp. 3 ff.), and _Commandment of Love to God_ (ibid. pp. 61 ff.), which supply many parallels in thought and phrasing; see, for example, the note to l. 48 below. * * * * * _a_ 1. _feste._ Not the adj. 'fast', but pp. 'fastened', and so in l. 82. _a_ 5. _louyng_, 'beloved one', here and in l. 56. This exceptional use of the verbal noun occurs again in _my [gh]hernyng_ 'what I yearn for', _a_ 22; _my couaytyng_ 'what I covet', _a_ 23. _a_ 9-12. The meaning seems to be: 'The throne of love is raised high, for it (i.e. love) ascended into heaven. It seems to me that on earth love is hidden, which makes men pale and wan. It goes very near to the bed of bliss (i.e. the bridal bed of Christ and the soul) I assure you. Though the way may seem long to us, yet love unites God and man.' _a_ 24. _louyng_, 'praise' here and in XVI 405, from OE. _lof_ 'praise'; quite distinct from _louyng_, _lufyng_, in ll. 5 and 56. _a_ 36. _fle þat na man it maye_, 'which no man can escape'. See Appendix § 12, Relative. _a_ 42. _styll_, 'always' rather than 'motionless'. _a_ 43-4. Apparently 'the nature of love (_þat kyend_) turns from care the man (_þe lyfe_) who succeeds in finding love, or who ever knew it in his heart; and brings him to joy and delight.' _a_ 48. Cp. _Form of Perfect Living_, ed. Horstmann, vol. i, pp. 39-40: _For luf es stalworth als þe dede, þat slaes al lyuand thyng in erth; and hard als hell, þat spares noght till þam þat er dede._ In _The Commandment of Love_ Rolle explains: _For als dede slas al lyuand thyng in þis worlde, sa perfite lufe slas in a mans sawle all fleschly desyres and erthly couaytise. And als hell spares noght til dede men, bot tormentes al þat commes bartill, alswa a man þat es in þis_ [sc. the third, called 'Singular'] _degré of lufe noght anly he forsakes þe wretched solace of þis lyf, bot alswa he couaytes to sofer pynes for Goddes lufe._ (Ibid. p. 63.) _b_ 4. _scho takes erthe_: From the _Historia Animalium_ attributed to Aristotle, Bk. ix, c. 21. This is the authority referred to at l. 18, and at l. 33 (Bk. ix, c. 9); but the citations seem to be second hand, as they do not agree closely with the text of the _Historia Animalium_. _b_ 21-2. 'For there are many who never can keep the rule of love towards their friends, whether kinsmen or not.' MS. _ynesche_ has been variously interpreted; but it must be corrected to _ynence_. _b_ 47. _strucyo or storke_: the ostrich, not the stork, is meant. Latin _struthio_ has both meanings. On the whole, fourteenth-century translators show a fair knowledge of Latin, but the average of scholarship, even among the clergy, was never high in the Middle Ages. In the magnificent Eadwine Psalter, written at Canterbury Cathedral in the twelfth century, Ps. ci. 7 _similis factus sum pellicano_ is rendered by 'I am become like to the skin of a dog' (= _pelli canis_), though an ecclesiastic would recite this psalm in Latin at least once every week. The records of some thirteenth-century examinations of English clergy may be found in G. G. Coulton, _A Medieval Garner_ (London 1910), pp. 270 ff. They include the classic answer of Simon, the curate of Sonning, who, being examined on the Canon of the Mass, and pressed to say what governed _Te_ in _Te igitur, clementissime Pater,... supplices rogamus_, replied '_Pater_, for He governeth all things'. As for French, Michael of Northgate, a shaky translator, is fortunate in escaping gross blunders in the specimen chosen (III); but the English rendering of Mandeville's _Travels_ is full of errors; see the notes to IX. _b_ 60. _teches_: better _toches_, according to the foot-note. V #Alliterative Verse.# The long lines in _Gawayne_, with _The Destruction of Troy_, _Piers Plowman_, and _The Blacksmiths_ (XV _h_), are specimens of alliterative verse unmixed with rime, a form strictly comparable with Old English verse, from which it must derive through an unbroken oral tradition. While the detailed analysis of the Middle English alliterative line is complex and controversial, its general framework is describable in simple terms. It will be convenient to take examples from _Gawayne_, which shows most of the developments characteristic of Middle English. 1. The long line is divided by a caesura into two half lines, of which the second is the more strictly built so that the rhythm may be well marked. Each half line normally contains two principal stresses, e.g. _And wént on his wáy || with his wý[gh]e óne_ 6. _Þat schulde téche hym to tóurne || to þat téne pláce_ 7. But three stresses are not uncommonly found in the first half line: _Bróke[gh] býled and bréke || bi bónkke[gh] abóute_ 14; and, even for the simpler forms in Old and Middle English, the two-stress analysis has its opponents. 2. The two half lines are bound together by alliteration. In alliteration _ch_, _st_, _s(c)h_, _sk_, and usually _sp_, are treated as single consonants (see lines 64, 31, 15, 99, 25); any vowel may alliterate with any other vowel, e.g. _Þis ~ó~ritore is ~['v]~gly || with ~é~rbe[gh] ouergrówen_ 122; and, contrary to the practice of correct OE. verse, _h_ may alliterate with vowels in _Gawayne_: _~H~álde þe now þe ~h~ý[gh]e ~h~óde || þat ~Á~rþur þe rá[gh]t_ 229. _The ~h~áþel ~h~éldet hym fró || and on his ~á~x résted_ 263. 3. In correct OE. verse the alliteration falls on one or both of the two principal stresses of the first half line, and invariably on the first stress only of the second half line. This is the ordinary ME. type: _Þat schulde ~t~éche hym to ~t~óurne || to þat ~t~éne pláce_ 7; though verses with only one alliterating syllable in the first half line, e.g. _Bot Í wyl to þe ~ch~ápel || for ~ch~áunce þat may fálle_ 64, are less common in ME. than in OE. But in ME. the fourth stress sometimes takes the alliteration also: _Þay ~cl~ómben bi ~cl~ýffe[gh] || þer ~cl~énge[gh] þe ~c~ólde_ 10. And when there is a third stress in the first half line, five syllables may alliterate: _~M~íst ~m~úged on þe ~m~ór || ~m~ált on þe ~m~óunte[gh]_ 12. In sum, Middle English verse is richer than Old English in alliteration. 4. In all these verses the alliteration of the first stress in the second half line, which is essential in Old English, is maintained; but it is sometimes neglected, especially when the alliteration is otherwise well marked: _With ~h~é[gh]e ~h~élme on his ~h~éde || his láunce in his ~h~ónde_ (129; cp. 75), where the natural stress cannot fall on _his_. 5. So far attention has been confined to the stressed syllables, around which the unstressed syllables are grouped. Clearly the richer the alliteration, the more freedom will be possible in the treatment of the unstressed syllables without undue weakening of the verse form. In the first two lines of _Beowulf_-- _Hwæt we Gárdéna || in géardágum Þéodcýninga || þrým gefrúnon--_ three of the half lines have the minimum number of syllables--four--and the other has only five. In Middle English, with more elaborate alliteration, the number of unstressed syllables is increased, so that the minimum half line of four syllables is rare, and often contains some word which may have had an additional flexional syllable in the poet's own manuscript, e.g. || _þe sélf chápel_ 79. || _ár[gh]e[gh] in hért _ 209. The less regular first half line is found with as many as eleven syllables; e.g. _And syþen he kéuere[gh] bi a crágge_ || 153. 6. The grouping of stressed and unstressed syllables determines the rhythm. In Old English the falling rhythm predominates, as in || _Gáwayn þe nóble_ 81; and historically it is no doubt correct to trace the development of the ME. line from a predominantly falling rhythm. But in fact, owing to the frequent use of unstressed syllables before the first stress (even in the second half line where they are avoided in the OE. falling rhythm) the commonest type is: || _and þe bróde [gh]áte[gh]_ 1, (× × ['-] × ['-] ×) which from a strictly Middle English standpoint may be analysed as a falling rhythm with introductory syllables (× × | ['-] × ['-] ×), or as a rising rhythm with a weak ending (× × ['-] × ['-] | ×). A careful reader, accustomed to the usage of English verse, will have no difficulty in following the movement, without entering into nice technicalities of historical analysis. 7. _The Destruction of Troy_ is more regular than _Gawayne_ in its versification, and better preserves the Old English tradition. _Piers Plowman_ is looser and nearer to prose, so that the alliteration sometimes fails altogether, e.g. Extract _a_ 95, 138. Such differences in technique may depend on date, on locality, or on the taste, training, or skill of the author. * * * * * #Dialect#: West Midland of Lancashire or Cheshire. (There is evidence of local knowledge in the account of Gawayne's ride in search of the Green Chapel, ll. 691 ff. of the complete text.) #Vocabulary.# _Sir Gawayne_ shows the characteristic vocabulary of alliterative verse. It is rich in number and variety of words--Norse, French, and native. Besides common words like _race_ 8, _wylle_ 16, _kyrk_ 128, _a[gh]-_ 267 (which displace native English forms _r[=e]s_, _wylde_, _chyrche_, _eie_), Norse gives _mug(g)ed_ 12, _cayre[gh]_ 52, _scowtes_ 99, _skayned_ 99, _wro_ 154, _broþe_ 165, _fyked_ 206, _snyrt_ 244, &c. French are _baret_ 47, _oritore_ 122, _fylor_ 157, _giserne_ 197, _kauelacion_ 207, _frounses_ 238, &c. _Myst-hakel_ 13, _orpedly_ 164 are native words; while the rare _stryþe_ 237 and _raþeled_ 226 are of doubtful origin. Unless the alliteration is to be monotonous, there must be many synonyms for common words like _man_, _kni[gh]t_: e.g. _burne_ 3, _wy[gh]e_ 6, _lede_ 27, _gome_ 50, _freke_ 57, _tulk_ 65, _knape_ 68, _renk_ 138, most of which survive only by reason of their usefulness in alliterative formulae. Similarly, a number of verbs are used to express the common idea 'to move (rapidly)': _bo[gh]en_ 9, _schowued_ 15, _wonnen_ 23, _ferked_ 105, _rome[gh]_ 130, _keuere[gh]_ 153, _whyrlande_ 154, &c. Here the group of synonyms arises from weakening of the ordinary prose meanings; and this tendency to use words in colourless or forced senses is a general defect of alliterative verse. For instance, it is hard to attach a precise meaning to _note_ 24, _gedere[gh]_ 92, _glodes_ 113, _wruxled_ 123, _kest_ 308. The _Gawayne_ poet is usually artist enough to avoid the worst fault of alliterative verse--the use of words for mere sound without regard to sense, but there are signs of the danger in the empty, clattering line: _Bremly broþe on a bent þat brode wat[gh] aboute_ 165. #Inflexions#: The rime _waþe_: _ta þe_ 287-9 shows that organic final _-e_ was sometimes pronounced in the poet's dialect. VERB: pres. ind. 1 sg. _haf_ 23; _leue_ 60. 2 sg. _spelle[gh]_ 72. 3 sg. _prayses_ 4; _tas_ 237. 2 pl. _[gh]e han_ 25. 3 pl. _han_ 345. imper. pl. _got[gh]_ (= _g[=o,]s_) 51, _cayre[gh]_ 52. pres. p. normally _-ande_, e.g. _schaterande_ 15; but very rarely _-yng_: _gruchyng_ 58. strong pp. _born_ 2, _wonnen_ 23; _tone_ (= _taken_) 91. The weak pa. t. and pp. show occasional _-(e)t_ for _-(e)d_: _halt_ 11, _fondet_ 57, &c. Note that present forms in _-ie(n)_ are preserved, and the _i_ extended to the past tense: _louy_ (OE. _lufian_) 27, _louies_ 31; _spuryed_ 25. PRONOUN 3 PERS.: pl. nom. _þay_ 9; poss. _hor_ 345, beside _her_ 352; obj. _hom_, beside _hem_ 353. #Sounds#: _[=o,]_ for older _[=a]_ is common, and is proved for the original by rimes like _more_: _restore_ (OFr. _restorer_) 213-15, _þore_: _restore_ 286-8. But _a_ is often written in the MS.: _snaw_ 20, 166 (note rimes), _halden_ 29, &c. _u_ for OE. _y_, characteristic of Western dialects, is found especially in the neighbourhood of labial consonants: _spuryed_ (OE. _spyrian_) 25; _muryly_ 268, 277; _munt_ vb. 194 and sb. 282; beside _myntes_ 284, _lyfte_ 78, _hille_ 13. _u_ for OE. _eo_ (normal ME. _e_) is another Western feature: _burne_ 3, 21, &c., _rurde_ 151. _aw_ for OE. _[=e]ow_ (normal ME. _ew_, _ow_) as in _trawe_ 44, _trawþe_ 219, _rawþe_ 136, is still found in some Northern dialects. #Spelling#: _[gh]_ (= _z_) is commonly written for final _s_: _brede[gh]_ 3, &c. even when the final _s_ is certainly voiceless as in _for[gh]_, 'force', 'torrent' 105, _(a[gh]-)le[gh]_ 'fear-less' 267. _t[gh]_ is written for _s_ in monosyllabic verbal forms, where it indicates the maintenance of voiceless final _s_ under the stress (see rimes to _hat[gh]_ 'has', VI 81): _wat[gh]_ 'was' 1, _got[gh]_ 'goes' 51, &c. In early Norman French _z_ had the sound _ts_, and so could be written _tz_, as in _Fitz-Gerald_ 'son (Mod. Fr. _fils_) of Gerald'. But later, French _(t)z_ fell together with _s_ in pronunciation, so that the spelling _tz_ was transferred to original _s_, both in fourteenth-century Anglo-French and in English. _qu-_ occurs for strongly aspirated _hw-_ in _quyte_ 'white' 20, _quat_ 'what' 111; but the alliteration is with _w_, not with _k(w)_, e.g. _And wyth ~qu~ettyng a~wh~arf, er he ~w~olde ly[gh]t_ 152. The spelling _goud_ 5, 50, &c., for _g[=o]d_ 'good' may indicate a sound change. Notable is the carefully distinguished use of _[gh]_ in _[gh]e_, but _y_ in _yow_, e.g. at ll. 23-6. * * * * * 3. _blessed hym_, 'crossed himself'; cp. XII _b_ 86. 4-6. 'He gives a word of praise to the porter,-- kneeled before the prince (i.e. Gawayn) greeted him with "God and good day," and "May He save Gawayn!"--and went on his way, attended only by his man, who, &c.' Clumsiness in turning direct speech into reported speech is a constant source of difficulty in Middle English. For the suppressed relative cp. note to XIII _a_ 36. 11. 'The clouds were high, but it was threatening below them.' _Halt_ for _halet_ pp. 'drawn up'. 16. 'The way by which they had to go through the wood was very wild.' Note the regular omission of a verb of motion after _shall_, _will_, &c. Cp. l. 64 _I wyl to þe chapel_; l. 332 _[gh]e schal... to my wone[gh]_, &c. 28. 'If you would act according to my wit (i.e. by my advice) you would fare the better.' 34. _Hector, oþer oþer_, 'Hector, or any other'. Hector is quoted as the great hero of the Troy story, from which, and from the legends of Arthur, the Middle Ages drew their models of valour. 35. 'He brings it about at the green chapel ', &c. 37. _dynge[gh]_: for MS. _dynne[gh]_; Napier's suggestion. 41. 'He would as soon (lit. it seems to him as pleasant to) kill him, as be alive himself.' 43. 'If you reach that place you will be killed, I may warn you, knight.' Possibly _I_, _y_, has fallen out of the text after _y_ of _may_ (cp. VI 3), though there are clear instances in Old and Middle English where the pronominal subject must be understood from the context, e.g. I 168, VIII _a_ 237, 273. Note the transitions from plural _[gh]e_ to singular _þe_ in ll. 42-3; and the evidence at l. 72 f. that _þou_ could still be used in addressing a superior. 44. _Trawe [gh]e me þat_: _trow_ has here a double construction with both _me_ and _þat_ as direct objects. 56. 'That I shall loyally screen you, and never give out the tale that you fled for fear of any man that I knew.' 64. _for chaunce þat may falle_, 'in spite of anything that may happen'. 68-9. 'Though he be a stern lord (lit. a stern man to rule), and armed with a stave'. The short lines are built more with a view to rime than to sense. 72-4. 'Marry!' said the other, 'now you say so decidedly that you will take your own harm upon yourself, and it pleases you to lose your life, I have no wish to hinder you.' 76. _ryde me_: an instance of the rare ethic dative, which expresses some interest in the action of the verb on the part of one who is neither the doer of the action nor its object. Distinguish the uses referred to in the notes to II 289, XV _g_ 24. 86. _Lepe[gh] hym_, 'gallops'. For _hym_, which refers to the rider, not the horse, cp. note to XV _g_ 24. 92. _Gryngolet_: the name of Gawayn's horse. _gedere[gh] þe rake_ seems to mean 'takes the path'. No similar transitive use of 'gather' is known. 95. _he wayted hym aboute_, 'he looked around him'. Cp. l. 221 _wayte[gh]_, and note to l. 121. 99. 'The clouds seemed to him grazed by the crags'; i.e. the crags were so high that they seemed to him to scrape the clouds. I owe to Professor Craigie the suggestion that _skayned_ is ON. _skeina_ 'to graze', 'scratch'. 102-4. 'And soon, a little way off on an open space, a mound (as it appeared) seemed to him remarkable.' 107. _kache[gh] his caple_, 'takes control of his horse', i.e. takes up the reins again to start the horse after the halt mentioned at l. 100. 109. _his riche_: possibly 'his good steed'. The substantival use of an adjective is common in alliterative verse, e.g. l. 188 _þat schyre_ (neck); 200 _þe schene_ (axe); 245 _þe scharp_ (axe); 343 _þat cortays_ (lady). But it has been suggested that _brydel_ has fallen out of the text after _riche_. 114. 'And it was all hollow within, nothing but an old cave.' 115 f. _he couþe hit no[gh]t deme with spelle_, 'he could not say '. For _deme_ 'to speak', &c., cp. VI 1, XV _b_ 29-30. 118. _Wheþer_ commonly introduces a direct question and should not be separately translated. Cp. VI 205 and note to XI _a_ 51. 121. _wysty is here_, 'it is desolate here'. Note _Wowayn_ = _Wauwayn_, an alternative form of _Gawayn_ used for the alliteration. The alternation is parallel to that in _guardian_: _warden_; _regard_: _reward_ XIV _c_ 105; _guarantee_: _warranty_; _(bi)gyled_ 359: _(bi)wyled_ 357; _werre_ 'war' beside French _guerre_; _wait_ 'watch' (as at l. 95) beside French _guetter_; and is due to dialectal differences in Old French. The Anglo-Norman dialect usually preserved _w_ in words borrowed from Germanic or Celtic, while others replaced it by _gw_, _gu_, which later became simple _g_ in pronunciation. 125. _in my fyue wytte[gh]_: construe with _fele_. 127. _þat chekke hit bytyde_, 'which destruction befall!' _þat... hit_ = 'which'. _chekke_ refers to the checkmate at chess. 135. Had we not Chaucer's Miller and _The Reeves Tale_, the vividness and intimacy of the casual allusions would show the place of the flour-mill in mediaeval life. Havelok drives out his foes _So dogges ut of milne-hous;_ and the Nightingale suggests as fit food for the Owl _one frogge Þat sit at mulne vnder cogge._ These are records of hours spent by the village boys amid the noise of grinding and rush of water, in times when there was no rival mechanism to share the fascination of the water-driven mill. 137-43. 'This contrivance, as I believe, is prepared, sir knight, for the honour of meeting me by the way. Let God work His will, Lo! It helps me not a bit. Though I lose my life, no noise causes me to fear.' It has been suggested that _wel o oo_ 'weal or woe' should be read instead of the interjection _we loo!_ But Gawayn's despair (l. 141) is not in keeping with ll. 70 f., 90 f., or with the rest of his speech. The looseness of the short lines makes emendation dangerous. Otherwise we might read _Hit helppe[gh] þe not a mote_, i.e. whatever happens, mere noise will not help the Green Knight by making Gawayn afraid; or, alternatively, _herme[gh]_ 'harms' for _helppe[gh]_. 151. 'Yet he went on with the noise with all speed for a while, and turned away with his grinding, before he would come down.' The nonchalance of the Green Knight is marked throughout the poem. 155. _A Dene[gh] ax_: the ordinary long-bladed battle-axe was called a 'Danish' axe, in French _hache danoise_, because the Scandinavians in their raids on England and France first proved its efficiency in battle. 158. _bi þat lace_, ' by the lace'. In _Gawayne_ (ll. 217 ff. of the full text) the axe used at the first encounter is described. It had: _A lace lapped aboute, þat louked at þe hede, And so after þe halme halched ful ofte, Wyth tryed tassele[gh] þerto tacched innoghe, &c._ 'A lace wrapped about , which was fastened at the head, and was wound about the handle again and again, with many choice tassels fastened to it', &c. 159. _as fyrst_, 'as at the first encounter', i.e. when he rode into Arthur's hall. His outfit of green is minutely described at ll. 151 ff. of the full text. 162. _Sette þe stele to þe stone_: i.e. he used the handle of the axe as a support when crossing rough ground. _stele_ = 'handle', not 'steel'. 164. _hypped... stryde[gh]_: note the frequent alternation of past tense and historic present. So ll. 3-4 _passed... prayses_; 107-8 _kache[gh]... com... li[gh]te[gh]_; 280-1 _halde[gh]... gef_, &c. 169 f. 'Now, sweet sir, one can trust you to keep an appointment.' 175. _þat þe falled_, 'what fell to your lot', i.e. the right to deal the first blow. 177. _oure one_, 'by ourselves'. To _one_ 'alone' in early ME. the dative pronoun was added for emphasis, _him one_, _us one_, &c. Later and more rarely the possessive pronoun is found, as here. _Al(l)_ was also used to strengthen _one_; so that there are six possible ME. types: (1) _one_, e.g. ll. 6, 50; (2) _him one_; (3) _his one_; (4) _al one_ = _alone_ l. 87; (5) _al him one_, or _him al one_; (6) _al his one_, or _his al one_. 181. _at a wap one_, 'at a single blow'. 183. 'I shall grudge you no good-will because of any harm that befalls me.' 189-90. 'And acted as if he feared nothing: he would not tremble (_dare_) with terror.' 196. 'He (Gawayn) who was ever valiant would have been dead from his blow there.' 200. It must not be supposed that the chief incidents of _Sir Gawayne_ were invented by the English poet. The three strokes, for example, two of them mere feints and the third harmless, can be shown to derive from the lost French source, which has Irish analogues. See pp. 71-4 of _A Study of Gawain and the Green Knight_ (London 1916), by Professor Kittredge, a safe guide in the difficult borderland of folklore and romance. 207. 'Nor did I raise any quibble in the house of King Arthur.' On _kynge[gh] hous Arthor_ see note to II 518. 222. _ryue[gh]_: the likeness of _n_ and _u_ in MSS. of the time makes it impossible to say whether the verb is _riue_ 'to cleave', which is supported by l. 278, or _rine_, OE. _hr[=i]nan_, 'to touch'. 230. 'And look out for your neck at this stroke, if it may survive.' 233. _I hope_: here, and often in ME., _hope_ means 'believe', 'expect'. 250. Gawayn appears to have carried his shield on his back. By a movement of his shoulders he lets it fall in front of him, so that he can use it in defence. 258. _foo_, 'fiercely', adv. parallel with _[gh]ederly_. 269. _ry kande_, 'ringing'; Napier's suggestion for MS. _rykande_. 271-2. 'Nobody here has ill-treated you in an unmannerly way, nor shown you ': the object of _kyd_ being understood from _vnmanerly mysboden_. _habbe[gh]_ for MS. _habbe_ is Napier's reading. 278-9. 'And cleft you with no grievous wound, I rightly proffered you, because of the compact we made fast', &c. It is better to assume a suppression of the relative, than to put a strong stop after _rof_ and treat _sore_ as sb. object of _profered_. This latter punctuation gives _sore_ the chief stress in the line, and breaks the alliteration and rhythm, which is correct as long as _sore_ is taken with _rof_, so that its stress is subordinated. 286-7. 'Let a true man truly repay--then one need dread no peril.' 291. _weued_: perhaps not a weak pa. t. of _weave-woven_, but rather means 'to give', from OE. _w[=æ]fan_, 'to move'; _weue_ in this sense occurs in _Gawayne_ l. 1976. 294-5. 'And truly you seem to me the most faultless man that ever walked on foot.' The ME. construction, _on þe fautlest_, where _on_ 'one' strengthens the superlative, is found in Chaucer, _Clerk's Tale_ 212: _Thanne was she oon the faireste under sonne,_ and still survives in Shakespeare's time, e.g. _Henry VIII_, II. iv. 48 f. _one the wisest prince_. It has been compared with Latin _unus maximus_, &c. In modern English the apposition has been replaced, with weakening of the sense: _one_ of _the (wisest)_, &c. 298. _yow lakked... yow wonted_: impersonal, since _yow_ is dative, 'there was lacking in you'. 319. 'Let me win your good-will', 'Pardon me'. 331. I have transposed MS. #of# _þe grene chapel_ #at# _cheualrous kny[gh]te[gh]_, because such a use of _at_ is hardly conceivable. A copyist might easily make the slip. Cp. l. 35. 