<B CMGOWER>
<Q M3 NI FICT GOWER>
<N CONF AMANTIS>
<A GOWER JOHN>
<C M3>
<O 1350-1420>
<M 1350-1420>
<K CONTEMP>
<D EMO>
<V VERSE>
<T FICTION>
<G X>
<F X>
<W WRITTEN>
<X MALE>
<Y 60->
<H HIGH>
<U X>
<E X>
<J X>
<I X>
<Z NARR IMAG>
<S SAMPLE X>


[^GOWER, JOHN.
TEXT:  CONFESSIO AMANTIS.
THE ENGLISH WORKS OF JOHN GOWER, VOLS. I, II.
EARLY ENGLISH TEXT SOCIETY, E.S. 81, 82.
ED. G. C. MACAULAY.
LONDON, 1957 (1900), 1957 (1901).
I,  PP. 175.1678 - 181.1889   (SAMPLE 1)
I,  PP. 316.557  - 322.770    (SAMPLE 2)
II, PP. 71.4573  - 77.4775    (SAMPLE 3)
II, PP. 221.2013 - 226.2209   (SAMPLE 4)^]

<S SAMPLE 1>
<P I,175>
   Thus afterward upon a dai, 
Whan that Demetrius was come,
Anon his fader hath him nome,
And bad unto his brother Perse  
That he his tale schal reherse  
Of thilke tresoun which he tolde. 
And he, which al untrowthe wolde, 
Conseileth that so hih a nede
Be treted wher as it mai spede, 
In comun place of juggement. 
The king therto yaf his assent, 
Demetrius was put in hold, 
Wherof that Perseus was bold.  
<P I,176>
Thus stod the trowthe under the charge,
And the falshede goth at large, 
Which thurgh beheste hath overcome
The greteste of the lordes some,
That privelich of his acord
Thei stonde as witnesse of record:
The jugge was mad favorable: 
Thus was the lawe deceivable 
So ferforth that the trowthe fond 
Rescousse non, and thus the lond
Forth with the king deceived were.
   The gulteles was dampned there  
And deide upon accusement: 
Bot such a fals conspirement,
Thogh it be prive for a throwe, 
Godd wolde noght it were unknowe; 
And that was afterward wel proved 
In him which hath the deth controved.
Of that his brother was so slain
This Perseus was wonder fain,  
As he that tho was apparant, 
Upon the Regne and expectant;
Wherof he wax so proud and vein,
That he his fader in desdeign
Hath take and set of non acompte, 
As he which thoghte him to surmonte; 
That wher he was ferst debonaire, 
He was tho rebell and contraire,
And noght as heir bot as a king 
He tok upon him alle thing 
Of malice and of tirannie  
In contempt of the Regalie,
Livende his fader, and so wroghte,
That whan the fader him bethoghte 
And sih to whether side it drowh, 
Anon he wiste well ynowh
How Perse after his false tunge 
<P I,177>
Hath so thenvious belle runge,  
That he hath slain his oghne brother.
Wherof as thanne he knew non other,  
Bot sodeinly the jugge he nom,  
Which corrupt sat upon the dom, 
In such a wise and hath him pressed, 
That he the sothe him hath confessed 
Of al that hath be spoke and do.
   Mor sori than the king was tho  
Was nevere man upon this Molde, 
And thoghte in certein that he wolde 
Vengance take upon this wrong.  
Bot thother parti was so strong,
That for the lawe of no statut  
Ther mai no riht ben execut; 
And upon this division
The lond was torned up so doun: 
Wherof his herte is so distraght, 
That he for pure sorwe hath caght 
The maladie of which nature
Is queint in every creature. 
   And whan this king was passed thus,  
This false tunged Perseus 
The regiment hath underfonge.
Bot ther mai nothing stonde longe 
Which is noght upon trowthe grounded;
For god, which alle thing hath bounded 
And sih the falshod of his guile, 
Hath set him bot a litel while, 
That he schal regne upon depos; 
For sodeinliche as he aros 
So sodeinliche doun he fell. 
