sidered the power that they han yeven you upon hemself. And it is written, that he is worthy to lese his privilege, that misuseth the might and the power that is yeven him. And I sette

cas, ye might enjoine hem that peine by right and by lawe, (which I trowe ye mowe not do) I say, ye might not putte it to execution peraventure, and than it were like to retourne to the werre, as it was beforn. And therfore if ye wol that men do you obeisaunce, ye must deme more curteisly, that is to sayn, ye must yeve more esie sentences and jugements. For it is written: he that most curteisly commandeth, to him men most obeyen. And therfore 1 pray you, that in this necessitee and in this nede ye caste you to overcome youre herte. For Senek sayth, that he that overcometh his herte, overcometh twies. And Tullius saith: ther is nothing so commendable in a gret lord, as whan he is debonaire and meke, and appeseth him lightly. And I pray you, that ye wol now forbere to do vengeaunce, in swiche a manere, that your good name may be kept and conserved, and that men mown have cause and matere to preise you of pitee and of mercy; and that ye have no cause to repente you of thing that ye don. For Seneke saieth: he overcometh in an evil manere, that repenteth him of his victorie. Wherfore I pray you let mercy be in youre herte, to the effect and entente, that God almighty have mercy upon you in his last jugement for seint James saith in his Epistle: jugement withoute mercy shal he do to him, that hath no mercy of another wight.

Whan Melibee had herd the grete skilles and resons of dame Prudence, and hire wise informations and techinges, his herte gan encline to the will of his wif, considering hire trewe entente, enforced him anon and assented fully to werken after hire conseil, and thanked God, of whom procedeth all goodnesse and all vertue, that him sent a wif of so gret discretion. And whan the day came that his adversaries shulde appere in his presence, he spake to hem ful goodly, and saide in this wise. Al be it so, that of youre pride and high presumption and folie, and of youre negligence and unconning, ye have misborne you, and trespased unto me, yet for as muchel as I see and behold youre grete humilitee, and that ye ben sory and repentant of youre giltes, it constreineth me to do you grace and mercy: wherfore I receive you into my grace, and foryeve you outrely alle the offences, injuries, and wronges, that ye have don agein me and mine, to this effect and to this ende, that God of his endeles mercie wol at the time of oure dying foryeve us oure giltes, that we han trespased to him in this wretched world: for douteles, if we be sory and repentant of the sinnes and giltes, which we han trespased in the sight of oure Lord God, he is so free and so merciable, that he wol foryeven us oure giltes, and bringen us to the blisse that never hath ende. Amen.

THE MONKES PROLOGUE,
WHAN ended was my tale of Melibee,
And of Prudence and hire benignitee,
Our hoste saide; as I am faithful man,
And by the precious corpus Madrian,
I hadde lever than a barell of ale,
That goode lefe my wif had herde this tale:
For she n'is no thing of swiche patience,
As was this Melibeus wif Prudence.

By Goddes bones, whan I bete my knaves,
She bringeth me the grete clobbed staves,
And cryeth; slee the dogges everich on,
And breke hem bothe bak and every bon.
And if that any neighebour of mine
Wol not in chirche to my wif encline,
Or be so hardy to hire to trespace,

Whan she cometh home she rampeth in my face,
And cryeth; false coward, wreke thy wif:
By corpus Domini, I wol have thy knif,
And thou shalt have my distaf, and go spinne,
Fro day til night right thus she wol beginne.
Alas, she saith, that ever I was yshape
To wed a milksop, or a coward ape,
That wol ben overladde with every wight!
Thou darst not stonden by thy wives right.
This is my lif, but if that I wol fight,
And out at dore anon I mote me dight,
Or elles I am lost, but if that I
Be like a wilde leon, fool-hardy.

I wote wel she wol do me slee som day
Som neighbour, and thanne go my way,
For I am perilous with knif in honde,
Al be it that I dare not hire withstonde:

For she is bigge in armes by my faith,
That shal he finde, that hire misdoth or saith.
But let us passe away fro this matere.

My lord the Monk, quod he, be mery of chere, For ye shul telle a tale trewely.

Lo, Rouchester stondeth here faste by.

Ride forth, min owen lord, breke not our game. But by my trouthe I can not telle youre name; Whether shal I call you my lord Dan John, Or Dan Thomas, or elles Dan Albon? Of what hous be ye, by your fader kin? I vow to God, thou hast a ful faire skin; It is a gentil pasture ther thou gost; Thou art not like a penaunt or a gost. Upon my faith thou art som officer, Som worthy sextein, or som celerer. For by my fadres soule, as to my dome, Thou art a maister, whan thou art at home; No poure cloisterer, ne non novice, But a governour bothe ware and wise, And therwithal of braunes and of bones A right wel faring persone for the nones. him confusion, I pray to God

yeve

That first thee brought into religion.

Thou woldest han ben a trede-foul a right,
Haddest thou as grete leve, as thou hast might,
To parfourme all thy lust in engendrure,
Thou haddest begeten many a creature.
Alas! why werest thou so wide a cope?
God yeve me sorwe, but, and I were pope,
Not only thou but every mighty man,
his
Though he were shore ful high upon pan,
Shuld have a wif, for al this world is lorn;
Religion hath take all the corn

up

Of treding, and we borel men ben shrimpes:
Of feble trees ther comen wretched impes.
This maketh that our heires ben so sclendre
And feble, that they moun not wel engendre.
This maketh that our wives wol assaye
Religious folk, for they moun better paye
Of Venus payementes than mowen we:
God wote, no lussheburghes payen ye.
But be not wroth, my lord, though that I play;
Ful oft in game a sothe have I herd say.
This worthy Monke toke all in patience,
And saide; I wol don all my diligence,
As fer as souneth into honestee,

To tellen you a tale, or two or three.
And if you list to herken hiderward,
I wol you sayn, the lif of Seint Edward;
Or elles tragedies first I wol telle,
Of which I have an hundred in my

celle.

Tragedie is to sayn a certain storie,
As olde bookes maken us memorie,
Of him that stood in gret prosperitee,
And is yfallen out of high degree
In to miserie, and endeth wretchedly.
And they ben versified communly
Of six feet, which men clepen exametron:
In prose eke ben endited many on,
And eke in metre, in many a sondry wise.
Lo, this declaring ought ynough suffice.

Now herkeneth, if you liketh for to here.
But first I you beseche in this matere,
Though I by ordre telle not thise thinges,
Be it of popes, emperoures, or kinges,
After hir ages, as men written finde,
But telle hem som before and som behinde,
As it now cometh to my remembrance,
Have me excused of min ignorance.