344. _Boþe þat on and þat oþer_: Besides the Green Knight's young wife, there was a much older lady in the castle, 'yellow', with 'rugh, ronkled cheke[gh]', and so wrapped up _Þat no[gh]t wat[gh] bare of þat burde bot þe blake bro[gh]es, Þe tweyne y[gh]en, and þe nase, þe naked lyppe[gh], And þose were soure to se, and sellyly blered._ _Gawayne_ ll. 961-3. 350-1. 'And David afterwards, who suffered much evil, was blinded by Bathsheba.' 352-6. 'Since these were injured with their wiles, it would be a great gain to love them well, and not believe them--for a man who could do it [cp. note to XI _b_ 209]. For these (Adam, Solomon, &c.) were of old the noblest, whom all happiness followed, surpassingly, above all the others that lived beneath the heavens.' _mused_ 'thought' is used for the rime, and means no more than 'lived'. ll. 354-6 amount to 'above all other men'. VI #Dialect#: West Midland, like _Gawayne_. The metre occasionally gives clear evidence that final flexional _-e_ of the original has not always been preserved in the extant MS., e.g. _Þa[gh] cortaysly [gh]e carp<[.e]> con_ 21. The most noteworthy verbal forms are: pres. ind. 1 sg. _byswyke[gh]_ 208 (once only, in rime); 2 sg. _þou quyte[gh]_ 235; 3 sg. _leþe[gh]_ 17; _tot[gh]_ (= _t[=o,]s_ = _t[=a]s_ = _takes_) 153 (note). 1 pl. _we leuen_ 65; _we calle_ 70; 3 pl. _temen_ 100 (and cp. ll. 151-2); _knawe_ 145; but _þay got[gh]_ 150, _pyke[gh]_ 213 (both in rime). imperative pl. _dysplese[gh]_ 62; _gos_, _dot[gh]_ 161. pres. p. _spornande_ 3. pp. _runne_ (in rime) 163, beside _wroken_ 15, &c. Characteristic Western forms are _burne_ 37 (OE. _beorn_); _vrþe_ 82 (OE. _eorþe_). * * * * * 5. 'Like bubbling water that flows from a spring', i.e. his wild words rise from a heart that can no longer contain its affliction. 11-12. 'You, who were once the source of all my joy, made sorrow my companion.' 15. 'From the time when you were removed from every peril'. The child died before she was two years old (l. 123). 22. 'I am but dust, and rough in manners.' The MS. has _marere[gh] mysse_, which has been rendered 'botcher's waste'; but the poet is contrasting his own ill-mannered speech with the Pearl's courtesy. 23. 'But the mercy of Christ and of Mary and of John'. The genitive inflexion is confined to the noun immediately preceding _mersy_, while the two following nouns, which are logically genitives with exactly the same construction as _Crystes_, remain uninflected. For analogies see note to II 518. 36. _and_: MS. _in_. The sign for _and_ is easily mistaken for _[=i]_ = _in_. Cp. note to XVII 42. 48. _Þat_, 'who'. 65. _þat... of_, 'from whom'; the later relative form _of quom_ occurs at l. 93. 70. _Fenyx of Arraby_: the symbol of peerless perfection. Cp. Chaucer, _Death of Blanche the Duchess_, ll. 980-3 _Trewly she was to myn ye The soleyn Fenix of Arabye, For ther lyveth never but oon, Ne swich as she ne knew I noon._ 71. 'which was faultless in form'; _fle[gh]e_ 'flew' is used with weakened sense because a bird is normally thought of as on the wing. 74. _folde vp hyr face_, ' her face upturned'; _folde_ is pp. 91-2. 'And each would wish that the crowns of the others were five times as precious, if it were possible to better them.' 97. _Poule_: the common OFr. and ME. form, as at VIII _a_ 25, 270, XI _b_ 80. But the rime with _naule_ 'nail' (ON. _nagl_) points to the form _Paule_ for the original. The reference is to 1 Corinthians vi. 15 and xii. 12 ff. 100. _hys body_, 'its body', 'the body'. _tyste_: for _ty[gh]te_ 'tight', like l. 102 _myste_ for _my[gh]te_ 'might'. The rimes with _Kryst_, _gryste_, _lyste_ show that _st_ and _[gh]t_ were very similar in pronunciation. See Appendix § 6 (end). 106. 'Because you wear a ring on arm or finger.' 109-11. 'I believe that there is great courtesy and charity among you.' The construction of the next line (which conveys an apology, cp. l. 62) is not clear owing to the following gap in the MS.; nor is it easy to guess the missing rime word, as _emong_ can rime with OE. _-ung-_ (e.g. with _[gh]onge_, ll. 114, 175), or with OE. _-ang-_; see the note to XVII 400. 116. _stronge_ may be adj. 'violent' with _worlde_, but is more likely adv. 'severely'. 124-5. Note the cumulation of negatives. _cowþe[gh]_ has a double construction: 'You never knew how to please God nor pray to Him, nor the Paternoster and Creed.' The Lord's Prayer and the Apostles' Creed were prescribed by the Church as the elements of faith to be taught first to a child. 137. Matthew xx. 1-16. 139. 'He represented it very aptly in a parable.' 141. _My regne... on hy[gh]t_, 'My kingdom on high'. 145. _þys hyne_: the labourers. _This_, _these_ are sometimes used in early English to refer to persons or things that have not been previously mentioned, but are prominent in the writer's mind. Cp. XV _b_ 4, 19; and the opening of Chaucer's _Prologue_ to the _Franklin's Tale_ quoted in the note to II 13. 150. _pené_: in ME. the final sound developed from OFr. _-é_ (_e_) fell together with the sounds arising from OE. _-ig_, OFr. _ie_, &c. Hence _pené_ or _peny_ 186 (OE. _penig_); _reprené_ 184 for _repreny_; _cortaysé_ 120, 121, beside _cortaysye_ 72, 84, 96. The acute accent is editorial. 153. 'At midmorning the master goes to the market.' _tot[gh]_ (= _t[=o,]s_) = _t[=a]s_, contracted form of _takes_ 'betakes himself'; cp. _tone_ = _taken_ V 91. The spelling and rimes with _o_ (which cannot develop normally from _[)a]_ lengthened in open syllables because this lengthening is everywhere later than the change _[=a]_ > _[=o,]_) are usually explained as artificial. It is assumed that as Northern _b[=a]n_ corresponded to Midland _b[=o,]n_, so from Northern _tá_ 'take' an unhistorical Midland _t[=o,]_ was deduced. But it is possible that the contraction of _t[)a]ke(n)_, and consequent lengthening _tá(n)_, is older than the ordinary lengthening _t[)a]ke_ > _táke_, and also older than the development of _[=a]_ to _[=o,]_ in North Midland. 164. _I yow pay_: note the survival of the old use of the present to express future tense. 176. _þat at [gh]e moun_, 'what you can'. _At_ as a relative appears usually to be from Old Norse _at_, with the same sense, and it is not uncommon in Northern English. But _þat at_ here is more likely the normal development of _þat þat_ > _þat tat_ (note to II 102) > _þat at_. 179. _sumoun_ is infin. not sb.: 'he had (them) summoned'; cp. note to VIII _a_ 79. 192. 'It seems to us we ought to receive more.' _Vus þynk_ is a remnant of the old impersonal construction of _þynceþ_ 'it seems'. In this phrase, probably owing to confusion with _we þynk(en)_, the verb often has no flexional ending; cp. l. 192. _vus o[gh]e_ is formed by analogy, the verb being properly personal; cp. _must vs_ XVII 292, 334. 200. _And_, 'If'. 205-8. _More_, which is necessary for the metrical form, is best taken as conj. 'moreover', 'further'; _weþer_ introduces a direct question (note to V 118). _louyly_ is perhaps miswritten for _lauly_ 'lawful', as the _Pearl-Gawayne_ group often show the converse _au_, _aw_ for normal _ou_, _ow_, e.g. _bawe_ for _bowe_, _trawþe_ for _trowþe_. 'Further, is my power to do what pleases me with my own lawful?' The meaning is fixed by Matthew xx. 15 'Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with mine own? Is thine eye evil because I am good?' 212. _myke[gh]._ In the few recorded examples _mik_, _myk_ seems to mean 'an intimate friend'. Here it is used for the sake of rime in an extended sense 'chosen companion of the Lord'. 221 f. _Wheþer_, &c., 'Although I began just now, coming into the vineyard in the eventide, ', &c. 224. Note the rime (OE. _s[)u]m_) with ON. _blóm(i)_, OE. _d[=o]m_, _c[=o]m_. Such rimes occur occasionally in Northern texts of the fourteenth century--never in the South. 233. Psalm lxii. 12 'Also unto Thee, O Lord, belongeth mercy; for Thou renderest to every man according to his work.' 237-40. Loosely constructed. 'Now, if you came to payment before him that stood firm through the long day, then he who did less work would be more entitled to receive pay, and the further , the less , the more .' 249-51. On the meaning of these lines there is no agreement. Gollancz and Osgood interpret: 'That man's privilege is great who ever stood in awe of Him (God) who rescues sinners. From such men no happiness is withheld, for,' &c. Yet it is difficult to believe that even a poet hard pressed would use _dard to Hym_ to mean 'feared Him'. One of several rival interpretations will suffice to show the ambiguities of the text: 'His (God's) generosity, which is always inscrutable (lit. lay hidden), is abundant to the man who recovers his soul from sin. From such men no happiness is withheld', &c. The sense and construction of _dard_ (for which the emendation _fard_, pret. of _fere_ 'to go', has been suggested, the rest of the interpretation following Gollancz), and the obscurity of the argument, are the chief obstacles to a satisfactory solution. VII #Dialect#: Irregular, but predominantly North-West Midland; cp. V and VI. #Inflexions#:-- VERB: pres. ind. 3 sg. _warys_ 19, _has_ 20. 3 pl. _ben_ 11, _sayn_ 182, _haue_ 31. pres. p. _claterand_ 137, _þriuaund_ 158, _leymonde_ 153; beside _blowyng_ 106, _doutyng_ 114. strong pp. _slydyn_ 6, _stoken_ 11. The weak pp. and pa. t. have _-it_, _-(e)t_ for _-(e)d_: _drepit_ 9, _suet_ 24. PRONOUN 3 PERS.: pl. nom. _þai_ 45; poss. _hor_ 8, beside _þere_ 9, 10; obj. _hom_ 24. #Sounds and Spelling#: Northern and North Midland forms are _qwiles_ (= _whiles_) 39, _hondqwile_ 117; and _wysshe_ 4 (note). West Midland indications are _buernes_ 'men' 90, 91 = OE. _beorn_ (but _buerne_ 'sea' 159 = OE. _burn-_ is probably miswritten owing to confusion with _buern_ 'man'); and perhaps the spelling _u_ in unaccented syllables: _mecull_ 10, _watur_ 119, _wintur_ 124. * * * * * 4. _wysshe_ = _wisse_ 'guide'. In the North final _sh_ was commonly pronounced _ss_; cp. note to I 128-9, and the rimes in XVII 1-4. Conversely etymological _ss_ was sometimes spelt _ssh_. 7-8. _strongest... and wisest... to wale_, 'the strongest... and wisest... that could be chosen' (lit. 'to choose'). 15. _On lusti to loke_, 'pleasant to look upon'. 21 ff. A typical example of the vague and rambling constructions in which this writer indulges: apparently 'but old stories of the valiant who held high rank may give pleasure to some who never saw their deeds, through the writings of men who knew them at first hand (?) (_in dede_), to be searched by those who followed after, in order to make known (_or_ to know?) all the manner in which the events happened, by looking upon letters (i.e. writings) that were left behind of old'. 45. Benoît de Sainte-Maure says the Athenians rejected Homer's story of gods fighting like mortals, but charitably explains that, as Homer lived a hundred years after the siege, it is no wonder if he made mistakes: _N'est merveille s'il i faillit, Quar onc n'i fu ne rien n'en vit._ _Prologue_, ll. 55-6. 53-4. 'That was elegantly compiled by a wise clerk--one Guido, a man who had searched carefully, and knew all the actions from authors whom he had by him.' See Introductory note, pp. 68 f. 66-7. Cornelius Nepos was supposed to have found the Greek work of Dares at Athens when rummaging in an old cupboard (Benoît de Sainte-Maure, _Prologue_, ll. 77 ff.). 157. Note the slovenly repetition from l. 151. So l. 159 repeats l. 152. 168-9. I have transposed these lines, assuming that they were misplaced by a copyist. Guido's Latin favours the change, and the whole passage will illustrate the English translator's methods: _Oyleus uero Aiax qui cum 32 nauibus suis in predictam incidit tempestatem, omnibus nauibus suis exustis et submersis in mari, in suis uiribus brachiorum nando semiuiuus peruenit ad terram; et, inflatus pre nimio potu aque, uix se nudum recepit in littore, vbi usque ad superuenientis diei lucem quasi mortuus iacuit in arena, [et] de morte sua sperans potius quam de uita. Sed cum quidam ex suis nando similiter a maris ingluuie iam erepti nudi peruenissent ad littus, dominum eorum querunt in littore [et] si forsitan euasisset. Quem in arena iacentem inueniunt, dulcibus uerborum fouent affatibus, cum nec in uestibus ipsum nec in alio possunt subsidio refouere._ (MS. Harley 4123, fol. 117 a--the bracketed words are superfluous.) 178. _Telamon_ was not at the siege, and his name appears here and in l. 150 as the result of a tangle which begins in the confusion of Oyleus Ajax with Ajax the son of Telamon. In classical writers after Homer it is Oyleus Ajax who, at the sack of Troy, drags Cassandra from the temple of Minerva. This is the story in Dictys. Dares, like Homer, is silent. In Benoît de Sainte-Maure's poem (ll. 26211-16), the best MSS. name Oyleus Ajax as Cassandra's captor, but others have '_Thelamon Aiax_', i.e. Ajax, the son of Telamon. Guido read Benoît in a MS. of the latter class, and accordingly makes _Telamonius Aiax_ do the sacrilege. With the English translator this becomes _Telamon_ simply (Bk. xxix, ll. 11993-7). So when later, in Bk. xxxi, he comes to describe the shipwreck, he replaces Guido's _Aiax_ by _Telamon_, and spoils the story of Minerva's vengeance on the actual violator of her sanctuary. VIII #Dialect#: South Midland, with mixture of forms. _a._ VERB: pres. ind. 2 sg. _seist_ 226, _wilnest_ 256. 3 sg. _comaundeth_ 16. 1 pl. _haue_ 118, _preye_ 119. 2 pl. _han_ 11, _wasten_ 127. 3 pl. _liggeth_ 15, &c. beside _ben_ 50, _waste_ 155. imper. pl. _spynneth_ 13. pres. p. (none in _a_); _romynge_ _b_ 11. strong pp. _bake_ 187, _ybake_ 278, _ybaken_ 175. Infinitives in _-ie_ (OE. _-ian_) are retained: _erye_ 4, _hatie_ 52, _tilye_ 229 (OE. _erian_, _hatian_, _tilian_). PRONOUN 3 PERS.: pl. nom. _þei_ 126, &c., beside _hii_ 15; poss. _her_ 54; obj. _hem_ 2. #Sounds#: OE. _y_ often shows the Western development, as in _huyre(d)_ 108, 133, &c. _abugge_ 75, 159; beside _bigge_ 275. So _Cornehulle_ _b_ 1. But such forms were not uncommon in the London dialect of the time. _b._ The second extract has a more Southern dialectal colouring. Note especially the gen. pl. forms _lollarene_ 31, _knauene_ 56, _lordene_ 77, continuing or extending the OE. weak gen. pl. in _-ena_; and _menne_ 29, 74, retaining the ending of the OE. gen. pl. _manna_. The representation of unaccented vowels by _u_ in _hure_ (= 'their') 50, (= 'her') 53; _(h)us_ 'his' 60, 101; _clerkus_ 65, is commonest in Western districts. _h(w)_ is no longer aspirated: _wanne_ 1, _werby_ 35, MS. _eggen_ 19; and conversely _hyf_ 'if' 43, _his_ 'is' 105. * * * * * _a_ 9. _for shedyng_, 'to prevent spilling'; and so _for colde_ 62 'as a protection against cold'; _for bollyng_ 209 'to prevent swelling'; _for chillyng_ 306, &c. _a_ 11. _Þat [gh]e han silke and sendal to sowe_: The construction changes as if Piers had begun: _Ich praye [gh]ow_, which is the reading in the C-text. The difficulty of excluding modern ideas from the interpretation of the Middle Ages is shown by the comment of a scholar so accomplished as M. Petit-Dutaillis: 'Il attaque les riches peu miséricordieux, les _dames charmantes aux doigts effilés_, qui ne s'occupent pas des pauvres' (_Soulèvement_, p. lxii). But there is no hint of satire or reproach in the text. The poet, always conventional, assigns to high-born ladies the work which at the time was considered most fitting for them. So it is reported in praise of the sainted Isabella of France, sister of St. Louis: _Quand elle fust introduicte des lettres suffisamment, elle s'estudioit à apprendre à ouurer de soye, et faisoit estolles et autres paremens à saincte Eglise_--'When she was sufficiently introduced to letters, she set herself to learn how to work in silk, and made stoles and other vestments for Holy Church.' (Joinville, _Histoire d. S. Louys_, Paris 1668, pt. i, p. 169.) _a_ 19. _for þe Lordes loue of heuene_: cp. l. 214, and notes to I 44, I 83, II 518. _a_ 23. _on þe teme_, 'on this subject'; _teme_ 'theme' is a correct form, because Latin _th_ was pronounced _t_. The modern pronunciation is due to the influence of classical spelling. _a_ 32. _affaite þe_, 'tame for thyself'; cp. l. 64 _(I shal) brynge me_ = 'bring (for myself)', and the note to II 289. _a_ 40-1. 'And though you should fine them, let Mercy be the assessor, and let Meekness rule over you, in spite of Gain.' This is a warning against abuse of the lord of the manor's power to impose fines in the manorial court with the object of raising revenue rather than of administering justice. Cp. Ashley, _Introduction to English Economic History_, vol. i (1894), pt. ii, p. 266. For _maugré Medes chekes_ cp. 151. _a_ 49. Luke xiv. 10. _a_ 50. _yuel to knowe_, 'hard to distinguish'. _a_ 72-5. These clumsy lines, which are found in all versions, exemplify the chief faults in _Piers Plowman_: structural weakness and superfluous allegory. _a_ 79. _I wil... do wryte my biqueste_, 'I will have my will written'; _make(n)_, _ger_ (_gar_), and _lete(n)_ are commonly used like _do(n)_ with an active infinitive, which is most conveniently rendered by the passive; so _do wryte_ 'cause to be written'; _dyd werche_ 'caused to be made' I 218; _mad sumoun_ 'caused to be summoned' VI 179; _gert dres vp_ 'caused to be set up' X 16; _leet make_ 'caused to be made' IX 223, &c. _a_ 80. _In Dei nomine, amen_: A regular opening phrase for wills. _a_ 84. 'I trust to have a release from and remission of my debts which are recorded in that book.' _Rental_, a book in which the sums due from a tenant were noted, here means 'record of sins'. _a_ 86. _he_: the parson, as representing the Church. _a_ 91. _dou[gh]tres._ In l. 73 only one daughter is named. In the B-text, Passus xviii. 426, she is called _Kalote_ (see note to _b_ 2 below). _a_ 94. _bi þe rode of Lukes_: at Lucca (French _Lucques_) is a Crucifix and a famous representation of the face of Christ, reputed to be the work of the disciple Nicodemus. From Eadmer and William of Malmesbury we learn that William the Conqueror's favourite oath was 'By the Face of Lucca!', and it is worth noting that the frequent and varied adjurations in Middle English are copied from the French. _a_ 114. 'May the Devil take him who cares!' _a_ 115 ff. _faitoures_ (cp. ll. 185 ff.), who feigned some injury or disease to avoid work and win the pity of the charitable, multiplied in the disturbed years following the Black Death. Statutes were passed against them, and even against those who gave them alms (Jusserand, _English Wayfaring Life_, pp. 261 ff.). But the type was long lived. In the extract from _Handlyng Synne_ (No. I), we have already a monument of their activities. _a_ 141. 'And those that have cloisters and churches (i.e. monks and priests) shall have some of my goods to provide themselves with copes.' _a_ 142. _Robert Renne-aboute._ The type of a wandering preacher; _posteles_ are clearly preachers with no fixed sphere of authority, like the mendicant friars and Wiclif's 'poor priests'. Against both the regular clergy constantly complained that they preached without the authority of the bishop. _a_ 186. _Þat seten_: the MS. by confusion has _þat seten to seten to begge_, &c. _a_ 187. _þat was bake for Bayarde_: i.e. 'horse-bread' (l. 208), which used to be made from beans and peas only. _Bayard_, properly a 'bay horse', was, according to romance, the name of the horse given by Charlemagne to Rinaldo. Hence it became the conventional name for a horse, just as _Reynard_ was appropriated to the fox. Chaucer speaks of _proude Bayard_ (_Troilus_, Bk. i. 218) and, referring to an unknown story, _Bayard the blynde_ (_Canon's Yeoman's Tale_, 860). _a_ 221. _Michi vindictam_: Romans xii. 19. _a_ 224. Luke xvi. 9. _a_ 229. Genesis iii. 19. _a_ 231. _Sapience_: the Book of Wisdom, but the quotation is actually from Proverbs xx. 4. _a_ 234. _Mathew with mannes face._ Each of the evangelists had his symbol: Matthew, a man; Mark, a lion; Luke, a bull; John, an eagle; and in early Gospel books their portraits are usually accompanied by the appropriate symbols. _a_ 235 ff. Matthew xxv. 14 ff.; Luke xix. 12 ff. _a_ 245. _Contemplatyf lyf or actyf lyf._ The merits of these two ways of life were endlessly disputed in the Middle Ages. In XI _b_ Wiclif attacks the position of the monks and of Rolle's followers; and the author of _Pearl_ (VI 61 ff.) takes up the related question of salvation by works or by grace. _a_ 246. Psalm cxxviii. 1. _a_ 264. Jusserand gives a brief account of the old-time physicians in _English Wayfaring Life_, pp. 177 ff. The best were somewhat haphazard in their methods, and the mountebanks brought discredit on the profession. Here are a few fourteenth-century prescriptions: _For hym that haves the squynansy ['quinsy']_:-- Tak a fatte katte, and fla hit wele and clene, and draw oute the guttes; and tak the grees of an urcheon ['hedgehog'], and the fatte of a bare, and resynes, and feinygreke ['fenugreek'], and sauge ['sage'], and gumme of wodebynde, and virgyn wax: al this mye ['grate'] smal, and farse ['stuff'] the catte within als thu farses a gos: rost hit hale, and geder the grees, and enoynt hym tharwith. (_Reliquiae Antiquae_, ed. Wright and Halliwell (1841), vol. i, p. 51.) _[Gh]yf a woud hund hat ybite a man_:-- Take tou karsyn ['towncress'], and pulyole ['penny-royal'], and seþ hit in water, and [gh]ef hym to drynke, and hit schal caste out þe venym: and [gh]if þou miste ['might'] haue of þe hundys here, ley hit þerto, and hit schal hele hit. (_Medical Works of the Fourteenth Century_, ed. G. Henslow, London 1899, p. 19.) _A goud oynement for þe goute_:-- Take þe grece of a bor, and þe grece of a ratoun, and cattys grece, and voxis grece, and hors grece, and þe grece of a brok ['badger']; and take feþeruoye ['feverfew'] and eysyl ['vinegar'], and stampe h_e_m togedre; and take a litel lynnesed, and stampe hit wel, and do hit þerto; and meng al togedre, and het hit in a scherd, and þerwith anoynte þe goute by the fuyre. Do so ofte and hit schal be hol. (Ibid., p. 20.) _a_ 284. _Lammasse tyme_: August 1, when the new corn (l. 294) would be in. On this day a loaf was offered as firstfruits: whence the name, OE. _hl[=a]f-mæsse_. _a_ 307 ff. Owing to repeated famines, the wages of manual labour rose throughout the first half of the fourteenth century. A crisis was reached when the Black Death (1349) so reduced the number of workers that the survivors were able to demand wages on a scale which seemed unconscionable to their employers. By the Statute of Labourers (1350 and 1351) an attempt was made to force wages and prices back to the level of 1346. For a day's haymaking 1_d._ was to be the maximum wage; for reaping 2_d._ or 3_d._ Throughout the second half of the fourteenth century vain attempts were made to enforce these maxima, and the penalties did much to fan the unrest that broke out in the Peasants' Revolt of 1381. _a_ 309-10. From Bk. i of the _Disticha_ of Dionysius Cato, a collection of proverbs famous throughout the Middle Ages. _a_ 321. Saturn was a malevolent planet, as we see from his speech in Chaucer's _Knight's Tale_, 1595 ff. _a_ 324. _Deth_: the Plague. _b_ 1. _Cornehulle._ Cornhill was one of the liveliest quarters of fourteenth-century London, and a haunt of idlers, beggars, and doubtful characters. Its pillory and stocks were famous. Its market where, if _The London Lickpenny_ is to be credited, dealing in stolen clothes was a speciality, was privileged above all others in the city. See the documents in Riley's _Memorials of London_. _b_ 2. _Kytte_: In the B-text, Passus xviii. 425-6, _Kytte_ is mentioned again: _and ri[gh]t with þat I waked And called Kitte my wyf and Kalote my dou[gh]ter._ _b_ 4. _lollares of London_: The followers of Wiclif were called 'Lollards' by their opponents; but the word here seems to mean 'idlers' as in l. 31. _lewede heremytes_: 'lay hermits': hermits were not necessarily in holy orders, and so far from seeking complete solitude, they often lived in the cities or near the great highways, where many passers would have opportunity to recognize their merit by giving alms. See Cutts, _Scenes and Characters of the Middle Ages_, pp. 93 ff. _b_ 5. 