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And lyved in joy ynogh; what wolde ye more?

This Eneas, that hath thus depe yswore,
Ys wery of his crafte withinne a throw;
The hoote erneste is all overblowe.
And prively he dooth his shippes dyghte,
And shapeth him to Steele awey by nyghte.

This Dido hath suspecion of this,
And thoughte wel that hit was al amys;
For in his bede he lythe a nyghte and siketh,
She asketh him anoon what him mysliketh;
'My dere herte which that I love mooste?'

'Certes,' quod he, 'thys nyghte my fadres gooste
Hath in my slepe me so sore turmentede,
And eke Mercure his message hath presentede,
That nedes to the conqueste of Ytayle
My destany is soone for to sayle,
For whiche me thynketh, brosten ys myn herte.'
Therwith his fals teeres oute they sterte,
And taketh hire withinne his armes twoo.
~~' Ys that in ernest?' quod she; 'wol ye soo?
Have ye nat sworne to wif me to take?
Allas, what woman wol ye of me make?
I am a gentil woman, and a queene;
Ye wol nat fro your wyf thus foule fleene!
That I was borne, allas! what shal I doo?'

To telle in short, this noble queene Dido She seketh halwes,1 and doothe sacrifise; She kneleth, crieth, that routhe is to devyse; Conjureth him, and profereth him to bee Hys thral, hys servaunt, in the lest degree. She falleth 'him to foote, and swowneth there, Disshevely with hire bryght gelte here, And seyth, 'Have mercy! let me with yow ryde; These lordes, which that wonnen me besyde, Wol me destroyen oonly for youre sake. And ye wol now me to wife take,

1 That is,' Makes pilgrimages to the Templea of the Gods.'—Compare vol. i. p. 75, note 2, and vol. i. p. j27.

Ag ye han sworne, than wol I yive yow leve

To sleen me with your swerd now soone at eve,

For than shall I yet dien as youre wif.

I am with childe, and yive my childe his lyf!

Mercy lorde, have pitee in youre thoughte!'

But al this thing avayleth hire ryghte noughte,

And as a traytour forthe he gan to sayle

Towarde the large countree of Ytayle.

For on a nyghte sleping he let hire lye,

And staal awey upon his companye.1

And thus hath he lefte Dido in woo and pyne,

And wedded there a lady highte Lavyne.

A clooth he lefte, and eke his swerde stondynge,

Whanne he fro Dido staale in slepynge,

Eighte at hir beddes hed: so gan he hye,

Whanne that he staale awey to his navye.

Which clooth, whanne sely Dido gan awake, She hath kyste ful ofte for hys sake; And seyde, 'O swete clooth, while Jupiter hit leste, Take my soule, unbynd me of this unreste, I have fulfilled of fortune al the course.' And thus, allas, withouten hys socourse, Twenty tyme yswowned hath she thanne. And whanne that she unto hire suster Anne Compleyned had, of which I may not write, So grete routhe I have hit for to endite, And bad hire noryce and hire sustren goon To feche fire, and other thinges anoon; And seyde that she wolde sacrifie; And whanne she myght hire tyme wel espye, Upon the fire of sacrifice she sterte,' And with his swerde she roof hire to the herte. But, as myn auctour seythe, yit thus she seyde, Or she was hurte, beforne or she deide, She wroot a letter anoon, that thus beganne.

'Ryghte so,' quod she, 'as the white swanne

1 This couplet is omitted in the printed editions.

Ayenst hia deeth begynneth for to synge;
Byghte so to yow I make my compleynynge,
Nat that I trowe to geten yow agayne,
For wel I woot hit is al in vayne,
Syn that the goddys ben contrariouse to me.
But syn my name ys loste thurgh yow,' quod she,
'I may well leese a worde on yow, or letter,
Albeit I shal be never the better.
For thilke wynde that blew your shippe away,
The same wynde hath blowe awey your fay.'
But who so wool al this letter have in myude,
Rede Ovyde, and in him he shal hit fynde.1



rPHOU roote offals loveres, duke Jason!