   In thilke time it so befell, 
This newe king of newe Pride 
With strengthe schop him forto ride, 
And seide he wolde Rome waste,  
Wherof he made a besi haste, 
<P I,178>
And hath assembled him an host  
In al that evere he mihte most: 
What man that mihte wepne bere  
Of alle he wolde non forbere;
So that it mihte noght be nombred,
The folk which after was encombred
Thurgh him, that god wolde overthrowe. 
   Anon it was at Rome knowe, 
The pompe which that Perse ladde; 
And the Romeins that time hadde 
A Consul, which was cleped thus 
Be name, Paul Emilius,
A noble, a worthi kniht withalle; 
And he, which chief was of hem alle, 
This werre on honde hath undertake.  
And whanne he scholde his leve take  
Of a yong dowhter which was his,
Sche wepte, and he what cause it is  
Hire axeth, and sche him ansuerde 
That Perse is ded; and he it herde,  
And wondreth what sche meene wolde:  
And sche upon childhode him tolde 
That Perse hir litel hound is ded.
With that he pulleth up his hed 
And made riht a glad visage, 
And seide how that was a presage
Touchende unto that other Perse,
Of that fortune him scholde adverse, 
He seith, for such a prenostik  
Most of an hound was to him lik:
For as it is an houndes kinde
To berke upon a man behinde, 
Riht so behinde his brother bak 
With false wordes whiche he spak
He hath do slain, and that is rowthe.
'Bot he which hateth alle untrowthe, 
The hihe god, it schal redresse;
For so my dowhter prophetesse
<P I,179>
Forth with hir litel houndes deth 
Betokneth.' And thus forth he geth
Conforted of this evidence,
With the Romeins in his defence 
Ayein the Greks that ben comende. 
   This Perseus, as noght seende  
This meschief which that him abod,
With al his multitude rod, 
And prided him upon the thing,  
Of that he was become a king,
And how he hadde his regne gete;
Bot he hath al the riht foryete 
Which longeth unto governance.  
Wherof thurgh goddes ordinance  
It fell, upon the wynter tide
That with his host he scholde ride
Over Danubie thilke flod,  
Which al befrose thanne stod 
So harde, that he wende wel
To passe: bot the blinde whiel, 
Which torneth ofte er men be war, 
Thilke ys which that the horsmen bar 
Tobrak, so that a gret partie
Was dreint; of the chivalerie
The rerewarde it tok aweie,
Cam non of hem to londe dreie.  
   Paulus the worthi kniht Romein  
Be his aspie it herde sein,
And hasteth him al that he may, 
So that upon that other day
He cam wher he this host beheld,
And that was in a large feld,
Wher the Baneres ben desplaied. 
He hath anon hise men arraied,  
And whan that he was embatailled, 
He goth and hath the feld assailed,  
And slowh and tok al that he fond;
Wherof the Macedoyne lond, 
<P I,180>
Which thurgh king Alisandre honoured 
Long time stod, was tho devoured. 
To Perse and al that infortune  
Thei wyte, so that the comune
Of al the lond his heir exile;  
And he despeired for the while  
Desguised in a povere wede 
To Rome goth, and ther for nede 
The craft which thilke time was,
To worche in latoun and in bras,
He lerneth for his sustienance. 
Such was the Sones pourveance,  
And of his fader it is seid, 
In strong prisoun that he was leid
In Albe, wher that he was ded
For hunger and defalte of bred. 
The hound was tokne and prophecie 
That lich an hound he scholde die,
Which lich was of condicioun,
Whan he with his detraccioun 
Bark on his brother so behinde. 
   Lo, what profit a man mai finde,
Which hindre wole an other wiht.
Forthi with al thin hole miht,  
Mi Sone, eschuie thilke vice.