'For I judged those men as Reason taught me.' Skeat's interpretation--that _made of_ means 'made verses about'--is forced. The sense is that the idlers and hermits thought little of the dreamer, and he was equally critical of them. _b_ 6. _as ich cam by Conscience_: 'as I passed by Conscience', referring to a vision described in the previous Passus, in which Conscience is the principal figure. _b_ 10 f. _In hele and in vnité_, 'in health and in my full senses', and _Romynge in remembraunce_ qualify _me_. _b_ 14. _Mowe oþer mowen_, 'mow or stack'. For these unrelated words see the Glossary. _b_ 16. _haywarde_: by derivation 'hedge-ward'. He watched over enclosures and prevented animals from straying among the crops. Observe that ME. nouns denoting occupation usually survive in surnames:--Baxter 'baker', Bow(y)er, Chapman, Dyer, Falconer, Fletcher 'arrow-maker', Fo(re)ster, Franklin, Hayward, Lister (= litster, 'dyer'), Palmer, Reeve(s), Spicer, Sumner, Tyler 'maker or layer of tiles', Warner 'keeper of warrens', Webb, Webster, Wright, Yeoman, &c. _b_ 20-1. 'Or craft of any kind that is necessary to the community, to provide food for them that are bedridden.' _b_ 24. _to long_, 'too tall': cp. B-text, Passus xv. 148 _my name is Longe Wille_. Consistency in such details in a poem full of inconsistencies makes it probable that the poet is describing himself, not an imagined dreamer. _b_ 33. Psalm lxii. 12. _b_ 45. 1 Corinthians vii. 20. _b_ 46 ff. Cp. the note to XI _b_ 131 f. The dreamer appears to have made his living by saying prayers for the souls of the dead, a service which, from small beginnings in the early Middle Ages, had by this time withdrawn much of the energy of the clergy from their regular duties. See note to XI _b_ 140 f. _b_ 49. _my Seuene Psalmes_: the Penitential Psalms, normally vi, xxxii, xxxviii, li, cii, cxxx, cxliii, in the numbering of the Authorised Version. The _Prymer_, which contained the devotions supplementary to the regular Church service, included the Placebo, Dirige, and the Seven Psalms: see the edition by Littlehales for the Early English Text Society. _b_ 50. _for hure soules of suche as me helpen_: combines the constructions _for þe soules of suche as me helpen_, and _for hure soules þat me helpen_. _b_ 51. _vochen saf_: supply _me_ as object, 'warrant me that I shall be welcome'. _b_ 61. 1 Thessalonians v. 15; Leviticus xix. 18. _b_ 63. _churches_: here and in l. 110 read the Norse form _kirkes_ for the alliteration, as in _a_ 28, 85. But the English form also belongs to the original, for it alliterates with _ch_ at _a_ 12, 50. _b_ 64. _Dominus_, &c.: Psalm xvi. 5. _b_ 83. _Symondes sone_: a son of Simon Magus--one guilty of simony, or one who receives preferment merely because of his wealth. _b_ 90. Matthew iv. 4. _b_ 103-4. _Simile est_, &c.: Matthew xiii. 44. _Mulier que_, &c.: Luke xv. 8 ff. IX #Dialect#: South-East Midland. #Vocabulary#: A number of French words are taken over from the original, e.g. _plee_ 81, _ryot_ 83, _violastres_ 97, _saphire loupe_ 116, _gowrdes_ 139, _clowe gylofres_ 157, _canell_ 158, _avaled_ 195, _trayne_ (for _taynere_?) 222, _bugles_ 256, _gowtes artetykes_ 314, _distreynen_ 315. #Inflexions#: Almost modern. VERB: pres. ind. 3 sg. _schadeweth_ 19, _turneth_ 23. 3 pl. _ben_ 4, _han_ 14, _wexen_ 22, _loue_ 100. pres. p. _fle(e)ynge_ 148, 252; _recordynge_ 317. strong pp. _[gh]ouen_ 90, _begonne_ 171. PRONOUN 3 PERS.: pl. _þei_ 5; _here_ 71; _hem_ 20. #Sounds#: OE. _[=a]_ becomes _[=o,]_: _hoot_ 11, _cold_ 31. OE. _y_ appears as _y_ (= _i_): _byggynge_ 90, _ky[gh]n_ 'kine' 256; except regular _left_ (hand) 69, 71, 72, where Modern English has also adopted the South-Eastern form of OE. _lyft_. * * * * * 21-3. The French original says that the children have white _hair_ when they are young, which becomes black as they grow up. 24-5. The belief that one of the Three Kings came from Ethiopia is based on Ps. lxviii. 31: 'Princes shall come out of Egypt, Ethiopia shall soon stretch out her hands unto God.' In mediaeval representations one of the three is usually a negro. 27. _Emlak_: miswritten for _Euilak_, a name for India taken from _Havilah_ of Genesis ii. 11. 28. _þat is: þe more_: _Ynde_ has probably fallen out of the text after _is_. 34-5. _[Gh]alow cristall draweth colour lyke oylle_: the insertion of _to_ is necessary to give sense, and is supported by the French: _cristal iaunastre trehant a colour doile_. (MS. Harley 4383, f. 34 b.) 36-7. The translation is not accurate. The French has: _et appelle homme les dyamantz en ceo pais 'Hamese'_. 64 ff. It was supposed that the pearl-bearing shell-fish opened at low tide to receive the dew-drops from which the pearls grew. 74. _[gh]if [gh]ou lyke_, 'if it please you', impersonal = French _si vous plest_. 75. _þe Lapidarye_, Latin _Lapidarium_, was a manual of precious stones, which contained a good deal of pseudo-scientific information about their natures and virtues, just as the _Bestiary_ summed up popular knowledge of animals. A Latin poem by Marbod bishop of Rennes (d. 1123) is the chief source of the mediaeval lapidaries, and, curiously enough, there is a French prose text attributed by so intimate an authority as Jean d'Outremeuse to Mandeville himself. Several Old French texts have been edited by L. Pannier, _Les Lapidaires Français du Moyen Âge_, Paris 1882. Their high repute may be judged from the inclusion of no less than seven copies in the library of Charles V of France (d. 1380); and it is surprising that no complete ME. version is known. But much of the matter was absorbed into encyclopaedic works like the _De Proprietatibus Rerum_ of Bartholomaeus, which Trevisa translated. 97. Mistranslated. The French has: _qi sont violastre, ou pluis broun qe violettes_. 100-1. _But in soth to me_: French: _Mes endroit de moy_, 'but for my part'; the English translator has rendered _en droit_ separately. 108. _þerfore_: the context requires the sense 'because', but the translator would hardly have used _þerfore_ had he realized that ll. 108-9 correspond to a subordinate clause in the French, and do not form a complete independent sentence. He was misled by the bad punctuation of some French MSS., e.g. Royal 20 B. X and (with consequent corruption) Harley 4383. 136. _Cathaye_: China. See the classic work of Colonel Yule, _Cathay and the Way Thither_, 2 vols., London 1866. The modernization of the Catalan map of 1375 in vol. i gives a good idea of Mandeville's geography. 142. _withouten wolle_: the story of the vegetable lamb is taken from the Voyage of Friar Odoric, which is accessible in Hakluyt's _Voyages_. Hakluyt's translation is reprinted, with the Eastern voyages of John de Plano Carpini (1246) and of William de Rubruquis (1253), in _The Travels of Sir John Mandeville_, ed. A. W. Pollard, London 1900. The legend probably arose from vague descriptions of the cotton plant; and Mandeville makes it still more marvellous by describing as without wool the lamb which had been invented to explain the wool's existence. 143-4. _Of þat frute I haue eten_: This assertion seems to be due to the English translator. The normal French text has simply: _et cest bien grant meruaille de ceo fruit, et si est grant oure [= oeuvre] de nature_ (MS. Royal 20 B. X, f. 70 b). 147. _the Bernakes_: The barnacle goose--introduced here on a hint from Odoric--is a species of wild goose that visits the Northern coasts in winter. It was popularly supposed to grow from the shell-fish called 'barnacle', which attaches itself to floating timber by a stalk something like the neck and beak of a bird, and has feathery filaments not unlike plumage. As the breeding place of the barnacle goose was unknown, and logs with the shell-fish attached were often found on the coasts, it was supposed that the shell-fish was the fruit of a tree, which developed in the water into a bird. Giraldus Cambrensis, _Topographia Hibernica_, I. xv, reproves certain casuistical members of the Church who ate the barnacle goose on fast-days on the plea that it was not flesh; but himself vouches for the marvel. The earliest reference in English is No. 11 of the Anglo-Saxon _Riddles_, of which the best solution is 'barnacle goose'. For a full account see Max Müller's _Lectures on the Science of Language_, vol. ii, pp. 583-604. 157. _grete notes of Ynde_, 'coco-nuts'. 163-4. _Goth and Magoth_: see Ezekiel xxxviii and xxxix. The forms of the names are French. 170. _God of Nature_: Near the end of the _Travels_ it is explained that all the Eastern peoples are Deists, though they have not the light of Christianity: _þei beleeven in God þat formede all thing and made the world, and clepen him 'God of Nature'_. 191-2. _þat þei schull not gon out on no syde, but be the cost of hire lond_: the general sense requires the omission of _but_, which has no equivalent in the original French text: _qils ne issent fors deuers la coste de sa terre_ (MS. Sloane 1464, f. 139 b). But some MSS. like Royal 20 B. X have _fors qe deuers_, a faulty reading that must have stood in the copy used by the Cotton translator. Cp. note to l. 108. 199-200. _a four grete myle_: renders the French _iiii grantz lieus_. There is no 'great mile' among English measures. 209 ff. In the Middle Ages references to the Jews are nearly always hostile. They were hated as enemies of the Church, and prejudice was hardened by stories, like that in the text, of their vengeance to come, or of ritual murder, like Chaucer's _Prioress's Tale_. England had its supposed boy martyrs, William of Norwich (d. 1144), and Hugh of Lincoln (d. 1255) whom the Prioress invokes: _O yonge Hugh of Lyncoln, slayn also With cursed Jewes, as it is notable, For it is but a litel while ago, Preye eek for us_, &c. Religion was not the only cause of bitterness. The Jews, standing outside the Church and its laws against usury, at a time when financial needs had outgrown feudal revenues, became the money-lenders and bankers of Europe; and with a standard rate of interest fixed at over 40 per cent., debtors and creditors could hardly be friends. In England the Jews reached the height of their prosperity in the twelfth century, so that in 1188 nearly half the national contribution for a Crusade came from them. In the thirteenth century their privileges and operations were cut down, and they were finally expelled from the country in 1290 (see J. Jacobs, _The Jews of Angevin England_, 1893). The Lombards, whose consciences were not nice, took their place as financiers in fourteenth-century England. 222. _trayne_: read _taynere_, OFr. _taignere_ 'a burrow'. 237-8. The cotton plant has already given us the vegetable lamb (l. 142). This more prosaic account is taken from the _Eþistola Alexandri ad Aristotelem_: '_in Bactriacen... penitus ad abditos Seres, quod genus hominum foliis arborum decerpendo lanuginem ex silvestri vellere vestes detexunt_' (Julius Valerius, ed. B. Kübler, p. 194). From the same text come the hippopotami, the bitter waters (Kübler, p. 195), and the griffins (Kübler, p. 217). The _Letter of Alexander_ was translated into Anglo-Saxon in the tenth century. 254 ff. _talouns_ etc.: In the 1725 edition there is a reference to 'one 4 Foot long in the Cotton Library' with the inscription, _Griphi Unguis Divo Cuthberto Dunelmensi sacer_, 'griffin's talon, sacred to St. Cuthbert of Durham'. This specimen is now in the Mediaeval Department of the British Museum, and is really the slim, curved horn of an ibex. The inscription is late (sixteenth century), but the talon was catalogued among the treasures of Durham in the fourteenth century. 260. _Prestre Iohn_: Old French _Prestre Jean_, or 'John the Priest', was reputed to be the Christian ruler of a great kingdom in the East. A rather minatory letter professing to come from him reached most of the princes of Europe, and was replied to in all seriousness by Pope Alexander III. Its claims include the lordship over the tribes of Gog and Magog whom Alexander the Great walled within the mountains. Official missions were sent to establish relations with him; but neither in the Far East nor in Northern Africa, where the best opinion in later times located his empire, could the great king ever be found. The history of the legend is set out by Yule in the article _Prester John_ in the _Encyclopaedia Britannica_. 261. _Yle of Pentexoire_: to Mandeville most Eastern countries are 'isles'. _Pentexoire_ in the French text of Odoric is a territory about the Yellow River (Yule, _Cathay_, vol. i, p. 146). 262 ff.: For comparison the French text of the Epilogue is given from MS. Royal 20 B. X, f. 83 a, the words in < > being supplied from MS. Sloane 1464: 'Il y a plusours autres diuers pais, et moutz dautres meruailles par de la, qe ieo nay mie tout veu, si nen saueroye proprement parler. Et meismement el pais en quel iay este, y a plusours diuersetes dont ieo ne fais point el mencioun, qar trop serroit long chose a tout deuiser. Et pur ceo qe ieo vous ay deuisez dascuns pais, vous doit suffire quant a present. Qar, si ieo deuisoie tout quantqez y est par de la, vn autre qi se peneroit et trauailleroit le corps pur aler en celles marches, et pur sercher la pais, serroit empeschez par mes ditz a recompter nuls choses estranges, qar il ne purroit rien dire de nouelle, en quoy ly oyantz y puissent prendre solaces. Et lem dit toutdis qe choses nouelles pleisent. Si men taceray a tant, saunz plus recompter nuls diuersetez qi soyent par de la, a la fin qe cis qi vourra aler en celles parties y troeue assez a dire. 'Et ieo, Iohan Maundeuille dessudit, qi men party de nos pais et passay le mer lan de grace mil cccxxiide; qi moint terre et moint passage et moint pays ay puis cerchez; et qy ay este en moint bone compaignie et en molt beal fait, come bien qe ieo ne feisse vncqes ne beal fait ne beal emprise; et qi meintenant suy venuz a repos maugre mien, pur goutes artetikes qi moy destreignont; en preignan solacz en mon cheitif repos, en recordant le temps passe, ay cestes choses compilez et mises en escript, si come il me poet souuenir, lan de grace mil ccc.lvime, a xxxiiiite an qe ieo men party de noz pais. 'Si pri a toutz les lisauntz, si lour plest, qils voillent Dieu prier pur moy, et ieo priera pur eux. Et toutz cils qi pur moy dirrount vne _Paternoster_ qe Dieu me face remissioun de mes pecches, ieo les face parteners et lour ottroie part dez toutz les bons pelrinages et dez toutz les bienfaitz qe ieo feisse vnqes, et qe ieo ferray, si Dieu plest, vncqore iusqes a ma fyn. Et pry a Dieu, de qy toute bien et toute grace descent, qil toutz les lisantz et oyantz Cristiens voille de sa grace reemplir, et lour corps et les almes sauuer, a la glorie et loenge de ly qi est trinz et vns, et saunz comencement et saunz fin, saunz qualite bons, saunz quantite grantz, en toutz lieus present et toutz choses contenant, et qy nul bien ne poet amender ne nul mal enpirer, qy en Trinite parfite vit et regne par toutz siecles et par toutz temps. Amen.' 274. _blamed_: The Old French verb _empescher_ means both 'to hinder, prevent', and 'to accuse, impeach'. But here _empeschez_ should have been translated by 'prevented', not 'blamed'. 284-306. This passage, which in one form or another appears in nearly all the MSS. in English, has no equivalent in the MSS. in French so far examined: and, as it conflicts with ll. 313 ff., which--apart from the peculiarities of the Cotton rendering--indicate that the _Travels_ were written after Mandeville's return, it must be set down as an interpolation. The art of forging credentials was well understood in the Middle Ages, and the purpose of this addition was to silence doubters by the _imprimatur_ of the highest authority, just as the marvel of the Dancers of Colbek is confirmed by the sponsorship of Pope Leo IX (I 246-9). The different interpretation of the latest editor, Hamelius, who thinks it was intended as a sly hit at the Papacy (_Quarterly Review_ for April 1917, pp. 349 f.) seems to rest on the erroneous assumption that the passage belonged to the French text as originally written. The anachronism by which the author is made to seek the Pope _in Rome_ gives a clue to the date of the interpolation. From the beginning of the fourteenth century until 1377 Avignon, and not Rome, was the seat of the Pope; and for another thirty years there was doubt as to the issue of the conflict between the popes, who had their head-quarters at Rome and were recognized by England, and the antipopes, who remained at Avignon and had the support of the French. The facts were notorious, so that the anachronism would hardly be possible to one who wrote much before the end of the century, even though he were a partisan of the Roman court. From internal evidence it would seem that the interpolation first appeared in French. The style is the uniform style of translation, with the same tags--_and [gh]ee schull vndirstonde_ = _et sachiez_; _[gh]if it lyke [gh]ou_ = _si vous plest_; and the same trick of double rendering, e.g. _of dyuerse secte and of beleeve_; _wyse and discreet_; _the auctour ne the persone_. More decisive is an example of the syntactical compromise explained in the note to l. 329: #be# _the whiche the Mappa Mundi was made_ #after#. With so many French MSS. of Mandeville in use in England, an interpolation in French would have more authority than one that could not be traced beyond English; and it can hardly be an insuperable objection that no such French text exists to-day, since our knowledge of the Cotton and Egerton versions themselves depends in each case on the chance survival of a single MS. The point has a bearing on the vexed question of the relations of the English texts one to another. For brevity we may denote by D the defective text of the early prints and most MSS., which is specially distinguished by a long gap near the beginning; by C the Cotton text (ed. Halliwell, Pollard, Hamelius); by E the Egerton text (ed. Warner). Nicholson (in the _Encyclopaedia Britannica_) and Warner give priority to D, and consider that C and E are independent revisions and expansions of D by writers who had recourse to the French original. Their argument seems to be this: There is precise evidence just before the gap that D derives direct from a mutilated French text (see _Enc. Brit._), and if it be granted that a single translation from the French is the base of C, D, and E, it follows that C and E are based on D. A fuller study by Vogels (_Handschriftliche Untersuchungen über die Englische Version Mandeville's_, Crefeld 1891) brings to light a new fact: the two Bodleian MSS., E Museo 116 and Rawlinson D 99, contain an English translation (say L) made from a Latin text of the _Travels_. Vogels also shows that E is based on D, because the characteristic lacuna of D is filled in E by a passage which is borrowed from L and is not homogeneous with the rest of E. So far there is no conflict with the view of Nicholson and Warner. But, after adducing evidence in favour of the contention that C, D, and E are at base one translation, Vogels concludes that D derives from C, arguing thus: There is good evidence that C is a direct translation from the French, and if it be granted that a single translation from the French is the base of C and D, it follows that D derives from C. In short, the one party maintains that C is an expansion of D, the other that D is an abridgement of C; and this flat opposition results from the acceptance of common ground: that C and D represent in the main one translation and not two translations. To return to our interpolation: (1) Vogels's first piece of evidence that C, D, and E are at base one translation is the appearance in all of this interpolation, which is absent from the MSS. in French. But a passage so remarkable might spread from one to the other of two independent English texts; or if the interpolation originated in England in a MS. of the French text since lost, it might be twice translated. (2) Vogels assumes that the interpolation first appeared in type C. But C is the form in which it would be least likely to originate, because here the contradiction of statement is sharpest owing to the rendering at ll. 313-14: _and now I am comen hom_, which is peculiar to C (see the French). (3) If, in order to eliminate individual peculiarities, we take two MSS. of the D type--say Harley 2386 and Royal 17 C. XXXVIII--we find that their text of the interpolation is identical with that of E. This is consistent with Vogels's finding that the body of E derives from D; and it confirms the evidence of all the defective MSS. that the interpolation in this particular form was an integral part of the D type. (4) But between the text of the interpolation in D and that in C there are differences in matter, in sentence order, and in phrasing, which, while they do not exclude the possibility of interdependence, do not suggest such a relation. In D the passage is a naked attempt at authentication; in C it is more artfully though more shamelessly introduced by the touch of piety conventional in epilogues. And as the signs of a French original that appear in C are absent from D, it is unlikely that the text of the interpolation in C derives from D. (5) Again, in D and E the addition follows the matter of ll. 307-20. Unfortunately, though the balance of probability is in favour of the order in C, the order intended by the interpolator is not certain enough to be made the basis of arguments. But such a difference in position is naturally explained from the stage when the interpolation stood in the margin of a MS., or on an inserted slip, so that it might be taken into the consecutive text at different points. And an examination of the possibilities will show that if the interpolation originated in French, the different placing is more simply explained on the assumption that C and D are independent translations than on the assumption that one of them derives from the other. To sum up: the central problem for the history of the English texts is the relation of C and D. Taken by itself the evidence afforded by the text of the interpolation is against the derivation of C from D; it neither favours nor excludes the derivation of D from C; it rather favours independent translation in C and D. For the relations of the rest of the text these deductions afford no more than a clue. Against independent translation of C and D stands the evidence adduced by Vogels for basic unity. Much of this could be accounted for by the coincidences that are inevitable in literal prose translations from a language so near to English in vocabulary and word order; and a few striking agreements might be due to the use of French MSS. having abnormal variants in common, or even to reference by a second translator to the first. The remainder must be weighed against a considerable body of evidence in the contrary sense, e.g. several places where the manuscripts of the French text have divergent readings, of which C translates one, and D another. It is unlikely that any simple formula will be found to cover the whole web of relationships: but any way of reconciling the conclusions of the authorities should be explored; and the first step is an impartial sifting of all the evidence, with the object of discovering to what extent C and D are interdependent, and to what extent independent translations. The chief obstacle is the difficulty of bringing the necessary texts together; for an investigator who wished to clear the ground would have to face the labour of preparing a six-text _Mandeville_, in the order, French, C, D, E, L, Latin. 301. _Mappa Mundi_: OFr. and ME. _Mappemounde_, was the generic name for a chart of the world, and, by extension, for a descriptive geography of the world. It is not clear what particular _Mappa Mundi_ is referred to here, or whether such a map was attached to the manuscript copy of the _Travels_ in which this interpolation first appeared. 