Thou slye devourer, and confusyon
Of gentil wommen, gentil creatures!
Thou madest thy reclaymynge and thy lures"
To ladies of thy staately aparaunce,
And of thy wordes farsed with plesaunce,
And of thy feyned trouthe, and thy manere,
With thyne obeysaunce and humbie chere,
And with thy countrefeted peyne and wool
Ther other falsen oon, thou falseste twoo!
O, ofte swore thou that thou woldest deye
For love, whanne thou ne felteste mala^deye,
Save foule delyte, which thou call est lovel
If that I lyve, thy name shal be shove

1 Ovid, Heroides, Epist. vii. * Ovid, Met. vii., and Heroid. vi.

3 A metaphor taken from falconry. To reclaim a hawk was to tame and train it for hawking.

In Englyash, that thy sleighte shal be knowe;

Have at the, Jason! now thyn horn is blowe!

But certes, it is both routhe and woo,

That love with fals loveres werketh soo;

For they shalle have wel better and gretter chere

Thanne he that hath bought love ful dere,

Or had in armes many a blody box.

For ever as tender a capon eteth the fox,

Though he be fals, and hath the foule betrayed,

As shal the good man that therfor payed;

Allethof he have to the capon skille and ryghte,

The fals fox wil have his part at nyghte.

On Jason this ensample is wel yseene,

By Isiphile and Medea the queene.

In Tessalye, as Ovyde1 telleth us, Ther was a knyghte that highte Pelleus, That had a brother whiche that highte Eson. And whanne for age he myghte unnethes gon, He yaf to Pelleus the governynge Of al his regne, and made him lorde and kynge. Of whiche Eson this J ason geten was; That in his tyme in al that land ther nas Nat suche a famouse knyghte of gentilesse, Of fredome, of strengthe, and of lustynesse. After his fader deeth he bar him soo, That there nas noon that lyste ben his foo, But dide him al honour and companye. Of which this Pelleus hath grete envye, Imagynynge that Jason myghte bee Enhaunced so, and put in suche degree, With love of lordes of his regioun, That from hys regne he may be put adoun. And in his witte a nyghte compassed he How Jason myghte beste destroyed be, Withoute sclaunder of his compassemente. And at the laste he tooke avysemente,

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To sende him into some fer countre,
There as this Jason may destroyed be.
This was hys witte, al made he to Jason
Grete chere of love and of affeccion,
For drede leste hys lordes hyt espyede.
So felle hyt so as fame renneth wide,
Ther was suche tidynge over alle, and suche los,
That in an ile that called was Colcos,
Beyonde Troye estewarde in the see,
That ther was a ram that men myghte see,
That had a flees of golde, that shoon so bryghte,
That no wher was ther suche another syghte,
But hit was kept alway with1 a dragoun,
And many other merveles up and doun;
And with twoo booles maked al of bras,
That spitten fire; and muche thinge ther was.
But this was eke the tale nathelees,
That who so wolde wynne thilke flees,
He moste booth, or he hit wynne myghte,
With the booles and the dragon fyghte;
And king Otes lorde was of that ile.
This Pelleus bethoughte upon this wile,
That he his nevywe Ja3on wolde enhorte,
To saylen to that londe, him to disporte.
And seyde, 'Neviwe, yf hyt myghte be,
That suche worshippe myghte falle the,
That thou this famouse tresor myghte wynne,
And brynge hit my regioun withinne,
It were to me grette plesaunce and honoure;
Thanne were I holde to quyte thy laboure,
And al the costes I wol my selfe make;
And chese what folke thou wilte wyth the take.
Let see nowe, darstow taken this viageT
Jason was yonge, and lustie of corage,
And undertooke to doon this ilke emprise.
Anoon Argus his shippes gan devyse.

1 With, in Chaucer's idiom, governs the ablative of the instrument, like by in modern English.—See vol. iv. p. 42. note 3.

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