   Mi fader, elles were I nyce: 
For ye therof so wel have spoke,
That it is in myn herte loke 
And evere schal: bot of Envie,  
If ther be more in his baillie  
Towardes love, sai me what.
   Mi Sone, as guile under the hat 
With sleyhtes of a tregetour 
Is hidd, Envie of such colour
Hath yit the ferthe deceivant,  
The which is cleped Falssemblant, 
Wherof the matiere and the forme
Now herkne and I thee schal enforme. 
<P I,181>
   Of Falssemblant if I schal telle, 
Above alle othre it is the welle
Out of the which deceipte floweth.
Ther is noman so wys that knoweth 
Of thilke flod which is the tyde, 
Ne how he scholde himselven guide 
To take sauf passage there.
And yit the wynd to mannes Ere  
Is softe, and as it semeth oute 
It makth clier weder al aboute; 
Bot thogh it seme, it is noght so. 

<S SAMPLE 2>
<P I,316>
   Ye, fader, ofte it hath be so,  
That whanne I am mi ladi fro 
And thenke untoward hire drawe, 
Than cast I many a newe lawe 
And al the world torne up so doun,
And so recorde I mi lecoun 
And wryte in my memorial
What I to hire telle schal,
Riht al the matiere of mi tale: 
Bot al nys worth a note schale; 
For whanne I come ther sche is, 
I have it al foryete ywiss;
Of that I thoghte forto telle
I can noght thanne unethes spelle 
That I wende altherbest have rad, 
<P I,317> 
So sore I am of hire adrad.
For as a man that sodeinli 
A gost behelde, so fare I; 
So that for feere I can noght gete
Mi witt, bot I miself foryete,  
That I wot nevere what I am, 
Ne whider I schal, ne whenne I cam,  
Bot muse as he that were amased.
Lich to the bok in which is rased 
The lettre, and mai nothing be rad,  
So ben my wittes overlad,  
That what as evere I thoghte have spoken, 
It is out fro myn herte stoken, 
And stonde, as who seith, doumb and def,  
That all nys worth an yvy lef,  
Of that I wende wel have seid.  
And ate laste I make abreid, 
Caste up myn hed and loke aboute, 
Riht as a man that were in doute
And wot noght wher he schal become.  
Thus am I ofte al overcome,
Ther as I wende best to stonde: 
Bot after, whanne I understonde,
And am in other place al one,
I make many a wofull mone  
Unto miself, and speke so: 
'Ha fol, wher was thin herte tho, 
Whan thou thi worthi ladi syhe? 
Were thou afered of hire yhe?
For of hire hand ther is no drede:
So wel I knowe hir wommanhede,  
That in hire is nomore oultrage 
Than in a child of thre yeer age. 
Whi hast thou drede of so good on,
Whom alle vertu hath begon,
That in hire is no violence
Bot goodlihiede and innocence
Withouten spot of eny blame? 
<P I,318> 
Ha, nyce herte, fy for schame!  
Ha, couard herte of love unlered, 
Wherof art thou so sore afered, 
That thou thi tunge soffrest frese,  
And wolt thi goode wordes lese, 
Whan thou hast founde time and space?
How scholdest thou deserve grace, 
Whan thou thiself darst axe non,
Bot al thou hast foryete anon?' 
And thus despute I loves lore,  
Bot help ne finde I noght the more,  
Bot stomble upon myn oghne treine 
And make an ekinge of my peine. 
For evere whan I thenke among
How al is on miself along, 
I seie, 'O fol of alle foles,
Thou farst as he betwen tuo stoles
That wolde sitte and goth to grounde.
It was ne nevere schal be founde, 
Betwen foryetelnesse and drede  
That man scholde any cause spede.'
And thus, myn holi fader diere, 
Toward miself, as ye mai hiere, 
I pleigne of my foryetelnesse;  
Bot elles al the besinesse,
That mai be take of mannes thoght,
Min herte takth, and is thorghsoght  
To thenken evere upon that swete
Withoute Slowthe, I you behete. 