329. _fro whom all godenesse and grace cometh fro_: cp. 24-5 _the lond of the whiche on of the þre Kynges... was kyng offe_; 76-8 _þei... of whom all science... cometh from_; and 301-2 _be the whiche the_ Mappa Mundi _was made after_. The pleonasm is explained by the divergence of French and ME. word order. In French, as in modern literary English, the preposition is placed at the beginning of the clause, before the relative (_de qui_, _dont_, &c.). ME. writers naturally use the relative _that_, and postpone the preposition to the end of the clause: e.g. _þat all godenesse cometh fro_. The translator compromises between his French original and his native habit by placing the preposition both at the beginning and at the end. X #Dialect#: Northern (Scots): the MS. copy was made in 1487 more than a century after the poem was composed. #Vocabulary#: Note _till_ 'to' 4, 77 (in rime); _syne_ 'afterwards' 35, 112; the forms _sic_ 'such' 135, _begouth_ 94, and the short verbal forms _ma_ (in rime) 'make' 14, _tane_ (in rime) 'taken' 19. #Inflexions#: VERB: pres. ind. 3 sg. _has_ 76. 3 pl. _has_ 52, _mais_ 72; but _thai haf_ 16. pres. p. _rynand_ 17, _vyndland_ 129 (in rime). strong pp. _gane_ 84, _drawyn_ 124. PRONOUN 3 PERS.: sg. fem. nom. _scho_ (in rime) 80; pl. _thai_ 1: _thair_ 28; _thame_ 3. #Sounds#: OE. _[=a]_ remains: _brynstane_ (in rime) 20, _sare_ 51. OE. _[=o]_ (close _[=o.]_) appears as _u_ (_[=ü]_?): _gude_ 36, _fut_ 57, _tume_ 143. Unaccented _-(e)d_ of weak pa. t. and pp. becomes _-(i)t_: _passit_ 2, &c. #Spelling#: _i_ (_y_) following a vowel indicates length: _weill_ 10, _noyne_ 'noon' 67. OE. _hw-_ appears as _quh-_ (indicating strong aspiration): _quhelis_ 'wheels' 17, _quhar_ 18. _v_ and _w_ are interchanged: _vithall_ 9, _behevin_ 163, _in swndir_ 106. * * * * * Book XVII of _The Bruce_ begins with the capture of Berwick by the Scots in March 1318. Walter Stewart undertakes to hold the city, and is aided in preparing defences by a Flemish engineer, John Crab. Next year King Edward II determines to recapture the stronghold by an attack from both land and sea. He entrenches his forces and makes the first assault unsuccessfully early in September 1319. In this battle the Scotch garrison capture a clever engineer (see note to l. 71 below). King Robert Bruce meanwhile orders a raid into England as a diversion, and on 20 September 1319, an English army, led by the Archbishop of York, is disastrously defeated by the invaders at Mitton. Our extract gives the story of the second assault on Berwick, which was also fruitless. The fortress fell into English hands again as a result of the battle of Halidon Hill in 1333: see XIV _a_ 35-6. * * * * * 5-6. 'They made a sow of great joists, which had a stout covering over it.' The _sow_ was essentially a roof on wheels. The occupants, under shelter of the roof, pushed up to the walls of the besieged place and tried to undermine them. For an illustration see Cutts, _Scenes and Characters of the Middle Ages_, Pt. VI, chap. vi, where other military engines of the time are described. 15. _Crabbis consale_: John Crab was the engineer of the garrison. He is no doubt the same as the John Crab who in 1332 brought Flemish ships round from Berwick to attack the English vessels at Dundee. There was an important Flemish colony at Berwick from early times. 36. _Schir Valter, the gude Steward_: Walter Steward, whose surname denotes his office as Steward of Scotland, was the father of Robert II, the first king of the Stuart line. 42. _Rude-evyn_: September 13, the eve of the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross. 49. _thame... of the toune_, 'the defenders of the town'. 51. _or than_, 'or else'. 71 ff. _The engynour_: an English engineer captured by the garrison in the previous assault and forced into their service. 80. _scho_, 'she', some engine of war not previously referred to: apparently a mechanical sling. 123 ff. The boats were filled with men and hoisted up the masts, so as to overtop the walls and allow the besiegers to shoot at the garrison from above. The same engine that proved fatal to the sow was used to break up the boats. 146. _thar wardane with him had_, 'their warden had with him'; cp. note to XIII _a_ 36. 158-61. A confused construction. The writer has in mind: (1) 'Of all the men he had there remained with him only one whom he had not left to relieve', &c. and (2) 'There were no members of his company (except one) whom he had not left', &c. XI #Dialect#: South Midland. #Inflexions#: _u_ for inflexional _e_, as in _knowun_ _a_ 2, _seun_ _a_ 51, _a[gh]enus_ _a_ 29, _mannus_ _b_ 114 is found chiefly in West Midland. VERB: pres. ind. 2 sg. _madist_ _b_ 214. 3 sg. _groundiþ_ _a_ 4. 3 pl. _seyn_ _a_ 1, _techen_ _b_ 5. pres. p. _brennynge_ _b_ 67. strong pp. _knowun_ _a_ 2, _[gh]ouen_ _b_ 264, _take_ _b_ 271. PRONOUN 3 PERS.: pl. _þey_, _þei_, _a_ 3, _b_ 9; possessive usually _þer_ in _a_ 1, 23, &c. but _her_ _a_ 52, and regularly _here_ in _b_ 25, 36, &c. objective _hem_ _a_ 4, _b_ 3. #Sounds#: OE. _[=a]_ appears regularly as _o_, _oo_: _more_ _a_ 7, _Hooly_ _a_ 10, _toolde_ _a_ 65. OE. _y_ appears as _y_, _i_: _synne_ _a_ 61, _stiren_ _b_ 93. The form _þouþ_ (= _þou[gh]_) _b_ 190 probably indicates sound-substitution; and in _ynowþ[gh]_ (= _ynou[gh]_) _b_ 149 there is wavering between the two forms. * * * * * _a_ 12. _Wit Sunday_: the first element is OE. _hw[=i]t_ 'white', not 'wit'. _a_ 25 ff. Translations of the Bible were common in France at this time. No less than six fine copies survive from the library of John, Duke of Berry (d. 1416). About the middle of the fourteenth century King John of France ordered a new translation and commentary to be made at the expense of the Jews, but it was never finished, although several scholars were still engaged on it at the end of the century. The early French verse renderings, which incorporate a good deal of mediaeval legend, are described by J. Bonnard, _Les Traductions de la Bible en Vers Français au Moyen Âge_ (Paris 1884); the prose by S. Berger, _La Bible Française au Moyen Âge_ (Paris 1884). Of the surviving manuscripts mentioned in these excellent monographs several were written in England. _a_ 28 ff. In earlier times, when most of those who could read at all were schooled in Latin, the need for English translations of the Scriptures was not so pressing, and the partial translations that were made were intended rather for the use of the clergy and their noble patrons than for the people. Bede (d. 735) completed a rendering of St. John's Gospel on his death-bed. Old English versions of the Gospels and the Psalms still survive. Abbot Aelfric (about A.D. 1000) translated the first five books of the Old Testament; and more than one Middle English version of the Psalms is known. Wiclif was perhaps unaware of the Old English precedents because French renderings became fashionable in England from the twelfth century onwards, and he would probably think of the Psalter more as a separate service book than as an integral part of the Bible. But the prologue to the Wiclifite version attributed to John Purvey quotes the example of Bede and King Alfred; and the Dialogue on Translation which, in Caxton's print, serves as preface to Trevisa's translation of Higden, emphasizes the Old English precedents. Both may be read in _Fifteenth Century Prose and Verse_, ed. A. W. Pollard, London 1903, pp. 193 ff. The attitude of the mediaeval Church towards vernacular translations of the Bible has been studied very fully by Miss M. Deanesly, _The Lollard Bible and other Medieval Biblical Versions_, Cambridge 1920. _a_ 34. _þe pley of [Gh]ork._ The York Paternoster Play has not survived, but there are records from 1389 of a Guild of the Lord's Prayer at York, whose main object was the production of the play. It seems to have been an early example of the moral play, holding up 'the vices to scorn and the virtues to praise', and it probably consisted of several scenes, each exhibiting one of the Seven Deadly Sins. The last recorded representation was in 1572. See Chambers, _The Mediaeval Stage_, vol. ii, p. 154. The association of the friars with the production of religious plays is confirmed by other writings of the time. They were quick to realize the value of dramatic representation as a means of gaining favour with the people, and their encouragement must be reckoned an important factor in the development of the Miracle Play. _a_ 51. _wher_, 'whether'; cp. _b_ 207. In ll. 197, 266, 274, it introduces a direct question; see note to V 118. _b_ 20. _Gregory_, Gregory the Great. See his work _In Primum Regum Expositiones_, Bk. iii, c. 28: _praedicatores autem Sanctae Ecclesiae... prophetae ministerio utuntur_ (Migne, _Patrologia_, vol. lxxix, col. 158). _b_ 44. <_God_>. Such omissions from the Corpus MS. are supplied throughout from the copy in Trinity College, Dublin, MS. C. III. 12. _b_ 79-80. Cp. Luke xxi. 36 and 1 Thessalonians v. 17. _b_ 89-91. Proverbs xxviii. 9. _b_ 126. _as Ambrose_: In 386 St. Ambrose, besieged in the Portian Church at Milan by Arian sectaries, kept his followers occupied and in good heart by introducing the Eastern practice of singing hymns and antiphons. See St. Augustine's _Confessions_ Bk. ix, c. 7. _b_ 131-2. _placebo._ Vespers of the Dead, named from the first word of the antiphon, _Placebo Domino in regione vivorum_ (Psalm cxiv. 9). _dirige._ Matins of the Dead, named from the first word of the antiphon, _Dirige, Domine, Deus meus, in conspectu tuo viam meam_ (Psalm v. 9). Hence our word _dirge_. _comendacion_: an office in which the souls of the dead are commended to God. _matynes of Oure Lady_: one of the services in honour of the Virgin introduced in the Middle Ages. The whole question of these accretions to the Church services is dealt with by our English master in liturgical study, the late Mr. Edmund Bishop, in his essay introductory to the Early English Text Society's edition of the _Prymer_, since reprinted with additional notes in his _Liturgica Historica_ (Oxford 1918), pp. 211 ff. _b_ 137 f. _deschaunt, countre note, and orgon, and smale brekynge._ The elaboration of the Church services in mediaeval times was accompanied by a corresponding enrichment of the music. To the plain chant additional parts were joined, sung in harmony either above or below the plain chant. _Descant_ usually means the addition of a part above, _organ_ and _countre-note_ (= counterpoint) the addition of parts either above or below. All these could be composed note for note with the plain chant. But _smale brekyng_ represents a further complication, whereby the single note in the plain chant was represented by two or more notes in the accompanying parts. _b_ 140 f. The abuse is referred to in _Piers Plowman_: _Persones and parsheprests pleynede to the bisshop That hure parshens ben poore sitthe the pestelence tyme, To haue licence and leue in Londone to dwelle, And synge ther for symonye, for seluer ys swete._ _Prologue_ ll. 81-4. and by Chaucer in his description of the Parson: _He sette nat his benefice to hyre, And leet his sheepe encombred in the myre, And ran to Londoun, unto Seint Poules, To seken hym a chaunterie for soules._ _Prologue_ ll. 507-10. _b_ 183. _Ordynalle of Salisbury._ An 'ordinal' is a book showing the order of church services and ceremonies. In mediaeval times there was considerable divergence in the usage of different churches. But after the Conquest, and more especially in the thirteenth century, there was developed at Salisbury Cathedral an elaborate order and form of service which spread to most of the English churches of any pretensions. This was called 'Sarum' or 'Salisbury' use. _b_ 209. _þei demen it dedly synne a prest to fulfille_, &c. For this construction, cp. Chaucer, _Prologue_ 502 _No wonder is a lewed man to ruste_; Shakespeare, _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, V. iv. 108 f. _It is the lesser blot... Women to change their shapes_, &c. The same construction, where we now insert _for_, is seen in _Gawayne_ (v. 352-3) _hit were a wynne huge... a leude, þat couþe, to luf hom wel_, &c. _b_ 221-3. 'They say that a priest may be excused from saying mass, to be the substance of which God gave Himself, provided that he hears one.' _b_ 228 f. _newe costy portos, antifeners, graielis, and alle oþere bokis._ _Portos_, French _porte hors_, represents Latin _portiforium_, a breviary convenient for 'carrying out of doors'. The _antifener_ contained the antiphons, responses, &c., necessary for the musical service of the canonical hours. The _graiel_, or _gradual_, was so called from the gradual responses, sung at the steps of the altar, or while the deacon ascended the steps of the pulpit: but the book actually contained all the choral service of the Mass. _b_ 230. _makynge of biblis._ Wiclif in his _Office of Curates_ (ed. Matthew, p. 145) complains of the scarcity of bibles. _But fewe curatis han þe Bible and exposiciouns of þe Gospelis, and litel studien on hem, and lesse donne after hem. But wolde God þat euery parische chirche in þis lond hadde a good Bible!_ &c. _b_ 234. At this time books, especially illuminated books, were very dear. The Missal of Westminster Abbey, which is now shown in the Chapter-house, was written in 1382-4 at a cost of £34 14_s._ 7_d._--a great sum in those days, for the scribe, Thomas Preston, who took two years to write it, received only £4 for his labour, 20_s._ for his livery, and board at the rate of 21_s._ 8_d._ the half year. The inscription in British Museum MS. Royal 19 D. II, a magnificently illustrated Bible with commentary, shows that it was captured at Poitiers with King John of France, and bought by the Earl of Salisbury for 100 marks (about £66). Edward III gave the same sum to a nun of Amesbury for a rich book of romance. In France John, Duke of Berry, paid as much as £200 for a breviary, and the appraisement of his library in 1416 shows a surprisingly high level of values (L. Delisle, _Le Cabinet des Manuscrits_, vol. iii, pp. 171 ff.). These were luxurious books. The books from the chapel of Archbishop Bowet of York (d. 1423) sold more reasonably: £8 for a great antiphonar and £6 13_s._ 4_d._ _pro uno libro vocato 'Bibill'_, were the highest prices paid; and from his library there were some fascinating bargains: 4_s._ for a small copy of Gregory's _Cura Pastoralis_; 5_s._ _pro uno libro vocato 'Johannes Andrewe', vetere et debili_, which would probably turn out to be a dry work on the Decretals; and 3_s._ 4_d._ for a nameless codex, _vetere et caduco_, 'old and falling to pieces'. (_Historians of the Church of York_, ed. J. Raine, vol. iii, pp. 311, 315.) But the failing activity of the monastic scriptoria, and the formation of libraries by the friars and by rich private collectors, made study difficult for students at the universities, where at this time a shilling per week--a third of the price of Bowet's most dilapidated volume--was reckoned enough to cover the expenses of a scholar living plainly. The college libraries were scantily supplied: books were lent only in exchange for a valuable pledge; or even pawned, in hard times, by the colleges themselves. These conditions were not greatly improved until printing gave an easy means of duplication, and for a time caused the humble manuscripts in which most of the mediaeval vernacular literature was preserved to be treated as waste paper. As late as the eighteenth century Martène found the superb illuminated manuscripts left by John, Duke of Berry, to the Sainte Chapelle at Bourges serving as roosting places to their keeper's hens (_Voyage Littéraire_, Paris 1717, pt. i, p. 29). _b_ 261-3. The reference is to Acts vi. 2, 'It is not reason that we should leave the word of God, and serve tables.' _b_ 266. _wisere þan._ After these words the Corpus MS. (p. 170, col. i, l. 34 mid.), without any warning, goes on to the closing passage of an entirely unrelated 'Petition to the King and Parliament'. By way of compensation, the end of our sermon appears at the close of the Petition. Clearly the scribe (or some one of his predecessors) copied without any regard for the sense from a MS. of which the leaves had become disarranged. _b_ 285. Cp. Acts iii. 6. XII #Dialect#: London (SE. Midland) with Kentish features. #Inflexions#: VERB: pres. ind. 3 sg. _loveth_ _a_ 5; contracted _stant_ _a_ 74. 3 pl. _schewen_ _a_ 136, _halsen_ _a_ 148, _be_ (in rime) _a_ 92. pres. p. _growende_ _a_ 80. strong pp. _schape_ (in rime) _a_ 130, beside _schapen_ _a_ 169. PRONOUN 3 PERS.: sg. fem. nom. _sche_ _a_ 32; pl. _thei_ _a_ 148; _here_ _a_ 144; _hem_ _a_ 112. Unaccented final _-e_ is treated as in Chaucer, having its full value in the verse when it represents an inflexion or final vowel in Old English or Old French, e.g. _And for he schold[.e] slep[.e] soft[.e]_ _a_ 93 _An ap[.e], which at thilk[.e] throw[.e]_ _b_ 5 #Sounds#: _e_ appears as in Kentish for OE. _y_: _hell_ 'hill' _a_ 65, 79, 86; _keste_ 'kissed' _a_ 178; note the rimes _unschette_: _lette_ _a_ 71-2; _pet_ 'pit': _let_ _b_ 9-10; and less decisive _pet_: _knet_ (OE. _knyttan_) _b_ 29-30, 53-4; _dreie_: _beie_ _b_ 23-4. #Spelling#: _ie_ represents close _[=e.]_: _flietende_ _a_ 157, _hier_ _b_ 34; _diemed_ _b_ 216. #Syntax#: The elaborate machinery of sentence connexion deserves special attention; and many turns of phrase are explained by Gower's fluency in French. * * * * * _a_ 1. Gower follows Ovid, _Metamorphoses_, Bk. xi. Chaucer tells the story of Ceix and Alcyone in his _Death of Blanche the Duchess_, ll. 62 ff. This is presumably the early work to which the Man of Law refers: _I kan right now no thrifty tale seyn But Chaucer, thogh he kan but lewedly On metres and on rymyng craftily, Hath seyd hem, in swich Englissh as he kan, 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 In his ~Epistelles~, that been ful olde. What sholde I tellen hem, syn they ben tolde? In youthe he made of Ceys and Alcione_, &c. (Link to _Man of Law's Tale_, ll. 46 ff.) Gower's rendering is the more poetical. _a_ 2. _Trocinie._ Ovid's _Trachinia tellus_, so called from the city of Trachis, north-west of Thermopylae. _a_ 23. _As he which wolde go_: otiose, or at best meaning no more than 'desiring to go'. Cp. _b_ 25 _As he which hadde_ = 'having' simply; and similarly _b_ 37, 203. It is an imitation of a contemporary French idiom _comme celui qui_. _a_ 26. _and_: the displacement of the conjunction from its natural position at the beginning of the clause is characteristic of Gower's verse. Cp. l. 152 _Upon the morwe and up sche sterte_ = 'and in the morning she got up', and _a_ 45, 49, _b_ 121, 124, 135, 160, 182. See notes to ll. 32, 78 f. _a_ 32. Editors put a comma after _wepende_, and no stop after _seileth_: but it is Alceoun who weeps. The displacement of _and_ is exemplified in the notes to l. 26 and ll. 78 f. _a_ 37. 'One had not to look for grief'; a regular formula of understatement, meaning 'her grief was great'. _a_ 53. _Hire reyny cope_, &c.: the rainbow, which was the sign or manifestation of Iris. _a_ 59 ff. _Prope Cimmerios longo spelunca recessu, Mons cavus, ignavi domus et penetralia Somni._ (_Metamorphoses_ xi. 592-3.) Much of the poetry of Gower's description is due to Ovid. _a_ 78 f. Editors put no stop after _may_ and a comma after _hell_. Hence _The New English Dictionary_ quotes this passage as an isolated instance of _noise_, transitive, meaning 'disturb with noise'. But _noise_ is intransitive, _hell_ is governed by _aboute round_, and the position of _bot_ is abnormal as in l. 105. Cp. notes to ll. 26, 32, and render 'But all round about the hill'. _a_ 105. For the word order see notes to ll. 26, 32, 78 f. _a_ 117. _The lif_, 'the man', cp. IV _a_ 43. _a_ 118. _Ithecus_: for Icelos. According to Ovid 'Icelos' was the name by which he was known to the gods, but men called him 'Phobetor'. _a_ 123. _Panthasas_: Ovid's _Phantasos_. _a_ 152. See note to l. 26. _a_ 197. The halcyon, usually identified with the kingfisher, was supposed to build a floating nest on the sea in midwinter, and to have power to calm the winds and waves at that season, bringing 'halcyon weather'. _b_ 2. _I finde._ Matthew Paris in his _Chronica Maiora_ (ed. Luard, Rolls Series, vol. ii, pp. 413 ff.) gives a similar story, which, he says, King Richard the First often told to rebuke ingratitude. In this version, Vitalis of Venice falls into a pit dug as a trap for wild beasts. The rescued animals are a lion and a serpent; the rescuer is nameless, and the gem given to him by the serpent has not the magic virtue of returning whenever sold. Nearer to Gower is the story told in Nigel Wireker's _Speculum Stultorum_, a late twelfth-century satire in Latin verse, which, from the name of its principal character Burnellus the Ass, who is ambitious to have a longer tail, is sometimes called _Burnellus_; cp. Chaucer, _Nun's Priest's Tale_, l. 492: _I have wel rad in Daun Burnel the Asse Among his vers_, &c. The poem is printed in T. Wright's _Anglo-Latin Satirical Poets and Epigrammatists of the Twelfth Century_ (Rolls Series, 1872), vol. i. At the end the Ass returns disappointed to his master Bernardus (= Bardus). Bernardus, when gathering wood, hears Dryanus (= Adrian), a rich citizen of Cremona, call from a pit for help. The rescued animals are a lion, a serpent, and an ape. The gem given by the serpent in token of gratitude always returns to Bernardus, who, with more honesty than Gower's poor man shows, takes it back to the buyer. The fame of the marvellous stone reaches the king; his inquiries bring to light the whole story; and Dryanus is ordered to give half his goods to Bernardus. Gower probably worked on a later modification of Nigel's story. _b_ 86. _blessed_, 'crossed (himself)'. _b_ 89. _Betwen him and his asse_, i.e. pulling together with the ass. The ass is, of course, the distinguished Burnellus. _b_ 116. _his ape_: for _this ape_ (?). _b_ 191. _Justinian_, Emperor of the Eastern Roman Empire (d. 565), was best known for his codification of the Roman Law, and so is named here as the type of a lawgiver. XIII #Dialect#: South-Western, with some Midland forms. #Inflexions#: VERB: pres. ind. 3 sg. _bloweþ_ _a_ 7, _casteþ_ _a_ 8. 