THE FRANKELEINES PROLOGUE.
IN faith, Squier, thou hast thee wel yquit
And getilly, I preise wel thy wit,
Quod the Frankelein; considering thin youthe,
So felingly thou spekest, sire, I aloue the
As to my dome, ther is non that is here,
Of eloquence that shal be thy pere,
If that thou live; God yeve thee goode chance, And in vertue send thee continuance,
For of thy speking I have gret deintee.
I have a sone, and by the Trinitee
It were me lever than twenty pound worth lond, Though it right now were fallen in my hond,
He were a man of swiche discretion,
As that ye ben: fie on possession,
But if a man be vertuous withal.
I have my sone snibbed, and yet shal,
For he to vertue listeth not to entend,
But for to play at dis, and to dispend,
And lese all that he hath, is his usage;
And he had lever talken with a page,
Than to commune with any gentil wight,
Ther he might leren gentillesse aright.
Straw for your gentillesse, quod our hoste,
What? Frankelein, parde, sire, wel thou wost,
That eche of you mote tellen at the lest
A tale or two, or breken his behest.
That know I wel, sire, quod the Frankelein, pray you haveth me not in disdein,
Though I to this man speke a word or two.
Tell on thy tale, withouten wordes mo.
Gladly, sire hoste, quod he, I wol obey
Unto your will; now herkeneth what I sey;
I wol you not contrarien in no wise,
As fer as that my wittes may suffice.
I to God that it may plesen you,
pray
Than wot I wel that it is good ynow.
Thise olde gentil Bretons in hir dayes
Of diverse aventures maden layes,
Rimeyed in hir firste Breton tonge;
Which layes with hir instruments they songe,
Or elles redden hem for hir plesance,
And on of hem have I in remembrance,
Which I shal sayn with good wille as I can.
But, sires, because I am a borel man,
At my beginning first I you beseche
Have me excused of my rude speche.
I lerned never rhetorike certain;
Thing that I speke, it mote be bare and plain.
I slept never on the mount of Pernaso,
Ne lerned Marcus Tullius Cicero.
Colours ne know I non, withouten drede,
But swiche colours as growen in the mede,
Or elles swiche as men die with or peinte;
Colours of rhetorike ben to me queinte;
My spirit feleth not of swiche matere.
you lust my tale shul ye here.
THE FRANKELEINES TALE.
IN Armorike, that called is Bretaigne,
Ther was a knight, that loved and did his peine
To serve a ladie in his beste wise;
And many a labour, many a gret emprise
He for his lady wrought, or she were wonne:
For she was on the fairest under sonne,
And eke therto comen of so high kinrede,
That wel unnethes durst this knight for drede
Tell hire his wo, his peine, and his distresse.
But at the last, she for his worthinesse,
And namely for his meke obeysance,
Hath swiche a pitee caught of his penance,
That prively she fell of his accord
To take him for hire husbond and hire lord;
(Of swiche lordship as men han over hir wives)
And, for to lede the more in blisse hir lives,
Of his free will he swore hire as a knight,
That never in all his lif he day ne night
Ne shulde take upon him no maistrie
Agains hire will, ne kithe hire jalousie,
But hire obey, and folwe hire will in al,
As any lover to his lady shal:
Save that the name of soverainetee
That wold he han for shame of his degree.
She thonked him, and with ful gret humblesse
She saide; sire, sin of your gentillesse
Ye profren me to have so large a reine,
Ne wolde God never betwix us tweine,
As in my gilt, were either werre or strif:
Sire, I wol be your humble trewe wif,
Have here my trouth, till that myn herte breste.
Thus ben they both in quiete and in reste.
For o thing, sires, saufly dare I seie,
That frendes everich other must obeie,
If they wol longe holden compagnie.
Love wol not be constreined by maistrie.
Whan maistrie cometh, the God of love anon
Beteth his winges, and farewel, he is gon.
Love is a thing, as any spirit, free.
Women of kind desiren libertee,,
And not to be constreined as a thral;
And so don men, if sothly I say shal.
Loke who that is most patient in love,
He is at his avantage all above.
Patience is an high vertue certain,
For it venquisheth, as thise clerkes sain,
Thinges that rigour never shulde atteine.
For every word men may not chide or pleine.
Lerneth to suffren, or, so mote I gon,
Ye shul it lerne whether ye wol or non.
For in this world certain no wight ther is,
That he ne doth or sayth somtime amis.
Ire, sikenesse, or constellation,
Win, wo, or changing of complexion,
Causeth ful oft to don amis or speken:
On every wrong a man may not be wreken.
After the time must be temperance
To every wight that can of governance.
And therfore hath this worthy wise knight
(To liven in ese) suffrance hire behight;
And she to him ful wisly gan to swere,
That never shuld ther be defaute in here.
Here may men seen an humble wise accord;
Thus hath she take hire servant and hire lord,
Servant in love, and lord in mariage.
Than was he both in lordship and servage?
Servage? nay, but in lordship al above,
Sin he hath both his lady and his love:
His lady certes, and his wif also,
The which that law of love accordeth to.
And whan he was in this prosperitee,
Home with his wif he goth to his contree,
Not fer fro Penmark, ther his dwelling was,
Wher as he liveth in blisse and in solas.
Who coude tell, but he had wedded be,
The joye, the ese, and the prosperitee,
That is betwix an husbond and his wif?
yere
and more lasteth this blisful lif,
Til that this knight, of which I spake of thus,
That of Cairrud was cleped Arviragus,
Shope him to gon and dwelle a year or twaine
In Englelond, that cleped was eke Bretaigne,
To seke in armes worship and honour:
(For all his lust he set in swiche labour)
And dwelte ther two yere; the book saith thus.
Now wol I stint of this Arviragus,
And speke I wol of Dorigene his wif,
That loveth hire husbond as hire hertes lif.
For his absence wepeth she and siketh,
As don thise noble wives whan hem liketh;
She morneth, waketh, waileth, fasteth, pleineth;
Desir of his presence hire so distraineth,
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