For what so falle, or wel or wo,
That thoght foryete I neveremo, 
Wher so I lawhe or so I loure:  
Noght half the Minut of an houre
Ne mihte I lete out of my mende,
Bot if I thoghte upon that hende. 
Therof me schal no Slowthe lette, 
Til deth out of this world me fette, 
<P I,319> 
Althogh I hadde on such a Ring, 
As Moises thurgh his enchanting 
Som time in Ethiope made,  
Whan that he Tharbis weddid hade. 
Which Ring bar of Oblivion 
The name, and that was be resoun
That where it on a finger sat,  
Anon his love he so foryat,
As thogh he hadde it nevere knowe:
And so it fell that ilke throwe,
Whan Tharbis hadde it on hire hond,  
No knowlechinge of him sche fond, 
Bot al was clene out of memoire,
As men mai rede in his histoire;
And thus he wente quit away, 
That nevere after that ilke day 
Sche thoghte that ther was such on;  
Al was foryete and overgon.
Bot in good feith so mai noght I: 
For sche is evere faste by,
So nyh that sche myn herte toucheth, 
That for nothing that Slowthe voucheth 
I mai foryete hire, lief ne loth; 
For overal, where as sche goth, 
Min herte folwith hire aboute.  
Thus mai I seie withoute doute, 
For bet, for wers, for oght, for noght,
Sche passeth nevere fro my thoght;
Bot whanne I am ther as sche is,
Min herte, as I you saide er this,
Som time of hire is sore adrad, 
And som time it is overglad, 
Al out of reule and out of space. 
For whan I se hir goodli face
And thenke upon hire hihe pris, 
As thogh I were in Paradis,
I am so ravisht of the syhte,
That speke unto hire I ne myhte 
<P I,320>
As for the time, thogh I wolde: 
For I ne mai my wit unfolde
To finde o word of that I mene, 
Bot al it is foryete clene;
And thogh I stonde there a myle,
Al is foryete for the while, 
A tunge I have and wordes none. 
And thus I stonde and thenke al one  
Of thing that helpeth ofte noght; 
Bot what I hadde afore thoght
To speke, whanne I come there,  
It is foryete, as noght ne were,
And stonde amased and assoted,  
That of nothing which I have noted
I can noght thanne a note singe,
Bot al is out of knowlechinge:  
Thus, what for joie and what for drede,
Al is foryeten ate nede.
So that, mi fader, of this Slowthe
I have you said the pleine trowthe;  
Ye mai it as you list redresce: 
For thus stant my foryetelnesse 
And ek my pusillamite.
Sey now forth what you list to me,
For I wol only do be you.  
   Mi Sone, I have wel herd how thou 
Hast seid, and that thou most amende:
For love his grace wol noght sende
To that man which dar axe non.  
For this we knowen everichon,
A mannes thoght withoute speche 
God wot, and yit that men beseche 
His will is; for withoute bedes 
He doth his grace in fewe stedes: 
And what man that foryet himselve,
Among a thousand be noght tuelve, 
That wol him take in remembraunce,
Bot lete him falle and take his chaunce.  
<P I,321> 
Forthi pull up a besi herte, 
Mi Sone, and let nothing asterte
Of love fro thi besinesse: 
For touchinge of foryetelnesse, 
Which many a love hath set behinde,  
A tale of gret ensample I finde,
Wherof it is pite to wite  
In the manere as it is write.

   King Demephon, whan he be Schipe
To Troieward with felaschipe 
Sailende goth, upon his weie 
It hapneth him at Rodopeie,
As Eolus him hadde blowe,  
To londe, and rested for a throwe.
And fell that ilke time thus,
The dowhter of Ligurgius,  
Which qweene was of the contre, 
Was sojournende in that Cite 
Withinne a Castell nyh the stronde,  
Wher Demephon cam up to londe.  