3 pl. _buþ_ _a_ 10, _habbeþ_ _a_ 15. pres. p. _slyttyng_, _frotyng_ _b_ 59. strong pp. _yknowe_ _a_ 12, _ysode_ _a_ 30. NOUN: Note the plural in _-(e)n_, _tren_ 'trees' _a_ 44, 51, 53; _chyldern_ _b_ 16 is a double plural. PRONOUN 3 PERS.: pl. _hy_ _a_ 17; _here_ _a_ 61; _ham_ _a_ 23. Note the unstressed 3 sg. and 3 pl. form _a_, e.g. at _a_ 13, 27. #Sounds#: There is no instance of _v_ for initial _f_, which is evidenced in the spelling of early South-Western writers like Robert of Gloucester (about 1300), or of _z_ for initial _s_, which is less commonly shown in spelling. _u_ for OE. _y_ occurs in _hulles_ 'hills' _a_ 18 (beside _bysynes_ _b_ 24, where Modern English has _u_ in spelling but _i_ in pronunciation; and _lift_ (OE. _lyft_) _b_ 39, where Modern English has the South-Eastern form _left_). * * * * * _a_ 2-3. _Mayster... Minerua... hys_: Trevisa appears to have understood 'Minerva' as the name of a god. _a_ 6-49. Higden took all this passage from Book i of the twelfth-century Annals of Alfred of Beverley (ed. Hearne, pp. 6-7). The _Polychronicon_ is a patchwork of quotations from earlier writers. _a_ 7. _Pectoun._ Higden has _ad Peccum_, and Alfred of Beverley _in monte qui vocatur Pec_, i.e. The Peak of Derbyshire. _cc_ and _ct_ are not distinguishable in some hands of the time, and Trevisa has made _Peccum_ into _Pectoun_. _a_ 14. _Cherdhol._ Hearne's text of Alfred of Beverley has _Cherole_; Henry of Huntingdon (about 1150), who gives the same four marvels in his _Historia Anglorum_, has _Chederhole_; and on this evidence the place has been identified with Cheddar in Somerset, where there are famous caves. _a_ 22. _an egle hys nest_: cp. _b_ 23 _a child hys brouch_. This construction has two origins: (1) It is a periphrasis for the genitive, especially in the case of masculine and neuter proper names which had no regular genitive in English; (2) It is an error arising from false manuscript division of the genitive suffix _-es_, _-is_, from its stem. _a_ 36. <_þat_> here and in l. 52 is inserted on the evidence of the other MSS. Syntactically its omission is defensible, for the suppressed relative is a common source of difficulty in Middle English; see the notes to V 4-6, 278-9; X 146; XIV _c_ 54; XVII 66. _a_ 50. _Wynburney._ Wimborne in Dorset. Here St. Cuthburga founded a nunnery, which is mentioned in one of Aldhelm's letters as early as A.D. 705. The information that it is 'not far from Bath', which is hardly accurate, was added by Higden to the account of the marvel he found in the _Topographia Hibernica_ of Giraldus Cambrensis (vol. v, p. 86 of the Rolls Series edition of his works). _a_ 54-64. Higden took this passage from Giraldus, _Itinerarium Cambriae_, Bk. ii, c. 11 (vol. vi, p. 139 of the Rolls edition). _a_ 60-1. _be at here aboue_, 'be over them', 'have the upper hand'. _a_ 63. _Pimbilmere_: the English name for Lake Bala. _b_ 6-7. _þe Flemmynges._ The first settlement of Flemings in Pembrokeshire took place early in the twelfth century, and in 1154, Henry II, embarrassed alike by the turbulence of the Welsh, and of the new host of Flemish mercenaries who had come in under Stephen, encouraged a further settlement. They formed a colony still distinguishable from the surrounding Welsh population. _b_ 11-12. The threefold division of the English according to their Continental origin dates back to Bede's _Ecclesiastical History_. But the areas settled by Bede's three tribes do not correspond to Southern, Northern, and Midland. The Jutes occupied Kent, whence the South-Eastern dialect; the Saxons occupied the rest of the South, whence the South-Western dialect; and the Angles settled in the Midlands and the North; so that the Midland and Northern dialects are both Anglian, and derive from the same Continental tribe or tribal group. _b_ 26. _þe furste moreyn_: the Black Death of 1349. There were fresh outbreaks of plague in 1362, 1369, 1376. _b_ 26-42. The bracketed passage is an addition by Trevisa himself, and is of primary importance for the history of English and of English education. See the valuable article by W. H. Stevenson in _An English Miscellany Presented to Dr. Furnivall_, pp. 421 ff. _b_ 27-8. _Iohan Cornwal, a mayster of gramere._ A 'master of grammar' was a licensed teacher of grammar. Mr. Stevenson points out that in 1347-8 John of Cornwall received payment from Merton College, Oxford, for teaching the boys of the founder's kin. His countryman Trevisa probably had personal knowledge of his methods of teaching. _b_ 39-40. _and a scholle passe þe se_, 'if they should cross the sea'. _b_ 47-8. The bracketed words are introduced by Trevisa. _b_ 50 f. _and ys gret wondur_: _and_ is superfluous and should perhaps be deleted. _b_ 58-65. Though still often quoted as a fourteenth-century witness to the pronunciation of Northern English (e.g. by K. Luick, _Historische Grammatik der englischen Sprache_, 1914, pp. 40 f.), this passage, as Higden acknowledges, comes from the Prologue to Book iii of William of Malmesbury's _Gesta Pontificum_, completed in the year 1125: see the Rolls Series edition, p. 209. XIV _a_ 2. _Bannokburn._ Minot's subject is not so much the defeat of the English at Bannockburn in 1314, as the English victory at Halidon Hill on 19 July 1333, which he regards as a vengeance for Bannockburn. _a_ 7. _Saint Iohnes toune_: Perth, so called from its church of St. John the Baptist. It was occupied by the English in 1332 after the defeat of the Scots at Dupplin Moor. _a_ 13. _Striflin_, 'Stirling'. _a_ 15. Hall suggests that this refers to Scotch raids on the North of England undertaken to distract Edward III from the siege of Berwick. _a_ 19 f. _Rughfute riueling... Berebag_: nicknames for the Scots, the first because they wore brogues (_riuelings_) of rough hide; the second because, to allow of greater mobility, each man carried his own bag of provisions instead of relying on a baggage train. _a_ 22. _Brig_ = _Burghes_ l. 25, 'Bruges'. At this time Scots, English, and French had all close connexions with the Netherlands. Observe that John Crab, who aided the Scots in the defence of Berwick (note to X 15), was a Fleming. _a_ 35. _at Berwik._ Berwick fell as a result of the battle of Halidon Hill which the Scots fought with the object of raising the siege. For an earlier siege of Berwick, in 1319, see No. X. _a_ 36. _get_, 'watch', 'be on the look out' (ON. _g['oe]ta_). _b_ 5-6. Calais was at this time a convenient base for piracy in the Channel. _b_ 19. _A bare_: Edward III, whom Minot often refers to as 'the boar'. _b_ 24-6. In preparation for the long siege Edward III had built a regular camp beside Calais. _b_ 32. _Sir Philip._ Philip de Valois, Philip VI of France (1293-1350). His son, John Duke of Normandy (1319-64), who succeeded him in 1350, is of good memory as a lover of fine books. Two are mentioned in the notes to XI _a_ 25 ff. and XI _b_ 234. A splendid copy of the _Miracles de Notre Dame_, preserved until recently in the Seminary Library at Soissons, seems also to have been captured with his baggage at Poitiers, for it was bought back from the English by King Charles V. Another famous book produced by his command was the translation of Livy by Bersuire, with magnificent illuminations. The spirit of the collector was not damped by his captivity in England from 1356-60, for his account books show that he continued to employ binders and miniaturists, to encourage original composition, and to buy books, especially books of romance. See _Notes et Documents relatifs à Jean, Roi de France_, &c., ed. by Henry of Orleans, Duc d'Aumale (Philobiblon Soc., London 1855-6). _b_ 40. _þe Cardinales._ Pope Clement VI had sent cardinals Annibale Ceccano bishop of Frascati, and Etienne Aubert, who became Pope Innocent VI in 1352, to arrange a peace between France and England. But the English were suspicious of the Papal court at Avignon, and accused the cardinals of favouring the French cause. _b_ 82. _Sir Iohn de Viene._ Jean de Vienne, seigneur de Pagny (d. 1351), a famous captain in the French wars. _c_ 5 f. 'They (friends) are so slippery when put to the test, so eager to have , and so unwilling to give up .' _c_ 14. _And_, 'if'. _c_ 47. King John of France was captured at Poitiers in 1356 and held in England as a prisoner until the Treaty of Bretigny in 1360. See note to XIV _b_ 32. _c_ 54. Note the omission of the relative: 'which recked not a cleat for all France', and cp. ll. 43-4, XIII _a_ 36 (note). _c_ 59. _his helm_, 'its helm'--the bar by which the rudder was moved. _c_ 61. 'The King sailed and rowed aright'; on _him_, see note to XV _g_ 24. _c_ 83. _An ympe_: Richard II. _c_ 90. _sarri_: not in the dictionaries in this sense, is probably OFr. _serré_, _sarré_, in the developed meaning 'active', 'vigorous', seen in the adv. _sarréement_. _c_ 103-4. 'If we are disloyal and inactive, so that what is rarely seen is straightway forgotten.' _c_ 108. 'Who was the fountain of all courage.' _c_ 111. _los_, 'fame'. _d_ 1. SCHEP: here means 'shepherd', 'pastor', a name taken by Ball as appropriate to a priest. _Seynte Marie prest of [Gh]ork_, 'priest of St. Mary's of York' (cp. note to I 44), a great Benedictine abbey founded soon after the Conquest; see Dugdale, _Monasticon Anglicanum_, vol. iii, pp. 529 ff. _Marie_ does not take the _s_ inflexion, because it has already the Latin genitive form, cp. _Mary-[gh]et_ X 163. _d_ 2. _Iohan Nameles_, 'John Nobody', for _nameless_ has the sense 'obscure', 'lowly'. _d_ 6. _Hobbe þe Robbere._ _Hob_ is a familiar form for _Robert_, and it has been suggested that _Hobbe þe Robbere_ may refer to Robert Hales, the Treasurer of England, who was executed by the rebels in 1381. But _Robert_ was a conventional name for a robber, presumably owing to the similarity of sound. Already in the twelfth century, Mainerus, the Canterbury scribe of the magnificent Bible now in the library of Sainte-Geneviève at Paris, plays upon it in an etymological account of his family: _Secundus_ (sc. _frater meus_) _dicebatur Robertus, quia a re nomen habuit: spoliator enim diu fuit et praedo_. From the fourteenth century lawless men were called _Roberts men_. In _Piers Plowman_ Passus v (A- and B-texts) there is a confession of 'Robert the Robber'; and the literary fame of the prince of highwaymen, 'Robin Hood', belongs to this period. _d_ 14. _do wel and bettre_: note this further evidence of the popularity of _Piers Plowman_, with its visions of _Dowel_, _Dobet_, and _Dobest_. XV _a_ 8. _Þe clot him clingge!_ 'May the clay cling to him!' i.e. 'Would he were dead!' _a_ 12. _Þider_: MS. _Yider_, and conversely MS. _Þiif_ 23 for _Yiif_ 'if'. _y_ and _þ_ are endlessly confused by scribes. _b_ 1. _Lenten ys come... to toune._ In the Old English _Metrical Calendar_ phrases like _cymeð... us to tune Martius reðe_, 'fierce March comes to town', are regular. The meaning is 'to the dwellings of men', 'to the world'. _b_ 3. _Þat_: construe with _Lenten_. _b_ 7. _him þreteþ_, 'chides', 'wrangles' (ON. _þr['æ]ta_?). See the thirteenth-century debate of _The Thrush and the Nightingale_ (_Reliquiae Antiquae_, vol. i, pp. 241 ff.), of which the opening lines are closely related to this poem. _b_ 11. _Ant wlyteþ on huere wynter wele_, 'and look at their winter happiness (?)'. This conflicts with _huere wynter wo_ above; and the explanation that the birds have forgotten the hardships of the past winter and recall only its pleasures is forced. Holthausen's emendation _wynne wele_ 'wealth of joys' (cp. l. 35) is good. _b_ 20. _Miles_: a crux. It has been suggested without much probability that _miles_ means 'animals' from Welsh _m[=i]l_. _b_ 28. _Deawes donkeþ þe dounes._ Of the suggestions made to improve the halting metre the best is _þise_ for _þe_. The poet is thinking of the sparkle of dew in the morning sun; cp. _Sir Gawayne_ 519 f.: _When þe donkande dewe drope[gh] of þe leue[gh] To bide a blysful blusch of þe bry[gh]t sunne._ _b_ 29-30. 'Animals with their cries (_rounes_) unmeaning to us (_derne_), whereby they converse (_domes for te deme_).' For the weakened sense of _deme_ (_domes_) see note to V 115. _c_ 30. _Wery so water in wore_: the restless lover (l. 21) has tossed all night like the troubled waters in a _wore_; cp. _I wake so water in wore_ in another lyric of the same MS. It has been suggested that _wore_ = Old High German _wuor_ 'weir'; but the rimes in both passages show that the stem is OE. _w[=a]r_, not _w[=o]r_. _d_ 2. _the holy londe_: because Ireland was _par excellence_ 'the Land of the Saints'. _f._ I am obliged to Professor Carleton Brown for the information that this poem is found, with two additional stanzas, in MS. 18. 7. 21 of the Advocates' Library, Edinburgh; and that the full text will be published shortly in his _Religious Lyrics of the Fourteenth Century_. _f_ 4. _bere_ (OE. _b[=y]r_) riming with _fere_ (OE. _(ge)f[=e]ra_) indicates a South-Eastern composition. _g_ 1. _Scere Þorsday_: Maundy Thursday, the eve of Good Friday. _g_ 1-2. _aros_: _Iudas_: the alternative form _aras_ may have given the rime in the original, but it is not justifiable to accept this as certain and so to assume an early date of composition for the poem. Morsbach, _ME. Grammatik_, § 135, n. 4, quotes a number of parallel rimes with proper names, and the best explanation is that _o_ in _aros_ still represented a sound intermediate between _[=a]_ and _[=o,]_, and so served as an approximate rime to _[)=a]_ in proper names. _g_ 6. _cunesmen_: as _c_ and _t_ are hard to distinguish in some ME. hands, and are often confused by copyists, this reading is more likely than _tunesmen_ of the editors--Wright-Halliwell, Mätzner, Child, Cook (and _N. E. D._ s.v. _townsman_). For (1) _tunesman_ is a technical, not a poetical word. (2) In a poem remarkable for its terseness, _tunesmen_ reduces a whole line to inanity, unless the poet thinks of Judas quite precisely as a citizen of a town other than Jerusalem; and in the absence of any Biblical tradition it is unlikely that a writer who calls Pilate _þe riche Ieu_ would gratuitously assume that Judas was not a citizen of Jerusalem, where his sister lived. (3) Christ's words are throughout vaguely prophetic, and as Judas forthwith _imette wid is soster_--one of his kin--_cunesmen_ gives a pregnant sense. [I find the MS. actually has _cunesmen_, but leave the note, lest _tunesmen_ might appear to be better established.] _g_ 8. The repetition of ll. 8, 25, 30 is indicated in the MS. by 'ii' at the end of each of these lines, which is the regular sign for _bis_. _g_ 16. 'He tore his hair until it was bathed in blood.' The MS. has _top_, not _cop_. _g_ 24. _In him com ur Lord gon._ In the MS. _c'ist_ = _Crist_ has been erased after _Lord_. Note (1) the reflexive use of _him_, which is very common in OE. and ME. with verbs of motion, e.g. _Up him stod_ 27, 29; _Þau Pilatus him com_ 30; _Als I me rode_ XV _a_ 4; _The Kyng him rod_ XIV _c_ 61; cp. the extended use _ar þe coc him crowe_ 33, and notes to II 289, V 86: (2) the use of the infinitive (_gon_) following, and usually defining the sense of, a verb of motion, where Modern English always, and ME. commonly (e.g. _[gh]ede karoland_ I 117; _com daunceing_ II 298), uses the pres. p.: 'Our Lord came walking in'. _g_ 27. _am I þat?_ 'Is it I?', the interrogative form of _ich hit am_ or _ich am hit_. The editors who have proposed to complete the line by adding _wrech_, have missed the sense. The original rime was _þet_: _spec_, cp. note to I 240. _g_ 30. _cnistes_: for _cniste_ = _cnihte_ representing the OE. gen. pl. _cnihta_. On the forms _meist_ 6, _heiste_ 18, _eiste_ 20, _bitaiste_ 21, _iboust_ 26, _miste_ 29, _cnistes_ 30, _fiste_ 31, all with _st_ for OE. _ht_, see Appendix § 6 end. _h_ 17-18. Difficult. Perhaps 'The master smith lengthens a little piece [sc. of hot iron], and hammers a smaller piece, twines the two together, and strikes [with his hammer] a treble note'. _h_ 21-2. _cloþemerys... brenwaterys_: not in the dictionaries, but both apparently nonce names for the smiths: they 'clothe horses' (for by the end of the fourteenth century a charger carried a good deal of armour and harness), and 'burn water' (when they temper the red-hot metal). _i_ 4. _Þat_: dat. rel. 'to whom'; cp. VI 64. But _lowte_ is sometimes transitive 'to reverence'. _i_ 6. This line, at first sight irrelevant, supplies both rime and doctrine. See in Chaucer's Preface to his _Tale of Melibeus_ the passage ending: _I meene of Marke, Mathew, Luc and John-- Bot doutelees hir sentence is all oon._ An erased _t_ after _Awangelys_ in the MS. shows that the scribe wavered between _Awangelys_ 'Gospels' and _Awangelystes_. _i_ 7. _Sent Geretrude_: Abbess of Nivelle (d. 659), commemorated on March 17. She is appropriately invoked, for one or more rats make her emblem. _i_ 11. _Sent Kasi._ I cannot trace this saint, or his acts against the rats. But parallels are not wanting. St. Ivor, an Irish saint, banished rats from his neighbourhood _per imprecationem_ because they gnawed his books; and the charm-harassed life of an Irish rat was still proverbial in Shakespeare's day: 'I was never so berhymed' says Rosalind (_As You Like It_, III. ii) 'since Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat'. In the South of France the citizens of Autun trusted more to the processes of the law, and brought a suit against the rats which ended in a victory for the defendants because the plaintiffs were unable to guarantee them safe conduct to the court (see Chambers, _Book of Days_, under Jan. 17). Even in such little things the Normans showed their practical genius:--A friend chancing to meet St. Lanfranc by the way inquired the cause of the strange noises that came from a bag he was carrying: 'We are terribly plagued with mice and rats', explained the good man, 'and so, to put down their ravages, I am bringing along a cat' (_Mures et rati valde nobis sunt infesti, et idcirco nunc affero catum ad comprimendum furorem illorum_). _Acta Sanctorum_ for May 28, p. 824. XVI #Dialect#: Yorkshire. #Inflexions#: VERB: pres. ind. 2 sg. _þou royis_ 99, _þou is_ 360; beside _þou hast_ 69. 3 sg. _bidis_ 23, _comes_ 57. 1 pl. _we here_ 169. 2 pl. _[gh]e haue_ 124. 3 pl. _þei make_ 103, _þei crie_ 107, _dwelle_ (rime) 102 ; beside _musteres_ 104, _sais_ 108. imper. pl. _harkens_ 37, _beholdes_ 195; but _vndo_ 182. pres. p. _walkand_ 53 (in rime); beside _shynyng_ 94. strong pp. _stoken_ 193, _brokynne_ 195, &c. Contracted verbal forms are _mase_ pres. 3 pl. (in rime) 116, _bus_ pres. 2 sg. 338, _tane_ pp. 172. PRONOUN 3 PERS.: pl. nom. _þei_ 21; poss. _thare_ 18, _þer_ 20; obj. _þame_ 9; but _hemselue_ 307. The demonstrative _þer_ 'these' 97, 399, is Northern. #Sounds#: _[=a]_ remains in rimes: _are_: _care_ 345-7, _waa_: _gloria_ 406-8, _lawe_: _knawe_ 313-15, _moste_ (for _m[=a]ste_): _taste_ 358-60; but _[=o)]_ is also proved for the original in _restore_: _euermore_: _were_ (for _w[=o,]re_): _before_ 13 ff. #Spelling#: In _fois_ (= _f[=o,]s_) 30, the spelling with _i_ indicates vowel length. * * * * * 17. _were_: rime requires the alternative form _w[=o,]re_. 39. _Foure thowsande and sex hundereth [gh]ere._ I do not know on what calculation the writer changes 5,500, which is the figure in the Greek and Latin texts of the Gospel of Nicodemus, in the French verse renderings, and the ME. poem _Harrowing of Hell_. Cp. l. 354. 40. _in þis stedde_: the rimes _hadde_: _gladde_: _sadde_ point to the Towneley MS. reading _in darknes stad_, 'set in darkness', as nearer the original, which possibly had _in þister(nes) stad_. 49. _we_: read _[gh]e_ (?). For what follows cp. Isaiah ix. 1-2. 59. _puplisshid_: the rime with _Criste_ shows that the pronunciation was _puplist_. Similarly, _abasshed_: _traste_ 177-9. In French these words have _-ss-_, which normally becomes _-sh-_ in English. It is hard to say whether _-ss-_ remained throughout in Northern dialects, or whether the development was OFr. _-ss-_ > ME. _-sh-_ > Northern _-ss-_ (notes to I 128, VII 4). 62. _þis_: read _His (?) frendis_: here 'relatives', 'parents' (ON. _fr[´æ]ndi_); see Luke ii. 27. 65-8. Luke ii. 29-32. 73-82. Matthew iii. 13-17, &c. 75. _hande_: the rime requires the Norse plural _hend_ as at l. 400; cp. XVII 255, IV _a_ 65 (foot-note). 86 ff. Cp. Matthew xvii. 3 ff., Mark ix. 2 ff. 113. _Astrotte_: cp. 2 Kings xxiii. 13 'Ashtoreth, the abomination of the Zidonians'. I cannot identify _Anaball_ among the false gods. 115. _Bele-Berit_: Judges viii. 33 'the children of Israel... made Baal-Berith their god'. For _Belial_ see 2 Cor. vi. 15. 122-4. A common misrendering for 'Be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors', Psalm xxiv. 7. 125 ff. postulate a preceding _et introibit rex glori[e,]_, which the writer has not been able to work into the frame of his verse. 128. _a kyng of vertues clere_ = _dominus virtutum_, rendered 'Lord of Hosts' in Psalm xxiv. 10. 154-6. _ware_: _ferre_: the rime indicates some corruption. _ware_ probably stands for _werre_ 'worse'. The Towneley MS. has _or it be war_. 162. John xi. 165. John xiii. 27. 171 ff. 'And know he won away Lazarus, who was given to us to take charge of, do you think that you can hinder him from showing the powers that he has purposed (to show)?' But it is doubtful whether _what_ is a true relative. Rather 'from showing his powers--those he has purposed (to show)'. 188. _I prophicied_: MS. _of prophicie_ breaks the rime scheme. 190. Psalm cvii. 16 'For he hath broken the gates of brass, and cut the bars of iron in sunder.' 205 ff. The rimes _saide_: _braide_: _ferde_: _grathed_ are bad. For the last two read _flaide_ = 'terrified', and _graid_, a shortened form of _graithed_. 208. _and we wer moo_, 'if we were more', 'even if there were more of us'. 220. _as my prisoune_ might be taken closely with _here_: 'in this place as my prison'. The Towneley MS. has _in_ for _as_. Better would be _prisoune _ 'prisoners'. 240. _wolle_: read _wille_ for the rime. 241. _God sonne_: MS. _God sonne_ might be defended as parallel to the instances in the note to XVII 88. 256. Apparently, 'you argue his men in the mire', i.e. if Jesus is God's Son, the souls should remain in hell because God put them there. But the text may be corrupt. 267 ff. Cp. Ezekiel xxxi. 16, &c. 281 ff. _Salamon saide_: Proverbs ii. 18-19 taken with vii. 27 and ix. 18. It was hotly disputed in the Middle Ages whether Solomon himself was still in hell. Dante, _Paradiso_, x. 110, informs a world eager for tidings that he is in Paradise: but Langland declares _Ich leyue he be in helle_ (C-text, iv. 330); and, more sweepingly, coupling him with Aristotle: _Al holy chirche holden hem in helle_ (A-text, xi. 263). 285-8. Perhaps a gloss on Job xxxvi. 18 'Because there is wrath, beware lest he take thee away with his stroke: then a great ransom cannot deliver thee.' 301. _menys_, the reading of the Towneley MS. is better than _mouys_, which appears to be a copyist's error due to the similarity of _n_ and _u_, _e_ and _o_, in the handwriting of the time. 308. Judas hanged himself, according to Matthew xxvii. 3-5; Acts i. 18 gives a different account of his end. _Archedefell_: Ahithophel who hanged himself (2 Samuel xvii. 23) after the failure of his plot against David. 309. _Datan and Abiron_: see Numbers xvi. 313-16. 'And all who do not care to learn my law (which I have left in the land newly, and which is to make known my Coming), and to go to my Sacrament, and those who will not believe in my Death and my Resurrection read in order--they are not true.' 338. _þou bus_, 'you ought'; _bus_, a Northern contracted form of _behoves_, is here used as a personal verb, where _þe bus_, 'it behoves thee', is normal. See note to XVII 196. 360. _moste_: read _maste_ to rime with _taste_. 371. _Of þis comyng_: the Towneley MS. reading _of Thi commyng_ is possible. 378-80: Corrupt. The copy from which the extant MS. was made seems to have been indistinct here. The Towneley MS. has: _Suffre thou neuer Thi sayntys to se The sorow of thaym that won in wo, Ay full of fylth, and may not fle_, which is more intelligible and nearer Psalm xvi. 10: _Nec dabis sanctum tuum videre corruptionem._ 405. _louyng_: 'praise', cp. IV _a_ 24 (note). XVII #Dialect#: Late Yorkshire. #Vocabulary#: Northern are _then_ 108 (note), and _at_ 'to' 235. #Inflexions#: VERB: pres. ind. 2 sg. _thou spekis_ 206. 3 sg. _ligis he_ 84; _he settis_ 92; _(God) knowes_ 202. 1 pl. _we swete or swynk_ 195. 2 pl. _ye carp_ (in rime) 360. 3 pl. _thay ryn_ (in rime) 277, 357; beside _has_ 345, _renys_ 351. pres. p. _liffand_ 73, _bowand_ 76, _wirkand_ 120 (all in rime); beside _lifyng_ 47, 48; _standyng_ 416; _taryyng_ 497. strong pp. _rysen_ 442; _fon_ 'found' 503 is a Northern short form. PRONOUN 3 PERS.: sg. fem. nom. _she_ 186; pl. _thay_ 27; _thare_ 75; _thaym_ 31. (MS. _hame_ 143 is miswritten for _thame_.) #Sounds#: OE. _[=a]_ appears as _[=o,]_ in rime: _old_: _cold_: _mold_ (OE. _móld_) 60-2, and probably _dold_: _old_ 266-70; _sore_: _store_: _therfor_: _more_ 91-4; but elsewhere remains _[=a]_, e.g. _draw_ (OE. _dr[)a]gan_): _knaw_ 245-6. The spelling with _o_ is the commoner. See notes on _emong_ 400; _grufe_ 463. #Spelling#: Note the Northern spellings with _i_, _y_ following a vowel to indicate length: _moyne_ 'moon' 6, _bayle_ 'bale' 26, _leyde_ = _lede_ 48; and conversely _farest_ 'fairest' 79, _fath_ 'faith' 330. * * * * * The maritime associations of the play of _Noah_ made it a special favourite with the Trinity House guild of master mariners and pilots at Hull; and some of their records of payments for acting and equipment are preserved, although the text of their play is lost (Chambers, _Mediaeval Stage_, vol. ii, pp. 370-1): _anno_ To the minstrels, 6d. 1485. To Noah and his wife, 1s. 6d. To Robert Brown playing God, 6d. To the Ship-child, 1d. To a shipwright for clinking Noah's ship, one day, 7d. 22 kids for shoring Noah's ship, 2d. To a man clearing away the snow, 1d. Straw for Noah and his children, 2d. Mass, bellman, torches, minstrels, garland &c., 6s. For mending the ship, 2d. To Noah for playing, 1s. To straw and grease for wheels, ¼d. To the waits for going about with the ship, 6d. 1494. To Thomas Sawyr playing God, 10d. To Jenkin Smith playing Noah, 1s. To Noah's wife, 8d. The clerk and his children, 1s. 6d. To the players of Barton, 8d. For a gallon of wine, 8d. For three skins for Noah's coat, making it, and a rope to hang the ship in the kirk, 7s. To dighting and gilding St. John's head, painting two tabernacles, beautifying the boat and over the table, 7s. 2d. Making Noah's ship, £5. 