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The wordes of the Hoost to the companye.
OUR Hoste sey wel that the brighte sonne | |
| The ark of his artificial day had ronne | |
| The fourthe part, and half an houre, and more; | |
| And though he were not depe expert in lore, | |
| He wiste it was the eightetethe day | 5 |
| Of April, that is messager to May; | |
| And sey wel that the shadwe of every tree | |
| Was as in lengthe the same quantitee | |
| That was the body erect that caused it. | |
| And therfor by the shadwe he took his wit | 10 |
| That Phebus, which that shoon so clere and brighte, | |
| Degrees was fyve and fourty clombe on highte; | |
| And for that day, as in that latitude, | |
| It was ten of the clokke, he gan conclude, | |
| And sodeynly he plighte his hors aboute. | 15 |
| ‘Lordinges,’ quod he, ‘I warne yow, al this route, | |
| The fourthe party of this day is goon; | |
| Now, for the love of god and of seint Iohn, | |
| Leseth no tyme, as ferforth as ye may; | |
| Lordinges, the tyme wasteth night and day, | 20 |
| And steleth from us, what prively slepinge, | |
| And what thurgh necligence in our wakinge, | |
| As dooth the streem, that turneth never agayn, | |
| Descending fro the montaigne in-to playn. | |
| Wel can Senek, and many a philosophre | 25 |
| Biwailen tyme, more than gold in cofre. | |
| “For los of catel may recovered be, | |
| But los of tyme shendeth us,” quod he. | |
| It wol nat come agayn, with-outen drede, | |
| Na more than wol Malkins maydenhede, | 30 |
| Whan she hath lost it in hir wantownesse; | |
| Lat us nat moulen thus in ydelnesse. | |
| Sir man of lawe,’ quod he, ‘so have ye blis, | |
| Tel us a tale anon, as forward is; | |
| Ye been submitted thurgh your free assent | 35 |
| To stonde in this cas at my Iugement. | |
| Acquiteth yow, and holdeth your biheste, | |
| Than have ye doon your devoir atte leste.’ | |
| ‘Hoste,’ quod he, ‘depardieux ich assente, | |
| To breke forward is not myn entente. | 40 |
| Biheste is dette, and I wol holde fayn | |
| Al my biheste; I can no better seyn. | |
| For swich lawe as man yeveth another wight, | |
| He sholde him-selven usen it by right; | |
| Thus wol our text; but natheles certeyn | 45 |
| I can right now no thrifty tale seyn, | |
| But Chaucer, though he can but lewedly | |
| On metres and on ryming craftily, | |
| Hath seyd hem in swich English as he can | |
| Of olde tyme, as knoweth many a man. | 50 |
| And if he have not seyd hem, leve brother, | |
| In o book, he hath seyd hem in another. | |
| For he hath told of loveres up and doun | |
| Mo than Ovyde made of mencioun | |
| In his Epistelles, that been ful olde. | 55 |
| What sholde I tellen hem, sin they ben tolde? | |
| In youthe he made of Ceys and Alcion, | |
| And sithen hath he spoke of everichon, | |
| Thise noble wyves and thise loveres eke. | |
| Who-so that wol his large volume seke | 60 |
| Cleped the Seintes Legende of Cupyde, | |
| Ther may he seen the large woundes wyde | |
| Of Lucresse, and of Babilan Tisbee; | |
| The swerd of Dido for the false Enee; | |
| The tree of Phillis for hir Demophon; | 65 |
| The pleinte of Dianire and Hermion, | |
| Of Adriane and of Isiphilee; | |
| The bareyne yle stonding in the see; | |
| The dreynte Leander for his Erro; | |
| The teres of Eleyne, and eek the wo | 70 |
| Of Brixseyde, and of thee, Ladomëa; | |
| The crueltee of thee, queen Medëa, | |
| Thy litel children hanging by the hals | |
| For thy Iason, that was of love so fals! | |
| O Ypermistra, Penelopee, Alceste, | 75 |
| Your wyfhod he comendeth with the beste! | |
| But certeinly no word ne wryteth he | |
| Of thilke wikke ensample of Canacee, | |
| That lovede hir owne brother sinfully; | |
| Of swiche cursed stories I sey ‘fy’; | 80 |
| Or elles of Tyro Apollonius, | |
| How that the cursed king Antiochus | |
| Birafte his doghter of hir maydenhede, | |
| That is so horrible a tale for to rede, | |
| Whan he hir threw up-on the pavement. | 85 |
| And therfor he, of ful avysement, | |
| Nolde never wryte in none of his sermouns | |
| Of swiche unkinde abhominaciouns, | |
| Ne I wol noon reherse, if that I may. | |
| But of my tale how shal I doon this day? | 90 |
| Me were looth be lykned, doutelees, | |
| To Muses that men clepe Pierides— | |
| Metamorphoseos wot what I mene:— | |
| But nathelees, I recche noght a bene | |
| Though I come after him with hawe-bake; | 95 |
| I speke in prose, and lat him rymes make.’ | |
| And with that word he, with a sobre chere, | |
| Bigan his tale, as ye shal after here. | |
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