Phillis sche hihte, and of yong age  
And of stature and of visage 
Sche hadde al that hire best besemeth. 
Of Demephon riht wel hire qwemeth,
Whan he was come, and made him chiere; 
And he, that was of his manere  
A lusti knyht, ne myhte asterte 
That he ne sette on hire his herte;  
So that withinne a day or tuo
He thoghte, how evere that it go, 
He wolde assaie the fortune, 
And gan his herte to commune 
With goodly wordes in hire Ere; 
And forto put hire out of fere, 
He swor and hath his trowthe pliht
To be for evere hire oghne knyht. 
And thus with hire he stille abod,
Ther while his Schip on Anker rod,
<P I,322>
And hadde ynowh of time and space 
To speke of love and seche grace. 
   This ladi herde al that he seide, 
And hou he swor and hou he preide,
Which was as an enchantement 
To hire, that was innocent:
As thogh it were trowthe and feith,  
Sche lieveth al that evere he seith, 
And as hire infortune scholde,  
Sche granteth him al that he wolde. 

<S SAMPLE 3>
<P II,71>
   Brocours of love that deceiven, 
No wonder is thogh thei receiven
After the wrong that thei decerven;  
For whom as evere that thei serven
And do plesance for a whyle, 
Yit ate laste here oghne guile  
Upon here oghne hed descendeth, 
Which god of his vengance sendeth,
As be ensample of time go  
A man mai finde it hath be so.  
It fell somtime, as it was sene,
The hihe goddesse and the queene
Juno tho hadde in compainie
A Maiden full of tricherie;
For sche was evere in on acord  
<P II,72> 
With Jupiter, that was hire lord, 
To gete him othre loves newe,
Thurgh such brocage and was untrewe  
Al otherwise than him nedeth.
Bot sche, which of no schame dredeth,
With queinte wordes and with slyhe
Blente in such wise hir lady yhe, 
As sche to whom that Juno triste, 
So that therof sche nothing wiste.
Bot so prive mai be nothing, 
That it ne comth to knowleching;
Thing don upon the derke nyht
Is after knowe on daies liht:
So it befell, that ate laste 
Al that this slyhe maiden caste 
Was overcast and overthrowe. 
For as the sothe mot be knowe,  
To Juno was don understonde
In what manere hir housebonde
With fals brocage hath take usure 
Of love mor than his mesure, 
Whan he tok othre than his wif, 
Wherof this mayden was gultif,  
Which hadde ben of his assent.  
And thus was al the game schent;
She soffreth him, as sche mot nede,  
Bot the brocour of his misdede, 
Sche which hir conseil yaf therto,
On hire is the vengance do:
For Juno with hire wordes hote, 
This Maiden, which Eccho was hote,
Reproveth and seith in this wise: 
'O traiteresse, of which servise
Hast thou thin oghne ladi served! 
Thou hast gret peine wel deserved,
That thou canst maken it so queinte, 
Thi slyhe wordes forto peinte
Towardes me, that am thi queene,
Wherof thou madest me to wene
<P II,73> 
That myn housbonde trewe were,  
Whan that he loveth elleswhere, 
Al be it so him nedeth noght.
Bot upon thee it schal be boght,
Which art prive to tho doinges, 
And me fulofte of thi lesinges  
Deceived hast: nou is the day
That I thi while aquite may; 
And for thou hast to me conceled
That my lord hath with othre deled,  
I schal thee sette in such a kende,  
That evere unto the worldes ende
Al that thou hierest thou schalt telle,
And clappe it out as doth a belle.'  
And with that word sche was forschape, 
Ther may no vois hire mouth ascape,  
What man that in the wodes crieth,
Withoute faile Eccho replieth,  
And what word that him list to sein, 
The same word sche seith ayein. 
Thus sche, which whilom hadde leve
To duelle in chambre, mot beleve
In wodes and on helles bothe,
For such brocage as wyves lothe,
Which doth here lordes hertes change 
And love in other place strange.