8s. Two wrights a day and a half, 1s. 6d. A halser [i.e. hawser] 4 stone weight, 4s. 8d. Rigging Noah's ship, 8d. * * * * * 10. _is_: read _es_ for the rime. Cp. note to I 128-9. 42. _and sythen_: MS. _in sythen_. Cp. note to VI 36. 49. _syn_: 3 pl. because _euery liffyng leyde_ is equivalent to a plural subject 'all men'. 52. _coueteis_: MS. _couetous_. 56. _alod_: a shortened form of _allowed_, apparently on the analogy of such words as _lead_ infin., _led_ pa. t. and pp. For a parallel see note to I 254-5. 57. _Sex hundreth yeris and od_: the _od_ thrown in to rime, as Noah was exactly 600 years old according to Genesis vii. 6. 66. _and my fry shal with me fall_: 'and the children I may have' (?). 88. _for syn sake_: 'because of sin'. Until modern times a genitive preceding _sake_ usually has no _s_, e.g. _for goodness sake_. The genitive of _sin_ historically had no _s_ (OE. _synne_), but the omission in a Northern text is due rather to euphony than to survival of an old genitive form. Cp. _for tempest sake_ I 177. 108. _then_: 'nor', a rare Northern usage, which is treated as an error here in England and Pollard's text, though it occurs again at l. 535. Conversely _nor_ is used dialectally for _than_. 109. _Hym to mekill wyn_: 'to his great happiness'. 137. _take_: 'make', and so in l. 272. 167-71. _knowe_: _awe_. The rime requires _kn[=a]we_ or _[=o,]we_. 191. 'The worse I see thee.' 196. _what thou thynk_: 'what seems to you best', 'what you like'; _thou thynk_ for _thee thynk_--the verb being properly impersonal; see notes to XVI 338 and VI 192. 200. _Stafford blew_: from the context this line might mean 'you are a scaremonger', for blue is the recognized colour of fear, and it might be supposed that 'Stafford blue' represents a material like 'Lincoln green'. But Mätzner is certainly right in interpreting the line 'you deserve a beating'. _Stafford blew_ would then be the livid colour produced by blows. The reference, unless there is a play on _staff_, is obscure. 202. _led_: 'treated'. 211. _sory_: the rime requires _sary_. 220. _Mary_: the later _marry!_ = 'by (the Virgin) Mary!' cp. l. 226. So _Peter!_ 367 = 'by St. Peter!' 246. _to knaw_: 'to confess'. 247-8. _daw to ken_: 'to be recognized as stupid', 'a manifest fool'. 272. _castell_: note the rime with _sayll_: _nayll_: _fayll_, which may be due to suffix substitution on the analogy of _catail_ beside _catel_ 'cattle'. For _take_ see note to 137. 281. _chambre_: the rime points to a by-form _chamb(o)ur_, but the uninflected form is awkward. Cp. _thre chese chambres_ 'three tiers of chambers' 129, where the construction is the same as the obsolete _three pair gloves_. 289-92. Read _lider_, _hider_, _togider_. 292. _must vs_: cp. l. 334 and note to VI 192. 298. 'There is other yarn on the reel', i.e. there is other business on hand. 320. _brether sam_: 'brothers both'. Some editors prefer to read _brother Sam_ 'brother Shem'. 336 ff. Chaucer refers to the quarrels of Noah and his wife in the _Miller's Tale_ (ll. 352 ff.):-- _'Hastou nat herd', quod Nicholas, 'also The sorwe of Noe with his felaweshipe Er that he myghte brynge his wyf to shipe? Hym hadde be levere, I dar wel undertake, At thilke tyme, than alle his wetheres blake, That she hadde had a shipe hirself allone.'_ The tradition is old. In the splendid tenth-century Bodleian MS. Junius 11, which contains the so-called Caedmon poems, a picture of the Ark shows Noah's wife standing at the foot of the gangway, and one of her sons trying to persuade her to come in. 370. _Yei_ is defensible; cp. l. 353. _Þe_ 'the' has been suggested. 383. _Wat Wynk_: an alliterative nick-name like _Nicholl Nedy_ in l. 405. 400. _emong_: OE. _gemang_, here rimes as in Modern English with _u_ (OE. _iung_: _tunge_: _lungen_), cp. note to VI 109 ff.; but in ll. 244-7 it rimes with _lang_: _fang_: _gang_--all with original _a_. 417. <_floodis_>. Some such word is missing in the MS. Cp. ll. 454 f. and 426. 461. _How_: MS. _Now_. The correction is due to Professor Child. Initial capitals are peculiarly liable to be miscopied. 463. _grufe_: a Northern and Scottish form of the verb _grow_. The sb. _ro_ 'rest' 237 sometimes has a parallel form _rufe_. 525. _stold_: for _stalled_ 'fixed'. Note the rime words, which all have alternative forms _behald_: _bald_: _wald_. APPENDIX THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE IN THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY § 1. GENERAL. Gower's work shows that at the end of the century Latin and French still shared with English the place of a literary language. But their hold was precarious. Latin was steadily losing ground. The Wiclifite translation of the Bible threatened its hitherto unchallenged position as the language of the Church; and the Renaissance had not yet come to give it a new life among secular scholars. French was still spoken at the court; but in 1387 Trevisa remarks (p. 149) that it was no longer considered an essential part of a gentleman's education: and he records a significant reform--the replacement of French by English as the medium of teaching in schools. After the end of the century Anglo-French, the native development of Norman, was practically confined to legal use, and French of Paris was the accepted standard French. English gained wherever Latin and French lost ground. But though the work of Chaucer, Gower, and Wiclif foreshadows the coming supremacy of the East Midland, or, more particularly, the London dialect, there was as yet no recognized standard of literary English. The spoken language showed a multiplicity of local varieties, and a writer adopted the particular variety that was most familiar to him. Hence it is almost true to say that every considerable text requires a special grammar. Confusion is increased by the scribes. Nowadays a book is issued in hundreds or thousands of uniform copies, and within a few months of publication it may be read in any part of the world. In the fourteenth century a book was made known to readers only by the slow and costly multiplication of manuscripts. The copyist might work long after the date of composition, and he would then be likely to modernize the language, which in its written form was not stable as it is at present: so of Barbour's _Bruce_ the oldest extant copies were made nearly a century after Barbour's death. Again, if the dialect of the author were unfamiliar to the copyist, he might substitute familiar words and forms. Defective rimes often bear witness to these substitutions. Nor have we to reckon only with copyists, who are as a rule careless rather than bold innovators. While books were scarce and many could not read them, professional minstrels and amateur reciters played a great part in the transmission of popular literature; and they, whether from defective memory or from belief in their own talents, treated the exact form and words of their author with scant respect. An extreme instance is given by the MSS. of _Sir Orfeo_ at ll. 267-8: Auchinleck MS.: _His harp, whereon was al his gle, He hidde in an holwe tre;_ Harley MS.: _He takeþ his harpe and makeþ hym gle, And lyþe al ny[gh]t vnder a tre;_ Ashmole MS.: _In a tre þat was holow Þer was hys haule euyn and morow._ If the Ashmole MS. alone had survived we should have no hint of the degree of corruption. And so, before the extant MSS. recorded the text, copyists and reciters may have added change to change, jumbling the speech of different men, generations, and places, and producing those 'mixed' texts which are the will-o'-the-wisps of language study. Faced with these perplexities, beginners might well echo the words of Langland's pilgrims in search of Truth: _This were a wikked way, but whoso hadde a gyde That wolde folwen vs eche a fote._ There is no such complete guide, for the first part of Morsbach's _Mittelenglische Grammatik_, Halle 1896, remains a splendid fragment, and Luick's _Historische Grammatik der englischen Sprache_, Leipzig 1914-, which promises a full account of the early periods, is still far from completion. Happily two distinguished scholars--Dr. Henry Bradley in _The Making of English_ and his chapter in _The Cambridge History of English Literature_, vol. i, Dr. O. Jespersen in _Growth and Structure of the English Language_--have given brief surveys of the whole early period which are at once elementary and authoritative. But for the details the student must rely on a mass of dissertations and articles of very unequal quality, supplemented by introductions to single texts, and, above all, by his own first-hand observations made on the texts themselves. Some preliminary considerations will be helpful, though perhaps not altogether reassuring: (i) A great part of the evidence necessary to a thorough knowledge of spoken Middle English has not come down to us, a considerable part remains unprinted, and the printed materials are so extensive and scattered that it is easy to overlook points of detail. For instance, it might be assumed from rimes in _Gawayne_, _Pearl_, and the Shropshire poet Myrc, that the falling together of OE. _-ang-_, _-ung-_, which is witnessed in NE. _among_ (OE. _gemang_), _-monger_ (OE. _mangere_), was specifically West Midland, if the occurrence of examples in Yorkshire (XVII 397-400) escaped notice. It follows that, unless a word or form is so common as to make the risk of error negligible, positive evidence--the certainty that it occurs in a given period or district--is immeasurably more important than negative evidence--the belief that it never did occur, or even the certainty that it is not recorded, in a period or district. For the same reason, the statement that a word or form is found 'in the early fourteenth century' or 'in Kent' should always be understood positively, and should not be taken to imply that it is unknown 'in the thirteenth century' or 'in Essex', as to which evidence may or may not exist. (ii) It is necessary to clear the mind of the impression, derived from stereotyped written languages, that homogeneity and stability are natural states. Middle English texts represent a spoken language of many local varieties, all developing rapidly. So every linguistic fact should be thought of in terms of time, place, and circumstance, not because absolute precision in these points is attainable, but because the attempt to attain it helps to distinguish accurate knowledge from conclusions which are not free from doubt. If the word or form under investigation can be proved to belong to the author's original composition, exactness is often possible. In the present book, we know nearly enough the date of composition of extracts I, III, VIII, X, XI _a_, XII, XIII, XIV; the place of composition of I, III, X, XI _a_, XII, XIII, XVI, XVII (see map). But if, as commonly happens, a form cannot be proved to have stood in the original, endless difficulties arise. It will be necessary first to determine the date of the MS. copy. This is exactly known for _The Bruce_, and there are few Middle English MSS. which the palaeographer cannot date absolutely within a half-century, and probably within a generation. The place where the MS. copy was written is known nearly enough for IV _b_, _c_, XII, XIV _e_, XV _b_, _c_ (possibly Leominster), XVI, XVII; and ME. studies have still much to gain from a thorough inquiry into the provenance of MSS. Yet, when the extant copy is placed and dated, it remains to ask to what extent this MS. reproduces some lost intermediary of different date and provenance; how many such intermediaries there were between the author's original and our MS.; what each has contributed to the form of the surviving copy--questions usually unanswerable, the consideration of which will show the exceptional linguistic value of the _Ayenbyte_, where we have the author's own transcript exactly dated and localized, so that every word and form is good evidence. Failing such ideal conditions, it becomes necessary to limit doubt by segregating for special investigation the elements that belong to the original composition. Hence the importance of rimes, alliteration, and rhythm, which a copyist or reciter is least likely to alter without leaving a trace of his activities. § 2. DIALECTS. At present any marked variation from the practice of educated English speakers might, if it were common to a considerable number of persons, be described as dialectal. But as there was no such recognized standard in the fourteenth century, it is most convenient to consider as dialectal any linguistic feature which had a currency in some English-speaking districts but not in all. For example, _þat_ as a relative is found everywhere in the fourteenth century and is not dialectal; _þire_ 'these' is recorded only in Northern districts, and so is dialectal. Again, _[=o,]_ represents OE. _[=a]_ in the South and Midlands, while the North retains _[=a]_ (§ 7 b i): since neither _[=o,]_ nor _[=a]_ is general, both may be called dialectal. If a few sporadic developments be excluded because they may turn up anywhere at any time, then, provided sufficient evidence were available,[29] it would be possible to mark the boundaries within which any given dialectal feature occurs at a particular period: we could draw the line south of which _þire_ 'these' is not found, or the line bounding the district in which the Norse borrowing _kirke_ occurs; just as French investigators in _L'Atlas linguistique de la France_ have shown the distribution of single words and forms in the modern French dialects. [Foot-note 29: Sufficient evidence is not available. If in the year 1340 at every religious house in the kingdom a native of the district had followed the example of Michael of Northgate, and if all their autograph copies had survived, we should have a very good knowledge of Middle English at that time. If the process had been repeated about every ten years the precision of our knowledge would be greatly increased. For the area in which any feature is found is not necessarily constant: we know that in the pres. p. the province of _-ing_ was extending throughout the fourteenth century; that the inflexion _-es_ in 3 sg. pres. ind. was a Northern and North-Midland feature in the fourteenth century, but had become general in London by Shakespeare's time. And though less is known about the spread of sound changes as distinct from analogical substitutions, it cannot be assumed that their final boundaries were reached and fixed in a moment. There is reason to regret the handicap that has been imposed on ME. studies by the old practice of writing in Latin or French the documents and records which would otherwise supply the exactly dated and localized specimens of English that are most necessary to progress.] Of more general importance is the fixing of boundaries for sound changes or inflexions that affect a large number of words, a task to which interesting contributions have been made in recent years on the evidence of place-names (see especially A. Brandl, _Zur Geographie der altenglischen Dialekte_, Berlin 1915, which supplements the work of Pogatscher on the compounds of _street_ and of Wyld on the ME. developments of OE. _y_). For example, on the evidence available, which does not permit of more than rough indications, OE. _[=a]_ remains _[=a]_, and does not develop to _[=o,]_, north of a line drawn west from the Humber (§ 7 b i); _-and(e)_ occurs in the ending of the pres. p. as far south as a line starting west from the Wash (§ 13 ii); farther south again, a line between Norwich and Birmingham gives the northern limit for _Stratton_ forms as against _Stretton_ (§ 8 iv, note).[30] The direction of all these lines is roughly east and west, yet no two coincide. But if the developments of OE. _y_ (§ 7 b ii) are mapped out, _u_ appears below a line drawn athwart from Liverpool to London, and normal _e_ east of a line drawn north and south from the western border of Kent. Almost every important feature has thus its own limits, and the limits of one may cross the limits of another. [Foot-note 30: The evidence of place-names does not agree entirely with the evidence of texts. _Havelok_, which is localized with reasonable certainty in North Lincolnshire, has _(a)dradd_ in rimes that appear to be original, and these indicate a North-Eastern extension of the area in which OE. _str[=æ]t_, _dr[=æ]dan_ appear for normal Anglian _str[=e]t_, _dr[=e]da(n)_. This evidence, supported by rimes in Robert of Brunne, is too early to be disposed of by the explanation of borrowing from other dialects, nor is the testimony of place-names so complete and unequivocal as to justify an exclusive reliance upon it.] What then is a ME. dialect? The accepted classification is { South-Western = OE. West Saxon Southern { { South-Eastern = OE. Kentish { East Midland } Midland { } = OE. Mercian { West Midland } Northern = OE. Northumbrian with the Thames as boundary between Southern and Midland, and the Humber between Midland and Northern. And yet of five actual limiting lines taken at random, only the first coincides approximately with the line of Humber or Thames. Still the classification rests on a practical truth. Although each dialectal feature has its own boundaries, these are not set by pure chance. Their position is to some extent governed by old tribal and political divisions, by the influence of large towns which served as commercial and administrative centres, and by relative ease of communication. Consequently, linguistic features are roughly grouped, and it is _a priori_ likely that London and Oxford would have more features in common than would London and York, or Oxford and Hull; and similarly it is likely that for a majority of phenomena York and Hull would stand together against London and Oxford. Such a grouping was recognized in the fourteenth century. Higden and his authorities distinguish Northern and Southern speech (XIII _b_); in the Towneley _Second Shepherds' Play_, ll. 201 ff., when Mak pretends to be a yeoman of the king, he adopts the appropriate accent, and is promptly told to 'take outt that Sothren tothe'. In the _Reeves Tale_ Chaucer makes the clerks speak their own Northern dialect, so we may be sure that he thought of it as a unity. But had Chaucer been asked exactly where this dialect was spoken, he would probably have replied, _Fer in the North,--I kan nat telle where_. A dialect has really no precise boundaries; its borders are nebulous; and throughout this book 'Southern', 'Northern', &c., are used vaguely, and not with any sharply defined limits in mind. The terms may, however, be applied to precise areas, so long as the boundaries of single dialect features are not violently made to conform. It is quite accurate to say that _-and(e)_ is the normal ending of the pres. p. north of the Humber, and that _u_ for OE. _y_ is found south of the Thames and west of London, provided it is not implied that the one should not be found south of the Humber, or the other north of the Thames. Both in fact occur in _Gawayne_ (Cheshire or Lancashire); and in general the language of the Midlands was characterized by the overlapping of features which distinguish the North from the South. From what has been said it should be plain that the localization of a piece of Middle English on the evidence of language alone calls for an investigation of scope and delicacy. Where the facts are so complex the mechanical application of rules of thumb may give quick and specious results, but must in the end deaden the spirit of inquiry, which is the best gift a student can bring to the subject. § 3. VOCABULARY. The readiness of English speakers to adopt words from foreign languages becomes marked in fourteenth-century writings. But the classical element which is so pronounced in modern literary English is still unimportant. There are few direct borrowings from Latin, and these, like _obitte_ XVI 269, are for the most part taken from the technical language of the Church. The chief sources of foreign words are Norse and French. (_a_) #Norse.# Although many Norse words first appear in English in late texts, they must have come into the spoken language before the end of the eleventh century, because the Scandinavian settlements ceased after the Norman Conquest. The invaders spoke a dialect near enough to OE. to be intelligible to the Angles; and they had little to teach of literature or civilization. Hence the borrowings from Norse are all popular; they appear chiefly in the Midlands and North, where the invaders settled; and they witness the intimate fusion of two kindred languages. From Norse we get such common words as _anger_, _both_, _call_, _egg_, _hit_, _husband_, _ill_, _law_, _loose_, _low_, _meek_, _take_, _till_ (prep.), _want_, _weak_, _wing_, _wrong_, and even the plural forms of the 3rd personal pronoun (§ 12). It is not always easy to distinguish Norse from native words, because the two languages were so similar during the period of borrowing, and Norse words were adopted early enough to be affected by all ME. sound changes. But there were some dialectal differences between ON. and OE. in the ninth and tenth centuries, and these afford the best criteria of borrowing. For instance in ME. we have _þou[gh]_, _þof_ (ON. _þ[)=o]h_ for _*þauh_) beside _þei(h)_ (OE. _þ[=e](a)h_) II 433; _ay_ (ON. _ei_) 'ever' XVI 293 beside _oo_ (OE. _[=a]_) XV _b_ 7; _waik_ (ON. _veik-r_) VIII _b_ 23, where OE. _w[=a]c_ would yield _w[=o,]k_; the forms _w[=o,]re_ XVI 17 (note) and _w[=a]pin_ XIV _b_ 15 are from ON. _várum_, _vápn_, whereas _w[=e]re(n)_ and _w[)e]ppen_ V 154 represent OE. (Anglian) _w[=e]ron_, _w[=e]pn_. So we have the pairs _awe_ (ON. _agi_) I 83 and _ay_ (OE. _ege_) II 571; _neuen_ (ON. _nefna_) 'to name' XVII 12 and _nem(p)ne_ (OE. _nemnan_) II 600; _rot_ (ON. _rót_) II 256 and _wort_ (OE. _wyrt_) VIII _a_ 303; _sterne_, _starne_ (ON. _stjarna_) XVII 8, 423 and native _sterre_, _starre_ (OE. _steorra_); _systyr_ (ON. _systir_) I 112 and _soster_ (OE. _sweostor_) XV _g_ 10; _werre_, _warre_ (ON. _verri_) XVI 154 (note), 334 and native _werse_, _wars_ (OE. _wyrsa_) XVI 200, XVII 191; _wylle_ (ON. _vill-r_) V 16 and native _wylde_ (OE. _wilde_) XV _b_ 19. Note that in Norse borrowings the consonants _g_, _k_ remain stops where they are palatalized in English words: _garn_ XVII 298, _giue_, _gete_ (ON. _garn_, _gefa_, _geta_) beside _[gh]arn_, _[gh]iue_, _for-[gh]ete_ (OE. _gearn_, _giefan_, _for-gietan_); _kirke_ (ON. _kirkja_) beside _chirche_ (OE. _cirice_). Similarly OE. initial _sc-_ regularly becomes ME. _sh-_, so that most words beginning with _sk-_, like _sky_, _skin_, _skyfte_ VI 209 (English _shift_), _skirte_ (English _shirt_), are Norse; see the alliterating words in V 99. There is an excellent monograph by E. Björkman: _Scandinavian Loan-Words in Middle English_, 1900. (_b_) #French.# Most early borrowings from French were again due to invasion and settlement. But the conditions of contact were very different. Some were unfavourable to borrowing: the Normans, who were relatively few, were dispersed throughout the country, and not, like the Scandinavians, massed in colonies; and their language had little in common with English. So the number of French words in English texts is small before the late thirteenth and the fourteenth centuries. Other conditions made borrowing inevitable: the French speakers were the governing class; they gradually introduced a new system of administration and new standards of culture; and they had an important literature to which English writers turned for their subject-matter and their models of form. Fourteenth-century translators adopt words from their French originals so freely (see note at p. 234, foot), that written Middle English must give a rather exaggerated impression of the extent of French influence on the spoken language. But a few examples will show how many common words are early borrowings from French: nouns like _country_, _face_, _place_, _river_, _courtesy_, _honour_, _joy_, _justice_, _mercy_, _pity_, _reason_, _religion_, _war_; adjectives like _close_, _large_, _poor_; and verbs _cry_, _pay_, _please_, _save_, _serve_, _use_. Anglo-French was never completely homogeneous, and it was constantly supplemented as a result of direct political, commercial, and literary relations with France. Hence words were sometimes adopted into ME. in more than one French dialectal form. For instance, Late Latin _ca-_ became _cha-_ in most French dialects, but remained _ca-_ in the North of France: hence ME. _catch_ and _(pur)chase_, _catel_ and _chatel_, _kanel_ 'neck' V 230 and _chanel_ 'channel' XIII _a_ 57. So Northern French preserves initial _w-_, for which other French dialects substitute _g(u)_: hence _Wowayn_ V 121 beside _Gawayn_ V 4, &c. (see note to V 121). Again, in Anglo-French, _a_ before nasal + consonant alternates with _au_:--_dance_: _daunce_; _chance_: _chaunce_; _change_: _chaunge_; _chambre_ XVII 281: _chaumber_ II 100. English still has the verbs _launch_ and _lance_, which are ultimately identical. As borrowing extended over several centuries, the ME. form sometimes depends on the date of adoption. Thus Latin _fidem_ becomes early French _feið_, later _fei_, and later still _foi_. ME. has both _feiþ_ and _fay_, and by Spenser's time _foy_ appears. The best study of the French element in ME. is still that of D. Behrens: _Beiträge zur Geschichte der französischen Sprache in England_, 1886. A valuable supplement, dealing chiefly with Anglo-French as the language of the law, is the chapter by F. W. Maitland in _The Cambridge History of English Literature_, vol. i. § 4. HANDWRITING. In the ME. period two varieties of script were in use, both developed from the Caroline minuscule which has proved to be the most permanent contribution of the schools of Charlemagne. The one, cursive and flourished, is common in charters, records, and memoranda; see C. H. Jenkinson and C. Johnson, _Court Hand_, 2 vols., Oxford 1915. The other, in which the letters are separately written, with few flourishes or adaptations of form in combination, is the 'book hand', so called because it is regularly used for literary texts. Between the extreme types there are many gradations; and fifteenth-century copies, such as the Cambridge MS. of Barbour's _Bruce_, show an increasing use of cursive forms, which facilitate rapid writing. The shapes of letters were not always so distinct as they are in print, so that copyists of the time, and even modern editors, are liable to mistake one letter for another. Each hand has its own weaknesses, but the letters most commonly misread are:-- _e_ : _o_ e.g. _Beuo_ for _Bouo_ I 59; _wroche_ for _wreche_ II 333; _teches_ IV _b_ 60, where _toches_ (foot-note) is probably right; pesible (MS. _posible_) XI _b_ 67. _u_ : _n_ (practically indistinguishable) e.g. _menys_ (MS. _mouys_) XVI 301; _skayned_ (edd. _skayued_) V 99; _ryue[gh]_ or _ryne[gh]_ V 222 (note). This is only a special case of the confusion of letters and combinations formed by repetition of the downstroke, e.g. _u_, _n_, _m_, and _i_ (which is not always distinguished by a stroke above). Hence _dim_ II 285 where modern editors have _dun_, although _i_ has the distinguishing stroke. _y_ : _þ_ e.g. _ye_ (MS. _þe_) XIV _d_ 11; see note to XV _a_ 12. Confusion is increased by occasional transference to _þ_ of the dot which historically may stand over _y_. _[gh]_ for _þ_ initially, as in XVI 170, is more often due to confusion of the letters _þ_: _y_ and subsequent preference of _[gh]_ for _y_ in spelling (§ 5 i) than to direct confusion of _þ_: _[gh]_, which are not usually very similar in late Middle English script. _þ_ : _h_ e.g. _doþ_ (MS. _doh_) XV _b_ 22; and notes to XII _b_ 116, XVI 62. _b_ : _v_ e.g. _vousour_ (edd. _bonsour_) II 363. _c_ : _t_ e.g. _cunesmen_ (edd. _tunesmen_) XV _g_ 6 (note); _top_ (edd. _cop_) ibid. 16; see note to XIII _a_ 7. _f_ : _[s]_ (= _s_) e.g. _slang_ (variant _flang_) X 53. _l_ : _[s]_ (= _s_) e.g. _al_ (edd. _as_) II 108. _l_ : _k_ e.g. _kyþe[gh]_ (MS. _lyþe[gh]_) VI 9. § 5. SPECIAL LETTERS. Two letters now obsolete are common in fourteenth-century MSS.: _þ_ and _[gh]_. _þ_: 'thorn', is a rune, and stands for the voiced and voiceless sounds now represented by _th_ in _this_, _thin_. The gradual displacement of _þ_ by _th_, which had quite a different sound in classical Latin (note to VIII _a_ 23), may be traced in the MSS. printed (except X, XII). _þ_ remained longest in the initial position, but by the end of the fifteenth century was used chiefly in compendia like _þe_ 'the', _þt_ 'that'. _[gh]_: called '_[gh]o[gh]_' or '_yogh_', derives from _ _, the OE. script form of the letter _g_. It was retained in ME. after the Caroline form _g_ had become established in vernacular texts, to represent a group of spirant sounds: (i) The initial spirant in _[gh]oked_ IX 253 (OE. _geoc-_), _[gh]ere_ I 151 (OE. _g[=e]ar_), where the sound was approximately the same as in our _yoke_, _year_. Except in texts specially influenced by the tradition of French spelling, _y_ (which is ambiguous owing to its common use as a vowel = _i_) is less frequent than _[gh]_ initially. Medially the palatal spirant is represented either by _[gh]_ or _y_: _e[gh]e_ (OE. _[=e](a)[gh]-_) XV _c_ 14 beside _eyen_ VIII _a_ 168; _ise[gh]e_ (OE. _gesegen_) XIV _c_ 88 beside _iseye_ XIV _c_ 16. The medial guttural spirant more commonly develops to _w_ in the fourteenth century: _awe_ (ON. _agi_) I 83, _felawe_ (ON. _félagi_) XIV _d_ 7, _halwes_ (OE. _halg-_), beside _a[gh]-_ V 267, _fela[gh]-_ V 83, _hal[gh]-_ V 54. (ii) The medial or final spirant, guttural or palatal, which is lost in standard English, but still spelt in _nought_, _through_, _night_, _high_: ME. _no[gh]t_, _þur[gh]_, _ny[gh]t_, _hy[gh]_: OE. _noht_, _þurh_, _niht_, _h[=e]h_. The ME. sound was probably like that in German _ich_, _ach_. The older spelling with _h_ is occasionally found; more often _ch_ as in _mycht_ X 17; but the French spelling _gh_ gains ground throughout the century. Abnormal are _write_ for _wrighte_ XVI 230, _wytes_, _nytes_ for _wy[gh]tes_, _ny[gh]tes_ XV _i_ 19 f. (iii) As these sounds weakened in late Southern ME., _[gh]_ was sometimes used without phonetic value, or at the most to reinforce a long _i_: e.g. _Engli[gh]sch_ XI _a_ 28, 37, &c. _ky[gh]n_ 'kine' IX 256. N.B.--Entirely distinct in origin and sound value, but identical in script form, is _[gh]_, the minuscule form of _z_, in _A[gh]one_ (= _Azone_) I 105, _clyffe[gh]_ 'cliffs' V 10, &c. It would probably be better to print _z_ in such words. § 6. SPELLING. Modern English spelling, which tolerates almost any inconsistency in the representation of sounds provided the same word is always spelt in the approved way, is the creation of printers, schools, and dictionaries. A Middle English writer was bound by no such arbitrary rules. Michael of Northgate, whose autograph MS. survives, writes _diaknen_ III 5 and _dyacne_ 9; _vyf_ 22, _uif_ 23, _vif_ 37; _þouzond_ 30 and _þousend_ 34. Yet his spelling is not irrational. The comparative regularity of his own speech, which he reproduced directly, had a normalizing influence; and by natural habit he more often than not solved the same problem of representation in the same way. Scribes, too, like printers in later times, found a measure of consistency convenient, and the spelling of some transcripts, e.g. I and X, is very regular. If at first ME. spelling appears lawless to a modern reader, it is because of the variety of dialects represented in literature, the widely differing dates of the MSS. printed, and the tendency of copyists to mix their own spellings with those of their original. The following points must be kept in mind: (i) _i_ : _y_ as vowels are interchangeable. In some MSS. (for instance, I) _y_ is used almost exclusively; in others (VIII _a_) it is preferred for distinctness in the neighbourhood of _u_, _n_, _m_, so that the scribe writes _hym_, but _his_. (ii) _ie_ is found in later texts for long close _[=e.]_: _chiere_ XII _a_ 120, _flietende_ XII _a_ 157, _diemed_ XII _b_ 216. (iii) _ui_ (_uy_), in the South-West and West Midlands, stands for _[=ü]_ (sounded as in French _amuser_): _puit_ XIV _c_ 12; _vnkuynde_ XIV _c_ 103. The corresponding short _ü_ is spelt _u_: _hull_ '_hill_', &c. (iv) Quite distinct is the late Northern addition of _i_ (_y_), to indicate the long vowels _[=a]_, _[=e]_, _[=o]_: _neid_ X 18, _noyne_ 'noon' X 67. (v) _ou_ (_ow_) is the regular spelling of long _[=u]_ (sounded as in _too_): _hous_, _now_, _founden_, &c. (vi) _o_ is the regular spelling for short _u_ (sounded as in _put_) in the neighbourhood of _u_, _m_, _n_, because if _u_ is written in combination with these letters an indistinct series of downstrokes results. Hence _loue_ but _luf_, _come_ infin., _sone_ 'son', _dronken_ 'drunk'. In _Ayenbyte_ _o_ for _[)u]_ is general, e.g. _grochinge_ III 10. In other texts it is common in _bote_ 'but'. (vii) _u_ : _v_ are not distinguished as consonant and vowel. _v_ is preferred in initial position, _u_ medially or finally: _valay_ 'valley', _vnder_ 'under', _vuel_ (= _üvel_) 'evil', _loue_ 'love'. (Note that in XII the MS. distinction of _v_ and _u_ is not reproduced.) (viii) So _i_, and its longer form _j_, are not distinguished as vowel and consonant. In this book _i_ is printed throughout, and so stands initially for the sound of our _j_ in _ioy_, _iuggement_, &c. (ix) _c_ : _k_ for the sounds in _kit_, _cot_, are often interchangeable; but _k_ is preferred before palatal vowels _e_, _i_ (_y_); and _c_ before _o_, _u_. See the alliterating words in V 52, 107, 128, 153, 272, 283. (x) _c_ : _s_ alternate for voiceless _s_, especially in French words: _sité_ 'city' VII 66, _resayue_ 'receive' V 8, _vyse_ 'vice' V 307, _falce_ V 314; but also in _race_ (ON. _rás_) V 8 beside _rase_ XVII 429. (xi) _s_ : _z_ (_[gh]_) are both used for voiced _s_, the former predominating: _kyssedes_ beside _ra[gh]te[gh]_ V 283; _þouzond_ III 30 beside _þousend_ III 34. But _[gh]_ occasionally appears for voiceless _s_: _(a[gh]-)le[gh]_ 'awe-less' V 267, _for[gh]_ 'force' 'waterfall' V 105. (xii) _sh_ : _sch_ : _ss_ are all found for modern _sh_, OE. _sc_: _shuld_ I 50; _schert_ II 230; _sserte_ III 40; but _sal_ 'shall', _suld_ 'should' in Northern texts represent the actual Northern pronunciation in weakly stressed words. (xiii) _v_ : _w_: In late Northern MSS. _v_ is often found for initial _w_: _vithall_ X 9, _Valter_ X 36. The interchange is less common in medial positions: _in swndir_ X 106. (xiv) _wh-_ : _qu(h)-_ : _w-_:--_wh-_ is a spelling for _hw-_. In the South the aspiration is weakened or lost, and _w_ is commonly written, e.g. VIII _b_. In the North the aspiration is strong, and the sound is spelt _qu(h)-_, e.g. _quhelis_ 'wheels' X 17. Both _qu-_ and _wh-_ are found in _Gawayne_. The development in later dialects is against the assumption that _hw-_ became _kw-_ in pronunciation. See also § 5. The whole system of ME. spelling was modelled on French, and some of the general features noted above (e.g. ii, iii, v, vi, x) are essentially French. But, particularly in early MSS., there are a number of exceptional imitations. Sometimes the spelling represents a French scribe's attempt at English pronunciation: _foret_ in XV _g_ 18 stands for _forþ_, where _-rþ_ with strongly trilled _r_ was difficult to a foreigner; and occasionally such distortions are found as _knith_, _knit_, and even _kint_ (_Layamon_, _Havelok_) for _kni[gh]t_, which had two awkward consonant groups. More commonly the copyist, accustomed to write both French and English, chose a French representation for an English sound. So _st_ for _ht_ appears regularly in XV _e_: _seuenist_ 'sennight', and XV _g_: _iboust_ 'bought', &c. The explanation is that in French words like _beste_ 'bête', _gist_ 'gît', _s_ became only a breathing before it disappeared; and _h_ in ME. _ht_ weakened to a similar sound, as is shown by the rimes with _Kryste_ 'Christ' in VI 98-107. Hence the French spelling _st_ is occasionally substituted for English _ht_. Again, in borrowings from French, _an_ + consonant alternates with _aun_: _dance_ or _daunce_; _change_ or _chaunge_ (p. 273); and by analogy we have _Irlande_ or _Irlaunde_ in XV _d_. Another exceptional French usage, _-tz_ for final voiceless _-s_, is explained at p. 219, top. § 7. SOUND CHANGES. (_a_) #Vowel Quantity.# No fourteenth-century writer followed the early example of Orm. Marks of quantity are not used in fourteenth-century texts; doubling of long vowels is not an established rule; and there are no strictly quantitative metres, or treatises on pronunciation. Consequently it is not easy to determine how far the quantity of the vowels in any given text has been affected by the very considerable changes that occurred in the late OE. and ME. periods. Of these the chief are: (i) In unstressed syllables original long vowels tend to become short. Hence _[)u]s_ (OE. _[=u]s_), and _b[)o]te_ (OE. _b[=u]tan_) 'but', which are usually unstressed. (ii) All long vowels are shortened in stressed close syllables (i.e., _usually_, when they are followed by two consonants): e.g. _k[=e]pen_, pa. t. _k[)e]pte_, pp. _k[)e]pt_; _h[)u]sband_ beside _hous_; _w[)i]mmen_ (from _w[)i]f-men_) beside _w[=i]f_. _Exception._ Before the groups _-ld_, _-nd_, _-rd_, _-rð_, _-mb_, a short vowel is lengthened in OE. unless a third consonant immediately follows. Hence, before any of these combinations, length may be retained in ME.: e.g. _f[=e]nd_ 'fiend', _b[=i]nden_, _ch[=i]ld_; but _ch[)i]ldren_. (iii) Short vowels _[)a]_, _[)e]_, _[)o]_ are lengthened in stressed open syllables (i.e., _usually_, when they are followed by a single consonant with a following vowel): _t[)a]|ke_ > _táke_; _m[)e]|te_ > _méte_ 'meat'; _br[)o]|ken_ > _bróken_. To what extent _[)i]_ and _[)u]_ were subject to the same lengthening in Northern districts is still disputed. Normally they remain short in South and S. Midlands, e.g. _dr[)i]uen_ pp.; _l[)o]uen_ = _l[)u]ven_ 'to love'. There are many minor rules and many exceptions due to analogy; but roughly it may be taken that ME. vowels are: _short_ when unstressed; _short_ before two consonants, except _-ld_, _-nd_, _-rd_, _-rð_, _-mb_; _long_ (except _i_ (_y_), _u_) before a single medial consonant; otherwise of the quantity shown in the Glossary for the OE. or ON. etymon. (_b_) #Vowel Quality.# The ME. sound-changes are so many and so obscure that it will be possible to deal only with a few that contribute most to the diversity of dialects, and it happens that the particular changes noticed all took effect before the fourteenth century. (i) OE. and ON. _[=a]_ develop to long open _[=o,]_ (sounded as in _broad_), first in the South and S. Midlands, later in the N. Midlands. In the North _[=a]_ (sounded approximately as in _f~a~ther_) remains: e.g. _bane_ 'bone' IV _a_ 54, _balde_ 'bold' IV _a_ 51. The boundary seems to have been a line drawn west from the Humber, and this approximates to the dividing line in the modern dialects. There are of course instances of _[=o,]_ to the north and of _[=a]_ to the south of the Humber, since border speakers would be familiar with both _[=a]_ and _[=o,]_, or would have intermediate pronunciations; and poets might use convenient rimes from neighbouring dialects. (ii) OE. _[)=y]_ (deriving from Germanic _[)=u]_ followed by _i_) appears _normally_ in E. Midlands and the North as _[)=i]_ (_[)=y]_): e.g. _k[=y]n_, _hill_ (OE. _c[=y]_, _hyll_). In the South-East, particularly Kent, it appears as _[)=e.]_: _k[=e]n_, _hell_. In the South-West, and in W. Midlands, it commonly appears as _u_, _ui_ (_uy_), with the sound of short or long _ü_. London was apparently at a meeting point of the _u_, _i_, and _e_ boundaries, because all the forms appear in fourteenth-century London texts, though _[)=ü]_ and _[)=e]_ gradually give place to _[)=i]_. The extension of _[)=ü]_ forms to the North-West is shown by _Gawayne_, and a line drawn from London to Liverpool would give a rough idea of the boundary. But within this area unrounding of _[)=ü]_ to _[)=i]_ seems to have been progressive during the century. N.B.--It is dangerous to jump to conclusions from isolated examples. Before _r_ + consonant _e_ is sometimes found in all dialects, e.g. _schert_ II 230. _Church_, spelt with _u_, _i_, or _e_, had by etymology OE. _i_, not _y_. And in Northern texts there are a number of _e_-spellings in open syllables, both for OE. _y_ and _i_. (_c_) #Consonants#: (i) _f_ > _v_ (initial): this change, which dates back to OE. times, is carried through in _Ayenbyte_: e.g. _uele uayre uorbisnen_ = Midland '_fele fayre forbisnes_'. In some degree it extended over the whole of the South. (ii) _s_ > _z_ (initial), parallel to the change of _f_ to _v_, is regularly represented in spelling in the _Ayenbyte_: _zome_ 'some', &c. Otherwise _z_ is rare in spelling, but the voiced initial sound probably extended to most of the Southern districts where it survives in modern dialect. § 8. PRONUNCIATION. One of the best ways of studying ME. pronunciation is to learn by heart a few lines of verse in a consistent dialect, and to correct their repetition as more precise knowledge is gained. The spelling can be relied on as very roughly phonetic if the exceptional usages noted in § 6 are kept in mind. Supplementary and controlling information is provided by the study of rimes, of alliteration, and of the history of English and French sounds. #Consonants.# Where a consonant is clearly pronounced in Modern English, its value is nearly enough the same for ME. But modern spelling preserves many consonants that have been lost in speech, and so is rather a hindrance than a help to the beginner in ME. For instance, the initial sounds in ME. _kni[gh]t_ and _ni[gh]t_ were not the same, for _kni[gh]t_ alliterates always with _k-_ (V 43, 107) and _ni[gh]t_ with _n-_ (VII 149); and initial _wr-_ in _wringe_, _wri[gh]te_ is distinct from initial _r-_ in _ring_, _ri[gh]t_ (cp. alliteration in VIII _a_ 168, V 136). Nor can _wri[gh]te_ rime with _write_ in a careful fourteenth-century poem. In words like _lerne_, _doghter_, _r_ was pronounced with some degree of trilling. And although there are signs of confusion in late MSS. (IV _a_, XVI, XVII), double consonants were generally distinguished from single: _sonne_ 'sun' was pronounced _s[)u]n-ne_, and so differed from _sone_ 'son', which was pronounced _s[)u]-ne_ (§ 6 vi). #Vowels.# Short vowels _[)a]_, _[)e]_, _[)i]_, _[)o]_, _[)u]_ (§ 6 vi) were pronounced respectively as in French _patte_, English _pet_, _pit_, _pot_, _put_. Final unstressed _-e_ was generally syllabic, with a sound something like the final sound in _China_ (§ 9). The long vowels _[=a]_, _[=i]_, _[=u]_ (§ 6 v) were pronounced approximately as in _f~a~ther_, _mach~i~ne_, _cr~u~de_. But _[=e]_ and _[=o]_ present special difficulties, because the spelling failed to make the broad distinction between open _[=o,]_ and close _[=o.]_, open _[=e,]_ and close _[=e.]_--a distinction which, though relative only (depending on the greater or less opening of the mouth passage), is proved to have been considerable by ME. rimes, and by the earlier and subsequent history of the long sounds represented in ME. by _e_, _o_. (i) Open _[=o,]_ (as in _broad_) derives: (_a_) from OE. _[=a]_, according to § 7 b i: OE. _br[=a]d_, _b[=a]t_, _báld_ > ME. _br[=o,]d_, _b[=o,]t_, _b[=o,]ld_ > NE. _broad_, _boat_, _bold_. The characteristic modern spelling is thus _oa_. (_b_) from OE. _[)o]_ in open syllables according to § 7 a iii: OE. _br[)o]cen_ > ME. _br[ó,]ke(n)_ > NE. _broken_. NOTE.--In many texts the rimes indicate a distinction in pronunciation between _[=o,]_ derived from OE. _[=a]_ and _[=o,]_ derived from OE. _[)o]_, and the distinction is still made in NW. Midland dialects. (ii) Close _[=o.]_ (pronounced rather as in French _beau_ than as in standard English _so_ which has developed a diphthong _[o.]u_), derives from OE. _[=o]_: OE. _g[=o]s_, _d[=o]m_, _góld_ > ME. _g[=o.]s_, _d[=o.]m_, _g[=o.]ld_ > NE. _goose_, _doom_, _gold_. The characteristic modern spelling is _oo_. NOTE.--(1) After consonant + _w_, _[=o,]_ often develops in ME. to _[=o.]_: OE. _(al)sw[=a]_, _tw[=a]_ > ME. _(al)s[=o,]_, _tw[=o,]_ > later _(al)s[=o.]_, _tw[=o.]_. (2) In Scotland and the North _[=o.]_ becomes regularly a sound (perhaps _[=ü]_) spelt _u_: _g[=o]d_ > _gud_, _bl[=o]d_ > _blud_, &c. Whereas the distribution of _[=o,]_ and _[=o.]_ is practically the same for all ME. dialects, the distinction of open _[=e,]_ and close _[=e.]_ is not so regular, chiefly because the sounds from which they derive were not uniform in OE. dialects. For simplicity, attention will be confined to the London dialect, as the forerunner of modern Standard English. (iii) South-East Midland open _[=e,]_ (pronounced as in _there_) derives: (_a_) from OE. (Anglian) _[=æ]_: Anglian _d[=æ]l_ > SE. Midl. _d[=e,]l_ > NE. _deal_; (_b_) from OE. _[=e]a_: OE. _b[=e]atan_ > ME. _b[=e,]te(n)_ > NE. _beat_; (_c_) from OE. _[)e]_ in open syllables according to § 7 a iii: OE. _m[)e]te_ > ME. _m[é,]te_ > NE. _meat_. The characteristic modern spelling is _ea_. (iv) South-East Midland close _[=e.]_ (pronounced as in French _été_) derives: (_a_) from OE. (Anglian) _[=e]_ of various origins: Anglian _h[=e]r_, _m[=e]ta(n)_, _(ge)l[=e]fa(n)_ > SE. Midl. _h[=e.]re_, _m[=e.]te(n)_, _l[=e.]ue(n)_ > NE. _here_, _meet_, _(be)lieve_. (_b_) from OE. _[=e]o_: OE. _d[=e]op_, _þ[=e]of_ > ME. _d[=e.]p_, _þ[=e.]f_ (_þief_) > NE. _deep_, _thief_. The characteristic modern spellings are _ee_, and _ie_ which already in ME. often distinguishes the close sound (§ 6 ii). NOTE.--The distinction made above does not apply in South-Eastern (Kentish), because this dialect has ME. _ea_, _ia_, _ya_ for OE. _[=e]a_ (iii b), and OE. _[=e]_ for Anglian _[=æ]_ (iii a). Nor does it hold for South-Western, because the West Saxon dialect of OE. had _gel[=i]efan_ for Anglian _gel[=e]fa(n)_ (iv a). West Saxon also had _str[=æ]t_, _-dr[=æ]dan_, where normal Anglian had _str[=e.]t_, _-dr[=e.]da(n)_, but the distribution of the place-names _Stratton_ beside _Stretton_, and of the pa. t. and pp. _dradd(e)_ beside _dredd(e)_ (p. 270 and n.), shows that the _[=æ]_ forms were common in the extreme South and the East of the Anglian area; so that in fourteenth-century London both _[=e,]_ and _[=e.]_ might occur in such words, as against regular West Midland and Northern _[=e.]_. In NE. Midland and Northern texts some _[=e]_ sounds which we should expect to be distinguished as open and close rime together, especially before dental consonants, e.g. _[gh][=e]de_ (OE. _[=e]ode_): _l[=e]de_ (Anglian _l[=æ]da(n)_) I 152-3. § 9. INFLEXIONS. Weakening and levelling of inflexions is continuous from the earliest period of English. The strong stress falling regularly on the first or the stem syllable produced as reflex a tendency to indistinctness in the unstressed endings. The disturbing influence of foreign conquest played a secondary but not a negligible part, as may be seen from a comparison of some verbal forms in the North and the N. Midlands, where Norse influence was strongest, with those of the South, where it was inconsiderable: Normal Early Early Old OE. Sth. Nth.and Norse ME. N. Midl. Infin. _dr[=i]fan_ _driue(n)_ _driue_ _drífa_ Pres. p. _dr[=i]fende_ _driuinde_ _driuande_ _drífandi_ Pp. strong _gedrifen_ _ydriue_ _driuen_ _drifenn_ and although tangible evidence of French influence on the flexional system is wanting (for occasional borrowings like _gowtes artetykes_ IX 314 are mere literary curiosities), every considerable settlement of foreign speakers, especially when they come as conquerors, must shake the traditions of the language of the conquered. A third cause of uncertainty was the interaction of English dialects in different stages of development. The practical sense of the speakers controlled and balanced these disruptive factors. There is no better field than Middle English for a study of the processes of vigorous growth: the regularizing of exceptional and inconvenient forms; the choice of the most distinctive among a group of alternatives; the invention of new modes of expression; the discarding of what has become useless. At the beginning of the fourteenth century the inflexional endings are: _-e_; _-en_; _-ene_ (weak gen. pl.); _-er_ (comparative); _-es_; _-est_; with _-eþ_, _-ede_ (_-de_, _-te_), _-ed_ (_-d_, _-t_), _-ynge_ (_-inde_, _-ende_, _-ande_), which are verbal only. NOTE.