   Forthi, if evere it so befalle, 
That thou, mi Sone, amonges alle
Be wedded man, hold that thou hast,  
For thanne al other love is wast. 
O wif schal wel to thee suffise,
And thanne, if thou for covoitise 
Of love woldest axe more,  
Thou scholdest don ayein the lore 
Of alle hem that trewe be. 
   Mi fader, as in this degre 
My conscience is noght accused; 
<P II,74> 
For I no such brocage have used,
Wherof that lust of love is wonne.
Forthi spek forth, as ye begonne, 
Of Avarice upon mi schrifte. 
Mi Sone, I schal the branches schifte
Be ordre so as thei ben set, 
On whom no good is wel beset.
   Blinde Avarice of his lignage
For conseil and for cousinage,  
To be withholde ayein largesse, 
Hath on, whos name is seid Skarsnesse, 
The which is kepere of his hous,
And is so thurghout averous, 
That he no good let out of honde; 
Thogh god himself it wolde fonde, 
Of yifte scholde he nothing have; 
And if a man it wolde crave, 
He moste thanne faile nede,
Wher god himselve mai noght spede.
And thus Skarsnesse in every place
Be reson mai no thonk porchace, 
And natheles in his degree 
Above alle othre most prive 
With Avarice stant he this.
For he governeth that ther is
In ech astat of his office 
After the reule of thilke vice; 
He takth, he kepth, he halt, he bint,
That lihtere is to fle the flint
Than gete of him in hard or neisshe  
Only the value of a reysshe
Of good in helpinge of an other,
Noght thogh it were his oghne brother. 
<P II,75> 
For in the cas of yifte and lone
Stant every man for him al one, 
Him thenkth of his unkindeschipe
That him nedeth no felaschipe:  
Be so the bagge and he acorden, 
Him reccheth noght what men recorden 
Of him, or it be evel or good.  
For al his trust is on his good,
So that al one he falleth ofte, 
Whan he best weneth stonde alofte,
Als wel in love as other wise;  
For love is evere of som reprise
To him that wole his love holde.
Forthi, mi Sone, as thou art holde,  
Touchende of this tell me thi schrifte:
Hast thou be scars or large of yifte 
Unto thi love, whom thou servest? 
For after that thou wel deservest 
Of yifte, thou miht be the bet; 
For that good holde I wel beset,
For why thou miht the betre fare; 
Thanne is no wisdom forto spare.
For thus men sein, in every nede
He was wys that ferst made mede;
For where as mede mai noght spede,
I not what helpeth other dede:  
Fulofte he faileth of his game  
That wol with ydel hand reclame 
His hauk, as many a nyce doth.  
Forthi, mi Sone, tell me soth
And sei the trouthe, if thou hast be 
Unto thy love or skars or fre.  
   Mi fader, it hath stonde thus,  
That if the tresor of Cresus 
And al the gold Octovien,  
Forth with the richesse Yndien  
Of Perles and of riche stones,  
Were al togedre myn at ones, 
<P II,76> 
I sette it at nomore acompte 
Than wolde a bare straw amonte, 
To yive it hire al in a day, 
Be so that to that suete may 
I myhte like or more or lesse.  
And thus be cause of my scarsnesse
Ye mai wel understonde and lieve
That I schal noght the worse achieve 
The pourpos which is in my thoght.
Bot yit I yaf hir nevere noght, 
Ne therto dorste a profre make; 
For wel I wot sche wol noght take,
And yive wol sche noght also,
Sche is eschu of bothe tuo.
And this I trowe be the skile
Towardes me, for sche ne wile
That I have eny cause of hope,  
Noght also mochel as a drope.
Bot toward othre, as I mai se,  
Sche takth and yifth in such degre,  
That as be weie of frendlihiede 
Sche can so kepe hir wommanhiede, 
That every man spekth of hir wel. 