--(_a_) Sometimes one of these inflexions may be substituted for another: e.g. when _-es_ replaces _-e_ as the Northern ending of the 1st sg. pres. ind. Such analogical substitutions must be distinguished from phonetic developments. (_b_) In disyllabic inflexions like _-ede_, _-ynge_ (_-ande_), final _-e_ is lost early in the North. In polysyllables it is dropped everywhere during the century. (_c_) The indistinct sound of flexional _-e-_ covered by a consonant is shown by spellings with _-i-_, _-y-_: _woundis_ X 51; _madist_ XI _b_ 214; _blyndiþ_ XI _b_ 7; _fulfillid_ XVI 6; _etin_ XIV _b_ 76; _brokynne_ XVI 195. And, especially in West Midland texts, _-us_, _-un_ (_-on_) appear for _-es_, _-en_: _mannus_ XI _b_ 234; _foundun_ XI _a_ 47; _laghton_ VII 119. Complete syncope sometimes occurs: _days_ I 198, &c. Otherwise all the inflexions except _-e_, _-en_, are fairly stable throughout the century. #-en#: In the North _-en_ is found chiefly in the strong pp., where it is stable. In the South (except in the strong pp.) it is better preserved, occurring rarely in the dat. sg. of adjectives, e.g. _onen_ III 4, dat. pl. of nouns, e.g. _diaknen_ III 5, and in the infinitive; more commonly in the weak pl. of nouns, where it is stable, and in the pa. t. pl., where it alternates with _-e_. In the Midlands _-en_, alternating with _-e_, is also the characteristic ending of the pres. ind. pl. As a rule (where the reduced ending _-e_ is found side by side with _-en_) _-e_ is used before words beginning with a consonant, and _-en_ before words beginning with a vowel or _h_, to avoid hiatus. But that the preservation of _-en_ does not depend purely on phonetic considerations is proved by its regular retention in the Northern strong pp., and its regular reduction to _-e_ in the corresponding Southern form. #-e#: Wherever _-en_ was reduced, it reinforced final _-e_, which so became the meeting point of all the inflexions that were to disappear before Elizabethan times. _-e_ was the ending of several verbal forms; of the weak adjective and the adjective pl.; of the dat. sg. of nouns; and of adverbs like _faste_, _deepe_, as distinguished from the corresponding adjectives _fast_, _deep_. That _-e_ was pronounced is clear from the metres of Chaucer, Gower, and most other Southern and Midland writers of the time. For centuries the rhythm of their verse was lost because later generations had become so used to final _-e_ as a mere spelling that they did not suspect that it was once syllabic. But already in fourteenth-century manuscripts there is evidence of uncertainty. Scribes often omit the final vowel where the rhythm shows that it was syllabic in the original (see the language notes to I, II). Conversely, in _Gawayne_ forms like _burne_ (OE. _beorn_), _race_ (ON. _rás_), _hille_ (OE. _hyll_) appear in nominative and accusative, where historically there should be no ending. The explanation is that, quite apart from the workings of analogy, which now extended and now curtailed its historical functions, _-e_ was everywhere weakly pronounced, and was dropped at different rates in the various dialects. In the North it hardly survives the middle of the century (IV _a_, X). In the N. Midlands its survival is irregular. In the South and S. Midlands it is fairly well preserved till the end of the century. But everywhere the proportion of flexionless forms was increasing. It may be assumed that, in speech as in verse, final _-e_ was lost phonetically first before words beginning with a vowel or _h_. § 10. NOUNS: Gender, which in standard West Saxon had been to a great extent grammatical (i.e. dependent on the forms of the noun), was by the fourteenth century natural (i.e. dependent on the meaning of the noun). This change had accompanied and in some degree facilitated the transfer of nearly all nouns to the strong masculine type, which was the commonest and best defined in late OE.: OE. ME. Sg. nom. acc. _cniht_ _kni[gh]t_ gen. _cnihtes_ _kni[gh]tes_ dat. _cnihte_ _kni[gh]te_ OE. ME. Pl. nom. acc. _cnihtas_ _kni[gh]tes_ gen. _cnihta_ _kni[gh]tes_ dat. _cnihtum_ _kni[gh]tes_ In the North final _-e_ of the dat. sg. was regularly dropped early in the fourteenth century, and even in the South the dat. sg. is often uninflected, probably owing to the influence of the accusative. In the plural the inflexion of the nom. acc. spreads to all cases; but in early texts, and relatively late in the South, the historical forms are occasionally found, e.g. gen. pl. _cniste_ (MS. _cnistes_) XV _g_ 30 (note), dat. pl. _diaknen_ III 5. #Survivals#: (i) The common mutated plurals _man_: _men_, _fot_: _fet_, &c., are preserved, and in VIII _b_ a gen. pl. _menne_ (OE. _manna_) occurs; _ky_ pl. of _cow_ forms a new double pl. _kyn_, see (iii) below; _hend_ pl. of _hand_ is Norse, cp. XVI 75 (note). (ii) Some OE. neuters like _shep_ 'sheep' VIII _b_ 18, _[gh]er_ 'year' II 492, _þing_ II 218, _folk_ II 389, resist the intrusion of the masculine pl. _-es_ in nominative and accusative. Pl. _hors_ II 304, XIII _a_ 34 remains beside _horses_ XIV _b_ 73; but _deores_ 'wild animals' occurs at XV _b_ 29, where Modern English preserves _deer_. (iii) In the South the old weak declension with pl. _-en_ persists, though by the fourteenth century the predominance of the strong type is assured. The weak forms occur not only where they are historically justified, e.g. _ey[gh]en_ (OE. _[=e]agan_) II 111, but also by analogy in words like _honden_ (OE. pl. _honda_) II 79, _tren_ (OE. pl. _tr[=e]o_) XIII _a_ 51, _platen_ (OFr. _plate_) XV _g_ 4. The inflexion still survives in three double plural formations: _children_ VIII _b_ 70 beside _childer_ (OE. pl. _cildru_); _bretheren_ VIII _a_ 201 beside _brether_ XVII 320 (OE. pl. _br[=o]þor_); and _ky[gh]n_ IX 256 for _ky_ (cp. (i) above). The OE. weak gen. pl. in _-ena_ leaves its traces in the South, e.g. _knauene_ VIII _b_ 56, XV _h_ 4, and unhistorical _lordene_ VIII _b_ 77. (iv) The group _fader_, _moder_, _broþer_, _doghter_ commonly show the historical flexionless gen. sg., e.g. _doghtyr arme_ I 136; _moder wombe_ XI _b_ 29 f.; _brother hele_ XII _a_ 18; _Fadir voice_ XVI 79. (v) The historical gen. sg. of old strong feminines remains in _soule dede_ (OE. _s[=a]wle_) I 212; but _Lady day_ (OE. _hl[=æ]fdigan dæg_) I 242 is a survival of the weak fem. gen. sg. § 11. ADJECTIVES. Separate flexional forms for each gender are not preserved in the fourteenth century; but until its end the distinction of strong and weak declensions remains in the South and South Midlands, and is well marked in the careful verse of Chaucer and Gower. The strong is the normal form. The weak form is used after demonstratives, _the_, _his_, &c., and in the vocative. As types _god_ (OE. _g[=o]d_) 'good' and _grene_ (OE. _gr[=e]ne_) 'green' will serve, because in OE. _gr[=e]ne_ had a vowel-ending in the strong nom. sg. masc., while _g[=o]d_ did not. The ME. paradigms are: Singular. Plural. Strong Weak Strong and Weak _god_ _god[.e]_ _god[.e]_ _gren[.e]_ _gren[.e]_ _gren[.e]_ Examples: Strong sg. _a gret serpent_ (OE. _gr[=e]at_) XII _b_ 72; _an unkind[.e] man_ (OE. _uncynde_) XII _b_ 1; _a still[.e] water_ (OE. _stille_) XII _a_ 83. Weak sg. _The gret[.e] gastli serpent_ XII _b_ 126; _hire oghn[.e] hertes lif_ XII _a_ 4; _O lef liif_ (where the metre indicates _leu[.e]_ for the original) II 102. Strong pl. _þer wer wid[.e] wones_ II 365. Weak pl. _the smal[.e] stones_ XII _a_ 84. Note that strong and weak forms are identical in the plural; that even in the singular there is no formal distinction when the OE. strong masc. nom. ended in a vowel (_gr[=e]ne_); that monosyllables ending in a vowel (e.g. _fre_), polysyllables, and participles, are usually invariable; and that regular dropping of final _-e_ levels all distinctions, so that the North and N. Midlands early reached the relatively flexionless stage of Modern English. #Survivals.# The _Ayenbyte_ shows some living use of the adjective inflexions. Otherwise the survivals are limited to set phrases, e.g. gen. sg. _nones cunnes_ 'of no kind', _enes cunnes_ 'of any kind', XV _g_ 20, 22. That the force of the inflexion was lost is shown by the early wrong analysis _no skynnes_, _al skynnes_, &c. #Definite Article.# Parallel to the simplification of the adjective, the full OE. declension _s[=e]_, _s[=e]o_, _þæt_, &c., is reduced to invariable _þe_. The _Ayenbyte_ alone of our specimens keeps some of the older distinctions. Elsewhere traces appear in set phrases, e.g. neut. sg. _þat_, _þet_ in _þat on_ 'the one', _þat oþer_ 'the other' V 344, and, with wrong division, _þe ton_ XI _b_ 27, _the toþer_ IX 4; neut. sg. dat. _þen_ (OE. _þ[=æ]m_), with wrong division, in _atte nale_ (for _at þen ale_) VIII _a_ 109. § 12. PRONOUNS. In a brilliant study (_Progress in Language_, London 1894) Jespersen exemplifies the economy and resources of English from the detailed history of the Pronoun. In the first and second persons fourteenth-century usage does not differ greatly from that of the Authorized Version of the Bible. But the pronoun of the third person shows a variety of developments. In the singular an objective case replaces, without practical disadvantages, the older accusative and dative: _him_ (OE. _hine_ and _him_), _her(e)_ (OE. _h[=i]e_ and _hiere_), _(h)it_ (OE. _hit_ and _him_). The possessive _his_ still serves for the neuter as well as the masculine, e.g. _þat ryuer... chaungeþ ~hys~ fordes_ XIII _a_ 55 f.; though an uninflected neuter possessive _hit_ occasionally appears in the fourteenth century. In the plural, where one would expect objective _him_ from the regular OE. dat. pl. _him_, clearness is gained by the choice of unambiguous _hem_, from an OE. dat. pl. by-form _heom_. But as we see from _Orfeo_, ll. 408, 446, 185, in some dialects the nom. sg. masc. (OE. _h[=e]_), nom. sg. fem. (OE. _h[=e]o_), and nom. pl. (OE. _h[=i]e_), had all become ME. _he_. The disadvantages of such ambiguity increased as the flexional system of nouns and adjectives collapsed, and a remedy was found in the adoption of new forms. For the nom. sg. fem., _s(c)he_, _s(c)ho_ (mostly Northern), come into use, which are probably derived from _s[i(][=e]_, _s[e(][=o]_, the corresponding case of the definite article. The innovation was long resisted in the South, and _ho_, an unambiguous development of _he[=o]_, remains late in W. Midland texts like _Pearl_. In the nom. pl. ambiguous _he_ was replaced by _þei_, the nom. pl. of the Norse definite article. This is the regular form in all except the Southern specimens II (orig.), III, XIII. And although the full series of Norse forms _þei_, _þeir_, _þe(i)m_ is found in Orm at the beginning of the thirteenth century, Chaucer and other Midland writers of the fourteenth century as a rule have only _þei_, with native English _her(e)_, _hem_ in the oblique cases. (For details see the language note to each specimen.) The poss. pl. _her(e)_, beside _hor(e)_, was still liable to confusion with the obj. sg. fem. _her(e)_, cp. II 92. Consequently this was the next point to be gained by the Norse forms, e.g. in VII 181. In the Northern texts X, XVI, XVII, all from late MSS., the Norse forms _þai_, _þa(i)r_, _þa(i)me_ are fully established; but _(h)em_, which was throughout unambiguous, survived into modern dialects in the South and Midlands. Note the reduced nominative form _a_ 'he', 'they' in XIII; and the objective _his(e)_ 'her', 'them' in III, which has not been satisfactorily explained. #Relative#: The general ME. relative is _þat_, representing all genders and cases (note to XV _i_ 4). Sometimes definition is gained by adding the personal pronoun: _þat... he (sche)_ = 'who'; _þat... it_ = 'which'; _þat... his_ = 'whose'; _þat ... him_ = 'whom', &c. e.g. _a well, ~þat~ in the day ~it~ is so cold_ IX 5-6, cp. V 127 (note); _oon ~That~ with a spere was thirled ~his~ brest-boon_ 'one whose breast-bone was pierced with a spear', _Knight's Tale_ 1851. For the omission of _þat_ see note to XIII _a_ 36. In later texts, _which_, properly an interrogative, appears commonly as a relative, both with personal and impersonal antecedents, e.g. _Alceone... ~which~... him loveth_ XII _a_ 3 ff.; _þat steede... fro ~whilke~ þe feende fell_ XVI 13 f. Under the influence of French _lequel_, &c., _which_ is often compounded with the article _þe_, e.g. _a gret serpent... ~the which~ Bardus anon up drouh_ XII _b_ 72 f.; _no thing of newe, in ~the whiche~ the hereres myghten hauen... solace_ IX 275 f. Further compounding with _þat_ is not uncommon, e.g. _the queen of Amazoine, ~the whiche þat~ maketh hem to ben kept in cloos_ IX 190 f. More restricted is the relative use of _whos_, _whom_, which are originally interrogatives, though both are found very early in ME. as personal relatives. Examples of the objective after prepositions are: _my Lady, of ~quom~..._ VI 93; _God, fro ~whom~ ..._ IX 328 f.; _my Sone... in ~whome~_ XVI 81 f. The possessive occurs in _Seynt Magne... yn ~whos~ wurschyp_ I 90 f.; _I am ... the same, ~whos~ good_ XII _b_ 78 f.; and, compounded with the article, in _Morpheüs, ~the whos~ nature_ XII _a_ 113. The nominative _who_ retains its interrogative meaning, e.g. _But ~who~ ben more heretikis?_ XI _b_ 77 f.; or is used as an indefinite, e.g. _a tasse of grene stickes... to selle, ~who that~ wolde hem beie_ XII _b_ 22 ff.; but it is never used as a relative; and probably _what_ in XVI 174 is better taken as in apposition to _myghtis_ than as a true relative. § 13. VERB. Syntactically the most interesting point in the history of the ME. verb is the development of the compound tenses with _have_, _be_, _will_, _shall_, _may_, _might_, _mun_, _can_, _gan_. But the flexional forms of the simple tenses are most subject to local variation, and, being relatively common, afford good evidence of dialect. Throughout the period, despite the crossings and confusions that are to be expected in a time of uncertainty and experiment, the distinction between strong and weak verbs is maintained; and it will be convenient to deal first with the inflexions common to both classes, and then to notice the forms peculiar to one or the other. (i) #The Infinitive# had already in Northumbrian OE. lost final _-n_: _dr[=i]fa_ 'to drive'. Hence in ME. of the North and N. Midlands the ending is _-e_, which becomes silent at varying rates during the fourteenth century; e.g. _dryue_ I 171, _to luf_ IV _a_ 17. In the South and S. Midlands the common ending is _-e_, e.g. _telle_ III 3, which usually remains syllabic to the end of the century; but _-(e)n_ is also found, especially in verse to make a rime or to avoid hiatus: e.g. _sein_ (: _a[gh]ein_) XII _a_ 27; _to parte and [gh]iven half his good_ XII _b_ 201. (ii) #The Present Participle# (OE. _dr[=i]fende_) in the North and N. Midlands ends in _-and(e)_, though _-yng(e)_, _-ing(e)_ is beginning to appear in V, VII, XVI, XVII. In S. Midlands the historical ending _-ende_ still prevails in Gower; but Chaucer has more commonly _-yng(e)_; and in IX, XI, both late texts, only _-yng(e)_ appears. In the South _-yng(e)_ is established as early as the beginning of the century, e.g. in II. N.B. Carefully distinguish the verbal noun which always ends in _-yng(e)_. Early confusion resulted in the transference of this ending to the participle. (iii) #Present Indicative.# (_a_) Singular: OE. 1 _dr[=i]fe_, 2 _dr[=i]f(e)s(t)_, 3 _dr[=i]f(e)ð_ (late Northumbrian _dr[=i]fes_). In ME. _-e_, _-est_, _-eþ_ are still the regular endings for the South and most of the Midlands. Shortened forms like _fint_ = _findeþ_ II 239; _stant_ = _standeþ_ XII _a_ 74 are commonest in the South, where in OE. they were a feature of West Saxon and Kentish as distinguished from Anglian. Distinct are the Northern and N. Midland _mas(e)_ 'makes', _tas_ 'takes', with contracted infinitives _ma_, _ta_; and _bus_ 'behoves', which Chaucer uses in his imitation of Northern English, _Reeves Tale_ 172. In N. Midlands the modern 3rd sg. _-(e)s_ is common (V, VI, but not in earlier I). Farther North it is invariable (IV, X, XVI, XVII). The distribution of _-es_ as the ending of the 2nd sg. is the same, and it is extended even to the 1st person. (_b_) Plural: OE. _dr[=i]fað_ (late Northumbrian _dr[=i]fas_). Only Southern ME. retains the OE. inflexion as _-eþ_ (II, III, XIII). The Midland ending, whence the modern form derives, is _-e(n)_; though in the N. Midlands _-es_ occasionally appears. Northern has regularly _-es_, _unless the personal pronoun immediately precedes_, when the ending is _-e_, as in the Midlands, e.g. _þei make_ XVI 103. N.B. In applying this test, care must be taken to exclude inversions, which are subject to special rules; to distinguish the subjunctive (e.g. _falle_ XIII _a_ 52, _drawe_ XIII _b_ 6) from the indicative; and, generally, to choose examples that are syntactically free from doubt, because concord of number is not always logical in ME. SUMMARY. OE. 1. sg. _dr[=i]f-e_ 2. _dr[=i]f-es(t)_ 3. _dr[=i]f-eð_ (Nth. _-es_) pl. _dr[=i]f-að_ (Nth. _-as_) ME. South S. Midl. N. Midl. North 1. sg. _-e_ _-e_ _-(e)_ _-(e)_ or _-(e)s_ 2. _-est_ _-est_ _-es(t)_ _-es_ 3. _-eþ_ _-eþ_ _-eþ_ or _-es_ _-es_ pl. _-eþ_ _-e(n)_ _-e(n)_ or _-es_ _-es_ or _-(e)_ (iv) #The Imperative Plural# might be expected to agree with the pres. ind. pl. In fact it has the ending _-eþ_ not merely in the South, but in most of the Midlands, e.g. I, VIII, Gower and Chaucer. Northern and NW. Midland (V, VI, XIV _b_, XVI) have commonly _-es_. But Chaucer, Gower, and most late ME. texts have, beside the full inflexion, an uninflected form, e.g. _vndo_ XVI 182. (v) #Past Tense.# (_a_) Strong: The historical distinctions of stem-vowel were often obscured in ME. by the rise of new analogical forms, the variety of which can best be judged from the detailed evidence presented in the _New English Dictionary_ under each verb. But, for the common verbs or classes, the South and S. Midlands preserved fairly well the OE. vowel distinction of past tense singular and plural; while North and N. Midlands usually preferred the form proper to the singular for both singular and plural, e.g. _þey bygan_ I 72; _þey ne blan_ I 73; _thai slang_ X 53, where OE. has sg. _gan_: _gunnon_; _blan_: _blunnon_; ON. _sl[o,]ng_: _slungu_. (_b_) Weak: In the South and Midlands the weak pa. t. 2nd sg. usually ends in _-est_ (N. Midland also _-es_): _hadest_ II 573; _cursedest_ I 130; _kyssedes_, _ra[gh]te[gh]_ V 283. In the North, and sometimes in N. Midland, it ends in _-(e)_: _þou hadde_ XVI 219. The full ending of the pa. t. pl. is fairly common in the South, S. Midlands, and NW. Midlands: _wenten_ II 185, _hedden_ III 42, _maden_ XII _b_ 196, _sayden_ VI 174. (vi) #Past Participle (Strong)#: OE. _(ge)dr[)i]fen_. In the North and N. Midlands the ending _-en_ is usually preserved, but the prefix _y-_ is dropped. In the South the type is _y-driue_, with prefix and without final _n_. S. Midland fluctuates--for example, Gower rarely, Chaucer commonly, uses the prefix _y-_. (vii) #Weak Verbs with -i- suffix#: In OE. weak verbs of Class II formed the infinitive in _-ian_, e.g. _acsian_, _lufian_, and the _i_ appeared also in the pres. ind. and imper. pl. _acsiað_ and pres. p. _acsiende_. In ME. a certain number of French verbs with an _-i-_ suffix reinforced this class. In the South and W. Midlands the _-i-_ of the suffix is often preserved, e.g. _aski_ II 467, _louy_ V 27, and is sometimes extended to forms in which it has no historical justification, e.g. pp. _spuryed_ V 25. In the North and the E. Midlands the forms without _i_ are generalized. PRINTED IN ENGLAND AT THE OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS CORRIGENDA To Sisam's _Fourteenth Century Verse and Prose_ p. xlv, l. 7: _for_ carat _read_ caret p. xlvii: _for_ Jessop _read_ Jessopp p. 21, l. 259: _for_ be _read_ he p. 28, l. 493: _for_ enn _read_ en p. 43, foot-note to l. 69: _omit_ 'for:' p. 62, l. 100: _for_ tyste _read_ t yste (_Morris_); _and adjust note at p. 225_. p. 103, l. 254: _for_ largeand _read_ large and p. 175, l. 1: _for_ Daib. _read_ Diab. p. 214, note to _a_: _for_ 'The best... are' _read_ 'This poem is largely a translation of sentences excerpted from Rolle's _Incendium Amoris_, cc. xl-xli (Miss Allen in _Mod. Lang. Review_ for 1919, p. 320). Useful commentaries are' p. 226, note to l. 153: in l. 8 for _t[o,]_ read _t[=o,]_ p. 243, n. to ll. 5-6: _for_ 'external covering' _read_ 'covering over it' p. 291, table, last column, 1 sg.: for '_-e_ or _(e)s_' read '_-(e)_ or _-(e)s_' [Transcriber's Note: A number of editorial corrections are without Footnotes or Notes. The manuscript readings for these are here supplied by the transcriber from the editions of Hamelius and England & Pollard: IX 166 Sy_t_hye] Sychye _MS._ IX 270 i_t_] is _MS._ IX 287 gr_e_uous] grouous _MS._ XVII 85 displeas_es_] displeasse _MS._ XVII 472 th_ou_] thi _MS._ Unusual characters have been transcribed in the following way: [=a] a with macron [)=a] a with breve and macron [)a] a with breve [=æ] æ with macron [´æ] æ with acute ['æ] æ stressed [=e] e with macron [=e.] e with macron and dot below [.e] e with dot above [e,] e with ogonek (e caudata or tailed e) [é,] e with ogonek and acute [e(] e with inverted breve below [)e] e with breve [)=e] e with breve and macron [)=e.] e with breve and macron with dot below [=i] i with macron [i(] i with inverted breve below [)i] i with breve [)=i] i with breve and macron [=n] n with macron [=o] o with macron [=o,] o with macron and ogonek [=o.] o with macron and dot below [=o)] o with macron and breve below [)o] o with breve [)=o] o with breve and macron [o,] o with ogonek [ó,] o with ogonek and acute [o.] o with dot below ['oe] oe ligature, stressed [)u] u with breve [)=u] u with breve and macron [=u] u with macron [=ü] u with macron and diaresis [)=ü] u with diaresis, with breve and macron [=y] y with macron [)=y] y with breve and macron [gh] letter yogh [Gh] letter Yogh [s] long s ['v] v stressed [+] dagger symbol ['-] stressed syllable The CORRIGENDA to Sisam's _Fourteenth Century Verse and Prose_ (see above) from the end of the accompanying vocabulary volume has been moved here. All items listed have been corrected, except p. 62, l. 100: [...] _and adjust note at p. 225_ which remains unadjusted. The line numbering has been regularised to multiples of 5. Lines of prose have their line numbers in {braces} within the text. The companion volume, _A Middle English Vocabulary, designed for use with SISAM's Fourteenth Century Verse & Prose_, by J. R. R. Tolkien is available at PG #43737.] End of Project Gutenberg's Fourteenth Century Verse & Prose, by Various *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FOURTEENTH CENTURY VERSE & PROSE *** Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. START: FULL LICENSE THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license. Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country other than the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided that: • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works. • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS. The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate. While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate. International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate. Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org. This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.