Bot sche wole take of me no del,
And yit sche wot wel that I wolde 
Yive and do bothe what I scholde
To plesen hire in al my myht:
Be reson this wot every wyht,
For that mai be no weie asterte,
Ther sche is maister of the herte,
Sche mot be maister of the good.
For god wot wel that al my mod  
And al min herte and al mi thoght 
And al mi good, whil I have oght, 
Als freliche as god hath it yive, 
It schal ben hires, while I live, 
Riht as hir list hirself commande.
So that it nedeth no demande,
<P II,77> 
To axe of me if I be scars 
To love, for as to tho pars
I wole ansuere and seie no. 

<S SAMPLE 4>
<P II,221>
   Sche longeth sore after the dai,
That sche hir swevene telle mai 
To this guilour in privete,
Which kneu it als so wel as sche: 
And natheles on morwe sone 
Sche lefte alle other thing to done, 
And for him sende, and al the cas 
Sche tolde him pleinly as it was, 
And seide hou thanne wel sche wiste  
That sche his wordes mihte triste,
For sche fond hire Avisioun
Riht after the condicion
Which he hire hadde told tofore;
And preide him hertely therfore 
That he hire holde covenant
So forth of al the remenant, 
That sche may thurgh his ordinance
Toward the god do such plesance,
<P II,222> 
That sche wakende myhte him kepe
In such wise as sche mette aslepe.
And he, that couthe of guile ynouh,  
Whan he this herde, of joie he louh, 
And seith, 'Ma dame, it schal be do. 
Bot this I warne you therto: 
This nyht, whan that he comth to pleie,
That ther be no lif in the weie 
Bot I, that schal at his likinge
Ordeine so for his cominge,
That ye ne schull noght of him faile.
For this, ma dame, I you consaile,
That ye it kepe so prive,  
That no wiht elles bot we thre  
Have knowlechinge hou that it is; 
For elles mihte it fare amis,
If ye dede oght that scholde him grieve.' 
And thus he makth hire to believe,
And feigneth under guile feith: 
Bot natheles al that he seith
Sche troweth; and ayein the nyht
Sche hath withinne hire chambre dyht,
Wher as this guilour faste by
Upon this god schal prively
Awaite, as he makth hire to wene: 
And thus this noble gentil queene,
Whan sche most trusteth, was deceived. 
   The nyht com, and the chambre is weyved,  
Nectanabus hath take his place, 
And whan he sih the time and space,  
Thurgh the deceipte of his magique
He putte him out of mannes like,
And of a dragoun tok the forme, 
As he which wolde him al conforme 
To that sche sih in swevene er this; 
<P II,223>
And thus to chambre come he is. 
The queene lay abedde and sih,  
And hopeth evere, as he com nyh,
That he god of Lubye were, 
So hath sche wel the lasse fere.
Bot for he wolde hire more assure,
Yit eft he changeth his figure, 
And of a wether the liknesse 
He tok, in signe of his noblesse
With large hornes for the nones:
Of fin gold and of riche stones 
A corone on his hed he bar,
And soudeinly, er sche was war, 
As he which alle guile can,
His forme he torneth into man,  
And cam to bedde, and sche lai stille, 
Wher as sche soffreth al his wille,  
As sche which wende noght misdo.
Bot natheles it hapneth so,
Althogh sche were in part deceived,  
Yit for al that sche hath conceived  
The worthieste of alle kiththe, 
Which evere was tofore or siththe 
Of conqueste and chivalerie; 
So that thurgh guile and Sorcerie 
Ther was that noble knyht begunne,
Which al the world hath after wunne. 
Thus fell the thing which falle scholde,  
Nectanabus hath that he wolde;  
With guile he hath his love sped, 
With guile he cam into the bed, 
With guile he goth him out ayein: 
He was a schrewed chamberlein,  
So to beguile a worthi queene,  
And that on him was after seene.
Bot natheles the thing is do;
This false god was sone go,
<P II,224> 
With his deceipte and hield him clos,
Til morwe cam, that he aros. 
   And tho, whan time and leisir was,
The queene tolde him al the cas,
As sche that guile non supposeth; 
And of tuo pointz sche him opposeth. 
On was, if that this god nomore 
Wol come ayein, and overmore,
Hou sche schal stonden in acord 
With king Philippe hire oghne lord,  
Whan he comth hom and seth hire grone. 
'Ma dame,' he seith, 'let me alone:  
As for the god I undertake 
That whan it liketh you to take 
His compaignie at eny throwe,
If I a day tofore it knowe,
He schal be with you on the nyht; 
And he is wel of such a myht 
To kepe you from alle blame. 
Forthi conforte you, ma dame,
Ther schal non other cause be.' 
Thus tok he leve and forth goth he,  
And tho began he forto muse
Hou he the queene mihte excuse  
Toward the king of that is falle; 
And fond a craft amonges alle,  
Thurgh which he hath a See foul daunted,  
With his magique and so enchaunted,  
That he flyh forth, whan it was nyht,
Unto the kinges tente riht,
Wher that he lay amidde his host: 
And whanne he was aslepe most,  
With that the See foul to him broghte
And othre charmes, whiche he wroghte 
At hom withinne his chambre stille,  
The king he torneth at his wille, 
And makth him forto dreme and se
The dragoun and the privete
Which was betuen him and the queene. 
<P II,225> 
And over that he made him wene  
In swevene, hou that the god Amos,
Whan he up fro the queene aros, 
Tok forth a ring, wherinne a ston 
Was set, and grave therupon
A Sonne, in which, whan he cam nyh,  
A leoun with a swerd he sih; 
And with that priente, as he tho mette,
Upon the queenes wombe he sette 
A Seal, and goth him forth his weie. 
With that the swevene wente aweie,
And tho began the king awake 
And sigheth for his wyves sake, 
Wher as he lay withinne his tente,
And hath gret wonder what it mente.  
   With that he hasteth him to ryse
Anon, and sende after the wise, 
Among the whiche ther was on,
A clerc, his name is Amphion:
Whan he the kinges swevene herde, 
What it betokneth he ansuerde,  
And seith, 'So siker as the lif,
A god hath leie be thi wif,
And gete a Sone, which schal winne
The world and al that is withinne.
As leon is the king of bestes,  
So schal the world obeie his hestes, 
Which with his swerd schal al be wonne,
Als ferr as schyneth eny Sonne.'
   The king was doubtif of this dom; 
Bot natheles, whan that he com  
Ayein into his oghne lond, 
His wif with childe gret he fond. 
He mihte noght himselve stiere, 
That he ne made hire hevy chiere; 
Bot he which couthe of alle sorwe,
Nectanabus, upon the morwe 
Thurgh the deceipte and nigromance
<P II,226> 
Tok of a dragoun the semblance, 
And wher the king sat in his halle,  
Com in rampende among hem alle  
With such a noise and such a rore,
That thei agast were also sore  
As thogh thei scholde deie anon.
And natheles he grieveth non,
Bot goth toward the deyss on hih; 
And whan he cam the queene nyh, 
He stinte his noise, and in his wise 
To hire he profreth his servise,
And leith his hed upon hire barm; 
And sche with goodly chiere hire arm 
Aboute his necke ayeinward leide, 
And thus the queene with him pleide  
In sihte of alle men aboute. 
And ate laste he gan to loute
And obeissance unto hire make,  
As he that wolde his leve take; 
And sodeinly his lothly forme
Into an Egle he gan transforme, 
And flyh and sette him on a raile;
Wherof the king hath gret mervaile,  
For there he pruneth him and piketh, 
As doth an hauk whan him wel liketh, 
And after that himself he schok,
Wherof that al the halle quok,  
As it a terremote were; 
Thei seiden alle, god was there:
In such a res and forth he flyh. 



